onwards into the haze. It calmed him. He let his mind drift. He remembered people; friends he had spent those endless sun-squinting days with; faces he hadn’t seen in a long time. Snatches of conversation and glimpses of pasty skin burned pink in the sun. Straightforward times.
If they could see him now , if they could see the trouble he got into, what would they say? They would probably have stories of their own, as mad as his, no doubt. He looked over at the huddles of militia and the dragon stones. Not quite as mad, maybe.
The meadow was dead quiet. Even the militia’s chatter had died. The only sound was the breeze washing across the grass in lazy waves. He closed his eyes for a moment, enjoying the peace.
It was getting cooler, and he was getting hungry. “I’m going to make some food. You want anything?”
Fredrick shook his head, and produced a full bottle of vodka, holding it aloft.
“Ah,” said Aiden. “Where’d you get that, by the way?”
“I must have stuffed it under my bunk weeks ago. Don’t remember doing it. I’d been wondering why I was getting backache in the mornings.”
Aiden sat down by Tovmas and Fredrick once more, bowl in hand. Tovmas was cleaning his rifle on a blanket, and Fredrick just watched the lake, occasionally swigging his vodka. The whole meadow was peaceful. The militia were in their little groups, some around the fire and some spread out on the grass, just eating, smoking and quietly talking.
“So,” said Fredrick finally, “do you reckon your daughter is down there?” He waved his bottle in the vague direction of the slavers’ camp.
Tovmas continued cleaning his rifle. “No, I don’t,” he replied. “It’s been a week since they took her. I don’t imagine they keep their slaves there long. From what the villagers said, the fortress at Kakavaberd is a kind of staging post, where they hold slaves until they have enough.”
“Enough what?” asked Fredrick. Aiden munched his rice, listening.
“Enough slaves to make the flight to market worthwhile.” Tovmas began reassembling his rifle. It was impressively quick.
“So what’s she like?” asked Fredrick.
Tovmas looked at him suspiciously. Rifle reassembled, he de-cocked it with a click. “My daughter?” he asked.
Fredrick nodded, taking another swig of his drink.
Tovmas set the rifle down, hesitating for a moment as he thought over the question.
“ She is very smart. She always was. You only ever had to show her something once, and she could do it better than you. I taught her as a child: taught her how to read and write, taught her English, how to cook, how to hunt, how to help the sick. But she overtook me when she was still young, you know? I’d been a soldier from the age of fourteen, until just a year before she was born. War does not teach you much that you would want your child to know.
“So, by the time she was twelve, she knew everything I could teach her. I was thirty-seven, with the useful knowledge of a teenager. They had a name for it in the infantry. Arrested Development . The brass could see that it was going to be a problem when all these conscripts were finally discharged. We were only used to the company of men, entering middle-age with the social development of a fourteen-year-old.”
Fredrick snorted quietly.
“ They’d known about the problem for a long time. I mean, when a war lasts thirty years, it becomes everything that most people have ever known, myself included. They worried society wouldn’t remember how to function after so long. And they were right. Look what happened after the Armistice: the collapse of the Union, the breakup of the Asian Territorial Concord. World economies had come to rely on war, and they collapsed catastrophically. Whole countries dissolved into anarchy.” Tovmas began rolling his blanket up. “I tried to raise her free of it all. I failed.” He strapped the perfectly rolled blanket to his pack.
“You raised her on your
If they could see him now , if they could see the trouble he got into, what would they say? They would probably have stories of their own, as mad as his, no doubt. He looked over at the huddles of militia and the dragon stones. Not quite as mad, maybe.
The meadow was dead quiet. Even the militia’s chatter had died. The only sound was the breeze washing across the grass in lazy waves. He closed his eyes for a moment, enjoying the peace.
It was getting cooler, and he was getting hungry. “I’m going to make some food. You want anything?”
Fredrick shook his head, and produced a full bottle of vodka, holding it aloft.
“Ah,” said Aiden. “Where’d you get that, by the way?”
“I must have stuffed it under my bunk weeks ago. Don’t remember doing it. I’d been wondering why I was getting backache in the mornings.”
Aiden sat down by Tovmas and Fredrick once more, bowl in hand. Tovmas was cleaning his rifle on a blanket, and Fredrick just watched the lake, occasionally swigging his vodka. The whole meadow was peaceful. The militia were in their little groups, some around the fire and some spread out on the grass, just eating, smoking and quietly talking.
“So,” said Fredrick finally, “do you reckon your daughter is down there?” He waved his bottle in the vague direction of the slavers’ camp.
Tovmas continued cleaning his rifle. “No, I don’t,” he replied. “It’s been a week since they took her. I don’t imagine they keep their slaves there long. From what the villagers said, the fortress at Kakavaberd is a kind of staging post, where they hold slaves until they have enough.”
“Enough what?” asked Fredrick. Aiden munched his rice, listening.
“Enough slaves to make the flight to market worthwhile.” Tovmas began reassembling his rifle. It was impressively quick.
“So what’s she like?” asked Fredrick.
Tovmas looked at him suspiciously. Rifle reassembled, he de-cocked it with a click. “My daughter?” he asked.
Fredrick nodded, taking another swig of his drink.
Tovmas set the rifle down, hesitating for a moment as he thought over the question.
“ She is very smart. She always was. You only ever had to show her something once, and she could do it better than you. I taught her as a child: taught her how to read and write, taught her English, how to cook, how to hunt, how to help the sick. But she overtook me when she was still young, you know? I’d been a soldier from the age of fourteen, until just a year before she was born. War does not teach you much that you would want your child to know.
“So, by the time she was twelve, she knew everything I could teach her. I was thirty-seven, with the useful knowledge of a teenager. They had a name for it in the infantry. Arrested Development . The brass could see that it was going to be a problem when all these conscripts were finally discharged. We were only used to the company of men, entering middle-age with the social development of a fourteen-year-old.”
Fredrick snorted quietly.
“ They’d known about the problem for a long time. I mean, when a war lasts thirty years, it becomes everything that most people have ever known, myself included. They worried society wouldn’t remember how to function after so long. And they were right. Look what happened after the Armistice: the collapse of the Union, the breakup of the Asian Territorial Concord. World economies had come to rely on war, and they collapsed catastrophically. Whole countries dissolved into anarchy.” Tovmas began rolling his blanket up. “I tried to raise her free of it all. I failed.” He strapped the perfectly rolled blanket to his pack.
“You raised her on your
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