A Gift of Dragons - Anne McCaffrey [49]
“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 wide-set 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 nor his tone was 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