Sentry Peak by Harry Turtledove Read Free Book Online

“Drop me in the seven hells if I know. Drop Thraxton in the seven hells if he knows, either. And drop him past the seven hells if the thought ever got into his tiny little mind before he let Guildenstern flank him out of this place.” That set the serfs nudging and chuckling again.
    Arris asked, “But how will we get our farms, boss, if those gods-hated southrons keep pushing us back?”
    In the days when the war was young—days that seemed a thousand years gone now—Ned had promised to take the bonds from all the serfs who served him through the fighting, and to set them up as yeomen with land of their own. Free blond farmers weren’t common in the northern provinces of Detina, but they weren’t unknown, either, especially in the wild northeast from which Ned himself had sprung.
    Now he shrugged. “One way or another, boys, you’ll get yourselves farms. If I can’t give ’em to you, you’ll have ’em from the southrons. King Avram says so, doesn’t he? And if King Avram says something, it must be so, isn’t that right?”
    Just as the serfs might have mobbed him and fled, they might have said yes to that and put their hope in the southron king rather than in Ned. But they didn’t. They cursed Avram as fiercely as any other northern man in indigo pantaloons might have done. Ned laughed to hear them, laughed and ruffled their yellow hair and punched them in the shoulder, as a man will do among other men he likes well.
    “If you people haven’t given up on King Geoffrey, I don’t reckon I can, either,” Ned said. He nodded to Darry. “Saddle me a unicorn. I’m going to ride out and see exactly where the southrons are at.” He tossed his head in fine contempt. “It’s not like anybody’ll know unless I go out and see for myself, I’ll tell you that for a fact. Thraxton’s the best stinking wizard in the world, right up to the time somebody really needs his magic. Then he flunks.”
    “Yes, Lord Ned,” Darry said. “I’ll get you a beast.” As Ned ducked into his pavilion, Darry and the other serfs spoke in low voices full of awe. Ned chuckled to himself. The blonds, back in the days before the Detinans came from overseas, had worshiped a pack of milksop godlets that couldn’t hold night demons at bay. They still walked in fear after the sun went down. Ned, now, Ned feared no night demons. With the Lion God and the Thunderer and the Hunt Lady and all the rest on his side, any demon that tried clamping its jaws on him would find it had made a bad mistake.
    Outside the pavilion, one of the serfs said, “Ned, he could go up against a night demon without any gods behind him, and he’d still rip its guts out.”
    “Of course he would,” another serf answered. “He’s Ned .”
    Ned grinned as he tested the edge of his saber with his thumb. The blade would do. And he wasn’t so sure the blonds were wrong, either. Fortunately, he didn’t have to find out. He knew the strong gods, and they knew him.
    When he went out again, the unicorn awaited him. He would have been astonished had it been otherwise. Handing him the reins, Darry said, “You make sure you come back safe now, boss.” Real anxiety filled his voice. If Ned didn’t come back safe, how many northern officers were likely to honor his pledges to the men who served him? Would Count Thraxton, for instance? Ned laughed at the idea, though Darry wouldn’t have found it funny.
    None of Ned’s pickets challenged him when he rode east toward the enemy. None of them knew he’d gone by. He didn’t think of himself as a mage. Soldiers who did think of themselves so usually made him bristle—Thraxton sprang to mind. But he was Ned of the Forest. However he got it, he had a knack for pulling shadow and quiet around himself like a mask. Few could penetrate it unless he chose to let them.
    Owls hooted. Somewhere off toward Sentry Peak, a wildcat yowled. Mosquitoes buzzed and bit. Ned slapped and cursed. He might cloak himself from the minds of