“Ah,” Nican said. “Our wizard is awake.” Pitching his voice louder, he said, “Can you move this morning, wizard? Or should we tie you to a horse and send you back down that road a ways to loosen you up?”
“Eat horse apples,” Elstan growled at him, sounding more petulant than convincing.
“He’s crabby,” Nican informed Reandn somberly, shaking his head. “We can’t have a crabby wizard. He needs breakfast, is what — and so do I, come to think of it.”
“He did fine with that flatbread last night,” Reandn said, putting on a thoughtful face.
“I like the way you think. You should have been a Hound, Dan, you definitely should have been a Hound.” Nican missed the look on Reandn’s face as he turned to regard the wizard with hands on hips. “Elstan, eating is just exactly what I have in mind. But you’re doing the cooking, and you’ll be eating right alongside me. So I suggest you stay away from horse apples and stick to some of that flat bread you so ably produced last night.”
Elstan struggled up from his blankets; it only took a glance to see how badly he’d stiffened up from his tumble the day before. “And you’ll be... ?”
“Doing another walk ’round,” Nican said. “Making sure no one moved in on us during the night.”
Reandn thought he’d do the same, but it would wait until after breakfast. He doubted that Kalena’s party was up and moving yet — and if they’d come close the night before, they’d likely have pushed on to make the pass.
While Elstan grumbled and stumbled around by the fire, Reandn haltered Kalena’s palomino and rummaged to pull out brushes and a relatively clean rag. He groomed the creature as thoroughly as he could, moving her downwind from the fire so her shedding winter coat didn’t end up in his own breakfast. She had rolled during the night, of course, and he rubbed handfuls of sparse, slushy snow into the stains and scrubbed them with the rag.
Then again, Reandn and his escort were a bit stained themselves; Reandn’s tunic was splashed with the blood of the dead mare, and Elstan’s torn pants maintained decency only by dint of judiciously placed rawhide laces. Nican looked the best of them, and that wasn’t saying much.
Elstan had clattered about with the cooking, making a great show of his efforts but unfortunately not paying enough actual attention to keep the flatbread from burning. Nican climbed back up the Resiore hill, wrinkling his nose. When Elstan saw his face, he frowned. “Cook it yourself next time.”
“Nice try, boyo,” Nican said. “But we all have to pitch in, especially when we’re short a Hound. Which one of us wasn’t busy already, hmm?”
“The one of us who could barely move.” Elstan sat on a thick, short section of tree trunk with extreme caution, leading Reandn to some speculation about just where Elstan had landed the day before. “That doesn’t mean I didn’t have something to do. I’ve got a spell I want to try — it should tell us better than any Hound eye whether we’ve got unwanted company.”
Graces. More magic.
“Watch your mouth, Elstan,” Nican said, not sounding particularly offended at the wizard’s denigrating words. “If you have such a spell, why didn’t you use it last night, when we were crashing around in the dark?”
“Because I was too tired,” Elstan said with some asperity. He flipped the hair out of his face, sending Reandn a sideways glance. “That is, I could have invoked the spell, certainly. But not protected our wrangler from it. I was in no mood to face his pique.”
Nican made a cutting gesture at the wizard, a warning tilt to his head. “You’ve got time to do it right, now. So cast your spell, and then get cleaned up. We all need to do that.”
Reandn flipped the carbonized bottom crust of his bread into the sparse trees behind and above them, washing down the crumbs with well-watered wine before crossing to the far side of the flat. He pulled the palomino’s tail over to untangle the remaining knots by hand — bracing himself, and no doubt fooling himself.
Elstan set his wooden plate aside and closed his eyes for long moments of concentration. When he lifted his hands, his fingers moved in slow, deliberate gestures — a distinctly careful casting.
The wave of magic rocked Reandn back on his heels; it shoved a swell of angry sound through his head, lacing iron bands around his chest. His fingers clenched in the mare’s tail. Just as he lost track of what was up and what was down and where the ground waited, the mare stepped restlessly aside. He found the ground easily enough, then, ending up on his knees and the ungainly prop of his arms, and fighting just to stay there.
