A Gift of Dragons - Anne McCaffrey [45]
Then Spacia stood beside her, the yellow of her gown an attractive contrast to Tenna’s deep blue.
“Oops, I’d better find you some spare runner cords or everyone’ll think you’re new in the Harper Hall.”
No spare cords were found, though Spacia turned out all the drawers.
“Maybe I should be Harper Hall,” Tenna said thoughtfully. “That way I can deal with Haligon as he deserves before he suspects.”
“Hmm, that might be the wiser idea, you know,” Spacia agreed.
Rosa came rushing in, pulling at her clothes in a rush to change.
“Need any help?” Spacia asked as Rosa pulled her pink, floral-printed Gather dress from its hanger.
“No, no but get down there and keep Felisha from Cleve. She’s determined to get him, you know. Waltzed right in before he’d finished eating and started hanging on his arm as if they were espoused.” Rosa’s voice was muffled as she pulled the dress over her head. They all heard a little tearing and Rosa cried out in protest, standing completely still, the dress half on. “Oh, no, no! What did I rip? What’ll I do? How bad is it? Can you see?”
While the seam had only parted a bit, and Spacia was threading a needle to make the repairs, Rosa was so disturbed at the thought of her rival that Tenna volunteered to go down.
“You know which one Cleve is?” Rosa asked anxiously, and Tenna nodded and left the room.
She identified Felisha before she did Cleve. The girl, with a mop of curly black tangles half covering her face, was flirting outrageously with the tall, lantern-jawed runner. He had an engaging smile, though a trifle absent, as he kept looking toward the stairs. Tenna chuckled to herself. Rosa needn’t worry. Cleve was obviously uncomfortable with Felisha’s coy looks and the way she kept tossing her hair over her shoulder, letting it flick into his face.
“Cleve?” she asked as she approached them. Felisha glared at her and gave her head a perceptible tilt to indicate to Tenna to move on.
“Yes?” Cleve moved a step closer to Tenna, and farther from Felisha, who then altered her stance to put her arm through his in a proprietary fashion that obviously annoyed Cleve.
“Rosa told me that you’d had a run-in with Haligon, too?”
“Yes, I did,” Cleve said, seizing on the subject and trying to disentangle himself. “Ran me down on the Boll trace six sevendays ago. Got a nasty sprain out of it. Rosa mentioned he pushed you into sticklebush and you had some mean slivers. Caught you on the hill curve, did he?”
Tenna turned up her hands to show the mottled sliver pricks still visible from that encounter.
“How terrible!” Felisha said insincerely. “That boy’s far too reckless.”
“Indeed,” Tenna said, not liking this girl at all, though she smiled amiably. Surely she was too heavyset to be a runner. Her mop of hair covered whatever Hall or Hold cords she might be wearing. Tenna turned to Cleve. “Spacia told me that you know a lot about the local leathers and I need new shoes.”
“Don’t they tan hides wherever you come from?” Felisha asked snidely.
“Station Ninety-Seven, isn’t it?” Cleve said, grinning. “Come, I’ve a mind to look for new leathers myself and the bigger the Gather the more chance at a good price, right?” He brushed free of Felisha and, taking Tenna by the arm, propelled her across to the door.
Tenna had a brief glance at the furious look on Felisha’s face as they made their escape.
“Thank you, Tenna,” Cleve said, exhaling with exaggeration as they strode across the court to the Gather Square. “That girl’s a menace.”
“Is she a Boll runner? She didn’t introduce herself.”
Cleve chuckled. “No, she’s Weaver Hall,” he said dismissively, “but my station runs messages for her Craftmaster.” He grimaced.
“Tenna?” Torlo called from the door, and they both stopped, allowing him to catch up with them.
“Anyone point out Haligon to you yet?” he asked.
“Yes, Rosa and Spacia did. He was behind the Lord Holder. I’ll have a word with him when we meet.”
“Good girl,