S. M. Stirling - Armor Propre.pdf

(27 KB) Pobierz
200134082 UNPDF
Armor Propre
Jan Stirlin g & S. M. Stirlin g
« ^ »
Tenon bit her lower lip and studied her image in the steel mirror. Sighing, she turned
sideways to examine her profile.
"That's gorgeous," her companion, Brunea, growled enviously.
"I know," Teri groaned. She turned, tugged at the waist, "It's sooo beautiful."
"It was made for you madam, and the price…"
Both women glared menacingly at the brawny clerk. "If you need me, just call," he excused
himself hastily. "I'm Surelle."
"I can't wear this!" Terion exclaimed, tossing her head impatiently. "It's too expensive and
too provocative. I'd be making a target of myself." Her eyes filled with regret. "It's
magnificent." Longingly, she ran her hands down the sleek sides, "But it's just not me."
"Oooh yes it is." Brunea said firmly. "Sureties right, much as I hate to admit it. This might've
been made to your measure. Besides, it'll be good for your career."
Teri shrugged, then grinned slowly. Her career had endured a disastrous slump after she'd
slain a wizard she was supposed to be guarding. Now she'd finally made lieutenant and was
looking for something special to mark the occasion.
"Y'know what's making this so hard?" she asked. "I've always dreamed of owning
something like this." Teri traced the gold filigree at the neck with a reverent finger. "Ooohhh, I
want it!" She laughed.
"Ask your man's opinion," Brunea suggested, jerking a thumb over her shoulder. "Bet he
agrees you should have it."
Terion raised her brows over the phrase "your man," knowing that Feric would object to it.
But a warm inward glow told her that she approved. She glanced in the mirror at the advancing
reflection of her companion-pet wizards-lover, friend. Mine, she thought and smiled.
Feric came towards them, his nose leading the rest of his face like the prow of a ship, dark,
unruly hair bobbing with his ungainly walk, fine brown eyes dreaming. He carried in his wiry
arms their week's allotment of supplies; so loaded that boxes and parcels looked ready to spill
in all directions.
 
"Well!" Brunea demanded in a bark that made Feric jump. "Whaddaya think?"
Terion turned to face him, her blue eyes shining.
"That one over there will do just as well," she said quickly, pointing to a dully gleaming
breastplate. She stood straight so that he could get a better look at her. "This one costs a
hundred gis more." Her face wore a guilty expression, but her hand stroked yearningly down
the glossy armor.
Feric examined her, his lips pursed, eyes narrowed in judgement, highly flattered that she'd
seek his counsel about something like this. Teri knew he'd no understanding of armor or its
quality. He'd told her as much when she expressed the need for a new breastplate before facing
the Duke's forces in battle. He appreciated most of all her willingness to let it go, much as she
obviously wanted it, if he agreed they couldn't afford it.
And it was too extravagant, well above the limit they'd set.
Teasing her, he stretched out the moment, examining the beautifully made armor she wore. It
was enamelled black, with lapped tassets falling to the sides, the whole surface heavily
scrolled with exquisite gold tracery.
He liked it. The dramatic color set off her red-gold hair and handsome face.
"Well, my love," he watched her color slightly at the endearment, "if this can be had for
only a hundred gis more I think you should take it."
Terion laughed and clapped battle scarred hands delightedly.
Brunea leaned over, pinched Feric's cheek and growled, "You're a prize, you are. Even if
y'are a wizardling." She winked at Teri. "I'll go hunt up Surelle."
Feric rubbed his cheek.
"Could you ask her to stop doing that?" he whispered. "I'll be able to whistle with my mouth
closed if she keeps it up!"
Teri just grinned at him.
"Thank you," she said simply, her eyes glowing with affection. Then with enthusiasm,
"Brunea's right, you know. This will help my career. It speaks of confidence and that'll
automatically win a bit more respect."
"Because you look so well?" Feric asked, his eyes admiring.
 
Terion laughed. "Because it says I can hold my own against anybody. Mercenaries make up
their kit from armor won on the field, so half the young hot-heads out there will be after me like
wasps after honey. The fact I'd dare to wear something like this says I think I'm good enough to
keep it." She examined her reflection. "Brunea's right, I'm ready to make that statement."
Terion failed to notice Feric's dawning horror.
"You mean," he asked, appalled, "you'll be in more danger because of this?"
"Love," she said and threw a muscular arm around his slim shoulders, "in this business,
more than in any other, timidity doesn't pay. I think that what I stand to gain more than
outweighs the added risk." She smiled at his worried expression. "Trust me, Feric, I'll profit
from this." She looked at herself once more and frowned. "The rest of my kit won't match," she
said unhappily. "At the very least I should have black trousers."
"You have!" he said.
"But they're so shabby."
"Excuse me, we are talking about going to battle here, aren't we? With the usual blood, dust,
and grass-stains, yes? Not a royal tea-am I correct?" Feric thrust his chin out pugnaciously and
Teri eyed him in mild surprise.
"If you think we've spent enough," she said mildly, "you've only to say so, dear. There's no
need to be sarcastic."
Feric left Terion as quickly as he could and hurried to their spartan quarters.
If I were a cheap, tight-fisted jerk she'd be a great deal safer right now, he thought,
miserably, regreting that he lacked such a nature and ignoring the certainty that Teri wouldn't
have anything to do with him if he did. Who could have guessed that a little gilt on her armor
would make a difference?
You could read by the light in their eyes if you even mentioned gold to most mercenaries, let
alone showed it to them. The flash of it on Terion's black armor would bring them running like
bees to a honeypot. Large, brawny, aggressive, homicidal bees with things that were sharp, or
pointed, or heavy-some of them sharp, pointed and heavy.
She'd never even think of coming to me and asking, "Sweetheart, would you mind very much
if I joined this suicide mission?" So how could she imagine he'd knowingly approve of her
making a target of herself for the slings and arrows and knives and spears and swords of
 
