“No,” said Captain Whiteleaf. “Louise Sunborn, the sister. She’s one of the wounded, being carried into the tent now.”
Elliot turned and ran. He made it to the largest of the brown tents and stood for a minute just inside the flap, plotting a subterfuge to make his way inside.
A grumpy voice, with that Sunborn ring of expecting absolutely to be listened to, rang out. “Will someone bring me Little Red?”
Or the direct approach might work.
“Hi,” said Elliot, darting in and around some medic trying to interfere with him. “You mean me, right? You wanted to see me?”
Louise stared up at him from her cot, her blond hair tangled and filthy. There was a bandage covering half her face: under the white stretch of cotton Elliot could see an open and darkly gleaming wound.
Louise saw him looking. “Yeah, kid, I’m going to have a big scar. You think nobody’ll marry me now?”
“I don’t think any of them are going to mind,” said Elliot matter-of-factly. “Mal Wavechaser says that you have the most rocking bod in the otherlands.”
Louise let out a peal of laughter, then put her fingers to her jaw and winced.
“Sorry, sorry!” Elliot said. “I don’t know the force of my own wit.”
“You’re a trip, kid,” Louise informed him. Something about the way she looked at him just then reminded him of her mother, Rachel, and he loved her for that alone. “My little brother asked me specially to look in on you. He seemed to think you might be getting into trouble.”
“Me getting into trouble?” Elliot asked. “That is so unfair. I’m the only one not on a battlefield getting pointy weapons of death jabbed at me.”
“Well, he seemed to think you could manage anyway,” Louise said. “Are you being a good boy?”
“Yes,” said Elliot positively. “I have nearly got these treaties worked out. Captain Whiteleaf almost completely messed up a codicil the other day, but I set him right.”
Louise’s eyes were half-lidded, he suspected not with sleepiness but with pain. “Whatever keeps you amused.”
Elliot hesitated. “Are . . .”
“They’re both okay,” said Louise. She must have seen the mute appeal on his face, because she continued: “The first battle’s never easy, and this is the first battle and the first campaign all rolled into one. But they’re tough kids, and they’ve got each other.” She smiled a tiny bit. “They like your letters. You should write them more.”
“Luke’s been reading my letters?!” Elliot exclaimed.
“Well, we all do,” Louise said. “I mean, they read them out at the campfire.”
“What,” said Elliot.
“No, they’re great,” said Louise. “They really give everyone a boost. They’re hilarious.”
“They are not hilarious. They are touching and private love letters for the eyes of my lady alone,” Elliot told her severely. “They are addressed to Serene! They begin with a greeting to Serene! They are extremely personal!”
“Ah, you’re so much fun,” said Louise. “Write Luke a letter tonight, okay? He’s nervous about taking over command.”
“Ahahaha,” said Elliot. “Now you are the one who is being hilarious, because you did not leave a fourteen-year-old in command of armed forces.”
Louise hesitated. “You have to understand. They’re doing better than okay. Better than all the grown men I have under my command. I couldn’t have left my men with anyone else. They wouldn’t have followed anyone else when there was a Sunborn to lead them.”
“Obviously you’re delirious from some sort of medication,” said Elliot. “Or maybe I’m delirious, because you talk and all I can hear is la la la suicide mission la la la your fourteen-year-old brother!”
“Serene’s there to help him,” said Louise. “I left the command to both of them, really.”
“Serene is, what’s the word I’m searching for here, oh yes, ALSO FOURTEEN.”
“What about you, Little Red?” asked Louise. “Getting tired of fiddling with those treaties? Going to leave it all to the grown-ups?”
Elliot opened his mouth to argue. He knew that Luke and Serene were exceptional. He had been told that and had seen that over and over again. But shouldn’t the adults, if they loved them, if they were responsible for them and cared for them more than for anything else, the way adults were supposed to . . . shouldn’t they try to stop them saving the day, even if they could do it? Unless Elliot’s father was only the most honest of the adults, and all adults were willing to betray children if offered an incentive.
Surely there had been other soldiers, not as good as Luke but grown, with strength a kid could not have and experience a kid could not have. For a fourteen-year-old to come to the fore as the obvious leader, others must have made the choice, conscious or not, to step back. Elliot did not know how they could live with letting this happen, letting someone this young be the leader and the sacrifice.
But this was Luke’s sister, Rachel’s daughter. She had led while she could stand. She was a grown-up, but lying there with her face bandaged, she did not look so very old. She looked tired and hurt.
Elliot leaned his chin sulkily on his fist. “I’ll write.”
“That’s a boy,” Louise murmured. “He’ll like that.”
“Do you want me to stay with you? Can I fetch you anything?”
Elliot was thinking of grapes or something, but one of Louise’s eyes popped all the way open. Luke’s eyes, kingfisher blue, but with a wicked expression.
“Yes, you can,” she said. “This Mal Wavechaser you mentioned.”
“Uh . . . what about him?”
“How old is he? And, don’t lie to me Little Red, is he good-looking?”
“Well—yes, one of the best-looking guys at school. And he’s a fifth year. He only stayed behind to be Captain Whiteleaf’s aide-de-camp,” said Elliot. “So seventeen, I guess?”
“Close enough,” said Louise. “Send him to me. Tell him that a lieutenant with a rocking bod needs her . . . pillow smoothed.”
Elliot’s mouth fell open.
“Go on!” said Louise. She leaned over to the next cot and stole one of the pillows, ignoring the patient in that cot’s feeble protest, and fired it at Elliot’s head. “I’m an invalid and I need to be cosseted. Besides, Sunborns, we’re a family with great enthusiasm for living, if you know what I’m saying.”
“I don’t,” Elliot lied firmly, and backed away.
“We’re like lions on the prowl,” Louise shouted after him.
“Don’t speak to me like that, I’m an impressionable child!” yelled Elliot.
“Would both of you please stop shouting, this is a place of healing,” snapped the redheaded medic.
“Why, Little Red, when I was fourteen—” Louise shouted, and Elliot did not hear the rest because he had wisely departed, which was to say fled. He admired Louise Sunborn’s style, but she was a grown-up and Luke’s sister, and it was too weird.