An odd and potentially disastrous structure, really. And, considering oddness – though not yet disaster – what in the Blue Sky's world was happening with the idiots of Supply? Surely it was simple enough to haul a very- important hundred sledded wagons east through the wilds of North Map-Arkansas and up into Map-Missouri to the army. Then what explanation for them not yet arriving? Unlikely they'd been attacked by crows or coyotes…
Pigeons from Chang-doctor say Ladu keeps the child safe in her belly, and is well, no damned complications. – What did it mean when a Kipchak khan, campaigning, found his wife's unremarkable face, her remarkable bright black eyes, in every inked map, every diagrammed plan of attack…?
Margaret had left General Lenihan's office – they dealt surprisingly well with each other, at least on the subject of possible supply runs to the west bank,
The general, a widower, had seemed slightly bemused by a fighting officer with breasts. It was an advantage Margaret had been happy to take advantage of.
Sergeant Mays, massive and still, stood waiting for her in the corridor. 'Princess,' he said to her.
Fresh from Lenihan's ambivalence – wonderful Warm-time word – Margaret thought for an antic instant that the sergeant was declaring affection, then followed his glance down the hall to see Princess Rachel, an older Boxcar lady, and a large sergeant in green armor.
Margaret went to them, managed an awkward bow – looking, she thought, a little ridiculous with a long, sheathed rapier poking out behind her – and said, 'May I be of help?'
Princess Rachel – ordinarily pale, very composed – was flushed and restless, her hands finding no place to be still. 'I'm looking – Captain, I would like to speak with Lord Monroe.'
'I believe he's on the wall, Princess. On the west wall, perhaps below the tower there.'
'Very well. Very well.' The Princess turned, hesitated – and Margaret lied and said, 'I'm going to him now. May I escort you?'
'Yes, please. Lady Claire, I won't need you.'
'But Rachel, you can't – you have no cloak, for one thing.'
'She has mine,' Margaret said, swung off her cloak, and draped it over the Princess's shoulders. A tall young woman – taller than Margaret by two or three inches.
'Still,' the lady said, 'you shouldn't – '
'I have – what's your name, Sergeant?'
'Ralph, ma'am.'
'I have Ralph-sergeant here – and after all, Claire, I am
The older lady made a little clucking sound.
It seemed to Margaret that that 'Claire' had sounded almost in the Queen's voice. Lady Claire, apparently feeling so as well, ducked into a curtsy and left them.
… The cold struck with ice-knives as they stepped from a stone embrasure onto the broad, paved crest of west wall. Its massive tower rose high above them as they went leaning into the river wind. Margaret's face and hands went quickly numb, so she unbuttoned her jerkin and tucked her sword-hand in against her belly to stay useful.
'You must go back.' The Princess's voice was snatched from her by a whining gust. 'No cloak…'
'Refreshing!' Margaret had to almost shout, and the Princess smiled, so they might have been friends on an adventure.
They bent to the wind, the big sergeant trudging behind them, and passed great springals and catapults, all covered in waxed cotton canvas and squatting in their redoubts like patient beasts. It seemed to Margaret a hard wall to take, so massive and high above the river. Only Light Infantry, up from small boats on a dark night, would have any chance at all. And with the garrison alerted, might expect half those people lost, even winning, and with the rest of west-fortifications still to seize… Not that it couldn't be done. Not that the Kipchaks couldn't do it, once the river froze down to Island. But the doing would kill thousands of them.
Margaret began to think they'd come up for nothing but frozen fingers and toes, then saw Sam standing with another man by the wall's granite crenellations a bow-shot away, their cloaks billowing in the wind. Seeing Margaret's party, the men came to meet them, Sam in leather and mail, the other in blued-steel breast-and-back. Margaret saw the Boxcar was the West-bank general, Parker, tall, handsome, coldly adamant as the wall he walked on.
'Princess…' Both men bowed.
It seemed to Margaret that Sam was doing the bowing thing better, less stiff at it. But he was looking older. Grown older in just these last weeks.
Sam raised his voice; the freezing wind was buffeting them like the greeting of a large, friendly dog. 'The general and I were judging drift ice.'
'I see.' The wind had struck Princess Rachel's face white and mottled red, drawn tears to her eyes. 'The Queen… my mother has left Island!'
'This morning. Yes, I know.' Sam glanced at Margaret. 'Get under cover.'
'I'm fine. Not frozen yet.' They were all almost shouting over the wind's moan and whuffle.
'She's sailing north.' Perhaps wind-tears in the Princess's eyes, perhaps not. 'And for no good reason! No good reason at all.'
'Well, perhaps to be with her people,' Sam said, 'when they fight.'
'It's ridiculous! It's ridiculous… she's needed here.'
'Rachel.' Sam put his arm around her – the first time Margaret had seen him do that. 'Rachel, I know you're afraid for her. And so am I. But she's doing what she must.' He smiled. 'I won't say she isn't also enjoying herself.'
'That is what's so…
'No doubt.' Sam held her a moment longer, then took his arm away.
Done perfectly, it seemed to Margaret… The cold was making the bones in her face ache.
' – And while we're here turning to iced cream, Rachel, I must tell you I'll be leaving soon also. For the west bank, and inland to my army. The Khan will know by now that something's wrong in North Map-Arkansas. He'll be bringing part of his army down to deal with it.'
'You're going…'
'Yes.' A harder gust shoved at them. 'You'll rule at Island for your mother, Rachel. You'll rule as she would,' – he smiled – 'but perhaps with an easier temper.'
'I'm… I can't.'
'Tell me, General,' Sam almost shouting over the wind, 'can she rule – and the armies behind her?'
'On my honor,' Parker said, handsome even with iced eyebrows.
'Sergeant?'
The big sergeant seemed surprised to be asked. '…, Yes, sir!'
'There, Rachel,' Sam said. 'What more could you ask? And in any case, both the Queen and I will be back very soon to embarrass you.'
'You don't… embarrass me.'
'Very kind… Captain Mosten, you'll be staying with the Princess. You'll be her right arm – do you understand?'
'But I should be with you.'
'Every time, Margaret – except this time. I'll miss you, but your most important work is here, with Rachel. If more muscle should be needed in Island, you'll have Pedro, Noel Purse and the tower guards, and Mays, Carey, and Burke. I'll be taking Wilkey with me… And listen to Ansel Carey, Margaret; he has a nose for trouble.'
Margaret was going to argue, but Sam seemed too tired to argue with.
'Yes, sir.'
'But what… my lord, what do I need to
