Part 28 (1/2)

Marrget's gasping increased, and a single tear traced a path down her cheek. Her eyes stared as though they saw the life of a woman of Gryylth, as though she felt her own proud head bent unwillingly under the weight of custom. ”My life . . . has been that of a warrior.” She spoke in small rushes, the words tumbling over one another in their haste to get out. ' 'If I encountered an obstacle ... I could fight.”

”You still can.”

As though to indicate her body, Marrget spread her hands. ”I cannot fight this. ” Her eyes were desperate, bleak.

Alouzon could not meet her gaze. Gently, she lowered the captain to the ground. ”If you can't fight it,” she said softly, ”you don't bother. You can't fight a mountain, or a river, so you just don't.” She mustered the courage to look Marrget in the eye. ”You said once that you'd wept for the men you'd lost in battle. Show some strength: cry for yourself. But don't waste your time fighting it. You're still Marrget of Crownhark. That's all you need. The rest we can take care of, one way or another.”

”I ...” Marrget shut her eyes. ”I am a woman.”

”Yeah.” Alouzon decided to treat her words as a simple statement of fact. She spoke low, as gently as she could. ”You are.”

Minutes went by, and Marrget said nothing. Aside from the crackling of the distant fire, there was silence. Alouzon began to think that she had fallen asleep.

But Marrget stirred. ”I cannot fight this.”

”No.” Again, a statement of fact. ”You can't.”

”But I have no wish to die.”

”That's good.” Alouzon held to the image of the Grail. Please ...

”Therefore. . .” Marrget lifted her head, her brow furrowed with uncertainty, and looked off into the darkness as though she contemplated her future. Her mouth worked soundlessly, then, with an effort: ”Therefore I will go on. I will not continue in this fas.h.i.+on. I am Marrget of Crownhark: I will not grovel in the sand like 244.

an ign.o.ble beast.” She pulled herself up until she was sitting, and there was bleakness in her eyes still, but there was also the steel of an innately prideful will. She looked down at herself, confronted her nakedness as though it were a hostile army and she alone and weaponless. After a minute, she found her robe and covered herself. ”What do you want of me, Alouzon Dragonmaster? Why do you press me so?”

”I want you and the wartroop to help fight the Corri-nians.”

Marrget smiled grimly: the expression with which she habitually faced a battle. And Alouzon took that as a good sign. ”Thirteen women against the ma.s.sed phalanxes of Corrin?'' The despair was gone from her voice. There was instead a certain amus.e.m.e.nt.

Alouzon shrugged. ”I'll admit, I've heard of better odds.”

The other women were cl.u.s.tered at the fire, still watching. They might not have moved since the fight had begun. Marrget examined them. Alouzon had seen the look before. What can I make out of this? Is this fighting material? ”Or worse, Dragonmaster,” she said after a time. ”Much worse.” There was a note of pride in her voice, faint but distinct. ”They are the First Wartroop.”

”Can we save them?”

Marrget's gaze flicked back to Alouzon. The unspoken question had been: Can I save you ?

The captain dropped her eyes, pressed her lips together. ”I can fight,” she said. ”You showed me that, friend Alouzon. And the First Wartroop would ride into a pit of fire if I gave them word. They will live, and they will fight. I have no laggards in my company.”

They sat together in silence for some minutes. As Marrget's breathing returned to normal, the captain pulled herself up straight, as though she had sucked in strength along with the air. With a sigh, she pushed her ash-blond hair back with both hands, and she stretched like a sleeper who had awakened from a night of evil dreams to find at least a reasonably bright morning.

The wartroop's fire crackled as someone added wood .

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to it, and Marrget rose and picked up her sword. ”My warriors have need of me, Alouzon.” Her voice was calm.

”You go ahead, Marrget. You can do more for them than I can. I'm going to sit here a while longer: I need the rest.” Marrget looked at her, puzzled. ”I'm not used to this,” Alouzon explained. ”Where I come from, I'm just a student.”

Marrget smiled faintly. ”What? In Gryylth already six days and not a fighter yet?'' She turned and went toward the fire. There was grace in her movements-a sway of the hips and a set to her arms that bespoke femininity- but her back was straight, and determination was in her step. If any man were foolhardy enough to demand a bow from Marrget of Crownhark, he would get precisely what he deserved.

She moved among her women, sitting with them, talking with them, conjuring responses and even laughter. Wykla stirred at the sound of voices, and Marrget drew her to the fire and cast a blanket about the girl's shoulders with her own hands. The firelight glowed on Wykla's amber hair, and she looked to her captain with a face full of renewed hope.

Marrget's words did not carry, but her tone did, and though it bore a resemblance to that with which she had comforted the wartroop after the deaths in the Heath, there was a difference. The gruff, half-hostile affection of soldiers was eclipsed now by a sense of urgent unity. In the past, they had needed one another's presence, swords, and protection in battle; but now they needed, in addition, the kind of unconditional loyalty that would greet any temporary weakness with help and support.

Some grimaced, fetched their swords, and began to sc.r.a.pe together what bits of pride they could find. Others wept and were comforted. And Marrget stood among them, determined, strong, an example of what lay on the other side of despair.

Alouzon closed her eyes and sighed with as much relief as she could summon. The warriors loved Marrget. They would follow her. The emotional stability that the captain 246.

could give them might not last forever, but it was a start, something to pull them back from the abyss that had opened at their feet.

The Corrinian sorcerer had executed a very clever plan: in a society in which women were seen as valueless, he had transformed the best troops into women. What could be more psychologically devastating to Gryylth? Vorya's armies were already slipping away in fear, and, confronted with the ultimate horror, even the king might break.

Fatigue was making her thoughts wander in preparation for sleep, but she snapped awake. Thirteen women against the ma.s.sed phalanxes of Corrin, Marrget had said. She might turn out to be right.

One thing at a time. Marrget and the wartroop had to be saved first.

When she looked back to the fire, she saw that Marrget had the women preparing for sleep. It was the best thing they could do, she supposed, and she wished that she could join them.

In another few minutes, Marrget returned, carrying the water skin. She knelt before Alouzon. ”I have wounded you.”

”I can dish it out, and I can take it, too.”

”Wash.” Marrget smiled and poured the water herself. Cupping it in her hands, Alouzon splashed her face. The cut on her jaw stung in protest.

She winced. ”Did you get me that good?”

Marrget shrugged. ”I am a warrior. When I fight, I fight well or not at all.” Dampening a cloth, she swabbed at Alouzon's bruised arm. ”If we had not fought as we did, I would have found less confidence in myself. You would not have been able to . . .” She shrugged again. ”. . .to revive me. I have my own wounds.”

”Sorry.”

”I attacked first.” She looked at Alouzon carefully. ”There is a river nearby. We can bathe there tomorrow before we leave.”

”Leave?”

”If the king will still have my counsel, I would advise .

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him to take what soldiers he has remaining to the Circle. It is more easily defended. Mernyl may be able to help, also. With as few fighters as we have, and with the presence of the Tree, we will need what he can give us.”

”What about Dythragor?”

Marrget snorted in contempt. ”I judge the advice and actions of Dythragor now only by their profit to me and to Gryylth.”

”Do you think we've got a chance?”