The Lost War Karl Gallagher (red white and royal blue hardcover .txt) 📖

being fucking insulting now.” Burnout tapped her shoulder. “Loose dirt.” Tap on the hip. “Dirt ground in to the fabric.” She stepped back. “One hand-sized bruise on each wrist. Two-hand bruises on ankles. You were raped. There were at least four of them.” She held the ziplock up to the lantern. “And one had some nasty VD. Orange is new on me. But all the rest I’ve seen plenty of times before.”

“I don’t have to tell you anything.”

“No, you don’t. Wish you’d think about the next girl who goes off by herself. I ought to call 911 anyway.”

“Go ahead.”

Slightly surprised, Burnout retrieved her cell phone from the pile by her cot. “Crap. No signal. I had four bars at dinner. I’ll try again later.”

“Can I go now?”

“Let’s get some antiseptic on those injuries first. And I meant it about giving you some pain pills.”

After treating the scrapes and giving Belladonna some water to wash the pills down with, Burnout checked her phone again. “Still no signal.”

Her patient didn’t offer any explanation of the lack of connection.

“Look, if we can’t get 911 we can have someone drive you to the hospital.”

Belladonna shook her head. “I just want to go back to my tent and lie down.”

The chiurgeon sighed. “Will you make a report to Constable so we have a record of it?”

“I tripped and fell. Can I go now?”

Lady Burnout let her leave.

***

Newman woke as the stars began to fade. He dressed quietly to not bother anyone else in House Applesmile’s tent. The household had stayed up late in a whispered debate over what could have relocated them until Master Sweetbread declared lights-out. The noise, or maybe the empty side of their sleeping bag, was enough to wake Goldenrod. She pulled on her dress and shoes without asking why. He slung his quiver over his shoulder and picked up his bow.

Once they stepped out of the tent Goldenrod asked, “What’s that for?”

“Security blanket.”

There was one oak tree between the tent and the strange new trees. He studied the bark and leaves. The trunks said ‘elm’ to him but the heart-shaped leaves didn’t fit. He turned left at the edge of the forest and started walking.

“What are you looking for?” asked Goldenrod.

“I’m getting a feel for the terrain. Where are we, are there any threats out there, are there better places to be?” Newman kept his eyes outward, just glancing down enough to pick a clear path.

Goldenrod stayed to the inside of him. The camp was familiar. The woods . . . would have felt just fine to her if she’d expected them. That they’d appeared from nowhere was scary.

The scary trees thinned out on the west side of the camp. The dawn sun was at their back, so this was still west. Newman led her through a thin line of trees and stopped on the other side.

They stood on a river bluff, some sixty feet above the flood plain. The river was wide enough to sail on and too fast to swim in. Another bluff rose on the far side, crowned by forest.

Last night this spot had been a grass lawn sloping gently down to an artificial pond.

Goldenrod said, “You’d think after seeing two moons I’d expect things to be different.”

“I think everything is going to keep surprising us,” said Newman.

He looked up and down the river valley, examining every bend and knot for clues about this new place. A wrack of dead tree trunks and branches hung up in a bend caught his eye.

“There’s no litter,” he said.

“You sound like that’s bad.”

“No trash, or boards, or broken rafts means no people. We’re alone here.”

Goldenrod slid an arm around his waist. “We have each other. There’s a lot of good people in the Kingdom. We’ll manage.”

He returned the embrace. “This is a good place for the camp. As close to the river as we can get and still be safe from floods.”

“Maybe someone’s looking out for us.”

Behind them the camp was waking up. People who normally would have slept in were jolted from their beds by shouts of shock or simple surprise.

A herald called out, “Oyez! Their Majesties command all subjects to attend Court at this time! All subjects are commanded to attend!” He moved to a different part of the camp and repeated the call.

Newman and Goldenrod walked toward the center of the camp. People were arguing as they came in. There were shouts and screams as some who hadn’t realized the change had it pointed out to them. A few were in hysterics. They were settled down gently or forcefully as needed. One man began punching at random until a blow from behind dazed him. Someone steered him along with the crowd into the open space before the royal pavilion.

The front wall of the pavilion was held up by poles to make an awning over several fancy chairs. Everyone stood. Some had folding chairs. A dozen fancy-clothed people came in. Four sat. The herald directed the crowd to sit. Those nearest to the pavilion plunked down on the grass. The folding chairs went behind them. Newman and Goldenrod were in the outer ring, standing with the rest.

 “Who are these people?” asked Newman, looking at the ones sitting in the fancy chairs. The seats were portable thrones, carved with the Kingdom’s heraldry and tall enough to provide a headrest.

Goldenrod pointed to the couple in the closest thrones. He was blonde, looked a bit over thirty, and wore a gold crown and an embroidered red velvet tunic tight enough to show off the muscles of his arms and shoulders. The woman next to him was slim, looking like the matching crown was too heavy for her. Her face was paler than his, lacking the sunburn. Thin hands twisted nervously in her lap.