Addo, then Phrantzes last of all, stumbling like someone who’s just woken up out of a deep sleep. The political officer noticed the beam and lifted his lantern. “I think we should all move away from the coach,” he said, in a quiet voice that everybody heard quite clearly. “There’s a building over there,” he added, and they could just make it out against the slightly paler darkness of the sky. “I’ll go ahead and take a look. Wait here till I call.”
He disappeared, taking the light with him; they couldn’t see him, only a glowing yellow cocoon moving away. “What the hell is going on?” Iseutz demanded.
“Someone put a big chunk of wood across the road,” Suidas replied. “It’s what we used to do in the War, to block a convoy. It’s really lucky we were only crawling along. If we’d been going at anything like normal pace, the lead horses would’ve broken their legs. But they just stepped over it, and I saw it in time.”
“Who would want to do that?” Addo asked.
That was clearly a very good question, which was probably why nobody tried to answer it. “That political bastard is always disappearing,” Suidas said, to no one in particular. “Someone had better tell me what he’s supposed to be doing on this trip, or I’m going to get very unhappy.”
“It was a condition of the tour,” Phrantzes said, and everybody else turned and looked at him. “Any official delegation going into Permia has to be accompanied by a political officer. That’s what they told me,” he added defensively. “I wasn’t told anything about him, just that he’d be joining us.”
“He makes my skin crawl,” Iseutz said. “He just sits there reading his stupid book and smiling, and he doesn’t feel the cold. Can’t we leave him behind somewhere, or something?”
The light went out, and Giraut felt a surge of panic. Why had the light gone out? Its absence made the world a much darker place than it had been when they’d been moving. “Now where’s he got to?” Iseutz said. “I vote we put him on a lead, like a dog.”
There was a long silence. Giraut had to wipe rainwater out of his eyes so he could see, though it was too dark for him to make out anything except very subtle gradations of black and dark blue.
“If you’d all care to follow me.” It was the political officer’s voice, though Giraut couldn’t place where it was coming from. “This way.”
“Where are you?” Suidas said.
“Head directly away from the coach. That’s right, keep going. Follow that line, and you’ll come to a stone wall. I suggest we camp there for the rest of the night, it’ll provide a degree of shelter from the weather.”
“And he can see in the dark,” Iseutz said bitterly. “That’s not natural.”
They found the wall by bumping into it. The political officer was there before them. “I’d prefer not to light the lamp again,” he said. “I’d recommend keeping the noise down, if you wouldn’t mind. Nothing to worry about,” he added, cheerful and in no way convincing. “I think we might all try and get some sleep.”
“Look, what the hell —”
“Shh,” the political officer said gently; and it worked, because Iseutz didn’t speak again.
Giraut wedged his back against the wall, pulled his completely sodden lapels round his running-wet face, and sat staring into the impenetrable darkness. He didn’t know who was on either side of him. He’d have given two hundred nomismata for a weapon, if he’d had two hundred nomismata.
But, somehow or other, he must’ve fallen asleep at some point, because the next thing he did was open his eyes. He saw pale red light, the first stain of dawn. He could hear Iseutz talking.
“… complete bloody shambles, and we haven’t even reached the border yet. What’s going to happen when we’re in Permia, assuming we manage to get that far, I dread to think. That man Phrantzes is obviously completely useless, the political man is most definitely
He disappeared, taking the light with him; they couldn’t see him, only a glowing yellow cocoon moving away. “What the hell is going on?” Iseutz demanded.
“Someone put a big chunk of wood across the road,” Suidas replied. “It’s what we used to do in the War, to block a convoy. It’s really lucky we were only crawling along. If we’d been going at anything like normal pace, the lead horses would’ve broken their legs. But they just stepped over it, and I saw it in time.”
“Who would want to do that?” Addo asked.
That was clearly a very good question, which was probably why nobody tried to answer it. “That political bastard is always disappearing,” Suidas said, to no one in particular. “Someone had better tell me what he’s supposed to be doing on this trip, or I’m going to get very unhappy.”
“It was a condition of the tour,” Phrantzes said, and everybody else turned and looked at him. “Any official delegation going into Permia has to be accompanied by a political officer. That’s what they told me,” he added defensively. “I wasn’t told anything about him, just that he’d be joining us.”
“He makes my skin crawl,” Iseutz said. “He just sits there reading his stupid book and smiling, and he doesn’t feel the cold. Can’t we leave him behind somewhere, or something?”
The light went out, and Giraut felt a surge of panic. Why had the light gone out? Its absence made the world a much darker place than it had been when they’d been moving. “Now where’s he got to?” Iseutz said. “I vote we put him on a lead, like a dog.”
There was a long silence. Giraut had to wipe rainwater out of his eyes so he could see, though it was too dark for him to make out anything except very subtle gradations of black and dark blue.
“If you’d all care to follow me.” It was the political officer’s voice, though Giraut couldn’t place where it was coming from. “This way.”
“Where are you?” Suidas said.
“Head directly away from the coach. That’s right, keep going. Follow that line, and you’ll come to a stone wall. I suggest we camp there for the rest of the night, it’ll provide a degree of shelter from the weather.”
“And he can see in the dark,” Iseutz said bitterly. “That’s not natural.”
They found the wall by bumping into it. The political officer was there before them. “I’d prefer not to light the lamp again,” he said. “I’d recommend keeping the noise down, if you wouldn’t mind. Nothing to worry about,” he added, cheerful and in no way convincing. “I think we might all try and get some sleep.”
“Look, what the hell —”
“Shh,” the political officer said gently; and it worked, because Iseutz didn’t speak again.
Giraut wedged his back against the wall, pulled his completely sodden lapels round his running-wet face, and sat staring into the impenetrable darkness. He didn’t know who was on either side of him. He’d have given two hundred nomismata for a weapon, if he’d had two hundred nomismata.
But, somehow or other, he must’ve fallen asleep at some point, because the next thing he did was open his eyes. He saw pale red light, the first stain of dawn. He could hear Iseutz talking.
“… complete bloody shambles, and we haven’t even reached the border yet. What’s going to happen when we’re in Permia, assuming we manage to get that far, I dread to think. That man Phrantzes is obviously completely useless, the political man is most definitely
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