Sunrise Lands

Thurston snorted and gave him a pawky look, but seemed to come out of his brown study.

Rudi judged his moment after they passed through another wall into an i

Thurston gave him a hard grin. "You noticed? Yeah… and you're not just a pretty face, are you, Rudi Mac kenzie? I've been wondering about that. Where's the upside for him? And I will be making a declaration of war-if this isn't a casus belli I'm Jane Fonda."

"Who?" Rudi said.

"A witch from before the Change-and not in the complimentary sense of the word."

The citadel had a broad parade ground of good concrete several acres in extent, enough that the column of three hundred men didn't crowd it. The flat ground was surrounded by barracks and stables, armories and workshops and offices, plus a number of what looked like pre-Change houses with tiny stretches of lawn and garden.

"Major Winters, you may dismiss the column to quarters," Thurston said.

There was a bark of "Halt!" and "Left face!" then "Stand easy!" and "Dismissed!" The bulk of the troops filed off.

Thurston handed his horse's reins to a soldier in fa tigues of rough gray homespun and raised a brow as his thirty strong guard detail remained braced to attention.

"Excuse me," he said to Rudi. "I've got business to deal with, unless I miss the signs.

"Major?" he went on.

"Mr. President, the men of the guard detail request notification of the penalty you have in mind."

Boise's ruler raised his other eyebrow. "I've identified the security breach, Major, but if any further informa tion requires disciplinary action, rest assured you'll be informed."

The officer saluted and did a neat about-face before marching off. Watching Thurston's face, Rudi wasn't in the least surprised when the guards remained.

One corner of the Boise ruler's mouth quirked up very slightly. "I think I heard the order to dismiss given."

"Sir!"

It was the tall grizzled sergeant named Anderson; he'd been so quiet Rudi had almost forgotten his presence.

"Yes, Sergeant Anderson?"

"Sir, the men feel that some field punishment is in order."

The quirk in Thurston's mouth was almost noticeable this time. "Dick, are you telling me that the men are demanding a punishment?"

"Sir, as your guards-"

"I've seen some strange forms of insubordination in my time, but this is about it!"

Thurston's voice was a growl; his face was like a carv ing in dark wood as he looked at the rigid brace of the troops. The countenances framed by the brims and cheek pieces of the helmets were equally blank.

"Sergeant, give me a hand here."

Methodically, Thurston undid the snaps and buckles of his hoop armor. He handed the pieces to the noncom; when he'd finished not much of the man was visible. Rudi smiled to himself in silent applause as the general stalked out in front of the double file of guards.

"All right… pila… present!"

Each man flicked his throwing spear into the overarm position.

"Ready!"

The long javelins cocked back.

"Now, if there are any suicide assassins left in this presidential guard detail, take your best shot."

Thurston stood with his arms spread, then slowly turned in a circle. Silence followed; even the men and beasts moving about the big parade ground on various errands seemed frozen in place.

"All right' then," Thurston growled. "You young idiots, if I didn't think you were trustworthy, I'd have had you disarmed. No punishment for the assassination at tempt. Perso

As they marched off, he turned to Rudi and his com panions. "You're all invited. Sergeant Anderson will arrange your quartering. .. after he stows that armor."

We know the Sun was Her lover

As They danced the worlds awake;

And She lay with His brilliance

For all Their children's sake.

Where Her fingers touched the sky

Silver starfire sprang from nothing!

And She held Her children fast in Her dreams.

There was a glory in that forest

As the moonlight glittered down;

And stars shone in the wildwood

When the dew fell to the ground Every branch and every blossom;

Every root and every leaf

Drank the tears of the Goddess in the gloaming!

There came steel, there came cities

Wonders terrible and strange,

But the light from the first-wood

Flickered down until the Change.

And every field, every farmhouse,

Every quiet village street

Knew the tears of the Goddess in the gloaming!

Now the Sun comes to kiss Her

And She rises from Her bed

They are young-and old-and ageless

Joy that paints the mountains red.

We shall dance in Their twilight

As the forests fall to sleep,

And She whispers in our ears the word remember!

Rudi let his hands fall as the soft-voiced hymn ended and the sun sank below the battlements to the west.

Edain and the twins did the same and they stood in si lence for a moment, heads bowed over crossed arms, then looked at one another and smiled.

As they turned to go back down the stair from the fortress wall he adjusted his bo

In his case the fancies included a leaf-green Montrose jacket with worked silver buttons down both sides; cravat and ruffled jabot; a sgian dubh with a hilt of silver and black bone tucked into his right knee sock; silver brooch at shoulder and silver buckles on his shoes wrought in curling knots picked out with turquoise. And a formal sporran, tooled black leather edged with badger fur rather than the rather battered and scruffy article he wore every day, which usually held odds and ends like a lump of wax and spare bowstrings or a half-gnawed hardtack biscuit.

Edain's outfit was a slightly scaled-down version of Rudi's, made by his mother's careful hands from the shearing of the sheep and the pulling of the flax on-and she was a loom mistress second only to Juniper Mackenzie among the clan. The main difference was that his formal coat was dyed a dark russet with Saint-John's-wort-Melissa Aylward called it his calm jacket.

Ritva followed his eyes and snickered. "And you were saying there were a lot of uniforms around here," she said. "At least they're different uniforms. Mackenzies are always going on about how free they are and how they can do just whatever suits their fancy and it's true-as long as they fancy a pleated skirt and a blankie over the shoulder. All in the Clan tartan."

Rudi raised one brow and took in their identi cal clothes; black pants, belts, jerkins with the silver tree-crown-stars…

"Hey, that's family, " Mary protested, tossing her golden hair. "Besides, these aren't uniforms. They're outfits. Say what you like about the Dunedain, we've got style."