He wouldn’t go all the way down. Would not. With the thought of it came a flash of fear, the knowledge that if he did, he’d never find his way out again. His anger flooded in; he clung to it, the one strong and solid think in his world.
At last, the magic trickled away; it might have lasted only an instant, or half a day. At last, Reandn had room to think again — to feel the cold, damp ground against his hands and knees, to hear to the horses shifting around, their hooves far too close. He still struggled to draw a decent breath; he couldn’t quite bring himself to open his eyes.
“Ten’tits!” Nican said, his voice low from across the clearing. “That’s it, Elstan — no more magic until you figure out how to shield him.” His words came over the sounds of hasty rummaging, barely comprehensible through the noise of Reandn’s battle to breathe. But he’d regained enough of his equilibrium to slowly, slowly inch up to sit on his heels. “Where does he keep that stuff?” Nican said with exasperation, still rummaging — and then added to Elstan, “I hope you at least discovered something useful in exchange for all this.”
“As much as I could,” Elstan shot back at him, his voice filled with hot resentment. “There’s something interfering with my spells — there has been, ever since we started this journey.”
“Just how much field experience do you have?” Nican said, and the sounds of his search abruptly halted. Reandn wiped his muddied hands on his thighs and tilted his head back, freeing his chest to draw in as much air as possible.
“He shouldn’t —”
Nican interrupted with a growly, exasperated noise. “That’s enough! Of the two of you, Dan has done what’s been expected and more. It’d be nice if he didn’t have a problem with magic, yes, but you’re the one who hasn’t managed your own spells! So what the Hells are you doing here?”
Elstan didn’t answer right away; Nican resumed whatever he’d been doing and almost immediately muttered, “Ah, there we are.” And then, “I asked that question to get an answer, Elstan.”
After a moment, Elstan replied, and he was again as composed as any court wizard should be. “I’ve already told you. Malik trusts me. He requested my presence on this escort. It’s not your place to question, just as you refuse me the right to question our wrangler’s presence here.”
Politics, Reandn thought. The bane of every Wolf who just wanted to do his job. Somehow the Hounds lived amongst it, thriving in the court atmosphere.
Usually.
This time, Nican didn’t sound any happier than Reandn with Elstan’s reply. “There’s more to it than that — you think I don’t know? I’ll tell you this much — before we’re done, I’ll figure it out.”
Silence, then, from Elstan, and by the time Reandn figured out Nican was moving, the Hound was already by his side. “Doing all right, Dan?”
Reandn didn’t waste breath with a reply. But when Nican’s hand landed on his shoulder, he said, “Doing.” It wasn’t much of an answer, but he wasn’t sure he had answers to give. His hand closed around the amulet hanging at his chest, and for the first time he truly wondered if he’d have to use it.
No. That would mean admitting just how crippling his reaction was, and how restricted the rest of his life might be. Maybe he was fooling himself — in fact, probably he was fooling himself — but for now, it was what he could live with. His hand fell away from the amulet.
Nican pressed something cool and smooth into his grasp. “Thought this might he
lp,” he said. “I’m not sure how much good it does.”
“Anything is better than nothing,” Reandn said, speaking more freely as his breathing eased. He found his eyes would open for him, now; he wiped them on his sleeve and looked down at the thick-glassed elixir bottle. “No matter what it tastes like.”
Nican grinned, a sudden and relieved expression. “As long as you’re talking like that, you’re coming around.”
Reandn worked the cork out of the bottle. Don’t overdo this stuff, Kacey had told him, and warned him to back off it if he started up with headaches, muttering about sneezebane and flowering manroot. At this moment, Reandn’s concern about headaches didn’t amount to much, but he took only a modest sip of the foul stuff. It had to last. Wrinkling his nose, he made an expressive noise and then pointed his chin at Elstan. “For all of that, did he learn anything?”
“I’m still a little unclear about that point,” Nican said, and raised his voice to include Elstan in the conversation — not that he couldn’t hear the one they were already having. “What about it, Elstan? Exactly what did you learn?”
