Talysse looked to the men—four of them, all young, two hardly older than herself. They stood in a line, hats in hand.
Guarin took charge. “Jollins,” he said to a burly man with black hair and eyes to match, “you are eldest. Say what happens.”
The man nodded. “Mon sieur, I tell the truth in every aspect. Early this morning, we ride to the herd of the one-horned bull. On the way, near the salt road, we see a gnome—”
“Her name is Ardetta,” Talysse broke in. She gave what she hoped was a sternly dignified look.
“Your pardon, ma’amselle.” The man flushed under his dark skin, but he continued.
“Madame Ardetta is on the high road. She asks us if we see a girl with silver hair.”
He glanced at Talysse and smiled. “Naturally we know this is the silver gull. I myself see her fly.” Here he looked more directly at Talysse. The other men appeared jealous. Talysse was flattered and confused at the same time. Was she famous?
Jollins’ face grew somber. “Earlier, even before sunrise, we meet riders in the marais. They are pretending to be royal soldiers, but I do not hear truth in their words. They, too, ask about the silver gull. I give them only the words such men deserve.”
The other gardiens gave approving nods.
“You found Detta?” she prompted, wanting the man to finish the story.
“She walks all night with two full packs on her back. When she speaks of l’oiseau d’argent, we know to get her to safety. The ruffians are not … gallant. This is the closest cabano. Perhaps these men—I believe they are foreign—do not know of cabanos, but perhaps they do. Perhaps it is not safe to stay.”
Ceranne stepped over to the lad and kissed both his cheeks. “You do well, Jollins. Your uncle will be proud.” At these words, the youth drew himself up as straight as a soldier.
“Madame is generous.”
“Madame is worried,” Ceranne said, “but sit at table. Will you have water?”
They would, and Ceranne brought bread with jam, and the fresh-cooked meat. The young men fell to readily, but Guarin sat frowning.
“I do not like this news,” he said to no one in particular. “A wizard. Armed men. That such things should come to the marais.”
Detta put a protective hand on Talysse’s arm. Guarin noticed.
“Do not be afraid, petite madame, we will keep you hidden. It is wrong for this man to hunt you—it is not how an honest man behaves. Also, he is a foreigner, a Frank, and so not to be trusted. Worse still, he brings armed men, hirelings without a doubt. To turn you over to such a man would be a grave injustice.” He stopped and rubbed at his thin beard.
Talysse thought the man across the table from her was as noble as any prince.
The pause lengthened. Detta touched Talysse on her forearm. “Lyssie,” she said, “perhaps we shall step outside. I am quite full and would like to stretch my poor legs.”
Talysse started to protest that she certainly could eat a bit more, but she caught the gnome’s sidelong glance. She heard the request within the pause.
“That sounds lovely,” she said. Then she turned to the woman of the cabano and added, “If it is courteous to do so.”
Ceranne handed a piece of bread to Detta and another to Talysse. “It is no discourtesy,” she said. “We will decide only how to help, not whether to help.”
Talysse led Detta outside. The sun was past noon, and gave enough warmth that she felt no need of a cloak. Neither woman spoke until they had finished their bread. The cabano stood on a wide, sandy island surrounded by reed-filled marshes. Flamingos honked somewhere to the east. Talysse winced and rubbed her shoulder.
“What will we do now, Lyssie?”
“What we have always planned, tante. I’m going to find my parents.”
“To Arles?”
“Yes.”
Detta scuffed at the sand with an unshod foot. “I have never been to another country,” she said.
“It’s only two days away,” Talysse said.
“Yes,” Detta said.
“Did you have time to say goodbye?” Talysse asked gently.
The gnome sighed.
“It was harder than I thought.”
“Was your father cross with you?”
“Oh no, not at all. It was worse than that. He was sad.”
Talysse took Detta’s hand in hers, rubbing her palm over the tight curls of gnome fur. “You’ve been a great help already. Honestly.”
