Up From Hell Read Free Page B

out—on the wrong guy.
    Matisco’s just a little fellow and a bloody useful one, I thought. I’d have broken his neck if I’d hit him square.
    â€œSorry, Top,” Matisco muttered. “I’ll get the packhorses ready.”
    â€œWait,” I said. My voice was a growl that even I couldn’t have understood. Louder and more clearly, I said, “Hold up, all of you! This job doesn’t need a whole troop, it just needs one man. You’re all off duty until I get back, which I figure will be ten days. Galo, if there’s a problem, go straight to the Crow—but I don’t think there will be.”
    â€œTop, I want to go with you,” Galo said. He was wearing a clear jewel on a gold chain. The loop was almost too tight to fit around his neck.
    â€œYeah, all right,” I said. I wasn’t surprised, and I was just as glad to have Galo along. “Matisco, you’re in charge of the troop while I’m gone. Don’t start trouble, and if anybody else does let the Crow sort it out. Dubnoreix’s problem is with me, not with you lot, so just make sure it stays that way.”
    â€œRight, Top,” Matisco said, bobbing his head. “We’ll keep outa trouble, don’t worry.”
    â€œTaranis,” the woman said. “Take me too. It’s not safe for me to be here in the camp.”
    â€œWhy should I care how safe you are?” I said. It wasn’t fair to blame her for the trouble, but that’s how I felt.
    â€œWhy should you care about Dubnoreix having his way after all?” she said, raising a mocking eyebrow. “If you don’t know the answer to that, you’re not the man I thought you were.”
    I laughed; she was a sharp little piece, no doubt about that. “All right,” I said, “but you’d better be able to ride the way you claim you can. I swear by the Dagda that I’ll drag you on a rope if you can’t.”
    This time she laughed. “Get me a horse, then, and you can judge for yourself. And I think we’d better do it soon, because your chief didn’t sound like he meant maybe when he told you to get moving.”
    I grunted and led the way to the corral. Galo stumped along behind.
    *   *   *
    Vincingo, the warband’s head wrangler, likes me and my troop. Whenever we stumble on something particularly good, we make sure there’s some of it left for him.
    That means we get our pick of the horses; better, we get Vincingo’s pick, because he knows them better than any of us do. We don’t get pretty-looking mounts that don’t have stamina, or are shortsighted, or are likely to kick for no reason except they’ve got a clear shot at your ribs; those horses go to other troops.
    Vincingo and his crew had already started to cut out mounts for me and Galo when I arrived at the corral. I’d just as soon not have been the day’s hot gossip, but it made getting out of camp quicker and easier than it would’ve been if I’d had to explain why we were leaving again when we’d just got in.
    Vincingo hadn’t heard Alpnu was going with us, though, and she had her own opinions about horses. They were choosing one for her while the crew put together strings for me and Galo.
    While we waited, I had my first chance to relax since we’d gotten back to the camp. That’s what I was doing, leaning on a post and trying to forget the gouge along my ribs, when Galo said, “I wish that woman wasn’t coming along.”
    I opened my eyes; looking at Galo was better than the way my memories were turning. “She rides well enough,” I said, nodding toward Alpnu and Vincingo. “Rides better than me, anyhow.”
    Another thought struck me, and I said, “Or are you worried that she’ll get away? Don’t be. I think the Crow would be just as glad if she disappeared, given the trouble she’s been already. I