First Rider's Call
Page 31
“He looks good,” Mara said, nodding in Condor’s direction.
Karigan followed her gaze. “Considering his journey, I’d have to agree.” When she turned back to Mara, she found herself under the Rider’s critical gaze.
“You, on the other hand,” Mara said, “look underfed. I’ve hauled food all the way from the kitchens to your room only to find you gone.”
Karigan smiled sheepishly when her stomach betrayed her with a rumble at the mention of food. Her work tunic and trousers were baggy—she always lost a little weight on a hard run, but this delegation duty had been another thing entirely.
“I suppose I wouldn’t mind a bite to eat,” she said.
“You suppose?” Mara rolled her eyes. “All right then, you follow me.”
“Yes, mistress.”
Mara emitted a strangled noise as she headed up the slope toward barracks. Karigan grinned, thinking it was good to be back.
As they neared barracks, a bellow erupted from within that carried out into the sunshine through an open window. Mara hastened her steps, Karigan on her heels wondering what in the world was going on.
Inside, Mara paused in the doorway to the common room, hands on hips, taking in the scene before her. Karigan, stuck behind her in the mud room, peered over her shoulder.
Three Riders occupied the common room. Dale Lit tlepage sprawled limply in an armchair, helpless with laughter. Garth Bowen towered over Tegan Oldbrine, who struggled to maintain an expression of complete innocence.
Karigan smiled to herself, wondering what Tegan had done this time to rouse Garth’s ire.
“I really don’t know what you’re going on about,” Tegan said, “roaring at me like an angry old bear.”
Karigan thought Tegan’s description of Garth apt—he was large and bearlike, and gregarious, but he also possessed a hot temper when pressed.
“You don’t know what I’m going on about?” he demanded.
Dale looked so weak from laughter, Karigan thought she might melt onto the floor.
“My uniform.” He waggled his finger in Tegan’s face. “You gave me that soap. That’s what you did.”
“I really don’t know what you’re talking about,” Tegan said. “What could soap have to do with it?”
“As if—as if Clan Oldbrine isn’t the pride of the dyers guild!”
“Ahem, Riders,” Mara said.
Tegan and Garth turned at her quiet interruption, and it was then that sunshine pouring through the window revealed the basis of the matter. Garth was a big—yellow—Rider! His entire uniform was the yellow of sunflower petals. Karigan covered her mouth to muffle a snort, thinking that if they painted black stripes on him, he’d resemble an oversized honeybee.
As Garth had indicated, Tegan’s clan was well known for its master dyers, and even Stevic G’ladheon did frequent business with them. Tegan had been, of course, a journeyman in the clan trade when she heard the Rider call.
Amazingly, Tegan maintained a straight face, though her eyes held a glint of merriment. Garth stared blankly, and Dale still sat helpless in her chair, wiping a tear from her cheek.
Mara sighed, and it carried overtones of tiredness and disappointment. “Tegan, you are hereby assigned laundry duty for the next month.” The Rider’s mouth dropped open, but before she could lodge a protest, Mara cut her off with a shake of her head. “I know you too well, so there is no use in denying your part in this.” Tegan clamped her mouth shut.
“Those fine uniforms are supplied to us by the generosity of Stevic G’ladheon,” Mara continued, “the materials are expensive. I will not see the uniform so degraded.”
Tegan glanced at her feet, ashamed.
“Garth,” Mara said, “you will change immediately.”
Well, Karigan thought, Mara had certainly assumed an air of authority in her absence. At one time, Mara would have been as helpless as Dale from laughter. In fact, Mara would have joined in on whatever scheme Tegan had conjured.
Garth brightened upon hearing Tegan’s punishment, but now he tried to see past Mara, to figure out who stood in the shadows behind her.
“Is that you, Karigan?”
Karigan squeezed past Mara. “Hello.”
Garth barrelled over and wrapped his thick arms around her. Air whooshed from her lungs as he lifted her off her feet and planted a kiss on her cheek. When he set her down, Tegan hugged her in turn. Dale finally collected herself and stood to pat Karigan on the shoulder.
“Good to see you looking lively. Compared to last night, anyway.”
Karigan grinned, a bit breathless and genuinely happy to see them, too, but when they launched into a thousand questions about her journey, she found herself backing away, overwhelmed. It was Mara who came to her rescue.
“Leave off the poor woman—she hasn’t even had breakfast yet.” Turning to Dale, she said, “Don’t you have someplace to go?”
Dale straightened. “Right!” She patted the message satchel slung over her shoulder. “We’ll catch up later,” she told Karigan, and she dashed off on whatever message errand had been assigned her.
Garth gave Karigan another, albeit less crushing, hug, before lumbering off to change his uniform.
“Good to see you, Karigan,” Tegan said, and she slipped away down the corridor.
“Laundry!” Mara called after her.
