"You trust him?"
"Don't you?"
Ross nodded. "Yes, I do, but…"
"But nothing. That adoption business was apparently real. That's our answer as to I Loran's intentions."
Murdock touched the jeweled belt. Suddenly, his expression darkened. "I'll be able to keep this, won't I, because I'm not bringing it back just so some brass hat can hang it in a museum or on his wall."
Gordon smiled, recognizing the old Ross Murdock in that. "As I've said before, there's no rule against souvenirs. Just slip it under your clothes when you make the transfer and don't say anything about it… Of course, your wife might want to make a necklace out of those stones."
"She's not getting them, either," he said, smiling as well. "Thanks, Gordon."
Ashe stood up. "On your feet, Firehand. I believe your instructions are to show yourself wearing that belt, and I imagine our comrades are going to want to celebrate your promotion. You'll have to go along, but for heaven's sake, don't let them get you drunk. Three stiff shots of some of these local concoctions would be enough to put any uninitiated Terran under the table."
"Trust me on that one, pal. After today's interview, I'm not likely to put myself in the position of accidentally saying anything to anybody not of our select little team."
20
WHEN THE PARTISANS reached the mountains once more, they found their outposts' excitement no less keen when they were informed of their commander's new status than had been that of Luroc's escort, although it was expressed more quietly out of deference to their position and responsibility.
The Ton was eager for his own quarters after the long journey, but he had not been slow in noting his people's response to their war leader's good fortune, nor had he missed the slight lifting of Murdock's head when he had received their congratulations, and he drew rein just outside the Sapphirehold camp. "Take the lead, Rossin. This triumph is all yours."
"That wouldn't be right, Ton Luroc…" he began in protest.
"Custom be damned, Firehand. Our warriors see your success as their own. Let them have the joy of it."
I Loran had not misread his soldiers' reaction, and it was some time before the cheering stopped in the usually still encampment. If Ross Murdock had entertained any doubts as to the regard with which he was held here, this day's events would most assuredly have set them to rest.
Eveleen watched the enthusiastic reception without taking great part in it. She waited until the party had dismounted and each of the leaders had gone to his quarters before seeking Ross out.
She knocked at the door of what was now her cabin as well and then went inside. Her husband was sitting at his desk, already beginning to attack the neatly piled paperwork waiting there, but he rose quickly to receive her.
She slipped into his arms, kissing him joyfully.
The weapons expert stepped back at last and studied him carefully. Her fingers touched the jeweled belt. "I'm so happy for you, Ross," she told him quietly.
"Everything didn't go quite as smoothly as this would seem to indicate," Murdock told her grimly. He recounted what had passed between him and Ton Luroc plus Ashe's feelings on the subject.
The Terran woman's face was drawn by the time he had finished. "We won't have to take to our heels, not until we're really done here?" she asked sharply.
"As of now, no, according to Gordon. We all want to see the war to its end. As long as Zanthor I Yoroc's still fighting, he remains a threat, and he's nowhere out of it yet." His eyes were bleak. "We'll just have to play it as it comes and hope we'll be able to stick around long enough to finish what we came to do." , "And longer. Sapphirehold can use our help, or yours, in the postwar negotiations… Blast! I suppose we all must've slipped up in a thousand ways since we moved in here."
Murdock shrugged. Crying over past mistakes was useless. For however long they would be left to stay a part of it, they had a war to fight. "It'll take me a couple of days to go through all this. Did anything major happen that I should know about immediately?"
Eveleen shook her head. "There was almost no enemy activity. One of our patrols met and whipped a small Condor Hall patrol, but that was the extent of it. The prisoners taken then should've reached Gurnion's camp shortly after you left it. Otherwise, we had a nice, quiet time of it."
The partisans' delight in the honor done their commander would not be satisfied by a few words of congratulation, however sincerely or warmly spoken. They gave the newly returned riders that night in which to rest but declared that they would celebrate on the next, barring only a call to battle.
None came, and the following evening found music in the camp and an air of general gaiety upon its inhabitants. All were relaxed, and many, particularly among the women, had put on garments they had saved from the time before Zanthor's shadow had fallen over their lives. Apart from the sentries, only Korvin's division refrained entirely from doing so, as they refrained from tasting any of the wine which was otherwise flowing with uncommon freedom, since they had to remain on battle alert.
Ross watched the festivities from the foot of one of the first trees fringing the encampment. His eyes were somewhat somber, for he felt a little depressed by the very lightness his comrades evinced.
This was the way it should be, he thought. These people had a right to be merry, to be able to take and use what was theirs and enjoy the fruits of their labor, whatever they chose to do, not to forever be forced to conceal themselves like brigands on mountain slopes.
Most of them would be very glad to return to the former quiet, ordered course of their lives, to the fields and loom and anvil. The few who would not, who could form the kernel of a superb mercenary company, he could already name. With them behind him…
A sudden tightness constricted his throat. The Terran drained his goblet, then filled it again lest someone read his discontent in its emptiness. He was not being left to sit alone for long.