Elstan spoke casually, as if he’d already put the incident behind him. “ Kalena’s party is about half a day away. And there is at least one other person besides Damen on the long road...” There he stopped, despite the way his sentence rang unfinished to Reandn’s mind.
Nican’s, too, apparently. “And?”
Elstan barely looked up from where he pushed several hot rocks around with a stick, setting them up as a base for a small pot of water. Washing water, Reandn thought. He flicked a glance at Nican when it seemed the wizard might not answer at all. As if it was the cue Elstan had been waiting for, he said, “I couldn’t sense them clearly. I think they had some sort of shielding magic in use. I was about to find out when... whatever it was interfered with my magic.” He looked up from his task long enough to throw Reandn a baleful look.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Reandn said, but he said it for Nican’s ears only.
“He’s got to blame someone,” Nican said in Reandn’s ear, pushing off Reandn’s shoulder as he rose to his feet. “Leave it be.”
As if Elstan’s implication made any sense at all. Reandn said it with his expression, but kept his mouth shut, and this time when he made to rise, Nican extended a helping hand. “Whoa, steady there, Dan,” he said as Reandn’s world tilted slightly. He waited it out as Nican grinned at him. “A bit premature, boyo?”
“It’s passing,” Reandn told him.
Cautiously, Nican released his grip on Reandn’s arm and stepped back a pace, eyeing him. “Hmmm,” he said. “If you weren’t a mess before, you sure enough qualify now.”
“I’m just the wrangler,” Reandn said. He gestured at the horse, which was indeed now cleaner than he was. “Kalena won’t even look at me once she gets her hands on that palomino.”
“A handsome fellow such as yourself?” Nican scoffed. “No, clean yourself up. If nothing else, the two of us can distract her from the things about Keland that are sure to cause dissatisfaction.” He grinned, but then raised an eyebrow and an admonishing finger. “But say, you let me do the talking, ey?”
~~~~~
Reandn stood by the palomino’s head and figured they looked pretty much the same, he and the horse. Rain dripped off her forelock and down her face just as it did his, no matter how many times he scraped his hair back. Only an idiot would have his rain cape hood drawn around his neck instead up over his head in this weather.
An idiot or a wrangler in the presence of Highborn.
Kalena of the Resiores was most definitely Highborn. Highborn enough, in fact, to greet them with the querulous supposition the steady rain had been arranged as some sort of insult.
The Resioran party bulged around the seams, including Kalena, a personal servant in a wagon heaped with supplies, and seven honor guards — six of whom surrounded her loosely at all times. The seventh seemed to serve as a personal guard and chaperon, and it was to this man that Reandn gave most of his initial attention.
Big and burly, he out-stood Reandn and out-weighed Nican; his face was broad and close on homely, but his smile seemed genuine. He introduced himself as Vaklar and then presented Kalena as the new ambassador from the Resiores.
Kalena offered a perfunctory smile from beneath her large hat as one of her guards collected their horses and took them off to the side. Too young, Reandn thought. If she’d reached her twentieth season, he’d be surprised, and her face held nothing of wisdom — it was a young woman’s face, full of a young woman’s thoughts. Her smile, as brief as it was, revealed a subtle overbite, although her strong chin turned the feature into a quirky asset. Her face held a distinct smattering of freckles that only emphasized her youthfulness. But beneath the shadow of her hat brim, her dark hazel eyes swept over the three Keep men without so much as a flicker of welcome.
“This is what your King has sent to meet his new ambassador?” she said, and her words — underlain with a distinct air of youthful petulance — clashed with the sweet tone of her voice.
Nican, his square features pinched in the chill rain, spoke as if he hadn’t seen her eyes or heard the prickle in her words; his own were full of casual confidence. “My name is Nican, meira. My partner and I are of the King’s closest Hounds, and it will be our privilege to ride with you on the road to King’s Keep.”
“I see no partner,” Kalena observed, although Elstan stood behind him. But there was no mistaking Elstan’s bearing for that of a Hound.
