Refreshment stalls displayed all kinds of drink and finger edibles. So, when they had finished their circuit, they bought food and drink and sat at the tables about the dance square.
“There he is!” Rosa said suddenly, pointing across the square to where a group of young men were surveying girls parading in their Gather finery. It was a custom to take a Gather partner, someone with whom to spend the occasion—which could include the day, the evening meal, the dancing, and whatever else was mutually decided. Everyone recognized the limitation and made sure that the details were arranged ahead of time so that there wouldn’t be a misunderstanding of intent.
This would be an ideal situation in which to make Haligon suffer
indignity. The area where he was standing with his friends was at the roadside, dusty and spotted with droppings from all the draft animals pulling Gather wagons past it. He’d looked silly, his good clothes mussed. With any luck, she could get his fancy Gather clothing soiled as well as dusty.
“Excuse me,” Tenna said, putting down her drink. “I’ve a score to settle.”
“Oh!” Rosa’s eyes went wide but an encouraging “yo-ho” followed Tenna as she cut diagonally across the wooden dancing floor.
Haligon was still in the company of the taller man, laughing at something said and eyeing the girls who were parading conspicuously along that side of the Gather Square. Yes, this was the time to repay him for her fall.
Tenna went right up to him, tapped him on the shoulder, and when he turned around in response, the arch smile on his face turned to one of considerable interest at her appearance, his eyes lighting as he gave her a sweeping look of appreciation. He was looking so boldly that he did not see Tenna cock her right arm. Putting her entire body into the swing, she connected her fist smartly to his chin. He dropped like a felled herdbeast, flat on his back and unconscious. And right on top of some droppings. Although the impact of her fist on his chin had rocked her back on her heels, she brushed her hands together with great satisfaction and, pivoting on the heel of her borrowed red shoe, retraced her steps.
She was halfway back to Rosa and Cleve when she heard someone rapidly overtaking her. So she was ready when her arm was seized and her progress halted.
“What was that all about?” It was the tall lad in brown who pulled her about, a look of genuine surprise on his face. And his eyes, too, surveyed her in her formfitting blue dress.
“I thought he ought to have a little of what he deals out so recklessly,” she said, and proceeded.
“Wait a minute. What was he supposed to have done to you? I’ve never seen you around Fort before and he’s never mentioned meeting someone like you. And he would!” His eyes glinted with appreciation.
“Oh?” Tenna cocked her head at him. They were nearly at eye level. “Well, he pushed me into sticklebushes.” She showed him her hands and his expression altered to one of real concern.
“Sticklebushes? They’re dangerous at this season.”
“I do know that … the hard way,” she replied caustically.
“But where? When?”
“That doesn’t matter. I’ve evened the score.”
“Indeed,” and his grin was respectful. “But are you sure it was my brother?”
“Do you know all Haligon’s friends?”
“Haligon?” He blinked. After a pause in which his eyes reflected a rapid series of considerations, he said, “I thought I did.” And he laughed nervously. Then he gestured for her to continue on her way. She could see that he was being careful not to annoy her, and that provided her with further amused satisfaction.
“There is a lot about Haligon that he would want kept quiet,” she said. “He’s a reckless sort.”
“And you’re the one to teach him manners?” He had to cover his mouth, but she could see that his eyes were brimming with laughter.
“Someone has to.”
“Oh? Just what offense did he give you? It’s not often … Haligon … measures his length. Couldn’t you have found a less public spot to deliver your lesson? You’ve ruined his Gather clothes with muck.”
“Actually, I chose the spot deliberately. Let him feel what it’s like to be flattened unexpectedly.”
“Yes, I’m sure. But where did he you encounter him?”
“He was using a runner trace, at a gallop, in the middle of the night … .”
“Oh,” and he stopped dead in his tracks, an odd, almost guilty look on his face. “When was this?” he asked, all amusement gone.
“Four nights ago, at the hill curve.”
“And?”
“I was knocked into sticklebushes.” With those words, she held out her right leg and pulled her skirt up high enough to expose the red dots of the healing injuries. And again displayed her free hand and its healing rack of punctures.
“They got infected?” He was really concerned now and obviously knew the dangers of the sticklebush.
“I’ve saved the slivers,” she said in a firm tone. “Healer Beveny has them for proof. I wasn’t able to continue working and I’ve been laid up three days.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” And he sounded sincere, his expression somber. Then he gave his head a little shake and smiled at her, a trifle warily, but there was a look in his eyes that told her he found her attractive. “If you promise not to drop me, may I say that you don’t look at all like most runners I’ve met.” His eyes lingered only briefly on her bodice, and then he hastily cleared his throat. “I’d better get back and see … if Haligon’s come to.”
Tenna spared a glance at the little knot of people clustered around her victim and, giving him a gracious nod, continued on her way back to Rosa and Cleve.
They were looking pale and shocked.
“There! Honor is satisfied,” she said, slipping into her seat.
Rosa and Cleve exchanged looks.
“No,” Rosa said, and leaned toward her, one hand on her forearm. “It wasn’t Haligon you knocked down.”
“It wasn’t? But that’s the fellow you pointed out to me. He’s in brown …”
“So is Haligon. He’s the one followed you across the dance floor. The one you were talking to, and I don’t think you were giving him any what-for.”
“Oh.”
Tenna slumped weakly against the back of her chair. “I hit the wrong man?”
“Uh-huh,” Rosa said as both she and Cleve nodded their heads.
“Oh dear,” and she made a start to get up but Rosa hastily put out a restraining hand.
“I don’t think apologies will help.”
“No? Who did I hit?”
“His twin brother, Horon, who’s bad enough in his own way.”
