The Red Cloak (p. 4)
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | map 4. LIRA
The courier found Zelmorzi at the archery range. Handing his short recurved bow to a soldier nearby, the sergeant turned to the messenger.
"Well?"
"Captain Rode requests your presence as soon as is convenient."
Zelmorzi sighed. Rode had a tendency not to phrase things as strongly as he meant them. Stripping off his shooting glove and his arm guard, he called to the officer on duty at the archery range:
"Sergeant Ferrovente! I've been summoned by Captain Rode!"
Sergeant Ferrovente nodded, and turned back to the several divisions of soldiers that he was monitoring as they honed their aim. Zelmorzi gave his glove and arm guard to the same soldier who had taken care of his bow, and hastened off after the courier. The laconic messenger led him to Rode's room in the barracks.
Zelmorzi couldn't imagine why he had been sent for. He had done nothing untoward in recent memory. His troops were as well behaved as could be expected of an army quartered indefinitely in an unfriendly city. They had carried out all their duties in a timely manner, and kept in training. Cappel Rode wasn't a man to hand out comp.liments, so the interview was surely not of a congratulatory nature. That was especially true since Zelmorzi hadn't done anything especially good since encamping at Bochi Orro.
An apprehensive pair of knocks elicited a brisk, "It's open, Sergeant Zelmorzi," from Cappel Rode. Zelmorzi turned the knob and stepped in.
Zelmorzi had never been in Cappel Rode's private chamber in his years serving under the Captain. When on the road and in Carseli, Rode had always approached his sergeants in their quarters, or on neutral ground. Zelmorzi' s best explanation for the captain's quirk was that he was trying to soften the rank distinction and the consequent privilege of command. It had seemed strange at first to have a commander who worried what his subordinates thought of him, but Zelmorzi got used to it.
Rode's quarters in Bochi Orro consisted of a single room. In it, there was a desk topped with a smattering of paperwork. It was carved in the bold pagan motif of work from the northern land of Horth. Most of Rode's gear was stacked on or around it, as if the pagan symbols offended him. Two wooden chairs and a single bunk completed the furnishings. Rode rose to greet his sergeant.
"Sorry I had to call you here, but I wasn't sure where to find you during your leave, and I have a meeting with general Roma that should eat my evening."
Zelmorzi nodded. "To what do I owe this meeting, sir?"
"Have a seat," replied Rode, pulling up the chair behind the desk for himself. "There is a change in plans."
"How do you mean, sir?" asked Zelmorzi, scooching the other chair over to face Rode's. Behind the Captain, he noticed a striking watercolor painting of the Sable Bridge in Carseli. It was done in a bold, confident style. Central to the image was a statue of Isa. Zelmorzi wondered again what Rode's connection to the Goddess of Artistic Inspiration was.
"Exactly one week from today, all of our troops will move for Monte Peigno."
"Monte Peigno!" exclaimed Zelmorzi, adding a belated, "Sir."
"Yes. Monte Peigno. It seems Don Peigno is holed up there with a battalion or two of soldiers. General Roma has given me permission to eliminate them." Rode sat back, giving Zelmorzi a look that asked for a reaction to his statement Cappel Rode always seemed to expect to be second-guessed, but he of all Morsine officers needed it least.
"Why?" was Zelmorzi's question. "Why attack Monte Peigno at all? It's many leagues away, all the way at the head of the River Orro. Our intelligence has yet to locate the Guipesan fleet, and they might return at any time. Why would we want our best Captain out of reach, all for the sake of a few battalions? And isn't Monte Peigno a defensive retreat? It would be too inaccessible for Don Peigno's personal guard to threaten us." Zelmorzi realized that he was rambling and stopped.
Cappel Rode leaned forward a few degrees. Taking a deep breath to compose himself, he said, "Let me just say that I think that there are reasons why a strike against Don Peigno is called for. Now, Sergeant, I believe that you have a departure to prepare for."
"Yes, sir." Zelmorzi rose and saluted, realizing that his almost-challenge to the decision to attack Monte Peigno had struck a sore spot. Usually, Rode was all too ready to defend his assertions with well-prepared justifications.
As Zelmorzi moved toward the exit, he caught sight of a picture hanging next to the door that he hadn't seen before. It was a portrait, and though done in charcoa!lthe style was nearly the same as in the watercolor of the Sable Bridge. Zelmorzi's first impression was that the woman pictured was incredibly beautiful. As his steps slowed to allow him to examine it, he revised his opinion. She had features he would normally find unattractive -- a prominent chin, a too-wide mouth, and an excessively aquiline nose. However, in an unnerving reflection of how the artist must see the woman, her poor features were downplayed to create an impression of stunning beauty. Intrigued, Zelmorzi examined the script in the portrait's margin. It read: "Lira Peigno. 4/12/51. A. Bofi."
As if there weren't enough mysteries to Cappel Rode, he now had an obviously complimentary portrait of Don Peigno's sister, the daughter of the Guipesan Assemblyman who had been the first casualty of the war. Zelmorzi turned, but Cappel Rode was immersed in paperwork. Unable to frame a suitable question, Zelmorzi resolved to uncover the answer to this enigma as well. Shaking his head, he left the Captain's chamber.
As he closed the door, Zelmorzi recalled that Cappel Rode had lived in the city of Carseli before the war. Most Assemblymen, including old Don Peigno, kept houses in Carseli for themselves and their families while the Assembly was in session. Zelmorzi didn't doubt that there was some connection between these facts and Rode's portrait of Lira Peigno.
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | map Back to
StoriesAll material © 1997-2014 by Eemeet Meeker Online Enterprises, to the extent that slapping up a copyright notice constitutes actual copyright protection.