Read Online Demontech: Gulf Run by David Sherman - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: David Sherman
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there?”
“Only the birds bedding down for the night,” Guma replied.
“See anything?”
“Nothing moves.”
Haft looked into the tree-night. “What’s that?” he asked, pointing at a shadow that could be the head and shoulders of a lurking man.
Guma looked along Haft’s arm to see what he meant. “That’s a boysenberry bush,” he murmured. “I knew it could be mistaken for a man when I watched night come.”
“You memorized.”
“Of course, Lord Haft. We all did. You taught us well.”
“He’s not a lord either,” Spinner muttered.
Haft’s grin went unseen in the dark and he ignored Spinner. He squeezed Guma’s shoulder. “You learned well.”
That was another of the lessons Lord Gunny had brought from—from wherever. Sentries on night watch should carefully examine their fronts as dusk faded to dark and memorize every shape and shadow as they changed, so when they looked out in the night they would know if they saw a shadow that hadn’t been there in the light—and so they wouldn’t mistake something that had been there as a threat.
They sat and watched and listened with the Zobrans for several more minutes. Nothing moved before their eyes. All they heard was the
whishing
of night fliers above, the buzzing of flying insects close by their ears, and the lightly skittering steps of small night browsers.
“Two up and two down,” Spinner reminded them before they left; two men to watch while two slept. They visited the other posts, each in turn. Half of the men on watch were Zobran soldiers, the other half trained men from Eikby. All the watchers ignored Spinner’s muttered objections to being called “lord.”
When they got back to the camp and checked the hospital pavilion, they found all the wounded sleeping, some restlessly, most quietly. Nightbird, the healing witch from Bostia who joined them somewhere in southeastern Skragland or northeastern Zobra—nobody had been sure where they were at the time—sat watching quietly over them.
“Two are still in danger,” Nightbird said softly. “The others mostly need time and rest.”
“Time,” Spinner repeated. Time was the one thing he thought they didn’t have. Even if the Jokapcul weren’t closely pursuing them, he felt an urgent need to get the refugees to Dartmutt as quickly as possible.
“Time,” Nightbird confirmed. “Even a day or two will make a huge difference. If we move them too soon, some who aren’t in danger now will be in danger then. The two who are now in danger could die if they are moved too soon.”
“Can the healing demons heal them faster?”
Nightbird stiffened in the darkness; healing witches generally didn’t trust healing magicians and their demons. They knew what their unguents and poultices could do. One could never predict with certainty what a demon might decide to do.
“I doubt it,” she said with less heat than she felt. “They’ve already worked their magic. Now it is time the wounded need.”
“We have to wait until Silent returns and gives his report,” Haft said, stopping Spinner from saying anything else for the moment.
After a few more neutral remarks, they wandered through the camp.
All the fires were out or safely banked. Except for some of the older children and a few adults, everyone not on watch was asleep.
At their own fire they found Fletcher and Zweepee sitting close, Zweepee as usual tucked comfortably under her husband’s protective arm. Alyline gave them a curious look. Maid Marigold seemed to glow in the fire’s dim light when she saw Haft. There was no sign of Doli or Maid Primrose. Zweepee disengaged herself from Fletcher to pour cups of water for them.
“All is secure in the camp,” Fletcher said.
“We know; we saw,” Spinner said as he took a seat on a log facing the fire. He accepted the cup with thanks.
“The sentries are alert,” Haft said. He grinned at Maid Marigold, who took a cup from Zweepee and handed it to him. He sat cross-legged on
“Only the birds bedding down for the night,” Guma replied.
“See anything?”
“Nothing moves.”
Haft looked into the tree-night. “What’s that?” he asked, pointing at a shadow that could be the head and shoulders of a lurking man.
Guma looked along Haft’s arm to see what he meant. “That’s a boysenberry bush,” he murmured. “I knew it could be mistaken for a man when I watched night come.”
“You memorized.”
“Of course, Lord Haft. We all did. You taught us well.”
“He’s not a lord either,” Spinner muttered.
Haft’s grin went unseen in the dark and he ignored Spinner. He squeezed Guma’s shoulder. “You learned well.”
That was another of the lessons Lord Gunny had brought from—from wherever. Sentries on night watch should carefully examine their fronts as dusk faded to dark and memorize every shape and shadow as they changed, so when they looked out in the night they would know if they saw a shadow that hadn’t been there in the light—and so they wouldn’t mistake something that had been there as a threat.
They sat and watched and listened with the Zobrans for several more minutes. Nothing moved before their eyes. All they heard was the
whishing
of night fliers above, the buzzing of flying insects close by their ears, and the lightly skittering steps of small night browsers.
“Two up and two down,” Spinner reminded them before they left; two men to watch while two slept. They visited the other posts, each in turn. Half of the men on watch were Zobran soldiers, the other half trained men from Eikby. All the watchers ignored Spinner’s muttered objections to being called “lord.”
When they got back to the camp and checked the hospital pavilion, they found all the wounded sleeping, some restlessly, most quietly. Nightbird, the healing witch from Bostia who joined them somewhere in southeastern Skragland or northeastern Zobra—nobody had been sure where they were at the time—sat watching quietly over them.
“Two are still in danger,” Nightbird said softly. “The others mostly need time and rest.”
“Time,” Spinner repeated. Time was the one thing he thought they didn’t have. Even if the Jokapcul weren’t closely pursuing them, he felt an urgent need to get the refugees to Dartmutt as quickly as possible.
“Time,” Nightbird confirmed. “Even a day or two will make a huge difference. If we move them too soon, some who aren’t in danger now will be in danger then. The two who are now in danger could die if they are moved too soon.”
“Can the healing demons heal them faster?”
Nightbird stiffened in the darkness; healing witches generally didn’t trust healing magicians and their demons. They knew what their unguents and poultices could do. One could never predict with certainty what a demon might decide to do.
“I doubt it,” she said with less heat than she felt. “They’ve already worked their magic. Now it is time the wounded need.”
“We have to wait until Silent returns and gives his report,” Haft said, stopping Spinner from saying anything else for the moment.
After a few more neutral remarks, they wandered through the camp.
All the fires were out or safely banked. Except for some of the older children and a few adults, everyone not on watch was asleep.
At their own fire they found Fletcher and Zweepee sitting close, Zweepee as usual tucked comfortably under her husband’s protective arm. Alyline gave them a curious look. Maid Marigold seemed to glow in the fire’s dim light when she saw Haft. There was no sign of Doli or Maid Primrose. Zweepee disengaged herself from Fletcher to pour cups of water for them.
“All is secure in the camp,” Fletcher said.
“We know; we saw,” Spinner said as he took a seat on a log facing the fire. He accepted the cup with thanks.
“The sentries are alert,” Haft said. He grinned at Maid Marigold, who took a cup from Zweepee and handed it to him. He sat cross-legged on
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