outraged fortune hunters? Well, I won't have it! he thought.
He dragged his two books of magic out from under the bed and unlocked one with a key he
kept around his neck. When he opened the cover the hair on his arms rose from the outflow of
power and he shivered slightly.
Feric had been a mere hedge-wizard until Terion stomped into his life and gifted him with
these books. With the books for guidance, Feric had discovered that he'd a great deal more
power than he'd ever imagined.
His problem was control. Terion had likened Feric's magicking to "using a ten pound
battle-hammer to open a soft-boiled egg." After two or three near disasters they'd both agreed
he needed a tutor and to put the books away until they found one. Then he'd given his goat to a
neighbor and had followed Terion out of his little village into the wide world.
So he shouldn't be doing this. In fact he felt guilty just looking at the books.
But I'm only looking for something small, he rationalized. A little protection spell to offset
her attractive armor. What could possibly go wrong with that? She'd never know. Besides, it
was his agreement that had put her in danger. He was obliged to find a way to protect her.
Anyway, he'd no intention of living without her if he'd any say in the matter.
Gritting his teeth, Feric immersed himself in the book's contents.
"Ah-ha!" he exclaimed some time later. "To Render an Object Apparently Invisible."
Thyf spell, he read, causeth the eye to flee the object enchanted, deflecting the gaze as a
shield deflectf a blow.
Indeed, if it be well cast, thine enemyf entire bodie shall be turned aside.
"Excellent! Just what I was looking for."
The difficult part would lie in getting Teri to leave her beloved breastplate with him to be
enchanted.
Two days later, well before dawn on the day of battle, unit commanders, Terion among
them for the first time, met for a final briefing with the Prince and his senior staff.
His Highness's brow was clouded this morning. He stood alone, brooding, wrapped in a
black cloak.
 
He probably thinks he looks romantic, Terion thought, not without sympathy, but what he
really resembles is a big-footed puppy someone left out in the rain. Which was, perhaps, to be
expected from a boy of seventeen forced to face his own uncle in battle. Occasionally he
looked sulky, as the mercenary officers around him yawned, stretched, drank hot things out of
mugs or picked at their teeth with daggerpoints. It was hard to look romantic next to someone
finishing a piece of toast and brushing crumbs off their gorget.
The Duke had protested the Princes right to the throne and had given his young nephew a
scant month to surrender his birthright. Then he'd marched immediately upon the royal city of
Feval to wrest that concession from the Prince by force. Help was on its way from all quarters,
but for now the Duke's army outnumbered them considerably.
A great map hung from the wall slightly to the left of the sulking Prince; the Lady General
Ples rose from her place and went to it. With a pointer she began to outline the enemy's
positions and their own.
As she described the intended course of the battle to come, Terion leaned towards Brunea.
"Look at that hill anchoring the end of the Prince's line," she whispered. "They've got
nothing on it but a few troops! If the Duke gets an inkling of that he'll be over that hill and
through our flank like lightning."
"Lady have pity on the poor sod who gets that position," Brunea muttered back. "They're
dead, whoever they are."
"Terion of Captain Tesser's company, you'll be here," the General's pointer slapped the hill
they'd just been discussing. "I don't need to tell you," Ples said grimly, catching Terion's eye,
"how important this position is. At all costs, we are relying on you to hold this hill."
Terion could feel the hair on the back of her neck rise. She knew the eyes of her comrades
were on her, so she refused to swallow the lump in her throat until the General had caught their
attention again. Then it felt like she was trying to swallow a live cat.
At the conclusion of the briefing the commanders began to file out to muster their troops in
the city square. Suddenly, the General was at Terion's side, placing a hand on her arm to stop
her. Ples nodded to Brunea, urging her to leave them alone.
"I wanted to emphasize once again the importance of your position," the General said softly.
"I doubt you'll see much action way down at the end of the line, but it's still crucial. Thought I'd
give you something easy for your first command." Ples smiled at her and squeezed Terion's
arm. "Good luck. Carry on," she said and saluted.
Ten returned the salute smartly and walked away. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Ples
cover a smile with her gloved hand. No, she was more than smiling, she was laughing.
 

Plik z chomika:

Inne pliki z tego folderu:

Inne foldery tego chomika:

Zgłoś jeśli naruszono regulamin