“As you may know, the roads on this side of the pass are somewhat more difficult to travel than your own. Damen is scouting the safest and most secure path for your travel. He’ll meet us shortly.”
Kalena gestured at Elstan, and then Reandn. “You left my Keland escort behind, yet brought these two with you? I find that a strange notion of proper respect.”
“Ensuring your safety is the highest respect we can offer, meira.”
He was good. Reandn had to give him that.
Nican gestured at their minimal campsite — the small tent they’d erected once the rain had started, the sullenly smoldering fire with water warming for tea, their own blankets neatly rolled and piled under an oilcloth. “We would have preferred to meet you with a more significant party,” he said. “But in deferring to your own wishes, we kept our number to a minimum.”
“My father’s wishes,” Kalena said, a quiet aside that was nonetheless meant to be heard. Reandn could almost feel Nican’s wince, and Vaklar remained as ruefully straight-faced as a man could be. If that’s the way it was, nothing they’d done in accordance with the Resiore demands would satisfy this young woman, who’d apparently had other ideas altogether.
Nican cleared his throat and gestured at Reandn, who moved closer with the mare. “We brought a gift,” he said. “Her name will be up to you, but her pedigree is flawless.”
Kalena’s gaze flicked to the mare, and seemed to take in Reandn for the first time; carefully, he avoided looking directly at her, which was made easier by the necessity of lowering his head in a respectful gesture.
Just as well. It hid his reaction when she said, “Did you assume there would be something wrong with my own horse?”
“In no way,” Nican said, and the hastiness of his words was the first sign of his struggle to keep up with her. “We sought only to offer you an option.”
Kalena walked slowly around the mare — who was, in truth, a lovely creature, beautifully structured and carrying a full and flowing mane and tail. Her fingertip tapping her lower lip, Kalena said, “She is adorable, I suppose. If she just weren’t so wet.”
Reandn, his voice flat and unapologetic, told her, “It’s raining.”
Nican gave him a meaningful look, easy enough to read — do you want to keep your tongue, boyo?”
But rather than taking offense, Kalena simply stopped seeing him. Typical Highborn dismissiveness. She tapped her finger on her lower lip one more time, and announced, “I shal
l have to thank the King for his kindness. Will she be ready to ride tomorrow?”
“She’s ready to ride this afternoon, if you want her,” Nican said immediately.
“This afternoon?” Kalena said, glancing back at her point man. “I think not. This rain looks like it’s here to stay, and I want to get out of it.”
Despite the steady downfall, Reandn doubted she’d actually felt any water on her skin, not beneath two oiled cloaks and the fanciful hat. He suspected she was dressed warmly enough beneath, given the glimpse of rich colors she displayed when dismounting her fat gelding.
Nican, too, looked to Vaklar, is if appealing to the common sense he hoped to find there. “Meira,” he said, and seemed to be framing his words with excessive care, “this is an exposed area. And as much as we welcome your arrival, not everyone is happy with this new arrangement. I strongly feel it would be prudent to find a more protected site for the evening.”
“Ah. Then you think my escort is unable to protect me. Or you lack confidence in yourself.”
Vaklar, deferential and casual, offered his first words. “We value your safety far too much to take the slightest chance with it.” He was an older man, well-seasoned and comfortable in his role. To judge by Kalena’s reaction, it was a role he’d been playing for some time, for she merely looked at him a long moment and then nodded.
“Very well,” she said. “If Vaklar says it’s for the best. But first I insist on some hot food, and a short rest.” She looked at their modest tent and frowned. “Unload my tent, please, Yuliyana,” she told one of her escort. “Pawl will help you.”
Nican said nothing, just glanced at Vaklar, who nodded so slightly as to be nearly imperceptible. After a pause, Nican said, “Please allow my men to assist. Elstan is our guide, and Dan is handling the horses; they, too, are here to make this trip easier for you in every possible way.”
The unplanned gesture drew surprise from Elstan, though Nican’s quick glare instantly eliminated all signs of protest. Reandn felt too much relief at Vaklar’s willingness to work with them to care about any extra work. He handed the mare’s lead rope to Nican as Kalena pondered the offer.
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