knew what I was doing. Blood calls to blood, I suppose - for all that I've resisted it the last few years." He glanced at his sister. "It was your coming out here to Daria - Damar - and loving it, loving the desert, even though you knew nothing of it - I could see it. You were as bad as Colonel Dedham - begging your pardon, sir - by the end of the first month. It made me ashamed. I - I couldn't talk about it ... "
Harry realized she was being offered an apology, and nodded. It didn't matter any more. He was here, and that was what mattered.
"Then, after you disappeared," Richard went on slowly, "these last long months, I've thought a lot - I even thought that you weren't dead - and the thought felt like betrayal ... You know, I came here, to the Gap, without ever having to think about it. I knew which way to turn, all those mad little trails on the way up here. I always knew."
"Blood calls to blood," Harry said. "Why didn't you ever tell me there was Hill blood in us?"
Richard looked surprised. "Father told me. I - I assumed he'd told you. I didn't want to talk about it. There was a lot I didn't want to talk about."
Harry said, "I found out a week ago, when Jack told me."
There was a silence, and Richard began to laugh. "My God. Then becoming a king's Rider must really have been a shock to you. It was shock enough to me, when Tom Lloyd told me." He took her right hand and turned it over to look at the palm. "I was proud of you. That's when I knew I had to follow you - not only to see my sister again. To - reclaim something. Or admit to owning it all along."
The north wind snapped at their hair and eyelashes, listening to their conversation. Harry wondered idly if it understood Homelander speech.
Kentarre had left them; she returned now and said, "My lady. The North prepares to move against us again."
Richard turned to face his sister; he put his shoulders back as if bracing himself for a blow. "Command me, sol," he said awkwardly, in Hill-speech. Then in Homelander he went on: "As I came late, perhaps you'd like me to commit a daring single-handed raid."
Jack snorted.
Harry smiled in spite of herself. "No; that won't be necessary. We'll arrange ourselves across the Gap, here, and on the plateau." She paused. "I can't risk what's left of us going into the valley again ... "
She raised her voice: "We're here to slow the Northerners down. We'll do the best we can. But we're overmatched - vastly more overmatched than I expected. I don't expect any of you to fight to the ... last. The day is half over; if we can hold them till this evening, they'll have to wait till morning to try again." Harry closed her eyes and thought, I hope. Even demons see better by the light of day - or do they? Swimming through the mist behind her eyes then, she saw Corlath and his army; they were beating back a horde of Northerners that outnumbered them by no more than three to one. The black mass that filled the valley below the Madamer Gate was twice the size of the army that sought to pass the Bledfi Gap. Corlath's stallion ran red from its nose as it leaped and struck; Corlath's sword was dull with blood. She recognized Fireheart first; it took her a moment to recognize his rider, for Corlath's sash was the wrong color. She saw Mathin, who grinned fiercely as he fought at Corlath's heels. "If we have gained a day, we have gained ... something. Tonight, those of you that remain ... may scatter. Fade into these Hills; make your way back to Corlath if you can."
Senay said: "Why do you say those of you, lady? Do you not come with us? Are you so certain of death?"
Terim, very low, said, "Do you seek it?"
Harry sighed. "I can't leave. This defense, here, was my great idea. I can't leave. But what's-his-name, out there, will take care of that, when next we meet." She tried to speak lightly.
"Very noble of you, my dear," said Jack, "but we will, I think, stand with Harimad-sol. We can hold here ... perhaps three days, if Thurra is so fond of slow death. Three days might