Detta smiled, but her eyes remained downcast.
“You brought my clothes and money. I don’t know what I should do without you.”
“You should never do without me,” the gnome said. She twined her fingers with Talysse’s. “When do we go?”
“I don’t know,” Talysse said. “Soon, I think. It worries me that there are men pursuing us.”
“If they come close, you must fly away,” Detta said.
“I won’t leave you behind again,” Talysse said firmly.
“Never have I been so far from the vill.”
“I know. And if you dare not go that far, I’ll understand.”
Detta’s lips parted. “I go where you go.”
Talysse pulled back without letting go of Detta’s hands. She had never seen Detta angry—gnomes called it ‘showing one’s teeth.’
“I only said I would understand, not that I wanted it. I know you are not afraid.”
“I am afraid, though. I’ve been afraid since I had to face my father and say I was leaving. I was afraid walking the long road at night alone. I was afraid when the gardiens put me on that monstrous big horse.” She took a breath. “But I am also compagnon, so there we are.” She wrinkled her nose and nodded once.
“Tante, you are a dear,” Talysse said.
“And you are a trial, Lyssie,” Detta said, smiling.
“I know. I don’t mean to be. It just happens.” Talysse narrowed her eyes. “If those men really are searching for me, this could be dangerous. Prevôt Trumbert is always telling me the outside world is full of danger.”
“It must be so,” Detta said, “for my father said the very same to me.”
“We shall have to be clever,” Talysse said, “and brave.”
Detta nodded. “I said the very same: ‘Miss Talysse is clever and brave, Father, do not worry.’ Such were my words.”
“How did he answer?”
“He said he was sure you were, but he would worry about me anyway, as a father should.”
“You make me sorry to take you away.”
“You do not take me away; I go away. I would be much sorrier to stay.”
Talysse sighed. “Come, tante, let’s tell the gardiens goodbye. We shall thank them and be on our way.”
“Which way?”
“Our way,” Talysse said with a shrug. “We’ll follow the road, I suppose. It will take us somewhere, which is better than nowhere.”
“This is true,” Detta said. She dipped her shoulders in her own shrug. “Best we be off then.”
“Not yet, if you please,” Guarin’s rough voice boomed. He stood in the doorway. “Come inside; our debate is finished.”
The two women followed the gardien back into the cabano. The men were all standing, along with Ceranne. Talysse searched their faces in vain for any sign of their decision.
“Some say one way, and some say another. To our door comes a young woman and her compagnon, and they bring trouble in their wake. We gardiens wish peace with Saldemer, and these two”—he gestured at Talysse and Detta—“belong to the cenobitum. It would be disrespectful not to report them. These are not the first to flee those walls.”
Detta’s hand found Talysse’s.
“Then there is the matter of this wizard. The Syndicat is little more than rumor to us, but it carries a certain power in the Kingdom of Arelat. We do not know the case either for or against this Saveric, but it is rarely wise to anger a wizard.”
He looked directly at Talysse. She could not read his face.
“Thus the matter and the considerations. I listen to all and I decide.” He turned to Ceranne.
“Wife, close up the cabano. We drive the herd today.” Ceranne nodded and set to work at once, extinguishing the fire. Guarin turned to Talysse.
“Ma’amselle, madame,” he said, “we go to Arles.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Across the Marais
They spread out everything from the two packs in the back room as Talysse rummaged for something to wear. Detta declared she needed to re-pack everything, as she had been too rushed last evening to do a proper job.
“We did not get away as we had planned, tante, but I think we’re back on our feet now,” Talysse said.
Detta touched her chest, a sign of agreement among gnomes. “Start in storm,” she said, “end in sunlight.”
Ceranne emerged from the other room with an armful of clothes and two hats. “The cloak is the smallest I can find,” she said to Detta. “The scarf should serve.”
She helped the gnome cover her head with a blue scarf. The hat fit well enough over the top of this arrangement.
