Free Lord of Mountains: A Novel of the Change by S. M. Stirling

days.
    It had been built long ago, more than a lifetime before the Change. There were rumors of unhallowed pagan rites there; such things
did
happen, especially among peasants and Tinerants.
    Maybe Oriabelle and Ava are witches!
he thought with a pleasant shiver.
Hmmm. For that matter, the High King is a pagan. Of course he’s not an Associate, he’s a Mackenzie, and they’re
all
witches.
    Lioncel crossed himself absently as he saw the other squire’s gesture and the way he was looking. There was a rumor that Lady Delia was a witch on top of her other irregularities, but Huon didn’t know whether that was true; she was pious enough in public. He didn’t think Lioncel was one, though. He was probably just worried about the reaming they’d get if they were past the time they’d been given.
    Rightly worried,
Huon thought, drew a deep breath and went on as they rode cautiously onto the steep section of the downward slope:
    “I’ll accept full responsibility for delaying us,” he said. Then, with a grin: “Do you regret it?”
    “Ummm…no,” Lioncel said frankly. “Not now I’ve found out what all the fuss was about!”
    Huon grinned wider and nodded, as if from a vast well of amorous experience.
    Absolutely no way am I going to admit I was a virgin too, pretty much. Nearly. I mean, technically you’re supposed to be until you’re married and my confessor is going to give me a penance that will keep me on my knees a while. But that’s really more important for girls, gentlewomen at least.
    Lioncel frowned: “But look, Huon, it was my idea as much as yours. I can’t let them drop an anvil on you.”
    Huon shrugged. “Hey, actually it was the
girls’
idea, pretty much. But we can’t say
that
, I mean,
sorry, a couple of peasant girls dragged us into a haymow and there was nothing we could do but oblige?
”
    “No,” Lioncel acknowledged ruefully. “It wouldn’t be chivalrous to do that, anyway. Plus nobody would believe us. And it would be even worse if they
did
.”
    “And you’re the one who noticed it was past time.”
    “Oh, I had to. It was a lot of fun, but by then I’d started thinking Ava was going to eat me alive!”
    They both chuckled. Huon went on doggedly:
    “I was in charge. I’m not looking forward to telling Her Majesty, damned right…we shouldn’t
lie
, but maybe we can just sort of…fudge it? They’ll be busy and it doesn’t matter
why
we were late.”
    Lioncel winced. “Telling my lady the Grand Constable…You’re right. No details. Though if either of them
asks
—Look, let’s get it over with.”
    Maryhill was a little strip of irrigated gardens and orchards along the Columbia, lost in the immensity of tawny bluffs on either side that were falling into darkness with the onrushing night. A bridge of the ancient world spanned the width of the great river here, and from the very beginning PPA policy had been to secure those. A small but strong castle reared on a terrace just beyond the northern abutment, the banners flying from the peaks of its towers black against the sky-glow eastward. The air was very cool now, and the night would be chilly; it was coming up on All Hallow’s Eve, after all, warmth increasingly a fleeting thing of sunny afternoons. The interior was hotter in the summer than the gentle lands west of the Cascades, but it was colder in winter too.
    The curving line of the railway followed the river eastward; as they cantered down the steep road they could see the rear lantern of a train disappearing as its team of big mules hauled it west towards the High King’s host. There were stone and concrete docks along the river, and more temporary wooden ones with a few sailing barges and two small fast galleys of unfamiliar style still tied up, with the black-and-silver flag of the Rangers flying from their masts, seven stars around a tree and a crow on top. A few days ago the whole area had been swarming with men andhorses and piles of supplies. Now it was