Page 16 of Arrows

“Oh. What—what will you do, then? If you want…something else?”

Milo’s hand, the one rubbing Van’s back, came to a halt. Then got back to gradual motion. “Maybe I’m not sure yet. Working it out. Depends on some things.”

“Oh. You…you’d be good at something with people. Being nice to them.”

“Not a job, is it, just being nice to people.” But Milo’s eyes were sky-lit with amusement, the shared kind, inviting. “No, if you want to know…something, only an idea…I’m good with a needle. Fabric. Measurements. Clothing. Style. I like fashion. For other people, I mean, making them look their best. Not that I’ve ever been to Court or anything, I don’t mean that, I mean for people like us. The local innkeeper’s daughter on her wedding day. A fisherman who likes to wear fine shirts on a day off. Like that.”

“You could do that,” Van said, bolting upright. “You could. You’d be so good at—look at everything you did for me, the shirt and the hair and—you should absolutely do that!”

Milo was laughing more. “Ah, Van.”

“I’m serious!”

“Of course you are. I don’t have any money to begin with and I’m a farmer’s son from Bretalyn. Like I said, it’s all only an idea.”

“But you could, if—”

The clear brass call of the summons cut through Van’s sentence, and the dim refuge of their tent, and the world.

Orders. Happening. Now.

Milo’s freckles stood out amid new paleness, scattered stars against sudden dread. Van recognized that emotion, because he shared it; it must be scrawled across his face as well.

It might be that fight at last. It might not be. It might be some other command. Either way, the fishing-line had been cast, and the stream was in motion.

“I didn’t think I’d have to kill anyone.” Milo’s lips barely moved. “I’m not sure I can.”

“I know,” Van breathed. “Me too. But—maybe it won’t be that. Lorre said he doesn’t want a war. He doesn’t like it.”

“He changed the world. Without asking.”

“If he can start a war, he can stop one.”

Milo nodded, though he didn’t look much better.

“It might be something else. We don’t know yet. We can’t know unless—unless we answer. Like we signed up to do. What we promised.” He was trying to find the words. The courage. For Milo, for himself. “Trying to help.”

“You and me,” Milo repeated; and, on that promise, they scrambled up, hand in hand.

Chapter 5

The sun pounded like an avalanche. The long dry grass hissed warnings in the breeze. Van’s mouth had gone dry, despite earlier tea; he swallowed, felt the weight of his quiver, swallowed again. Milo, beside him, was still pale under the starburst freckles.

They stood shoulder to shoulder, in the lines as they’d been ordered. They waited.

The Penthii Chief Minister had come forward. With an army at her back. Van could see the outlines of pikes, spears, sharpness. Lorre’s veil danced, blurring shapes into indistinct opals.

“They can’t come through,” Milo said softly, maybe for Van, maybe for himself. “They can’t.”

“They want to.” Van stopped. “They need to. Lorre said it was about water, down there in the desert—”

“And he gave them a river. Shouldn’t they leave?”

“Would you feel threatened,” Van said slowly, “if you woke up to find a new river running right past you, a new canyon…because your enemy did that, in the night…would you take it badly, do you think…”

One of the blurry shapes made a gesture. Lorre’s barrier burst with iridescent light like a wound; but it absorbed the hit, scar gradually fading.

The Queen of Averene, General Freye, and the Sorcerer came past, hurrying but not too badly. The Queen was saying, “If we simply talk to them—”

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