From Darkness Won - Jill Williamson [80]
What would it bring? If they succeeded, if he lived, what kind of legacy might he leave? Could he truly be responsible, steadfast, reverent, and brave at all times? Could anyone? He stumbled over a guy line anchoring a green tent.
Kurtz gripped his arm to steady him. “Easy, there, Pacey.”
The raised voices of dozens of men, a lute, and laughter drifted on the cool night breeze. As did the smell of something meaty. They skirted the edge of a bronze tent and entered a clearing.
A tide of negative emotions crashed into Achan. Something he would have to get used to, he supposed. Men sat on the ground in circles, stood in clumps, a few danced by a bonfire. One sat on a barrel, playing the lute. Several faces turned toward him, though most the men chattered on. The scene took him back to the night Esek had demanded he fetch a jug of water and Silvo Hamartano had attacked him.
A length of glossy black hair drew his gaze to the bonfire where the men were dancing. He squinted, looking closer. “There are women here?”
“Aye, from Berland. They train women soldiers there. Berland women are more brawn than I like, eh, Pacey? But if you want to meet them—”
“Lady Gali has come then?” Achan asked Shung.
Shung nodded. “Aye. She travels with Sir Koyukuk’s army.”
“And how did Lady Gali find Sir Shung Noatak when you saw her?”
Shung’s grin filled his face. “She found honor in Shung’s new title.”
Achan slapped Shung’s back. “As well she should.” But would her father find enough honor to give up his youngest daughter?
“You hungry, Pacey?” Kurtz asked. “I can get you some stew, I can. Sir Gavin won’t allow us anything but watered down wine whilst we’re on the verge of battle.” Kurtz leaned close. “Though I’ve a bit of my own I could share if you need a nip, eh?”
Achan’s gaze locked with Toros Ianjo. The priest sat with a soldier on the back of one of the wagons that edged the perimeter. Achan started to cross toward Toros, but a soldier bowed before him and held out a steaming drumstick.
“Like something to eat, Your Highness? We’ve also got stew, if you’d rather.”
“Thank you, no. I’ve eaten already.”
Three more soldiers bowed, which sent a ripple of movement through the crowd. Positive emotions swelled over the negative ones. Men hailed him, some cheered, and all seemed to stare. He should probably say something.
He swallowed and spoke as loudly as he could. “That you’ve all joined me on this journey honors me more than I can express. I pray each night would be spent like this, reveling in each other’s good company. But at some point we will take up swords against this enemy that has controlled Er’Rets for far too long. When that day comes, may Arman shield each of you so that we may all join together in a victory celebration in Armonguard.”
The men cheered. Achan tried to move in Toros’s direction again, but soldiers closed in to greet him. Shung and Kurtz kept the men back to a certain degree. For the first time in his life, Achan understood why powerful men summoned people to come to them. They would never get anything done if they always went out in public like this.
Achan shook many hands, remembered no names, and wondered how many of these men would die before their objective was completed.
A man with the lute played a song called, “The Pawn Our King,” which told the tale of Achan growing up in Sitna under the thumb of Lord Nathak. That anyone had written a song about him seemed more unreal than his being prince.
Then Lady Gali stepped before him and curtsied awkwardly. The woman who held Shung’s heart stood a few inches taller than Achan. Her features were sharp as if Sir Gavin had chiseled her out of wood. She wore a sleeveless tunic of short fur and black trousers. As always, bone bangles circled her bare arms and neck, which made her seem even taller somehow.
Achan bowed to her. “Lady Gali. You honor me with your presence and the pledge of your sword.”
“And you honor all of Berland by knighting one of our own.” Her dark gaze flicked to Shung,