To distract himself, he began to scan the others gathered on the outskirts of the merriment. His eyes came to rest on Allran A Aldar, and he frowned thoughtfully. The Lieutenant had been there a good while now, nearly from the start of the festivities. That was odd, for he was popular with the men and the women of the domain, and he had the reputation of being a fine dancer. He should have been at the center of the celebration, leading a large part of the activities, but instead, he remained thoughtful and withdrawn, seemingly scarcely aware of what was happening around him.
Ross raised his cup again, this time only tasting its contents. Leaving the Sapphireholder to his thoughts, he sought out Eveleen. He spotted her in a moment, sitting beside Gordon and Luroc.
Almost as if she read his thoughts, she glanced in his direction. Finding his gaze on her, she said something to her companions and rose to her feet in a single, lithe movement wonderful to watch.
Carefully skirting the rapidly whirling dancers, she made her way to the place where he was sitting and lightly lowered herself to the ground beside him before he could rise to give her formal greeting.
Her eyes went back to the dancers. "They're so good," she said wistfully. "I used to love to dance. I was good at it, too."
"You're good at everything you do. —Why not join them? It doesn't look all that hard."
Eveleen shook her head. "It's harder than it appears to be. Both the steps and the patterns're intricate, and it's breathlessly fast."
She watched for a few minutes longer and sighed, tempted, but her resolve held. They had no idea how universal these Dominionite dances were, and the team had enough problems as it was without committing readily avoidable blunders.
Ross recognized the considerations that moved her, and his eyes lowered. He felt badly for her and a trifle guilty, as if he were somehow responsible.
He started to raise his cup again but checked himself when he realized that her hands were empty. "I'm a lousy husband. I'll fetch a goblet for you."
The weapons expert held up her hand to stay him. "I've had enough."
> She eyed the liquid in his own goblet. "Ton Gurnion sent a supply of his stock back with Luroc. He's been good enough to broach it for the occasion. Would you like some? This home brew's pretty bad."
Murdock shook his head. "No, thanks. Any more, and I'll be getting tight. If our Condor Hall friends start trouble…"
"Korvin can handle it. If you're near tight, you'd best leave battle to him," she told him calmly. "Besides, this celebration is in your honor, and we really wouldn't care to have you ride away from it."
She did not press him further when he again shook his head and merely settled herself more comfortably beside him.
They fell into a companionable silence.
The war captain studied Eveleen from beneath half-closed lids.
Her hair was intricately styled, piled high with a braid of pale yellow ribbon woven through it. Her softly fashioned blouse was the same yellow shade and was delicately embroidered with its own thread. Its neck was just low enough to skirt the first rising of her small, firm breasts.
The faint, clean sweetness of the herbs with which she had scented herself rose to greet him as he moved a little closer to her.
Ross had never been so conscious of Eveleen Riordan's beauty, and a sense of wonder filled him that he had been able to win her. He and Gordon might be the only men on Dominion of Virgin capable of appreciating her loveliness, but that had patently not been the case on Terra. He had certainly made no move to secure her favor there; he had been too much of a blockhead to realize he wanted it. It amazed him that his luck had held so long.
"You sounded so sure when you accepted me," he said suddenly. "It took poor old Comet's fall to wake me up, but when…"
The woman smiled. "Shortly after we met, as soon as I started to get to know the man behind that burned hand story."
Murdock stared at her. "You never said anything or made any move."
Eveleen laughed. "I have some pride, Ross Murdock! I wasn't about to offer what wouldn't be accepted. You liked me, but you were only looking at an able instructor and at a comrade who was also a pleasant companion. If you'd suspected where my interests lay, you'd have run straight to the first shipload of Baldies you could find and signed on for a long voyage to anywhere."
"You read minds, too?" he growled.
Her smile, her eyes, softened. "I loved you, Firehand. I was aware of the nuances in your response to me."
She glanced in the direction of the Ton and Gordon. "Shouldn't we join them?" she suggested. "If you sit out here too much longer, they'll begin to think something's wrong."
There was a slight question in that last, but Ross shook his head. "I just wanted to have some quiet for a while and to watch everything."
He came to his feet and gave his hand to her. "Let's go keep our host company, Lieutenant."
21
ROSS REMAINED IN camp the following day but returned to the war on the next.
Eleven of the partisans rode with him, his two chief Lieutenants, Gordon Ashe, and eight others. Each carried rations for three weeks, for they could conceivably be gone that long, although the norm for these scouting missions was a little less than half that time.
It would require nearly two full days' heavy riding merely to reach the place where their explorations were to begin, the Time Agent thought somewhat glumly, and once there, they were likely to be kept busy.
