The Magic of Recluce - L. E. Modesitt [199]
“…best breads in Kyphros, by exclusive patronage of the autarch…”
“…and you could have crossed the river barefoot, he drank so much. Never have I seen an animal drink so much, and beyond that…”
“Your fortune, not even a copper! Who will grudge a mere copper for knowing all that will befall you.”
“Hezira, I said, there’s to be none of that. No, none of that, Hezira—that’s what I told her, but, of course, she didn’t listen. Why would she listen, with her high house and her silk gowns?…”
I eased Gairloch closer to Yelena. “Is it always this noisy?”
“No.” She shook her head. “It’s usually noisier. This is early. It gets louder later.”
“Look at the pony! See the pony, Berrna! He must be a northern pony. He’s so shaggy…”
Outside of the autarch’s walled residence—not really a castle or even a palace—and the associated guard area, Kyphrien was an open and unwalled city, where the houses and businesses scattered farther and farther apart as we headed north and west toward the Westhorns I could not see. There never was a point at which I could have said Kyphrien ended and the countryside began, but we were on another gently rolling road even before mid-morning.
The drizzle had damped the dust, but not yet turned it into mud. Gairloch matched the pace set by the brown gelding carrying Yelena without seeming to strain, and we traveled through the morning without talking, which was fine with me, especially after the hubbub that had been Kyphrien.
Yet I liked the country, found it friendly, even if it were not as lush as Gallos or even Recluce. The spareness of the colder and rolling hills, which steepened within kays to the northwest of Kyphrien, appealed to me. I even noted several locations that would have been ideal for setting up my own woodworking—with streams high enough for a water supply, not far from the road, and with ample and varied timber within carting distance.
I shook my head—planning to be a workworker, still? Uncle Sardit would surely have laughed. How well he had wrought he did not know. Or maybe he did, and I was the one who didn’t know.
Thoughts of working wood would have to wait. If I could deal somehow with Antonin…if…
I cast my thoughts back over my last encounter—the one with the white wizard—recalling how I had fought with the staff to control my defenses and my energies. What had that meant?
There had been something in the book…something…I could not recall it, but made a mental note to look it up.
Midday found us halting beside a stream that bordered the road, but we did not actually cross it.
“That’s not really a bridle,” noted the young man who had followed behind me. “How do you control him in a pinch?”
“I never thought about it.” I pulled out some hard white cheese and offered him a piece.
Wheeee…eeee…
Yelena was watering her horse, and, deciding that Gairloch was thirsty as well, I looped the reins over the saddle and thwacked him on the flank, watching as he ambled into the water ankle-deep.
The soldier had taken the cheese, but he looked away suddenly as Gairloch left me.
The other trooper, a woman probably my own age, with short sandy hair and green eyes, surprisingly dark skin, and a ragged scar running across most of her right cheek, stepped closer.
“Cheese?” I offered.
“Thank you.” Her voice was simultaneously grave and cheerful. “Are you…the…order-master?…”
I grinned. Why not? “I’m Lerris. Yes, I’m the one from Recluce who knew the sub-commander. She’s my friend.”
Her eyebrows rose, and I could imagine the stories already circulating through the guard.
“In addition to being a blademaster,” I added, “she is also a lady. And my friend.”
“I didn’t mean…”
I waved her apology off. “Rumors are rumors. I care for the lady a lot, but that’s all until we have done what has to be done. Then we’ll see.”
“Are all the men from Recluce like you?”
“…Aaaccccuuu…” I almost choked on the cheese. “…No. Probably none of them are as dense as I am.”
“The order-master