“I know, I know . . .” her voice trailed back.
Karigan followed her gaze. “Considering his journey, I’d have to agree.” When she turned back to Mara, she found herself under the Rider’s critical gaze.
“You, on the other hand,” Mara said, “look underfed. I’ve hauled food all the way from the kitchens to your room only to find you gone.”
Karigan smiled sheepishly when her stomach betrayed her with a rumble at the mention of food. Her work tunic and trousers were baggy—she always lost a little weight on a hard run, but this delegation duty had been another thing entirely.
“I suppose I wouldn’t mind a bite to eat,” she said.
“You suppose?” Mara rolled her eyes. “All right then, you follow me.”
“Yes, mistress.”
Mara emitted a strangled noise as she headed up the slope toward barracks. Karigan grinned, thinking it was good to be back.
As they neared barracks, a bellow erupted from within that carried out into the sunshine through an open window. Mara hastened her steps, Karigan on her heels wondering what in the world was going on.
Inside, Mara paused in the doorway to the common room, hands on hips, taking in the scene before her. Karigan, stuck behind her in the mud room, peered over her shoulder.
Three Riders occupied the common room. Dale Lit tlepage sprawled limply in an armchair, helpless with laughter. Garth Bowen towered over Tegan Oldbrine, who struggled to maintain an expression of complete innocence.
Karigan smiled to herself, wondering what Tegan had done this time to rouse Garth’s ire.
“I really don’t know what you’re going on about,” Tegan said, “roaring at me like an angry old bear.”
Karigan thought Tegan’s description of Garth apt—he was large and bearlike, and gregarious, but he also possessed a hot temper when pressed.
“You don’t know what I’m going on about?” he demanded.
Dale looked so weak from laughter, Karigan thought she might melt onto the floor.
“My uniform.” He waggled his finger in Tegan’s face. “You gave me that soap. That’s what you did.”
“I really don’t know what you’re talking about,” Tegan said. “What could soap have to do with it?”
“As if—as if Clan Oldbrine isn’t the pride of the dyers guild!”
“Ahem, Riders,” Mara said.
Tegan and Garth turned at her quiet interruption, and it was then that sunshine pouring through the window revealed the basis of the matter. Garth was a big—yellow—Rider! His entire uniform was the yellow of sunflower petals. Karigan covered her mouth to muffle a snort, thinking that if they painted black stripes on him, he’d resemble an oversized honeybee.
As Garth had indicated, Tegan’s clan was well known for its master dyers, and even Stevic G’ladheon did frequent business with them. Tegan had been, of course, a journeyman in the clan trade when she heard the Rider call.
Amazingly, Tegan maintained a straight face, though her eyes held a glint of merriment. Garth stared blankly, and Dale still sat helpless in her chair, wiping a tear from her cheek.
Mara sighed, and it carried overtones of tiredness and disappointment. “Tegan, you are hereby assigned laundry duty for the next month.” The Rider’s mouth dropped open, but before she could lodge a protest, Mara cut her off with a shake of her head. “I know you too well, so there is no use in denying your part in this.” Tegan clamped her mouth shut.
“Those fine uniforms are supplied to us by the generosity of Stevic G’ladheon,” Mara continued, “the materials are expensive. I will not see the uniform so degraded.”
Tegan glanced at her feet, ashamed.
“Garth,” Mara said, “you will change immediately.”
Well, Karigan thought, Mara had certainly assumed an air of authority in her absence. At one time, Mara would have been as helpless as Dale from laughter. In fact, Mara would have joined in on whatever scheme Tegan had conjured.
Garth brightened upon hearing Tegan’s punishment, but now he tried to see past Mara, to figure out who stood in the shadows behind her.
“Is that you, Karigan?”
Karigan squeezed past Mara. “Hello.”
Garth barrelled over and wrapped his thick arms around her. Air whooshed from her lungs as he lifted her off her feet and planted a kiss on her cheek. When he set her down, Tegan hugged her in turn. Dale finally collected herself and stood to pat Karigan on the shoulder.
“Good to see you looking lively. Compared to last night, anyway.”
Karigan grinned, a bit breathless and genuinely happy to see them, too, but when they launched into a thousand questions about her journey, she found herself backing away, overwhelmed. It was Mara who came to her rescue.
“Leave off the poor woman—she hasn’t even had breakfast yet.” Turning to Dale, she said, “Don’t you have someplace to go?”
Dale straightened. “Right!” She patted the message satchel slung over her shoulder. “We’ll catch up later,” she told Karigan, and she dashed off on whatever message errand had been assigned her.
Garth gave Karigan another, albeit less crushing, hug, before lumbering off to change his uniform.
“Good to see you, Karigan,” Tegan said, and she slipped away down the corridor.
“Laundry!” Mara called after her.
“I know, I know . . .” her voice trailed back.
