Authors: Joanne Bertin
Raven’s smile grew even wider. “Spread the word? And you a merchant born and bred.” He shook his head in mock dismay.
Maurynna looked blankly at him for a moment, then smacked her hand against her forehead. She said in disgust, “Oh, for pity’s sake—of course they’re not telling all and sundry. They want first go at the coming crop of foals, don’t they? Before everyone finds out.”
“And said foals become scarcer than teeth on a chicken. Glad to see you haven’t forgotten everything you knew,” Raven teased. “Just bits here and there.”
She thumbed her nose at him. “Very funny.”
“That’s me—Jester Raven at your command. Come along now—this is where we turn off the main track. I want to show you something special.”
She felt a familiar tickling in her mind and smiled, holding up her hand to stop Raven. “Wait—I might have to go back.” She tapped her two middle fingers against her forehead, the Dragonlords’ signal for mindspeech.
Raven obligingly halted.
Linden! Were the pedigrees interesting?
she teased.
They were, actually—and there was a bit of excitement as well. I also met an old friend, Maurynna-love. Meet you at the encampment later? I want to catch up on things with Conor for a bit.
Conor, Maurynna thought, must be the old friend.
Enjoy, and I’ll see you back at the tent.
Until then.
A gentle “kiss” against her mind and he was gone.
She said, “I’m to meet Linden later. Shall we ride on?”
“Yes—I’ve something to show you. I think you’ll like it.”
They rode on, turning twice onto smaller trails that twisted and turned around craggy little hills and through copses of birch and alder. Just as Maurynna was wondering how much farther it was, they came out of yet another copse and before them was a large pond fringed with sweetflag. It lay like a jewel in the green of the meadow with the blue sky and drifting clouds reflected in the clear water below.
“Oh—it’s lovely!” she exclaimed. “How did you ever find it?”
“This is part of Lord Sevrynel’s lands. He gave me—or rather Stormwind—permission to come here whenever we wanted.”
The stallions snorted eagerly at the scent of the water and broke into a trot. They stopped a few feet from the water’s edge and waited.
Maurynna pulled off Boreal’s tack as quickly as she could. The instant he was free, the dapple grey stallion trotted into the water. He snorted in surprise when it reached his stomach.
“I forgot to warn you,” Raven called. “It’s
very
cold.”
Boreal turned his head and stared at Raven for a long moment before wading in more slowly. Soon both horses were swimming.
“Let’s bring everything over here,” Raven suggested. “Then we can talk.”
They spread out the saddle blankets and, after arranging their saddlebags as “pillows,” lay down with their faces turned to the sun.
“So—tell me about the race and the cheating dog,” Maurynna said.
* * *
After a time the Llysanyins heaved themselves out of the water. They wandered the meadow, grazing and rolling to their hearts’ delight while their riders talked. Maurynna listened as Raven told her about playing with Kella, Prince Rann, and Lady Rosalea at Sevrynel’s.
“Have you met Karelinn, Merrilee, and Eadain as well?” she asked. “They’re staying with Sevrynel.”
Raven nodded vigorously. “I have. My friend Arisyn introduced me to them. Wonderful people, aren’t they? Make you feel like a friend they haven’t seen in a long time rather than a stranger they’ve just met.”
“That sounds like them.” Maurynna pointed at a cloud. “Look at that one! Doesn’t it look like a seagull?” After that, they amused themselves with their childhood game of finding things in the clouds.
At last the stallions were done. They wandered back to their two-foots. Boreal came to stand over Maurynna where she lay nibbling on a sprig of lemon balm she’d found growing wild. She offered it to him and he took it daintily from her fingers, his head tilted to one side as he sampled it.
Gods, it was good to just lie here in the sun, to relax where no one but Raven knew who—or what—she was. She might even drift off to sleep.…
Then her stomach rumbled. Loudly. Boreal’s ears twitched back and forth in surprise. Raven snickered.
“Bother,” she said lazily, half inclined to ignore it. But she looked up at the sun and realized it would be at least another four candlemarks before Lady Gallianna’s feast. “Is there somewhere that we can get a bit of something to eat before you have to go back to help Yarrow?”
“Mmm, yes. There’s a booth at this end of the fair I’ve been meaning to tell you about. I’ll not have time to go today, but no reason you can’t go alone. The road the booth’s on goes to the exercise field, but if you go east and take the first turning, that will meet the main road. You’ll find your way from there—if you can tear yourself away from the booth.