As they dressed, Talysse asked why the gardiens had suddenly—or so it seemed to her—decided to go to Arles.
“It is not so sudden,” the gardienne replied. “We debate long on this. We have a bull, a little old for the arena, but Donat and Yngezo argue for months that he is not so very old. So strong is he, they name him Puissant. A child’s name, to be sure. Here, madame gnome, let me arrange this for you.”
The cloak was indeed too large for Detta, who all but disappeared under its black folds. Ceranne took up the lower edges and made a wide hem, securing it with hard needles of thorn.
“You look sinister,” Talysse said, grinning. “A gnome sorceress, you are.”
“Ayi, ayi,” Detta said, pushing back the cowl that nearly swallowed her head.
“Why is the bull important?” Talysse asked.
“We take bulls to the arena,” Ceranne said. She surveyed Talysse with a critical eye. “Let me cover that hair of yours, argent.” She fetched a red and white scarf and a black ribbon, then continued. “There the young men will battle with our Puissant. If the bull is fierce, he will fetch a good price for breeding. If not…” She gave an elaborate shrug.
“We can braid my hair,” Talysse said, “then tie that up. Detta is clever with braids.”
In short order the gnome had done Talysse’s silver hair up in twin braids, pinned in place. Ceranne used the black ribbon to secure the kerchief.
“There,” Ceranne said with satisfaction, “you look a proper gardienne now. No one will give you a second look, save for your beauty.”
Talysse and Detta both giggled at this, but Talysse quickly put on her serious face again. “Still, why risk everything?” she asked. “We know men are on the road, searching. They won’t stop at pulling off a scarf.”
“This is so,” Ceranne answered, “but we are not so simple as that. Today we ride out to gather our cattle. A hundred horns or so. When we ride, we will be just another manade—a herd, you understand—going to Arles.
“All these weeks of spring we debate: attend the tournoi, stay in our pastures. Bring the bull, retire him here. Then comes l’oiseau d’argent and my husband says this is a sign. Good fortune will attend us. He wishes to appear practical, you understand, but I know his heart. He does not wish to allow a young woman to fall into the hands of a scoundrel.” Her voice was wrapped in iron and pride. “Come,” she added after a pause, “the men will mock us if we take too long at dressing.”
Ceranne took another moment to survey the cabano. Satisfied that all was as it should be, she pushed open the door and they followed her outside.
Several of the men were mounted already. The horses stamped and snorted as if they knew an expedition was underway. Detta crowded close to Talysse.
From around the corner came Ceranne, leading two horses. One was as white as the others while the other, a bit larger, was flecked with gray spots. Ceranne let go the one and led the spotted horse closer.
“Talysse, meet Tachette, who will carry you steady as a stream to our destination.”
Detta tried to squeeze behind Talysse, who stood, uncertain of what to do.
“Come closer,” Ceranne said. “Hold out your hand and let him smell you. You can call him by name; all horses know their name.”
Talysse thought it rather marvelous that horses should know their name. She stepped forward, trying not to be hesitant. He was so big! But he was also beautiful, and his brown eyes seemed nothing but kind. She held her hand to the horse’s nose.
He snorted. It startled her—the wetness, the warmth, the gust of breath. It was a little like being licked by a dog.
She smiled.
“Take a step back.”
She did so. The other horses quieted, waiting. The creamy whiteness of their coats was as dreamy as a cloud, but she rather liked Tachette’s spots. Gave him character.
“He likes you,” Ceranne said. “Come closer again and you can stroke his nose or his neck.”
“Oh, Lyssie,” Detta said, “do be careful.”
Talysse stepped forward and put her hand on the horse’s neck. His long mane hung over the neck. She was surprised by how thick and heavy it was. Muscles ran in cords beneath her touch.
“Now up you go. There’s no need to delay; Tachette here has carried many riders and has an easy manner. Put your foot into the stirrup—no, left foot—and I’ll boost you up. Once there, sit with confidence. A horse will read your temper. If you are nervous, you’ll make him nervous.”
