respect from their own
young and won’t put up with a lack of it from mine.”
“ I wouldn’t …” Lucien began.
“ Not knowingly,” Jon agreed. “But until you
understand local custom, keep quiet.”
“ Okay.”
“ And you’ll behave yourself when we aren’t
travelling,” Jon stated. “Yesterday’s little adventure won’t be
repeated. Understand?”
Lucien
nodded,
“ And now we come to this!” Jon threw the
roll of leaf on the table. “What did I tell you?”
“ You said I wasn’t to bring it upriver and
I didn’t. I got it here!” Lucien protested.
“ Did you really believe I meant you to buy
it here?”
“ I … er … I was drunk.”
One glance
showed this was possibly not the best excuse.
“ The beads you used will be paid to a
tribesman for some furs or fish or a basket. They’ll add some dust
or weed as a little bonus and another good man will be like those
sad wrecks you saw in the street.”
“ I’m sorry,” Lucien muttered.
“ And so you bloody well should be!” Jon
thundered. “If I’d done this when I was an apprentice my master
would’ve skinned me alive.”
“ I said I’m sorry!”
“ And I’m wondering if you’re really are,”
Jon returned. “Do I have to take my belt to you?”
“ No!” Lucien replied quickly.
“ Very well,” Jon said. “But you might like
to keep it in mind.” There was a long silence full of unpleasant
possibilities, but Jon finally said, “We’re going on upriver
tomorrow.”
Headache and
gut ache forgotten, Lucien’s head came up fast. “Really?”
“ There are some odd rumours coming
downstream,” Jon replied. “A bride has gone missing on her wedding
day. It doesn’t seem likely, but I need to find out what’s behind
it.”
Later in the
afternoon, after Lucien had slept the morning away, Jon took him
back to the Liaison office.
“ Can you shoot?” he asked.
Still a little
subdued by the reality of what he had signed up to and the
aftermath of his hangover, the boy just nodded, but the old grin
struggled to come out.
“ Bow and arrow?” Jon asked, “Or
rifle?”
“ Both,” Lucien replied, surprising him.
“I’m not all that good with a bow, but I’m not bad with a
rifle.”
“ Where did you learn archery?”
“ It was about the only fun after school
activity.”
In the armoury
he ran his hands lovingly over the composite bows, but his eyes
went to the rifles locked in their rack.
Jon retrieved
what Lucien thought was a long pole, but realised was a bow. And
what a bow!
Jon allowed
him to try stringing it, but he could barely make it bend a
fraction.
“ Is it tribal made?” he asked in wonder as
Jon bent it with practised easy and slipped the string
on.
“ Yes,” he replied. “The best thing about a
bow is you can reuse your ammo.”
He picked up a
quiver full of fletched arrows.
“ We take both,” he said. “But we avoid
using the rifles unless it’s absolutely necessary. You can practise
with a bow.”
Lucien
rediscovered a lot of muscles during the afternoon as he loosed
arrow after arrow at the butt and listened to Jon’s comments on his
skill, or the lack of it.
“ Not bad,” was the final comment. “We’ll
see about getting you a decent bow when we get further
north.”
“ Like yours?”
“ If you can string it!” Jon replied,
laughing. “Come on, you must be hungry. I know I am.”
They walked
back through the gathering dusk and Jon told him about the tribal
craftsman and their skill with wood, leather and metal.
The attack
came without warning.
Three men
erupted out of the shadows and were on them before Lucien had time
to react. His arms were pinned to his sides in a savage bear hug
and he was lifted off his feet.
Somewhere
behind him he thought he heard a rough voice say, “Remember the boy
lives.” He struggled and kicked and twisted, desperately trying to
free himself, but the vice-like arms merely got tighter and he
could feel the air being crushed
young and won’t put up with a lack of it from mine.”
“ I wouldn’t …” Lucien began.
“ Not knowingly,” Jon agreed. “But until you
understand local custom, keep quiet.”
“ Okay.”
“ And you’ll behave yourself when we aren’t
travelling,” Jon stated. “Yesterday’s little adventure won’t be
repeated. Understand?”
Lucien
nodded,
“ And now we come to this!” Jon threw the
roll of leaf on the table. “What did I tell you?”
“ You said I wasn’t to bring it upriver and
I didn’t. I got it here!” Lucien protested.
“ Did you really believe I meant you to buy
it here?”
“ I … er … I was drunk.”
One glance
showed this was possibly not the best excuse.
“ The beads you used will be paid to a
tribesman for some furs or fish or a basket. They’ll add some dust
or weed as a little bonus and another good man will be like those
sad wrecks you saw in the street.”
“ I’m sorry,” Lucien muttered.
“ And so you bloody well should be!” Jon
thundered. “If I’d done this when I was an apprentice my master
would’ve skinned me alive.”
“ I said I’m sorry!”
“ And I’m wondering if you’re really are,”
Jon returned. “Do I have to take my belt to you?”
“ No!” Lucien replied quickly.
“ Very well,” Jon said. “But you might like
to keep it in mind.” There was a long silence full of unpleasant
possibilities, but Jon finally said, “We’re going on upriver
tomorrow.”
Headache and
gut ache forgotten, Lucien’s head came up fast. “Really?”
“ There are some odd rumours coming
downstream,” Jon replied. “A bride has gone missing on her wedding
day. It doesn’t seem likely, but I need to find out what’s behind
it.”
Later in the
afternoon, after Lucien had slept the morning away, Jon took him
back to the Liaison office.
“ Can you shoot?” he asked.
Still a little
subdued by the reality of what he had signed up to and the
aftermath of his hangover, the boy just nodded, but the old grin
struggled to come out.
“ Bow and arrow?” Jon asked, “Or
rifle?”
“ Both,” Lucien replied, surprising him.
“I’m not all that good with a bow, but I’m not bad with a
rifle.”
“ Where did you learn archery?”
“ It was about the only fun after school
activity.”
In the armoury
he ran his hands lovingly over the composite bows, but his eyes
went to the rifles locked in their rack.
Jon retrieved
what Lucien thought was a long pole, but realised was a bow. And
what a bow!
Jon allowed
him to try stringing it, but he could barely make it bend a
fraction.
“ Is it tribal made?” he asked in wonder as
Jon bent it with practised easy and slipped the string
on.
“ Yes,” he replied. “The best thing about a
bow is you can reuse your ammo.”
He picked up a
quiver full of fletched arrows.
“ We take both,” he said. “But we avoid
using the rifles unless it’s absolutely necessary. You can practise
with a bow.”
Lucien
rediscovered a lot of muscles during the afternoon as he loosed
arrow after arrow at the butt and listened to Jon’s comments on his
skill, or the lack of it.
“ Not bad,” was the final comment. “We’ll
see about getting you a decent bow when we get further
north.”
“ Like yours?”
“ If you can string it!” Jon replied,
laughing. “Come on, you must be hungry. I know I am.”
They walked
back through the gathering dusk and Jon told him about the tribal
craftsman and their skill with wood, leather and metal.
The attack
came without warning.
Three men
erupted out of the shadows and were on them before Lucien had time
to react. His arms were pinned to his sides in a savage bear hug
and he was lifted off his feet.
Somewhere
behind him he thought he heard a rough voice say, “Remember the boy
lives.” He struggled and kicked and twisted, desperately trying to
free himself, but the vice-like arms merely got tighter and he
could feel the air being crushed
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