The Wyvern's Spur - Kate Novak [3]
Bored by inactivity, Giogi bounced to his stocking feet and began tossing back into the closet all the things he'd tossed out.
Thomas appeared in the archway, holding out the knee-high, brown-suede dodders, which, by his master's own declaration, were the most comfortable pair in the Realms. "Please, sir," the servant requested, "don't trouble yourself with putting those things away. I'll be happy to do it."
Giogi halted in midtoss of a lone wool mitten. Something in Thomas's tone revealed the servant's anxiety. Giogi noticed that the inside of the closet was now as untidy as the outside. "Sorry, Thomas," he apologized meekly.
"That's quite all right, sir," Thomas said, setting the boots beside the bench.
"Ah, my boots! Excellent!" Giogi sat back down on the bench and pulled the right boot on, then slipped the stone into the brim.
"Are you certain, sir, you wouldn't rather ride?" Thomas asked.
Giogi, one foot still unshod, looked up at his manservant. "It may surprise you to know, Thomas, that when I was on my mission for the crown, I often walked great distances." Giogi did not feel it necessary to add that he had walked great distances whenever forced to because some scurrilous cove had stolen his horse or some equally evil beast had devoured his mount.
"Indeed, sir. I did not mean to suggest you weren't up to the task. I just thought that after your strenuous journey you might prefer the luxury of riding. If not in the carriage, I can saddle Daisyeye."
"No, thank you, Thomas," Giogi said, finally pulling on the other boot. "Daisyeye deserves a good, long rest, and I really want to walk." He rose, whipped his cloak about him with a flourish, and stomped to the front door. "Don't bother to wait up for me," he suggested. "I expect I'll be quite late. Good night," he called out before he plunged outside.
In town, everything was brown; the buildings, the grass, the muddy roads, the wooden carts, even the horses and oxen, were shades of umber and tan. Townhouses blocked out the late afternoon sun and cast long chocolate shadows on the earth. Women shouted out the windows at dirt-caked children in the streets. It was as if the gods had run out of other colors by the time they reached that part of Immersea, left it etched in one shade, then hadn't bothered to mix new paint to fill in the color.
Giogi walked east, away from the center of town, then turned south onto a trail that led from town to the Wyvernspur estate. A low wall surrounded the land, and the lanky noble swung his legs over it easily and entered another world, one that the gods had colored. Stalks of winter rye glittered like jade in the setting sunlight; purple-specked crocuses sparkled with gemlike raindrops; a great flock of wild geese honked overhead in the deepening blue sky. Giogi felt his spirits rise and shook off the gloom that had gripped him in his own house.
He struck out along the path through the fields. As the town founders, the Wyvernspurs held title to nearly all the land south of town. Most of the land was set aside for hunting and riding. The highest hill was dedicated to the goddess Selune, and the temple at its peak was left to the administration of her priestess, ancient Mother Lleddew. The Wyvernspurs resisted, however, cultivating much of the land, felling many trees, or clearing many fields for cattle. They were nobles, not farmers or foresters or ranchers. The Cormaerils-the only other titled family in Immersea-regularly planted nearly a hundred acres, but had been nobility for only four generations. Giogi feared that, after fifteen generations, the Wyvernspurs were too entrenched in relying on the family fortune as their only source of revenue.
As Giogi emerged from the fields of rye, the sun was no more than half a palm's width from the horizon, and the air was already turning chill. The