Talysse did as she was told, and in a moment she sat so far above the ground, it was like sitting on a tree limb. She nervously tried to figure out how not to feel nervous.
“Can you stand in the stirrups?”
She could not. Her feet barely reached them. Jollins dismounted and the two gardiens made quick adjustments, then boosted Detta up. She sat perfectly still behind Talysse.
“Hold on to your compagnon, madame gnome,” Jollins said. “Tachette will never lose a rider, but… well.”
“My legs do not stretch very far,” Detta said.
“Swing both to one side,” Ceranne advised. “Then you can hold on to the back of the saddle. Jollins, loop her in, eh?”
Over her shoulder, Talysse watched as Jollins ran a leather rope around Detta, hooking it to something on the back of the high saddle. After he was done, and she had tugged on the belt, she looked much happier.
“Off we go, then. Don’t worry about Tachette, he will bear you safely.”
Talysse fell in love with her horse within the first hour. He was surely the strongest and wisest of all the horses, the finest-looking, and he loved her in return. She was certain of it. She spent much of that first hour reassuring Detta.
“Feel how strong he is, tante. Just put your hand on his quarters. Do you see?”
Detta patted at the horse as if he were a cat, manufacturing a smile for Talysse.
Guarin and Ceranne led the little party across the marais, and Talysse marveled at both riders and horses. The gardiens rode with their tridents at rest, the three-pronged points rising a good three feet above them. The men wore their black hats, which stayed on their heads despite the steady breeze. Red neckerchiefs set off their sky-blue shirts, tan pants, and tall black boots, all so similar they might have belonged to some noble family, wearing their colors. Ceranne wore much the same, but her kerchief was wound about her head to keep her black hair in place, with a white cap pinned there. Her shirt, too, was white. Her black skirt, richly embroidered, was split and she rode in the same manner as the other
s.
At first, Talysse was swept away by it all. She knew the feeling of being above the ground, but that was while flying. Now she was well off the ground yet still tied to the earth. It was as if she had somehow grown taller. The horse seemed to know not only which direction to go, but exactly where to put his feet. Never once did he sink into muck or stumble in a hole. The horse filled her senses and she drank him in gladly. She leaned forward, putting her face into his heavy mane; the scent spoke of muscle and salt, earth and water, but over it all was the rich smell of horse, and it was wonderful. She kept hold of the reins in one hand, running the other down his powerful neck. The whole movement of him was a marvel—legs, body, neck, head—combining to make her feel as if she were walking and flying at the same time. She understood now why noblemen ride, for riding itself was a noble thing. Her only distraction was the occasional squeak from Detta whenever the horse altered his gait in the slightest.
Then it ended. Guarin pulled up and signaled for the others to halt. The gardiens dismounted. They were on a long strip of elevated ground, covered with tough grasses and a few stunted trees.
“Why are we stopping?” Talysse asked.
Yngezo reached up to help her down.
“Because it is time,” he said.
“Time for what?”
“To stop.”
She went to Ceranne and asked the same question.
“We rest the horses,” the gardienne said, “and we rest ourselves.”
“Well,” Talysse declared, “I’m not tired, not a bit.”
A couple of the men nearby chuckled.
“What?”
“You are new to riding,” Ceranne said, “so you do not know. There is a soreness, un dolor, that comes here and here.” She touched her lower back and her thighs.
“I’m not sore,” Talysse replied. “I do wish they would not laugh when I speak.”
“You are the silver gull; you are accustomed to flying, but not to riding. The soreness will come later. For now, I suggest you walk around, to assuage your muscles.”
Talysse wasn’t sure what “assuage” meant, but she knew she did not want to plop down on the ground like the others. She struck out in an arbitrary direction, walking so fast Detta had to trot to keep up. Talysse noticed, and slowed her pace. It did feel good to stretch her legs a bit.
A Child of Great Promise: An Altearth Tale Page 6