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with a look the dusty road to ensure that no one was coming, he turned off and
rode along the short lane to the two soddies.
 Hullo!
Only silence greeted his hail, not that he had expected a response.
Dismounting by the well, he was pleased to find a battered bucket and a
rope. In a few moments, he had lifted a bucketful of water, order-spelled it,
and refilled his water bottle, drinking a mouthful and splashing the road dust
off his face. Then, since there was no trough, he refilled the bucket and set
it out for the mare. She slurped noisily.
Justen studied the buildings. The one to the right of the well looked like
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it had been a dwelling and not repaired in years. The door on the windowless
second building was newer, and fastened with an iron latch. A set of recent
wagon ruts ran from beside the second sod building back toward the lane and
presumably out to the road.
Again, Justen looked to the road before walking over to lift the latch and
open the door. A trace of brine drifted to him as he peered inside at the
empty timber racks. Not quite empty, he realized. Beneath one rack stood the
recently shattered remnants of a large barrel.
With another look around, Justen slipped into the building and walked over
to the barrel. The top had been removed, and small, round objects littered the
floor; olives. He peered into the bottom of the barrel to discover several
handfuls or more of the fruit. After reaching down and pulling out a damp
olive, he nibbled at it. Beneath the saltiness of the brine that had been used
to cure it, the olive was certainly edible, if still somewhat bland.
The olive growers had been in a hurry to pack up their wares, since they
had taken what they could easily retrieve and left the rest.
Since there was nothing in which to store the remaining olives, Justen
walked back to the mare and unstrapped one of the saddlebags, the empty one,
and carried it back into the warehouse, where, leaning headfirst into the
barrel and avoiding the sharp points of the two broken staves, he began
retrieving the still-damp fruit, eating some of the olives in the process and
trying not to break his teeth on the pits.
He finally straightened and saw that the bag was more than half full. He
started to leave the storeroom, then shook his head. Even though the olives,
had he left them there, would have spoiled, he couldn t just take them.
Finally, he laid two coppers on the rack.
When he stepped back into the yard, the mare whickered, then moved toward a
clump of grass and began to graze. Jus-ten set the saddlebag on the well
coping and lowered the bucket again, this time to wash his hands of the salty
residue. After rinsing them, he dried them on his trousers,
He looked at the saddlebag. He had not been able to use all of the
abandoned olives, since some had begun to spoil already. Finally, he shrugged
and began to concentrate, hoping he could add enough order to the fruit to at
least retard spoilage.
A hint of dizziness passed over him, and he sat down on the stones next to
the bag to rest.
 For a mere engineer, you re not doing that badly.
Yee-ahhh.
Justen straightened with a jump.
The vulcrow perched on a dead olive branch, its head cocked to the side,
almost as if studying the engineer.
Whheeee& eeee.
 I know. We re in trouble, lady. He looked toward the road, but saw no
one. Then he stood, lifted the saddlebag, and walked over to the mare to
refasten the leather bag in place. He took a few more olives and popped one in
his mouth before remounting.
Yee-ahhh& yee-ah. The vulcrow was still calling from the olive tree.
Justen flicked the reins, and the mare carried him out to the road. The air
remained hot and still.
In less than two kays, the road turned south again. Justen had opened his
tunic as much as possible. Sweat oozed from his entire body, and the sun had
not even reached its zenith in the blue-green sky.
The grass stretching out from the road was shorter, browner, and sparser
now, with patches of sand and rock between clumps. The rock walls had vanished
after he left the olive orchard behind, and no streams graced the flat plateau
he rode across. Only the heavy wagon tracks over sheep prints indicated use of
the road.
After unstoppering the water bottle, he took a deep swallow.
Another kay ahead, he could see a few low bushes in a line almost
perpendicular to the road he traveled, and above them, the air seemed to
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waver, like the mirage of a lake. Jus-ten looked over to the west, but the
plain seemed unchanging as he rode toward the illusion, which receded, and the
bushes, which did not.
The bushes marked the junction with another road, wider, and marked
intermittently with stones. The new road also had animal and wagon tracks, all
of them headed toward Clynya, Justen hoped.
 Maybe this time, we ll actually get there.
Justen drank more of the water, then touched the mare s neck, trying to
sense how she was doing in the heat. So far, she seemed strong.
Although the sun continued to shine through a cloudless sky, a faint breath
of air puffed out of the west as Justen rode toward the river road. The few
scattered hovels were, like the others he had seen, abandoned.
Justen frowned. Were all the Sarronnese petrified of the Whites? Why?
Despite their dislike of the Legend-holders, the Whites generally fired or
destroyed only the cities of those who refused them. Then Justen grinned
wryly. By their belief in the Legend, most Sarronnese probably had to refuse
the Whites.
Still& wasn t there any way to stop the Whites? He shook his head, absently
patted the mare, and continued to ride.
Toward midday, he began to look for another hovel, without people and with
a well, as much for the mare as for himself.
Unbidden, the image of the dead Iron Guard appeared in his thoughts again,
clutching the damned black iron arrowhead. He pursed his lips and squinted in
the bright light, trying to determine whether the lump on the plain ahead
meant available water.
The lump turned out to be another sod-walled hovel. Although it had a well,
the water in it was almost brackish, and Justen was so dizzy after
order-spelling the salt from two buckets that he sat on the sandy hot ground
eating warm olives and sipping from his refilled water bottle while the mare
drank.
Before he left the hovel and the well, even though he felt full, he drank
more water and topped off his bottle.
Toward mid-afternoon, the grass began to thicken once more, and the
suggestion of rolling hills began to appear, along with a few trees, and stone
pillars to mark the corners of grazing lands. He passed three houses that
stood almost in a group; while shuttered, they were substantial and seemed
well tended. He took advantage of their vacant status to water the mare and
refill his bottle, since in the flatness of the land, he had found no streams.
Then he began to see more grainfields, with still more dwellings, again
shuttered, although he had the feeling that some of them were occupied.
Even later, the ground began to slope downward. He passed another side
road, the first one in a while that was more than a path; it was almost as
wide as the road he traveled, but it headed due south, not exactly what he had
in mind. It also bore wagon tracks. Justen nodded and urged the mare toward
the river. A slight breeze blew out of the west, bearing a hint of dampness
and the odor of something like hay.
As he crossed the crest of another hill, Justen peered toward a hazy line [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]