Storm Warning - Mercedes Lackey [72]
Karal raised an eyebrow himself at that, but nodded, slowly. So, that explained why this young man’s clothing, though gray, looked very much like the livery that Rubrik wore. “Well, neither of us is likely to offend any of you by being unreasonable or demanding; frankly, I’m more used to serving than being served, and my master is a Priest and does not usually have any servant other than myself.”
Let him make what he will of that. It can’t do any harm to be thought ascetic. It might make people think twice about trying to bribe us; a true Priest is as hard to sway by material offerings as the statue of Vkandis.
The young man smiled shyly. “My name is Arnod, sir. I’ll be on night duty. Day duty will be either Johen or Lysle. Would you like a Healer to look at your master?”
Karal gave it a moment of thought, then shook his head. “No, he’ll be all right once he gets into bed. It was just a very long ride, and this storm isn’t helping matters any.”
As if to emphasize that, the wind shook the shutters, a violent rattle that sounded for all the world as if an angry giant had seized them and was tugging on them.
“Let me get the Envoy into his bed, then, and I’ll return to see if there’s anything you need.” With a glance at the shutters, Arnod left Karal alone with the half-finished meal.
Karal quickly made certain that it became a finished meal, although he ignored the rest of the wine in favor of water. He knew what would happen if, as tired as he was now, he drank wine.
I’ll sleep for two days and wake up with the world’s worst headache.
The sitting room was as well-appointed as it was comfortable; two chairs, a couch for lounging, the table, a desk, and a fireplace shared with the reception room on the other side of the wall. Hard to tell in the soft light from the candles, but he thought it had all been decorated in neutral tones of gray and cream. There were no rushes on the floor, but the hard wood was softened by attractive rugs with geometric designs woven into them.
It was interesting that Heralds-in-training should be assigned instead of Palace servants, however. That might be a good sign.
It might also be a sign that the authorities did not trust the servants around a pair of Karsites. Or these almost-Heralds could be a not-so-subtle way of keeping an eye on the Envoys, and an ear in their midst.
It is also possible that they are doing us some kind of honor, he mused. It is hard to say. The only thing he could be sure of was that this Arnod fellow—who was perhaps seventeen—seemed to be a likable enough chap on the surface, not at all put out by being made into a servant. That would make things easier on all of them. Arnod could make things uncomfortable for them if he resented his current position.
Arnod reappeared about the time Karal polished off the remains of Ulrich’s custard. “The Envoy fell asleep as soon as I got him into the bed,” the young man said, his black brows furrowing together with concern. “Is that right? Should he have done that?”
Karal mentally reckoned up the effect of the medicines when taken with Ulrich’s exhaustion, and nodded. “It’s mostly that we had been riding since before dawn; we’ve been almost twenty marks in the saddle, and that’s hard on him.”
Arnod winced. “It’s a good thing you didn’t stop, though, if you’ll forgive my saying so. We got word that the bridge at Loden is out; if you’d waited there tonight, you’d have had to go clear up to Poldara to cross in the morning. You’d have been another week getting here.” His brows knitted. “I’m not being too forward, am I? Tell me if I am, please—I’m not used to this serving business, but they thought you and I might have a bit in common, since my da raised horses.”
Karal laughed, a little startled at the young man’s open, easy manner, and Arnod gave him a tentative grin. “Oh, just be as respectful to Lord Ulrich as you would to any Priest that you honor, and I think it will be fine. Like I told you, I am not used to having a servant around, or to being