***
The world was still. No sound but the gentle thumping of Kalbo’s hooves on the grass. Restlessly, Janir shifted in the saddle.
At least Armandius had sent a change of clothes with her to replace the blue silk dress. These past three days and nights would have rendered it to rags. She wore her moss green riding habit, one of the ones Dame Selila had ordered sewn for her last autumn. Necessarily, the long sleeves would keep her warm in the chilly mountains and the black leggings underneath her split skirt would as well. The skilled seamstresses who worked for Armandius knew how to make something both comfortable and functional.
Janir still had the crest of the Caersynn house, the chain wrapped around her wrist into a bracelet. Something about it reassured her, anchored her hope.
In Kalbo’s saddlebags were a blanket for the horse and a few of the girl’s mostly unused hunting tools. Not long after setting out she had found the mahogany box—Armandius had packed it, though she didn’t know why.
The Lord Argetallam had sent her away, too. And she had never seen him since. Though she wouldn’t mind horribly if she died never seeing the Lord Argetallam again, Armandius was another matter. He’d protected her, guarded her, embraced her, been everything a father should have been.
Since leaving him on that hillside, she and Kalbo had been riding. After moving through the daylight, they would stop for a short rest before riding on into the early evening and breaking camp. Janir pressed her stallion for long hours, but they kept an easy speed, never faster than a trot.
They were getting deeper and deeper into the foothills, reaching the actual mountains themselves. Janir wondered if she shouldn’t stop and set up a permanent camp soon. She didn’t want to venture too far, just far enough not to be found by accident.
Before she knew it, they were making their way through the winding path of a narrow mountain gorge. Like curtains, the clouds hung in a gray sheet against the sky, a fitting accompaniment to her mood.
As they reached foothills, the land became cold and uninviting. The harsher wind was blocked by the mountains, but soon could be heard wailing at their peaks. Once or twice the stallion balked at an unusually loud cry from above their heads. But always he settled, trusting Janir that it was nothing to concern himself with.
Kalbo’s ears twitched and soon Janir heard a voice being carried on the steady breeze. Curious, if a bit apprehensive, she turned Kalbo and continued in a southeasterly direction through the pines. As she drew closer, she could hear the rushing of a river and words from formerly indistinct moaning.
The horse and rider emerged from the trees and Janir reined in Kalbo to behold a rather odd little person. He looked to be a few years her junior with spiky red hair that stood on end. His freckled face was contorted into a look of self pity. A pale stare gaped blankly into the distance, too busy daydreaming to notice the bay stallion and his incredulous rider.
The complainer was shorter than Janir, with no muscles to speak of and skinnier than a willow branch. He was wearing a shapeless robe of indistinguishable color—Janir couldn’t tell if it was a faded brown or a dirty gray. The odd clothing was much too big for him and resembled a huge sea creature swallowing him alive. He was suspended by the back of the shapeless garment from the branch of a leaning pine, dangling precariously above the ground.
“Woe to me, I am out here all alone, away from the warm kitchens and bright banquet halls of home,” he moaned pathetically.
Kalbo snorted and the boy snapped to attention. He surveyed the girl and horse for a moment, then asked, “Have you any rolls or cheese?”
Janir shook her head. “What are you doing here?” It came out a bit sharper than she had intended.
“Have you any food at all?”
“I believe you have larger problems than food,” Janir pointed out. She glanced around, but could see no signs of anyone else nearby.
“Yes, but at the moment I am rather hungry.”
“What are you doing here?” Janir repeated.
“Hmm? How do you mean?”
“Here. In the mountains. What are you doing?”
“At the moment, I have been strung up by my robe and am dangling from a tree, so I’m not doing much of anything,” he explained, pointing to where his robe was caught on the pine.
“Why are you here?” She tried to make the question easier.
“Because I can’t move.”
Taking a deep breath, Janir attempted a different angle. “Why are you here instead of wherever it is you came from?”
“I left,” the boy bluntly stated, staring at her in a way that said he considered her to be stupid.
“Why did you leave?”
“I wanted to be somewhere else.” He blinked disgustedly at her lack of understanding.
Before he could fail to explain himself any longer, the suspensory branch snapped and the boy landed in a jumbled heap of robe and white legs. Kalbo shied and Janir held his reins until he steadied. The boy shuffled and clambered to his feet.
“Karile Kerwyn, Enchanter of the Ninth Degree,” the boy declared with a sweeping bow made less impressive by the pine needles in his hair.
“Ninth Degree?” Janir scoffed. “You couldn’t even save yourself up there and you expect me to believe that?”
“Well, I am very close to the Ninth Degree,” Karile protested.
“How close?”
“Well, I do have a few Degrees to go before I am of the Ninth,” he sheepishly admitted.
“How many?”
“Eight.”
Prone to exaggeration though he might be, Janir deemed that this boy was harmless and alone, whoever or whatever he was. Swinging down from the saddle, she held Kalbo’s reins and politely announced her own name.
“Janir Caersynn.” No sooner had the words crossed her lips than she realized she should have at least withheld the anomalous last name. But hopefully the lad wouldn’t notice.
“Caersynn?” So he had noticed. “Janir Caersynn?” He was looking at her strangely. She thought he might even be excited, but it was gone a moment later.
“What about it?” Janir shrugged, hoping to brush it off as irrelevant.
“Pleased to meet you, Janir.” He grinned and offered a clumsy bow. “Do you have any food?”
“Don’t you have somewhere to go?”
“Oh, no. I think I’ll keep you company for a while.”
“Lucky me,” she muttered. Janir took a deep breath and wondered if perhaps she shouldn’t ride off and leave him while she had the chance.
The Key of Amatahns Page 9