the Limper was not
mandatory. I wanted no part of him. I did not want to be in the
same province.
As the devastation grew more recent, Raven showed elation,
dismay, introspection easing into determination, and ever more of
that rigid self-control he so often hid behind.
When I reflect on my companions' inner natures I usually wish I
controlled one small talent. I wish I could look inside them and
unmask the darks and brights that move them. Then I take a quick
look into the jungle of my own soul and thank heaven that I cannot.
Any man who barely sustains an armistice with himself has no
business poking around in an alien soul.
I decided to keep closer watch on our newest brother.
We did not need Doughbelly coming in from the point to tell us
we were close. All the forward horizon sprouted tall, leaning trees
of smoke. This part of Forsberg was flat and open and marvelously
green, and against the turquoise sky those oily pillars were an
abomination.
There was not much breeze. The afternoon promised to be
scorching.
Doughbelly swung in beside the Lieutenant. Elmo and I stopped
swapping tired old lies and listened. Doughbelly indicated a smoke
spire. "Still some of the Limper's men in that village, sir."
"Talk to them?"
"No sir. Longhead didn't think you'd want us to. He's waiting
outside town."
"How many of them?"
"Twenty, twenty-five. Drunk and mean. The officer was worse than
the men."
The Lieutenant glanced over his shoulder. "Ah. Elmo. It's your
lucky day. Take ten men and go with Doughbelly. Scout around."
"Shit," Elmo muttered. He is a good man, but muggy spring days
make him lazy. "Okay. Otto. Silent. Peewee. Whitey. Billygoat.
Raven . . . "
I coughed discreetly.
"You're out of your head, Croaker. All right." He did a quick
count on his fingers, called three more names. We formed outside
the column. Elmo gave us the once-over to make sure we hadn't
forgotten our heads. "Let's go."
We hurried forward. Doughbelly directed us into a wood-lot
overlooking the stricken town. Longhead and a man called Jolly
waited there. Elmo asked, "Any developments?"
Jolly, who is professionally sarcastic, replied, "The fires are
burning down."
We looked at the village. I saw nothing that did not turn my
stomach. Slaughtered livestock. Slaughtered cats and dogs. The
small, broken forms of dead children.
"Not the kids too," I said, without realizing I was speaking.
"Not the babies again."
Elmo looked at me oddly, not because he was unmoved himself but
because I was uncharacteristically sympathetic. I have seen a lot
of dead men. I did not enlighten him. For me there is a big
difference between adults and kids. "Elmo, I have to go in
there."
"Don't be stupid. Croaker. What can you do?"
"If I can save one kid . . . "
Raven said, "I'll go with him." A knife appeared in his hand. He
must have learned that trick from a conjurer. He does it when he is
nervous or angry.
"Think you can bluff twenty-five men?"
Raven shrugged. "Croaker is right, Elmo. It's got to be done.
Some things you don't tolerate."
Elmo surrendered. "We'll all go. Pray they aren't so drunk they
can't tell friend from foe."
Raven started riding.
The village was good-sized. There had been more than two hundred
homes before the Limper's advent. Half were burned or burning.
Bodies littered the streets. Flies clustered round their sightless
eyes. "Nobody of military age," I noted.
I dismounted and knelt beside a boy of four or five. His skull
had been smashed, but he was breathing. Raven dropped beside me.
"Nothing I can do," I said.
"You can end his ordeal." There were tears in Raven's eyes.
Tears and anger. "There's no excuse for this." He moved to a corpse
lying in shadow.
This one was about seventeen. He wore the jacket of a Rebel
Mainforcer. He had died fighting. Raven said, "He must have been on
leave. One boy to protect them." He pried a bow from lifeless
fingers, bent it. "Good wood. A few thousand of these could rout
the Limper." He slung the bow
mandatory. I wanted no part of him. I did not want to be in the
same province.
As the devastation grew more recent, Raven showed elation,
dismay, introspection easing into determination, and ever more of
that rigid self-control he so often hid behind.
When I reflect on my companions' inner natures I usually wish I
controlled one small talent. I wish I could look inside them and
unmask the darks and brights that move them. Then I take a quick
look into the jungle of my own soul and thank heaven that I cannot.
Any man who barely sustains an armistice with himself has no
business poking around in an alien soul.
I decided to keep closer watch on our newest brother.
We did not need Doughbelly coming in from the point to tell us
we were close. All the forward horizon sprouted tall, leaning trees
of smoke. This part of Forsberg was flat and open and marvelously
green, and against the turquoise sky those oily pillars were an
abomination.
There was not much breeze. The afternoon promised to be
scorching.
Doughbelly swung in beside the Lieutenant. Elmo and I stopped
swapping tired old lies and listened. Doughbelly indicated a smoke
spire. "Still some of the Limper's men in that village, sir."
"Talk to them?"
"No sir. Longhead didn't think you'd want us to. He's waiting
outside town."
"How many of them?"
"Twenty, twenty-five. Drunk and mean. The officer was worse than
the men."
The Lieutenant glanced over his shoulder. "Ah. Elmo. It's your
lucky day. Take ten men and go with Doughbelly. Scout around."
"Shit," Elmo muttered. He is a good man, but muggy spring days
make him lazy. "Okay. Otto. Silent. Peewee. Whitey. Billygoat.
Raven . . . "
I coughed discreetly.
"You're out of your head, Croaker. All right." He did a quick
count on his fingers, called three more names. We formed outside
the column. Elmo gave us the once-over to make sure we hadn't
forgotten our heads. "Let's go."
We hurried forward. Doughbelly directed us into a wood-lot
overlooking the stricken town. Longhead and a man called Jolly
waited there. Elmo asked, "Any developments?"
Jolly, who is professionally sarcastic, replied, "The fires are
burning down."
We looked at the village. I saw nothing that did not turn my
stomach. Slaughtered livestock. Slaughtered cats and dogs. The
small, broken forms of dead children.
"Not the kids too," I said, without realizing I was speaking.
"Not the babies again."
Elmo looked at me oddly, not because he was unmoved himself but
because I was uncharacteristically sympathetic. I have seen a lot
of dead men. I did not enlighten him. For me there is a big
difference between adults and kids. "Elmo, I have to go in
there."
"Don't be stupid. Croaker. What can you do?"
"If I can save one kid . . . "
Raven said, "I'll go with him." A knife appeared in his hand. He
must have learned that trick from a conjurer. He does it when he is
nervous or angry.
"Think you can bluff twenty-five men?"
Raven shrugged. "Croaker is right, Elmo. It's got to be done.
Some things you don't tolerate."
Elmo surrendered. "We'll all go. Pray they aren't so drunk they
can't tell friend from foe."
Raven started riding.
The village was good-sized. There had been more than two hundred
homes before the Limper's advent. Half were burned or burning.
Bodies littered the streets. Flies clustered round their sightless
eyes. "Nobody of military age," I noted.
I dismounted and knelt beside a boy of four or five. His skull
had been smashed, but he was breathing. Raven dropped beside me.
"Nothing I can do," I said.
"You can end his ordeal." There were tears in Raven's eyes.
Tears and anger. "There's no excuse for this." He moved to a corpse
lying in shadow.
This one was about seventeen. He wore the jacket of a Rebel
Mainforcer. He had died fighting. Raven said, "He must have been on
leave. One boy to protect them." He pried a bow from lifeless
fingers, bent it. "Good wood. A few thousand of these could rout
the Limper." He slung the bow
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