His party's goal was the Funnel, the region forming the approach to the Corridor. It was an extremely rough area, close by one of the most impenetrable stretches of the great barrier highlands and scarcely more passable itself in places, comprised as it was of tall, cliff-studded hills so named only by comparison with the giants rising up on either side of them. In any other setting, they, too, would have been termed mountains. They were only lightly wooded, but most sported a thick growth of brush and were otherwise so rugged that they provided an acceptable field for guerrilla work, which the more open Corridor itself did not, a fortunate circumstance for the Sapphireholders in the face of the uncommon amount of activity characteristic of the area.
All south-bound traffic began to converge here. The partisans knew that and came frequently in the good hope of taking a prize.
In order to counter them, or at least to discourage even further depredations, the invaders constantly patrolled the region. The Funnel was too large an area and offered too good cover for it to be guarded the way the Corridor was; its distance from the army would have prevented that even without the difficulties of the terrain. Enemy concentration was abnormally high, though, and the two forces often clashed there, usually under conditions entirely of the Sapphirehold warriors' choosing.
It was his to ensure that the latter remained true if they met on this mission. The consequences of any failure in that respect could be disastrous to his small unit.
As on every other occasion when he had thought about the Corridor and its immediate environs without having some immediate need to lash him, the Terran wished fervently that the Confederacy had been able to move quickly enough to have blocked Zanthor's winning control of it. Had they been able to claim even the passage alone or, better still, some of the area leading into it, life would have been a lot easier for his own small command, if, indeed, the war would not already be ended.
Ross sighed then and turned his mind to more productive work. They could learn a great deal from the signs of the most recent traffic, which they were certain to discover once they reached the Funnel and began examining it, even if they were fortunate enough to see nothing at all of their enemies themselves. He would do well to concentrate on the job ahead of them rather than squander this time regretting a failure long since sealed in history.
The partisans left the highlands early in the day, and although the land through which they traveled still offered them fairly good cover and was not yet noted for the heavy enemy activity they would encounter later, prudence moved them to keep an increasingly sharp guard as they moved deeper into it. Ross halted early that night so they would not have to take their rest in the Funnel itself, but they rose with the dawn and quickly, silently, slipped into the troubled region where their work was to begin.
Signs of enemy activity were not scarce for those skilled enough to find them, and the hearts of all sank a little despite their foreknowledge that this must be so. With Zanthor I Yoroc pushing so hard to get his army ready for the winter and the spring to follow, the partisans realized that warriors and goods were getting though to his lines, but still, all were amazed and discouraged by the amount of material that the tracks indicated was escaping them.
Their leader was no more immune to that dulling of heart than were his companions. It was now obvious that the invaders were likely to be considerably better able to face the challenges of the next combat season than the Confederate leaders anticipated. His allies would have to be apprised of their actual strength, and he pressed his party to discover the full extent of it.
The Sapphirehold unit worked its way down the length of the Funnel almost to the mouth of the Corridor itself before Murdock at last learned all he could of what he wished to know and gave the order to turn for home.
That was a command all of them rejoiced to hear. Although the countryside still provided some cover, it was becoming ever more like that of the Corridor, ever less able to shield them against the eyes of their enemies should any be present to trouble them.
All of them hoped their luck would hold in that respect and no patrols would come upon them. With important information in their possession, it would not be well to enter into any conflict now.
Ross kept his unit moving at a fast pace during the remainder of that day. He always hated missions calling himself or any of his soldiers into this place where they were denied ready access to the mountains and was never sorry to come out of it. Now, the responsibility of the intelligence he carried weighed on him along with the ever-present fear of being trapped here.
The Sapphireholders rode steadily until nightfall. They broke their jo
urney once full dark fell and resumed it again with dawn's first pale light.
They had been riding for some four hours when the partisans spotted a flicker of movement well to the north.
They took cover, vanishing as if they had never been, and waited.
Fifteen minutes passed before the stillness of the scene was disrupted again. This time, there was no doubt. Deermen. They were heading south, riding swiftly without taxing their mounts. The party was small, only six men, and nervous. For all their apparent haste, they were making good use of the cover provided by the broken terrain.
The commander watched them for several minutes as they twisted and swerved in their course so as to keep themselves under the best protection available to them.
They were veterans of this war then. Mercenaries fairly recently come into Condor Hall's service did not move this well. Chance alone had revealed them, and were they only a few miles farther north where they would have enjoyed better cover, they should have escaped detection entirely.
Ross signaled to Allran and three others. "Check them out."
That small party made a tempting target, maybe too tempting. Such had been set to trap him before, albeit never this far south. He would not care to sweep down on them only to find himself surprised by a second, larger force that had been traveling better concealed as a shadow to this first.
The four scouts were gone some time before returning at last with the news that the invaders were indeed alone.
The Terran pondered a moment. His first inclination was to let them go, but Zanthor frequently sent couriers in such small, highly mobile companies, and he could not chance that these carried no directive of interest to him or to his allies.
"Allran, Gordon, take half our number and get behind them. Eveleeni and I'll go with the rest. We should be able to sweep around them if we move swiftly enough."
The partisans flowed like the waters of a gentle tide through the broken countryside until they reached the place where their enemies rode.