The Spell of Rosette - Kim Falconer [44]
Bared to the waist, his muscles rippled in the light that filtered through the lattice-bordered walkway. He had a shaved head, agate green eyes and smooth bronzed skin. Tattooed serpents entwined up his arms and rested their heads on his broad shoulders. A winged bird of prey tipped with red feathers—the thunder eagle—stood guard at the back of his neck. On his right arm was a thick scar running the length of his biceps. It didn’t seem that old.
‘Did you get her pack?’
Clay nodded, patting the leather bag hanging from the saddle.
The sunlight vanished as they passed under the arch into the deserted horse barn. Everyone was up at the training grounds, or making their way there. Clay sighed, fidgeting with the hem of his threadbare shirt.
They stopped in front of Dozer’s stall and Clay reached to untie Rosette’s pack, dropping it to the ground. He grabbed his own things and faced his employer.
‘I believe my job’s done, Sword Master.’ He’d made his decision. He was out of here.
‘Not quite.’ The Sword Master didn’t look at him as he unsaddled the horse. ‘Did she mention anyone, a Nellion Paree perhaps?’
‘You didn’t tell me to listen for names.’
‘Do you recall it, though?’
‘She said she’d trained with her for the last five years, if that’s what you mean. She told me the story of how she bonded with the temple cat too.’
‘How?’
‘Rescued him as a kitten, lost in the woods.’
‘I doubt it.’
‘What?’
‘Temple cats don’t lose their cubs.’ He stopped, turning to face Clay. ‘What else did she say?’
‘Only that Nell is a phenomenal star-watcher and has taught her the craft. She mentioned something about the bow, gathering Snow Root, and sword practice with an islander. That’s about all.’
‘Did the girl say if Nellion would soon travel?’
‘She spoke only of her past.’
‘Growing up in Lividica?’
‘Sort of. She said she ran away because she didn’t want to be married off.’
An’ Lawrence went back to unbuckling the girth. ‘Did she say why she chose Treeon?’
‘That one’s easy,’ Clay grinned.
‘How so?’
‘She came to train with you.’
An’ Lawrence stopped for a moment before lugging the saddle off. Steam rose from Dozer’s wet back. ‘Thank you, Clay. You did well.’
The bard looked around, unsure of what to say next. Had he been dismissed? He cleared his throat. ‘My payment?’
‘It’s in a bag under your bunk.’
Clay nodded. ‘I’ll be off now.’
The Sword Master reached out to Clay’s arm, stopping the young man in his tracks. ‘We would like you to stay.’
Clay whispered before turning around, ‘Stay?’
They made eye contact for the first time. Clay couldn’t hold the exchange for long and An’ Lawrence went back to grooming the horse, methodically picking up each of Dozer’s dinner plate-sized hooves, checking them for stones. He grabbed a currycomb from a bucket of brushes and started to groom the dappled coat in small, vigorous circles.
‘Yes. Stay.’
Perhaps years of training, or battles and adventures that Clay couldn’t imagine, gave him such authority. Whatever it was, Clay knew he would obey the Sword Master. He couldn’t think how to say, ‘No thank you, I have other plans’.
‘What do you want me to do?’
‘Keep up the front of apprentice bard. Train for a while—for the winter at least.’ An’ Lawrence paused. ‘It means staying in a comfortable dorm with a warm bed and good company, eating well, playing music, and continuing your friendship with Rosette.’
‘My friendship?’
‘You like her, don’t you?’
‘I suppose.’
‘Then stay.’
‘What do I get for it?’
‘You get a sack of gold coins and a safe haven for the winter, not forgetting the food, drink, song and sweet company. What more does a bard seek?’
Clay watched a line of ants marching from the base of an old feed bucket to the middle slat of