“Quite likely, with the lewd look he gave me.” Tenna was halfway to convincing herself that she had at least hit someone who needed a put-down.
“Horon’s a bit of a bully and nice girls won’t have anything to do with him. Especially at a Gather.” Then Rosa giggled, covering her mouth with her hand. “He was sure looking you up and down. That’s why we thought you’d hit him.”
Remembering the force of her punch, Tenna rubbed her sore knuckles.
“You may have done someone a favor,” Cleve said, grinning. “That was some punch.”
“My brothers taught me how,” Tenna said absently, watching the group across the Square. She was a trifle relieved when Horon was helped to his feet. And pleased that he staggered and needed assistance. Then, as the group around Horon moved about, she saw Haligon’s figure striding up to the station. “Uh-oh. Why’s he going to the station?”
“I wouldn’t worry about that,” Rosa said, standing up. “Torlo would love to remind him of all the harm he’s been doing runners.”
“Even if they weren’t as pretty as you are,” Cleve said. “Let’s see about your leathers.”
They took their empty glasses back to the refreshment stand. Tenna managed one more look at the station but there was no sign of Haligon or Torlo, though there was a lot of coming and going. There would be, on a Gather day. Would she have to knock Haligon down, too? To satisfy runner honor? It wouldn’t be as easy, for he had been wary enough of her when he had caught up with her on the dance floor.
After a second round of the Gather stalls, they all decided to find out what prices were being asked. At the first tanner’s stall, Cleve did more of the talking so that the real buyer was protected from the blandishments of the tanner journeyman, a man named Ligand.
“Blue for a harper singer?” Ligand had begun, glancing at Tenna. “Thought I saw you eyeing the stall earlier.”
“I’m runner,” Tenna said.
“She just happens to look her best in blue,” Rosa said quickly in case Tenna might be embarrassed to admit she wore a borrowed gown.
“She does indeed,” Ligand said, “I’d never have guessed her for a runner.”
“Why not?” Rosa asked, bridling.
“Because she’s wearing blue,” Ligand said deferentially. “So what color is your delight this fine Gather day?”
“I’d like a dark green,” and Tenna pointed to a stack of hides dyed various shades of that color in the shelves behind him.
“Good choice for a runner,” he said and, with a deft lift, transferred the heavy stack of hides to the front counter. Then he moved off to the other end of his stall, where two holders were examining heavy belts.
“Not that trace moss leaves stains,” Rosa remarked as Tenna began flipping through the pile, fingering the leather as she went along.
“We go for the reddy-browns in Boll,” Cleve said. “So much of the soil down in Boll is that shade. And trace moss doesn’t do as well in the heat as it does in the north.”
“Does fine in Igen,” Tenna said, having run trace there.
“So it does,” Cleve said reflectively. “I like that one,” he added, spreading his hand over the hide before Tenna could flip to the next one. “Good deep emerald green.”
Tenna had also been considering it. “Enough here for boots. I only need enough for summer shoes. He wouldn’t want to divide it.”
“Ah, and you’ve found one you like, huh? Good price on that.” Ligand was obviously aware of all that went on at his booth. He flipped up the hide to see the markings on the underside. “Give it to you for nine marks.”
Rosa gasped. “At five it’s robbery.” Then she looked chagrined to have protested when Tenna was the prospective purchaser.
“I’d agree with that,” Tenna said, having only four to spend. She gave the skin one more pat and, smiling courteously at Ligand, walked off, her companions hastily following her.
“You won’t find better quality anywhere,” Ligand called after them.
“It was good quality,” Tenna murmured as they walked away. “But four marks is my limit.”
“Oh, we should be able to find a smaller hide for that much, though maybe not the same green,” Rosa said airily.
However, by the time they had done a third circuit and seen all the green hides available, they had not found either the same green or the same beautifully softened hide.
“I just don’t have five, even if we could bargain him down to that price,” Tenna said. “That brown at the third stand would be all right. Shall we try that?”
“Oho,” Rosa said, stopping in her tracks, her expression alarmed.
Cleve, too, was stopped, and Tenna couldn’t see what caused their alarm until suddenly a man appeared out of the crowd and stood directly in their path. She recognized the tall, white-haired man from the morning’s ceremony as Lord Holder Groghe.
“Runner Tenna?” he asked formally. But the expression in his wideset eyes was pleasant.
“Yes,” she said, raising her chin slightly. Was he about to give her what-for for punching his son Horon? She certainly couldn’t admit to having hit the wrong one.
“Shall we sit over here, with your friends?” Lord Groghe said, gesturing toward a free table. He put a hand on her elbow and guided her gently in that direction, away from the stream of folk.
Tenna thought confusedly that neither his expression not his tone were peremptory. He was unexpectedly gracious. A heavyset man with a full face and the beginning of jowls, he smiled to everyone as they made their way to the table, for there were many curious glances at the four of them. He caught the eye of the wineman and held up four fingers. The wineman nodded and hastened to serve them.
“I have an apology to make to you, Runner Tenna.” He kept his voice low and for their ears alone.
“You do?” And, at Rosa’s startled expression, Tenna added courteously with only a short hesitation, “Lord Groghe?”
“I have verified that my son, Haligon, ran you down four nights ago and you were sufficiently injured so that you were unable to run.” Groghe’s brows met in a scowl that was for the circumstances, not her part in them. “I confess that I have heard rumors of other complaints about his use of runner traces. Station Master Torlo informed me of several near-collisions. You may be sure that, from now on, Haligon will leave the traces for the runners who made them. You’re from Station Ninety-Seven? Keroon Hold?”
Tenna could only nod. She couldn’t believe this was happening. A Lord Holder was apologizing to her?