The Lion of Farside by John Dalmas

It wasn’t, he thought, as if things had been preordained. More like, if he just kept doing what seemed right, more good than bad would come of it.

And what about all the dead. What of them?

What indeed? Everyone died sooner or later. Even Sarkia would. And people here believed that after a period in something like purgatory, reviewing what they’d done in life and suffering for their misdeeds, they’d be reborn, until finally they were fit for heaven. It sounded more just than what he’d learned in the Oak Creek Presbyterian Church, though Reverend Fleming wouldn’t much approve of it.

He went to sleep on that.

PART 6: Melody

39: Korens Manor

The next day, riding south with their escorts, Varia and Curtis talked at length, speaking American for privacy. She learned much about his odyssey, and he gained a much better picture of the empire.

Not that they talked continuously. The day was clear but breezy, and cool for Six-Month—ideal for riding and enjoying the countryside—and there were moments of looking about, soaking up perceptions. Once, far overhead, an eagle screamed, and for a time, seven vultures, black as crows, sailed in silent, effortless circles. While the marsh, when they reached it, drew the eyes. It stretched beyond the edge of vision—expanses of cattails, black pools sheened with limonite, and here and there patches of ten-foot reeds, or islands of brush and trees. Creeks the color of tea passed with imperceptible currents beneath stone bridges, while along their narrow back channels, muskrat lodges humped like miniature beaver dens.

For Varia there were moments of reflection. Curtis had just told her of Arbel and his system of training, which obviously had had powerful effects. Yet he was still Curtis, Curtis transformed, much more powerful and charismatic now. Curtis minus much of the imprinting laid on him by family, church, and community, that had prepared him for life in Washington County. Before she’d slept, the night before, Raien had murmured, in reflections of his own, “We met a true lion today, Varia, the Lion of Farside. And discovered a friend.”

The Lion of Farside. The metaphor had its attraction, but Curtis wasn’t normally ferocious, certainly not cold-blooded. Deadly perhaps, and powerful, but not cold-blooded.

When they left the marsh behind, Varia was telling him of the irrepressible Hermiss, who lived at Ternass, and the stories she’d told her of life on Farside.

“Hmh! I wonder if she made the connection between your Macurdy and the marshal of the southern army.”

“I doubt it. I don’t think I mentioned your last name; to me you’ve always been Curtis, and Will was Will. Sisters and ylver are like most Rude Landers about names: mostly we use just one, however many you have.”

The road topped a low hill, and now Varia could see, ahead and to her left, large ovals of ashes. Soldiers raked them, finding and piling bones, while prisoner details dug pits. This, she realized, was the battlefield, where the pyres had burned and the bones would be buried. Raien would be glad to know these things were being done.

They left the road, angling toward the broad tent camp of the southern army, a mile or so ahead. In the fields, whole cohorts played ball, a hundred in each game, or each melee. She wondered how many bones would be broken before the day was over.

Approaching camp, they sent their escorts off to the Kullvordi tentment. Her ylver would be fed there, and have tents assigned them. Then Macurdy led her to his headquarters tentment. As they approached Melody’s tent, Varia felt curiosity, and a certain tension. “I hear her talking,” Macurdy murmured, still in American, and halted his horse outside. He helped Varia down, though she didn’t need help, and led her in as the two women inside looked up.

Varia stared startled, for one of the women was Hermiss, who stared back with her mouth open. “Varia!” she squealed, and rushing to her, hugged her hard, then stepped back to arm’s length. “Oh Varia! You’re so beautiful! As beautiful as ever. More, with your hair grown out! Where have you been? It’s so wonderful to see you!”

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