Page 40 of The Scouts

“Don’t worry. Folks around here still remember how loudly you cried while chased by the geese. And how you hid in a tree hollow and fell asleep there when everyone was looking for you.” I laughed.

He gasped. “Will you stop with the geese? I was three, you motherfu—”

“Verhan, hush now.” Aunt Reiya approached the table. “How did I raise such a muck-spout? I have no idea.”

“But Ma, he’s being a stinky ratbag. Oh, are these for us? So pretty.”

Aunt Reiya had handed us each a finished piece of embroidery the size of a handkerchief. “For your sweethearts. So they know what our mountains look like. Until they can see for themselves when you bring them home next time.”

The marvel in front of me resembled a painting. Astonished, I instantly recognised the familiar spot where the stream at the bottom of our hill met the wild meadow. In the distance, snow-capped peaks loomed bathed in brilliant splashes of orange and yellow. Greetings from the Highlands, the green runes announced on top. The little thing made an incredibly charming souvenir.

Having had a peep over my shoulder, Verhan said, “Mine is better.” He rose to peck his mother’s cheek. “Thanks, Ma.”

I followed suit, placing a kiss on the other side for balance. “You’re talking shite, brother. I love it. Thank you, Aunt Reiya. You should’ve stitched a goose on Verhan’s, though. To document his lived experience.”

The sneaky shit crept up behind me and swatted the back of my head. We would have gone at it for real if not for the terrible, blaring sound that split my skull the next moment.

Damn, I’d forgotten how noisily my mother could finger-whistle.

“Gods have mercy,” I heard Verhan whinge when I uncovered my ears. “Aunt Yvenne, I think my brain is bleeding.”

“Hm. That would wrongly imply that you’ve got such a thing in the first place,” I said under my breath.

My mother flashed us a blinding smile as if nothing untoward had happened. “B-E-D,” she spelt each rune separately. “N-O-W.”

It was good to be home.

* * *

ERVYN

Our party consisted of my father, his three hands, Verhan and myself.

The night had bled into a fine morning by the time we passed the turnpikes at the gates of Medeyrah. On our short ride through town, it became clear that—despite the early hour—the place already heaved with sellers, buyers and spectators.

Having left our horses at the livery and feed stable by the inn, we walked towards the fairgrounds. While queuing to enter, I studied the large parchment nailed to the fencing, which listed the dealers from participating stables and the scheduled equestrian events. A note at the bottom reminded the public that since the reign of Aiirys III, the Elven Law had punished mistreatment of horses with death by vertical impalement. Luckily, such a vile crime had gone unheard of for centuries. A little refresher didn’t hurt, even if it made one’s skin crawl.

They admitted us inside once we paid the fee.

Never ones to fart about, we got on with the job, selecting the animals, negotiating the prices and terms of delivery. Around mid-morning, Verhan and I had secured our contingencies and signed contracts with the respective dealers on behalf of the army. In Verhan’s case, it meant an order of two hundred dressage mounts for the Bastion of Asirhwÿn. And in mine—thirty high-stamina steeds suitable for reconnaissance purposes, like trail riding and racing. With that out of the way, we helped my father and his men pick three dozen sturdy, wide-chested horses with powerful hindquarters and gentle dispositions: ideal for working the farmlands and drawing wagons.

After grabbing a bite to eat from street vendors, we split up. My father stayed behind to celebrate his purchases and have a drink with other clan heads while my cousin and I wandered off to have a gander around.

The races and show jumping competitions were enthralling to watch and held at the highest skill level. A few rounds in, we found ourselves ahead on our bets, so we spent the modest winnings on pashijanade and salt-roasted chestnuts. Munching away, we went from paddock to paddock and gawked at the high-end riding horses offered for sale by the country’s top stables.

“Grand selection this year.” I wiped salty crystals off my lips with my sleeve. “It wouldn’t be a tough job to pick one.”

“Oh, yes? Pick one for what purpose, exactly?” Verhan batted his eyelashes.

I shrugged and smirked back. “For now, I’m just perusing. It costs nothing.”

“True enough.” He popped the last chestnut into his mouth. “Well, I’ve got it all figured out. Hernan would look smashing riding a cremello. So when the time comes, I’m giving him one of those. The best my silver can buy.”

Verhan and I were both almost halfway through our contracts with our respective units. Highlanders never got oathed before finishing their first term with the army. An unspoken rule demanded that one prove themself as a soldier first before offering to become someone’s lifelong partner.

“Will you two be staying on with the Scouts for another five years, you reckon?” he asked.

“Dunno. Haven’t got round to discussing it yet.” I’d only just got on the right footing with Lochan to start planning for the future. But thus far, an opportunity to talk about it hadn’t arisen. “How about you?”