She whimpered, "And the other one."
He chuckled and moved to Varana’s right breast, his lips teasing. Miro’s hand came up and squeezed the breasts gently as he kissed the nipples in turn, devoting his attention first to one, then the other.
Varana shifted her body, and her legs were on either side of Miro’s waist as he moved down her body, kissing her stomach, then the soft hair below her navel.
A clarion sounded. The noise was unmistakeable.
"No!" cried Varana as, cursing, Miro rose. "Just ignore it!"
Miro dressed quickly, first pulling on his woollen undergarments, then the armoursilk above. He slipped on the soft shoes and then above it all he slung the zenblade in its scabbard over his shoulder, feeling it hard against his shoulder blades.
Miro looked out of the window as he dressed. He could see a great commotion in the town square. Half-dressed soldiers were running to get the news, then running back into their billets to grab their gear.
"What is it? Tell me what it is!"
"I don’t know," Miro said as he turned to the door.
"You’re leaving! I know you are!" Varana cried.
Miro looked over his shoulder and moved to face her. She sat up naked on the bed, her beautiful body abandoned before it could be given the homage it deserved. She was quivering, tears pouring down her cheeks.
"I don’t know what it is. I’m going to find out," Miro said.
He opened the door and left her there.
~
THERE was a crowd gathering outside the town hall, soldiers and locals, all sharing anxious expressions, desperate for news.
A messenger had arrived from Altura, the raj hada on his cloak proclaiming him an official courier. He must have come from the High Lord.
Miro stood aside to let Marshal Sloan past, flanked by two aides. Blademaster Rogan came past a moment later, the soldiers making ample room for him to pass.
The crowd grew; rumours abounded. Miro saw Bartolo some distance away and nodded a greeting. Ronell was near the other bladesingers, standing somewhat apart, unmistakeable by the scarring on his face, the empty sleeve of his armoursilk. There was no friendship there, only enmity.
It seemed like an age that they stood, waiting for news. Any news.
Finally Prince Leopold came to stand on a podium facing the soldiers and townsfolk. Rogan and Sloan murmured behind him, deep in conversation.
"I have now received word from High Lord Tessolar. He sends his deepest respect and honour for the soldiers of Halaran and Altura who now stand together in this great army." There was a ragged cheer from the soldiers. "People of Raj Halaran, soldiers and citizens alike, your High Lord needs you. He is beset by enemies on all sides. He has with him the greatest part of your armies as well as many of Altura’s best men. He is cut off from all supply and communication. He needs our help."
Prince Leopold paused, gazing around him, sensing the mood. They had been good to the men, these Halrana of Sallat. They had housed and fed them. Many of the soldiers had met women among the townsfolk, women whose men had been gone for month upon month, with not a word or message to keep hope alive.
Miro realised what was going through the Prince’s mind. He thought he knew what was coming next.
"And so it is our duty that calls us forth, to do battle against a remorseless and unyielding foe. People of Sallat, we thank you, from the bottom of our hearts. Your kindness and your generosity will not be forgotten. As we leave on the morrow, we leave with the memory of your spirit in our hearts, for you are what we are fighting for." His head bowed for a moment. Miro had to admit, he was quite an orator. "May the Lord of the Sky raise you up." He touched his lips and forehead in the Alturan manner. "And may the Lord of the Earth bless you always." He pressed his palms together.
Without another word, Prince Leopold left the stage.
Miro met Bartolo’s eyes. Bartolo shook his head, a sad gesture. The soldiers around them tried to avoid the eyes of the townsfolk, but it was impossible. There wasn’t a soldier that didn’t feel a terrible guilt. They had brought their strength and protection to this town. In return Sallat had given everything. Without them the town would be a tempting target for the enemy.
That night Miro made love to Varana remorselessly, as if to blot out the guilt and pain. She didn’t say a word, only clung on to him tightly. They spent their last night together in each other’s arms. Miro tried to sleep, but the tears falling soundlessly down Varana’s face stabbed at his heart like the sharpest knife.
"I’m sorry," he whispered into the night, too softly for her to hear. "I’m sorry."
~