Legacy - Lois McMaster Bujold [146]
“Brothers,” she muttered, subsiding back to her hard seat.
His lips twitched. “Indeed.”
Pakona said, “Tent Redwing’s request seems to me reasonable, especially in light of what Dag Redwing said about his intention to leave camp.”
“Leave?” said Ogit. “Is that what you call it? I’d call it plain desertion, wrapped up in fancy nonsense! And what are you going to do about that, Fairbolt?” He leaned forward to glare around the council at the camp captain on the other end.
“That will be a matter internal to the patrol,” Fairbolt stated. And the iron finality in his voice was enough to daunt even Ogit, who sat back, puffing but not daring to say more.
Breaking his intent to speak no further, Dag gave Fairbolt a short nod. “I’ll like to see you after this, sir. It’s owed.”
Fairbolt returned the nod. “At headquarters. It’s on your way.”
“Aye.”
Pakona knocked her knuckles on the log candle table. “That’s our vote, then. Should Dag Redwing’s camp credit be held till the Bearsford council? Yes will hold it, no will release it.” It was plain that she struggled not to add something like, To be taken off and frittered away on farmer paramours, but her leader’s discipline won. Barely, Fawn sensed. “Ogit?”
“Yes.” No surprise there. The string of three more yesses, variously firm or reluctant, were more of a disappointment; the vote was lost before it even came to Pakona’s firm Yes. Dowie looked down the row, seemed to do some mental arithmetic, and murmured a safely useless, “No.”
Fairbolt grimaced, and grumbled, “No,” as well.
Pakona stated, “Tent Redwing’s request is upheld. Camp council rules Dag Redwing’s camp credit is held aside until the Bearsford rehearing.”
A little silence fell, as it all sank in. Until broken by Saun, surging up to yell, “You blighted thieves…!” Razi and Griff both tackled him and wrestled him back into his seat. “After Raintree! After Raintree!” Mari turned and scowled at him, but seemingly could not force herself to actually chide. As she turned back, the look she shot at her nephew Dar would have burned bacon, Fawn thought.
Omba’s jaw had been working for quite some time. Now she snatched the speaking stick out of her surprised husband’s hand, waved it, and cried out, “Make him take his horse! Copperhead is a blighted menace. The beast has bitten three of my girls, kicked two, and torn more hide off his pasture-mates than I ever want to sew up again. I don’t care if Dag walks out bare to the skin, but I demand his horse go with him!” Which all sounded plenty irate, except that her eye away from Dar and toward Dag shivered in a wink.
“There’s a mental picture for you, Spark,” Dag said out of the corner of his mouth at her. “Me and Copperhead, bareback to bare-backside…”
She could have shaken him till his teeth rattled for making her almost laugh aloud in the midst of this mess. As it was, she had to clap her hand over her mouth and look down into her lap until she regained control. “Happy eyes!” she whispered back, and had the sweet revenge of watching him choke back a surprised guffaw.
Dar glowered at them both, furiously impotent against their private jokes. Which was also pretty tasty, amongst the ashes.
“Wherever did you come by that horse, anyhow?” Fawn asked under her breath.
Dag murmured back, “Lost a game of chance with a keelboat man at Silver Shoals, once.”
“Lost. Ah. That explains it.”
Pakona considered Dag, not in a friendly way. “That does bring up the question of where camp credit leaves off and personal effects begin.” And if she