Storm Warning - Mercedes Lackey [82]
A door at the back of the room opened, and Herald Captain Kerowyn stepped out into the room. She was not wearing that white livery that every other Herald wore, which seemed very odd to Karal; there was no way of telling that she was a Herald without that white uniform, since her Companion wasn’t with her.
Huh. Maybe that’s the point?
She was, however, dressed in a way that would have scandalized most good Karsites and not just because she was wearing “men’s clothing.” No one could ever mistake her for a man, in a brown leather tunic and breeches, both so tight-fitting that they showed every curve and muscle of a quite spectacular figure.
Karal swallowed, hard; she might be old enough to be his mother, maybe older, but there was no sign of those years on her body or in the way that she moved. There was also no question but that she was just as attractive as she was dangerous. He was very glad that his own tunic was long enough to hide his inevitable reaction, but he flushed anyway.
Then he paled, and his body lost interest, as she shifted her weight in a way that reminded him of her profession and her history. This was Kerowyn, Captain of the Skybolts, mercenary fighter long before she became a Herald. If she didn’t eat babies for breakfast, she certainly had a reputation for devouring certain parts of the conquered as a battlefield trophy feast!
She stood with her feet slightly apart, hands on hips, and studied him. Johen simply made a gesture toward him and left without a word. She tilted her head to one side, and he hoped that his trembling wasn’t as visible as he thought.
“Be steady, youngster,” she said at last, in heavily-accented Karsite. “I be not going to eat you. Not without good sauce, anyway; you be too stringy for my liking.”
He flushed again as he realized that she was laughing at him. She knew he was afraid of her, and she was laughing at him! But his fear was a lot stronger than his anger, and his good sense at least as strong.
Let her laugh—if it keeps her from pounding me into the ground like a tent peg!
She paced toward him, slowly and deliberately. He stood his ground—mostly because he wasn’t able to move. His feet were frozen to the floor, and he couldn’t look away from her.
She circled him, looking him over from every angle, as if he was a young horse she was considering for purchase. He flushed even harder; he wasn’t used to being given that kind of scrutiny by a woman, or at least, not by a woman like this one. Solaris had given him that kind of detailed examination, but there was nothing remotely feminine about Her Holiness; when Solaris sat on the Sun Throne, she was the Son of the Sun, and that was all there was to say about it. Kerowyn was as female as she was formidable.
“Right,” Kerowyn said at last, as if answering a question, though he had said nothing. “Come here, boy. I be wanting to be testing the strength of you.”
For a moment he hesitated. What was she going to do, feel his legs and arms, as if he was a young racing colt and she the prospective buyer? But she beckoned peremptorily, and he followed her, not daring to do otherwise.
She brought him over to the comer of the room, to a series of ropes and pulleys. The comer looked like a setting for some kind of arcane torture, or worse. But it turned out that what she had in mind (thank the God!) were only tests of how much he could lift, pull, or push; the ropes could be loaded with weights, and she would watch him as he tried to raise them from various positions. When she was done, he was sweaty, and she looked satisfied.
“Be better than I be thinking,” she told him. “You be not spending all your time pushing paper around on desks. Now, here be what we be going to do. I not be making a fighter out of you, and I be not going to try. What I be going to