Taught the wrong lessons.”
Barr groaned from the floor, “One ballad? There’s a couple dozen! A whole cycle about the Wolf War. And Neeta learned every blighted one of them while she was up there. She can sing them all. She did. And as soon as Remo let your old name drop, she didn’t want to hear anything from either of us except Dag stories.”
Dag had endured infatuated youngsters, and some not so young, a time or two before; at Hickory Camp word had eventually got ’round not to bother him, or perhaps he’d simply grown too old and dull. It was always embarrassing, but everyone always lived. He sighed grimly, trying to recall his methods of dealing with it. It had usually involved having Fairbolt send him out with a different patrol till things blew over. Not a method he could apply here, alas.
“Lovely Tavia,” Barr went on-bemoaned, actually-“lovely soft Tavia. Tavia, the fool girl, has sheep’s eyes only for Remo. Remo lusts after Neeta. Neeta’s besotted with Captain Dag Wolverine, who I’m not sure even still exists. Now, if only Fawn would yearn after me, the circle would be complete, but that’s not going to happen, we established that.” He vented a huge sigh. “So here I ride all alone at the tail of the pack train of love, eating dust.”
Dag, about to say something else, paused in stiff suspicion. “Just when and where did this establishin’ take place? ”
“Back on the Fetch,” mumbled Barr. “Very early on. Very.”
Dag glowered down at the supine figure on the rug, but his prey was too limp even for sport. Besides, if Fawn had suffered serious insult, the corner of her mouth wouldn’t dimple at the reminder.
“Remo’s taking forever,” said Barr at last. “I think I’ll go wash up in the lake.”
“But the water’ll be cold!” said Fawn.
“Good,” said Barr savagely, convulsed to his feet, and lurched out.
Arkady muffled a snicker, then let his hand fall to the table. “I suppose if we’re going to laugh at them we should do it now, and not in their faces.”
Dag cast him a glance of apology. “Sorry, Arkady. I reckoned those two would have had their love lives all arranged by now.” The only thing more dismal than one lovesick young patroller underfoot in his host’s tent was surely two lovesick young patrollers. Dag wondered how soon the pair might be sent back out on patrol.
Fawn said, in a constricted tone, “Is Neeta going to be a problem, Dag? ”
“No. I’ll just avoid her. It shouldn’t be hard; she’ll be patrolling, I’ll be in the medicine tent.”
Fawn raised her brows, but did not voice her opinion of his plan.
Arkady’s gaze sobered as he regarded Dag. “What Wolf War? ” he inquired.
“You’ve not heard of it? There’s a relief,” said Dag. “It was just one of our many northern malice scuffles, ’bout twenty years back. That’s where this went, among other things.” He gave a vague wave of his hook. The fading Wolf War wasn’t relevant to his current ambitions; he didn’t need to discuss it here. He tried not to think Hooray.
“Excuse me, but-company captain? In Luthlia? ” Arkady persisted.
“It was a short career.”
“I thought you were a plain patroller from Oleana.”
“I am. I was. It suited me better, after…” He waved his left arm again. “Luthlia is a hard hinterland, a young man’s country. When I wasn’t young anymore, I went home.”
“How long were you actually up there? ”
“ ’Bout ten years.” He grew uncomfortable under Arkady’s continuing stare. “What about it? ”
Arkady was silent a moment, then shrugged. “You keep surprising me, is all. I usually fancy myself more shrewd.”
Dag couldn’t think of anything to say to that, so he picked up the old casebook and tried to read again. After a moment Fawn returned to her knitting, and Arkady to his writing. All more slowly, with frequent glances to the lakeside windows.
–-
By the time the partners had washed, donned dry clothes, warmed up, returned Dag’s knife, and fallen upon the dinner basket like starving dogs, their moods had improved. Fortunately, in Dag’s view.
Fawn dared to ask, “Was this southern patrol very different from your Oleana ones? ”
Barr and Remo exchanged a hard-to-read glance. Arkady, chewing, watched with interest.
“No…” said Remo slowly. “And yes.”
“Yes.” Barr nodded. “It’s funny…”
“What is? ” asked Dag.
“I always thought I’d like it if things were looser out on patrol.”
He jiggled his shoulders to indicate a desirable slackness, then added, “Though the alligator hunt was fun. The farmers whose lands we crossed didn’t want us to hunt their bears, they’re too rare and valuable here-they want the bear grease and pelts and meat for themselves. But they were happy to grant us all the alligators we could find, the bigger the better. Wild pigs were free game, too. We came back with a stack of raw hides that we unloaded in that farmers market.” He took another bite of bread piled high with bright apricot jam from one of Dag’s gift jars, and chewed blissfully.
Fawn made a face. “Wasn’t it scary? Did you hunt them at night? ”
She turned to Arkady and explained, “Up in Oleana the Lakewalker patrols cross farms at night, to avoid disturbing folks. You hardly know they’re out there.”
“No,” said Remo, “you couldn’t, not around here. There’s way too much settled land. You’d run out of night. We just rode across in broad daylight. We didn’t bother the farmers, and they didn’t bother us.”
Barr put in, “Some sort of pretended not to notice us, which felt odd. Some would nod greeting. This patrol had a regular string of farmers’ barns we put up at, or campsites in their woodlots. The farmers expected a few coins for the use of them, which the patrol leader doled out.”
“So-the farmers around here aren’t so ignorant of patrollers as I was back in West Blue? ” said Fawn.
Remo scratched his head. “I guess not.”
“That’s good.”
“I’m not so sure.” Encouraged by Dag’s opened hand, Remo went on, “It seemed like there was nothing much for them to be ignorant of. We were no more than a hunting party.”
“More party than hunting,” said Barr, his brow furrowing. “It wasn’t how the New Moon patrollers all slipped in and out of camp at night. I didn’t mind that. It was how they were walking their patterns. They were noisy. They broke formation all the time to talk to each other. They sang. While walking. Blight, you’d never flush a mud-man that way. Our patrol captain back at Pearl Riffle always said that could be your first sign there was a malice nearby, even without the blight. She’d have had our tongues on a toasting fork for coughing during a pattern, but here they just let the ruckus roll on.” He looked up at Dag. “Are all southern patrols like that, or was it just this one? ”
Dag swallowed his bite, and chased it with tea. “I’ve only patrolled down here one season, ’bout four years back. I gather that the areas where they’ve found a sessile within living memory aren’t quite so, ah, loose, but there’s no question that the more pressing likelihood of malices shapes us in the north.”
“Shapeless…” said Remo. “Yes, that’s what this patrol felt like.”
“That’s why it’s so important that southern patrollers exchange north,” said Dag, with a glance at the now- frowning Arkady. “Not just for the extra hands they lend us, but for the training they bring back home. Without them, the southern patrol would be falling apart.” Faster.
“Neeta’s more valuable for coming home than any two volunteers who stay on in Luthlia.”
“I’m not sure she knows that,” said Remo slowly. “This was her first patrol after coming back here with new eyes. She was… it’s like… she was the only one there who realized what we saw. And she was ashamed for her patrol mates. And she hadn’t expected to be.”
“Wouldn’t your patrol leader have trained in the north?” asked Fawn. “I thought they had to.”
“He’s been back a long time,” said Remo. “Decades. I got the impression he’d sort of given up.” He glanced up at Dag. “Was the patrol you walked with here like that? ”
“Not after a season with me along.”
Barr snorted tea through his nose.
Remo ignored him to say, “But you weren’t the patrol leader.”