“It’s run by an old man, Cade, and his daughter-in-law, Raeli. Doesn’t look like much, but she bakes some of the best wholemeal bread I’ve ever had. And if that’s not enough to tempt you, the old man makes a cheese that I’d swear is Fat Gorly,” Raven said. “Interested?”
“Fat Gorly? Really? I haven’t had Fat Gorly in ages!” Maurynna threw off her languor and bounced to her feet. “I’m for it!” She gathered up Boreal’s tack and began the task of saddling him.
Raven rose and did the same for Stormwind. As he worked, he said, “Good. I told them that my friend, another Thalnian, also likes Fat Gorly. They made me promise to bring you one day; they’re very proud of their cheese.” Raven gave her a leg up into the saddle, then mounted Stormwind. “Follow me. I’ll set you on the track.”
Their way took them through little patches of trees and sunlit meadow, sometimes past fields shimmering green and gold in the summer sun. Snatches of birdsong and the lazy drone of insects drifted on the thick, warm air which smelled of honey and sunshine. It looked, Maurynna saw with pleasure, to be a good harvest year. She mindcalled Linden to let him know where she was going.
Tastes like Fat Gorly? Really? Damn! I can’t go—Sevrynel’s dragged out more pedigrees to settle an argument. Oh, hellfire! Now they want
me
to settle this for them!
Maurynna nearly laughed aloud at the thwarted yearning in his mindvoice. “Linden has to negotiate a peace or I think he’d be on his way right now, pedigrees or no pedigrees,” she told Raven. “I’ll just have to tell him about how good it is.”
“You’re a cruel woman, Beanpole,” Raven said, shaking his head in mock sadness.
As they cantered through one little pasture a brown and white cow lifted her head to watch them. At least, Maurynna thought it was brown and white; it was hard to tell beneath the riot of wildflowers that bedecked the placidly chewing animal.
“Gods help us,” she said, laughing. “It’s a cow made of flowers.”
Even as she stopped Boreal to stare at the odd sight, a pair of small hands clutching a garland came into view from the far side of the cow and another tribute was laid upon the stolid “altar.” A moment later the bovine bouquet ambled to another patch of grass, followed by a little girl picking more flowers as she went.
Raven rode back to her and said, “I’ll wager that’s old Cade’s youngest granddaughter and the family cow. The old man said that the little girl was fair daft over the animal.”
“Cade is the cheese maker?”
“Indeed he is. See that path? It’ll take you down to the road by his booth,” Raven said.
Maurynna followed his pointing finger. Sure enough, she could see a narrow path skirting the edge of the field. “I see it—sure you can’t go with me?”
But he was turning Stormwind away. “I’m already late. We’ll come back together another time. Tell them I sent you,” he said and, with a wave of his hand, cantered away.
Maurynna waved back and urged Boreal on. The Llysanyin ambled through knee-high grass and wildflowers. Maurynna looked up at the blue sky, enjoying the ride.
What a perfect day,
she thought happily.
Less than a quarter of a candlemark later she passed through a thin belt of birch trees and saw the road—and Cade’s “booth”—ahead.
In reality it was simply a low table made of boards laid across a couple of trestles. It sheltered in the shade of a huge copper beech set back from the road. At one end of the table sat a few wooden cups. A cloth covered the rest of the table; odd lumps hinted at the promised delectables. An old man weaving a cheese basket and a much younger woman busy with sewing sat on stools at the other end. Near them was a bench screened from road and sun by the trailing branches.
She urged Boreal into a trot.
As they reached the road, the old man shaded his eyes and studied her. Maurynna stopped before him, saying, “Are you Cade and Raeli? My friend told me about you.”
Neither said anything for a long moment. A sudden thought struck her.
Oh no—what
else
did Raven tell them about me?
The last thing she wanted was to frighten these poor people with her rank.
Then, to her relief, the old man smiled. “Oh, aye—tha’s Raven’s friend, then? Welcome, lass.”
Maurynna nearly melted with relief. Raven hadn’t said anything to them. And it was unlikely they’d link one “Rynna,” the friend of an obvious commoner, with Dragonlord Maurynna Kyrissaean. She could relax.
Thanks for not telling them, Raven,
she sent to him.
