Through the Darkness

“Any time a colonel starts poking his nose into things, he’s always trouble,” Skarnu whispered back. An overage lieutenant headed up the little garrison in Pavilosta; he trotted along after the graying colonel, hands waving as he explained this or that.

Whatever he was saying, he failed to impress the senior Algarvian officer. At one point, the colonel said something that had to be downright cruel, for the lieutenant recoiled as if a beam had wounded him. Striking a dramatic pose, he cried, “Do please be reasonable, Colonel Lurcanio!”

Whatever the colonel answered, the lieutenant got no satisfaction from it. Whatever it was, Skarnu couldn’t hear it. He wasn’t quite sure if the Algarvian word he had heard meant reasonable or fair, his command of Algarvian, never great, was badly rusty these days. But that didn’t matter, either.

As soon as he could, he took Merkela aside and murmured, “I had better make myself scarce. If they’re not after me in particular, I’d be amazed.”

“Why do you say that?” Merkela asked.

He didn’t point. He didn’t want to do anything to draw the Algarvian officer’s notice. Quietly still, he answered, “Because that fellow over there is my dear sister’s lover.”

Merkela needed a moment to realize what that meant. When she did, her eyes flashed fire, almost as if she were a dragon. “The whore didn’t just sell her body to the Algarvians--she sold you, too!”

Skarnu didn’t want to believe that of Krasta. Of course, he didn’t want to believe his sister gave herself to the redhead, either, but he had no choice there. He said, “Whether she sold me or not, this Lurcanio’s not likely to be here by accident.”

“No, not likely at all.” Merkela frowned, then grew brisk. “You’re right-- you’d better disappear. Vatsyunas and Pernavai have to go with you, too. They can’t sound like proper Valmierans. Raunu can stay--if the redheads come to the farm, I’ll be a widow making ends meet with a hired man.”

She marshaled the people in her life as if she were a general marshaling armies. “That may serve,” Skarnu said, “but it may not, too. Plenty of people in these parts can tell the Algarvians I’ve been living with you.”

She pondered, but not for long. “I’ll say we quarreled, and I cursed well threw you out.” Then she raised her voice to a furious shout: “You stinking cockhound, if you don’t keep your eyes and your hands where they belong, I’ll make sure you sing soprano for the rest of your days!”

People stared. Lurcanio was one of those people. His face twisted into an amused smirk. For a moment, Skarnu gaped--drawing Lurcanio’s attention was the last thing he wanted. But, a little slower than he should have, he saw how Merkela was building her alibi, and remembered that, at the moment, Lurcanio couldn’t recognize him. He did his best to get into the spirit of things, yelling, “Oh, shut up, you noisy bitch! I ought to give you a good one-- and I will, too, if you don’t keep quiet.”

“You try it and you’ll be sorrier than you ever have been,” Merkela snarled. She sounded as if she meant it, too; she made a fine actress. And she wasn’t just acting, either. Skarnu wouldn’t have wanted to be the man who laid a hand on her when she didn’t care to be touched.

They kept on quarreling till they left Pavilosta. As soon as they were alone on the road back to the farm, they started to laugh. Skarnu wasn’t laughing, though, when he went off into the woods with Vatsyunas and Pernavai. He felt a coward for leaving a woman--and especially a woman carrying his child--to face the redheads alone. And the Kaunians from Forthweg were city folk, without much notion of how to take care of themselves in what seemed very wild country to them. Skarnu stayed busy showing them what needed doing. He tried to remember that he hadn’t known, either, till he went into the army.

He could sneak back to the farm for food; he didn’t have to hunt. About a week later, Merkela said, “They came today. And sure enough, that redhead who swives your sister is a dangerous man. But Raunu and I played the fool and sent him on his way.”

“Good enough,” Skarnu said. “Better than good enough, in fact. But I won’t come back to stay for a while yet. What do you care to bet they’ll swoop down here again, to see if you were playing tricks?”

“Aye, that Lurcanio would,” Merkela said at once. “He might even come back three times, curse him. Let him. He won’t catch you. And the fight goes on.”

Skarnu nodded. As if they were a spell, he repeated the words. “The fight goes on.”

Istvan studied the scar on his left hand. It still pained him every now and again; Captain Tivadar had cut deep. Istvan didn’t blame his company commander. Tivadar had had to let the sin out of him and out of the men of his squad. Istvan just hoped the cut proved expiation enough.

Corporal Kun came back through the trees toward him. “No sign of the Unkerlanters ahead, Sergeant,” he said.