Kings of the North - Elizabeth Moon [195]
“About that off hind. I noticed,” Gwenno said. “But he stood at a word. He’s a bit stiff in the back, too.”
“I came with only one mount,” Arian said. “Two would have been better, but—” She shook her head. “Thank you for grooming him,” she said, laying a hand on the horse’s haunch.
“It was nothing,” Gwenno said, flushing. “I like horses. All the Marrakai do.”
“Will you breakfast with us?”
“No, lady. I am on duty; I will breakfast with my squad.” She looked down the stable aisle at the men. “My lord Duke says it is always good to see what the troops are eating and let them know you can eat the same.”
“That’s true,” Arian said. “Good day to you, then. I don’t know if I’ll see you again before I leave, and if not, thank you for all your courtesy, both in the woods and on the way. Should you visit Lyonya, I will be pleased to greet you.”
“Thank you!” Gwenno said. “Will you want your horse saddled? I can do that—”
“No, thank you,” Arian said. “I am not sure how long I will be, since it would be discourteous to leave before speaking to the Duke. He should not stand saddled too long. He can have a bait of oats, however; he’ll work that off today.”
She made her way back across the stableyard. The snow would fall heavily for another glass or two, she thought, but then end … she should be able to make good progress. Inside, she found the kitchen crowded with children—the last thing she expected—all lined up along the table with cloths tied around their necks, Cook supervising as they kneaded little lumps of dough. Arian edged past them; Cook gave her a nod, and paused long enough to say, “Small dining room. My lord’s down now.”
The small dining room had a fire lit and a great covered tureen that smelled of porridge in the middle of the table. Dorrin looked up as Arian came in. Today she was dressed in dark woolen trousers, a gray woolen shirt, and a well-worn leather doublet, marked with obvious signs of a sword and dagger. “Your horse all right?” She pointed to a place set with plate, bowl, and eating utensils.
“Your squire Gwenno had already groomed him; he was eating hay. I must leave—”
“In this snow? Surely you can wait a day—I judge it will end later but be deep in places.”
“I’m used to winter travel,” Arian said. “The taig woke me; there’s something wrong in Lyonya.” She uncovered the tureen and served Dorrin a bowl of porridge, then one for herself. “Your cook is—”
“A tyrant in the kitchen. I know. Are the children in there yet?”
“Yes. I think she’s teaching them to make bread.”
“We all think—their tutor and I and the Marshal-General of Gird—that learning practical, useful things will be good for these children. I do not want to dwell on the life they had before. I’m trying to make it different in every way. How did they seem?”
“Energetic. Busy. I did see one of them throw a lump of frozen mud at another yesterday afternoon, from my window.”
Dorrin shrugged. “We can’t make them adult in a day—or even in a year, I suspect. A little mischief—it’s much less than it was—doesn’t worry me as much as cringing fear or sullenness. That’s disappeared since about the Autumn Evener. We keep them busy, active, and learning. If you can believe it, there were eight-winters children who had never learned to read. Not even started.”
Arian paused, spoon partway to her mouth. “Your taig-sense—it’s not for the land as much as for the people—the children.”
Dorrin looked surprised. “I suppose so. I never thought of that as taig-sense … but you and I were both trained in leadership.” She went on eating.
Arian nodded. “Yes, leadership. What you’re doing with the children—the way you talk about them—I can feel your attention to them, and it’s much like mine to the taig. Did you never think of having children?”
“Never,” Dorrin said, with emphasis. “This was a responsibility I never looked for. But the children deserve far better than what they had.”
Arian ate the rest of her porridge before it chilled. One of the assistant cooks came in with a platter of sliced ham and another