The Protectors war

"That's why I've got my eye on him," Juniper said. "Perhaps a little too much motivation, Sam?"

"Natural enough, Lady," he said. "After all, Arminger's men did kill 'is father, back in the first Change Year."

Juniper shook her head. "Cynthia hates Arminger because he killed their father," she said. "Rowan's: obsessive about it. I meant that I was keeping an eye on him to see if I could help ease his soul, somehow. Black hatred like that damages you more than the one it's aimed at."

Aylward shrugged and spread his hands, and Juniper sighed in turn. They were close friends, but that didn't mean they saw everything the same way-or that they should, of course.

"Perfect for this job we have in mind, though," he said. "Both of them are good at rough-country work."

Juniper nodded. "At least they're well past twenty-one," she said. "I don't want to second-guess you on your job, Sam, but aren't most of the rest a bit: young? I doubt the average is much above voting age. Sanjay and Dan Barstow don't shave much more than their sister Aoife."

He nodded towards the Carsons. "They're older than those two were, the first fight we had," he pointed out.

"We were desperate and fighting at our doorsteps."

"Thing is, Lady, it's the younger ones who've had the most training now, and at the most impressionable ages, especially the ones we've picked for this job. The best archers start with the bow as a kiddie. They've grown up rough, too, rougher than anyone our age. On this trip they'll need all the youthful endurance they can get. And they're: more adjusted to the circumstances, if you take my meaning. Also they're less likely to have young children of their own."

"What about you and me?" she said, with a quirking smile.

He shrugged again. "I've got enough age and treachery to make up for youth and strength," he said. "And you're needful for the political side."

The dance ended with a long-drawn roll from the bodhrans and squeal from the pipes, and a chorus of hoots and claps. Flushed and happy, the brother and sister came over to where they stood-which was near a table that bore beer kegs and mugs, and trays of eatables.

She smiled at their greetings as they tapped the barrel. "Rowan, Cynthia, merry met. All's well at home? Are Joa

"Joa

Juniper winced and laughed, and raised her mug. "All my sympathies. And you, sir, are a black traitor to run out on Joa

"Sean's well over that fever, and little Niamh's fine too-I keep telling this hulking lout, all you have to do is say Want to take a nap? and then right afterward Want a cookie? Do that a couple of times, and they learn no isn't the answer to every single thing. Jack wanted to keep a close eye on the new vineyard, though, and we're just putting in the foundations for the crusher."

"Bra

Cynthia's brother smiled a wolfish smile. "And neither of our spouses are around to try to talk us out of: something."

"Ah, and here's two more," Juniper said, giving him a quelling glance.

A chant went up in the middle distance:

"Fire, burn this Beltane night

Fire to greet the Sun-"

Then it turned into a cheer as a pair took a run and leapt over a bonfire flaring in a trench. The group broke up in laughter and shouts, streaming away to the high-school amphitheater where Robin Hood and Guy of Gisborne was being put on. All but the pair who'd leapt for luck and love; they walked over to Juniper, and turned out to be Astrid and Eilir. They joined the two from Dun Carson at the barrels, and then in a circle around the Chief.

I finally got her out of the covenstead, Eilir signed. Meditation and prayer, prayer and meditation! It would be too much for Samhain, and this is Beltane, for Her sweet sake!

Astrid flushed a little and opened her mouth, but Juniper held up a hand. "Dear, Eilir's right. For us, this world isn't a preparation for another. The God and Goddess are the world, and it's our rightful dwelling-place; to know Them, you have to live in it. It's the Summerlands that are a preparation for coming right back here -another life is a gift, not the loss of nirvana. Remember the Charge of the Goddess!"

The tall girl with the silver-streaked eyes pouted slightly, but nodded. Cynthia nodded as well, and Rowan raised his mug: "Well, we'll need Working for what we have in mind, too, Archer," he said, and winked as Aylward scowled. "The Lord of the Spears and the Lady of the Crows: "

Eilir and Astrid both looked as if they were suppressing a grave excitement. The pair from Dun Carson were openly eager. Juniper sighed. This too was the work of a leader in the Changed world.

Or perhaps any other.

Chapter Fourteen

Crossing Tavern, Willamette Valley, Oregon

May 13th, 2007 AD-Change Year Nine

"I thought you had some direct action in mind, back on Gunpowder Day," Mike Havel said. "Good for you. If Arminger's barons think they can violate the truce on the quiet whenever they like, I'll be damned if we can't do likewise."

He gri

Juniper nodded. "It's a cu

What a wealth of living that packs into a couple of sentences, Juniper thought, looking around the Crossing Tavern's private room at them. Mike's eyes, friendly and shrewd and as ruthless as a wolf in winter as his strong white teeth ripped the meat off a pork rib; his Signe's blue gaze, intelligent and not in the least friendly; the calm strength of Will Hutton that always reminded her of Sam, and the polite curiosity of the English group.

"Arminger has been nipping at us for years, and we've been nipping right back," she said, taking a sip of her ale. "It was time to sink some real fangs right in his arse. And while there may or may not have been an underground of Witches in Europe in the old days, there most certainly is in the Protectorate this ninth year of the Change, and other folk who're friendly to us and not him-secretly, of course. Relatives of those who've made it out and settled among us, for starters. First our people gathered by twos and threes, slipping away and eastward, up into the mountains on the old tracks."

"Safer than trying to sneak over the border around Salem, say?" Mike asked.

"Less conspicuous, certainly," Juniper said. "Except for the odd hunter not many go up into the high country these days, and most of those stick to the lower levels; the game's thicker there, and it's safer. We've never been able to scour the mountains completely clean of bandits and Eaters, not north of Route 20 at least. Too big, and too far from our duns. We can't spare the people for constant patrols. Plus there are too many ways to slip over the mountains."

"Yeah," Will Hutton growled. "Them CORA folks, they don't watch any of their side as close as they should, 'cept maybe the main passes. Lots of wanderin' folk and broken men east of the mountains, always a few coming on to the west. Worse these last two years, with the war in the Pendleton country."

Juniper nodded. "But nothing that's a threat to a big well-armed party, so we drew together at Elk Lake, and worked our way north to Table Rock in three separate groups, not too far apart. Forest country, still a bit chilly and wet in May, but tolerable if you know how. The Protector doesn't entirely ignore that area, though. It's where runaway serfs head for, to begin with: "