Fall of Angels (The Saga of Recluce #6)(52)

The downed marine was Stentana-an arrow through her eye. An arrow, for darkness' sake.

Nylan counted eight brigand bodies and, his eyes elsewhere, almost tripped over his scabbard. He caught himself and turned at the sound of hooves, reaching for the blade, but the riders were Istril and Fierral, and they led two more horses, each with a body slung across it.

Nylan turned toward the cart. There Ayrlyn was treating a wound caused where an arrow seemed to have ripped into Berlis's thigh. Llyselle stood beside Berlis, waiting.

"Strip the bodies and make a cairn down there, over by the rocks," commanded Ryba. "No sense in dragging them up the mountainside. Take all their clothes. We need rags as well as anything-but the clothes all need washing, and then some."

Since he didn't seem to have been much use, Nylan plodded toward the woods, and grabbed one of the bodies by the boots and dragged the corpse toward the rocks where Ryba had pointed, but toward an area where small boulders seemed more plentiful. Damned if he were going to make burial hard on himself, not for men killed as a result of their own failed ambush.

Nylan forced himself to strip the bandit, barely more than a youth despite the straggly beard and the.scar across one cheek. The bandit's purse held only two silvers and a worn copper, but both silvers were shiny. The man wore a quiver, but had dropped his bow somewhere. He had no blade, just a knife that was badly nicked. As for clothing, he had worn a tattered and faded half cloak that had once been green of some shade, a ragged shirt, once brown, trousers, also once brown, but of a differing shade, and two mismatched boots, both with holes in the soles. No undergarments, and no jewelry.

After looking at the threadbare garments and cloak, Nylan agreed with Ryba's assessment of their use as rags. He also wondered how many vermin the clothes harbored. At the same time, in a way, he felt sorry for the dead man. Life couldn't have been that easy for him.

"Another attack?" Gerlich had ridden in from the trail to the west, the one that looped north from the ridge before descending and turning west, unlike the other two-one of which descended around the lower east side of the ridge and eventually led to Nylan's brickworks. Across his saddle lay three large and brown-furred rodentlike creatures, already gutted.

"This one was a little different," Nylan explained as Siret dragged another body across the ground and let it fall next to the one Nylan had stripped. "They used that herder there as bait."

"Dump the clothes there in that pile," ordered Fierral, still mounted, and pointed to the stack Nylan had made.

"What about the coins and other stuff?" asked Siret.

"You can keep a knife-if you don't have a belt knife," answered Ryba. "If you do, pass it to someone who doesn't. You can keep the local coppers, too. Share them if you think you can. Give any silvers or golds to the comm officer- Ayrlyn. We'll need those to buy food and supplies-from the next honest trader."

"They seem to have things well in hand," observed Gerlich.

The herder and Narliat had crawled out from beneath the cart. Berlis and Rienadre stalked toward them. So did Huldran and another seven marines. The herder looked up at the circle of marines. Then he slumped into a heap.

"He's just fainted," said Ayrlyn softly.

"Never saw angry women with blades," snorted Ryba. "What about the others?"

"I did nothing," pleaded Narliat. "Nothing, I swear it."

"Just stuff it," growled Berlis as Ayrlyn sprayed a disinfectant into the guard's wound. "Don't tell me how you didn't see it coming."

Llyselle leaned against the side of the cart, her face paler than her silver hair.

Brawwwwkkk . . . awwwkkkk . . . From the handful of cages behind the injured marine came the sound of chickens.

"Are there any other bandits around?" Ryba asked Fierral.

"Istril and I chased down the two who ran. Istril was complaining that she had to shoot them. She didn't want to waste the ammunition."

"We need to think about bows," snapped Gerlich as he eased his horse next to Ryba's. "We need some sort of long-range weapon."

"There are four or five here. Two got broken," announced Siret.

"We'd better start learning to use them," suggested Gerlich.

Nylan frowned. Gerlich was right. But could he build a better bow? One with a longer range? Out of some of the composites in the lander?

"Look out," whispered Istril.. "The engineer's got that look again."

"What about these damned sheep?" asked Gerlich, gesturing around at the near dozen ewes and lambs.

"They're all ours," snapped Ryba. "We'll let the herder go."

"Don't forget the chickens," Nylan said. "Good source of protein."

"Pay him one copper. I only suggest," Narliat added hastily as Berlis glared at him while Ayrlyn continued wrapping a tape dressing around the wounded marine's thigh.

"Local custom?" asked Nylan.

"It is traditional for treachery. He cannot claim he was not paid."

"Fine. Nylan-you and Ayrlyn take care of it," said Ryba. "Just make sure he understands."

"He already understands," said Ayrlyn. "That's why he passed out."

Ryba pointed toward Denalle and Rienadre. "You two, and anyone else you can round up, figure out how to get these animals up over the ridge and into the grass on the west end. We can use the manure to fertilize the crops-or maybe compost it some way for next year. I'm no herder, but they'll provide meat at the least and maybe wool, if we can figure out what to do with it." She gestured up the ridge.