He answered,
What, that the friend is a Dragonlord? No, it tends to make folk skittish. They’d probably be so nervous they’d drop your bread and cheese in the dirt. Didn’t think you’d appreciate that, Beanpole.
Not if it’s as good as you say,
Maurynna replied as she dismounted.
Waste of good cheese and all.
Boreal immediately wandered off to graze.
Cade scratched his chin. “Tha has the same sort o’ horse that Raven does, doesn’t tha? He does the same—just lets it wander about.”
Maurynna nodded. Both Cade and Raeli eyed the stallion as if not quite certain what to make of a loose horse that didn’t run away, but it was clear that they were used to Raven’s “odd” behavior regarding his mount and accepted hers as more of the same. Just something Thalnians did, no doubt.
“Pleasure to meet tha, lass,” Cade said, beaming up at Maurynna as the woman rose and flicked the cloth back from a golden loaf of bread and a wheel of herb-flecked cheese. “I’ll just go on setting here if tha don’t mind, got a bad leg, see.” He slapped his leg; to Maurynna it looked as if it had been broken and badly set. A gnarled walking stick, its head shiny from long use, lay on the ground beside him. “But Raeli here will help tha. Just make thaself comfortable on the bench.”
Maurynna did as he bade her. She watched as Boreal meandered near the road.
As Raeli handed her a thick slab of bread and cheese, she asked shyly, “Would tha care for summat to drink with that? The spring on the hillside is known around these parts for its fine water and m’boy is filling the jug again even now.”
“Yes, thank you.” Maurynna bit into the bread. “Oh my!” she exclaimed in surprise around a mouthful of bread and cheese. Remembering her manners, she finished chewing and swallowed. “This
is
as good as Fat Gorly. Maybe even better. And what’s that flavor in the bread? It’s delicious!”
Old Cade puffed up like a peacock. Raeli blushed and said, “Sage honey, young mistress. M’mam keeps bees in her herb garden.”
“S’wonderful,” Maurynna mumbled around another mouthful. Raeli ducked her head with a shy smile and went back to her sewing.
Maurynna leaned back against the tree, peeking between the hanging branches now and again. She ate her bread and cheese in contentment. This was bliss: a beautiful day laden with the scents of summer, a bit of shade, and good, simple food. She idly wondered if it would be possible to get Cade’s cheese north. Fat Gorly didn’t ship well, so it never made an appearance upon the tables of Dragonskeep. But from Cassori, now … Perhaps it could be sent north with the regular supply trains? She’d have to ask Cade before she left if he thought his cheeses could stand the journey.
And if not, well, now that she could Change at will, Cassori wasn’t that bad a flight to indulge a whim now and again. She smiled, thinking,
I wonder what Cade and Raeli will think of a dragon or two landing on their doorstep?
A cloud of dust down the road caught her attention. It was a group of perhaps eight or ten riders coming from the city.
Wonder if anyone I know is with them?
But even with her sharp eyesight it was impossible to discern anyone in the thick dust. Ah, well; she’d see soon enough.
When they drew closer, though, Maurynna could see it was made up of young nobles, mostly men with a few women among them. They were laughing and talking as they rode in the summer sun, as cheerful a group as she’d ever seen, but none that she recognized. Dismissing them from her thoughts, she looked around in time to see a young boy coming through the tall grass, a clay jug clutched in his arms. Raeli went to meet him. Back at the table, she poured out two cups and brought one to Maurynna.
But before Maurynna could take the proffered mug, a scornful voice called out, “Will you look at that? There’s another of those damned plow horses about! Someone else is riding these things!”
Maurynna slewed around on the bench and peered out between the branches once more. She saw that the riders had stopped and one had ridden up to point derisively at Boreal. He was a handsome young man—or would have been if not for the sneer. She was also less than inclined to be charitable to some ill-mannered oaf who had just insulted her Llysanyin.
Lout.
The Llysanyin merely stared at the young lord a moment, then went back to his grazing.
“How fast do you think
this
one can waddle? Maybe I should see about getting myself another serf!”
Waddle?
Maurynna felt her cheeks grow hot; how
dare
that gormless idiot insult Boreal? She stood up, so angry she nearly choked on a thousand sailor’s curses all trying to get out at once. She made herself pause, counting to ten and beyond, knowing if she went out there this angry, she’d do something she’d regret later. Besides, she wanted to be sure she wouldn’t trip over her tongue. Nothing took the edge off a tongue-lashing like mangling your words.