DragonKnight

  “I’m interested in the emerlindian.” Hoddack leaned his stocky frame toward his visitor. “If you have an arduous journey ahead of you, you don’t need to be encumbered by females.”

  Bardon remained silent. The sooner he had the money in his hands and got away from this man, the better. He noticed that Holt had ceased fidgeting. He stared at the tip of his shoe, but his stillness belied his lack of concern.

  Hoddack picked up an empty money purse and a stack of coins. Through the wide opening, he let each grood piece drop into the soft leather sack. The first coin landed silently, but each one after clinked against the others.

  “My son is of an age to marry. As is our tradition, I will arrange for a suitable bride. I find your emerlindian to be suitable.”

  Bardon clenched a fist, but he voiced his words in calm tones. “Her name is N’Rae, and it is not our tradition to arrange marriages. Furthermore, I am not her guardian.”

  Hoddack picked up a second stack of coins. “Then you shall propose my offer to the granny.”

  Bardon stood. “I think not.”

  The money ceased dropping into the purse. “Why? This alliance would bring her comfort and prestige.”

  Holt came to his feet, hooking his thumbs into his finely crafted belt. “I don’t understand your sudden desire to marry me off, Father.”

  “You have nothing to do with it.” Hoddack snarled his contempt for his son. “It’s a matter of business. Do you realize what this emerlindian girl can do?”

  “She tames kindias.”

  “Yes, and we want her to tame kindias for us, not for a competitor.”

  Holt’s hands came away from his waist, and he clenched his fists. Propping them on the desk, he leaned across the clutter of paper and stacks of money. “That’s preposterous! Why not just hire her?”

  “Hired hands can walk away.”

  “And a married woman is trapped.”

  Hoddack stood and glared, his stance mirroring his son’s. Inches separated their red faces. “It’s business,” Hoddack shouted. “Cool, calculated business without the niceties you and your mother prattle on about.”

  Bardon scooped up two stacks of the money and dropped them into the spacious pockets of his tunic. “No need for a family argument.” He smiled at them both as he pocketed two more piles. “N’Rae has a plan in mind for her immediate future, and it does not involve romance, kindia farms, or business.” He plucked the leather purse out of Hoddack’s hand and gathered the last coins. “It has been interesting, if not a pleasure, doing business with you, Master Hoddack. I wish you well in your endeavors. All those that do not include me or my companions.”

  He turned on his heel and marched out before either father or son could make further comment.

  Granny Kye and N’Rae waited for him in the front yard of the stately farmhouse. The younger emerlindian carried Jue Seeno’s basket hooked over her arm.

  “You look angry,” commented N’Rae as she fell in beside his quick step.

  Granny Kye ambled along behind them, seemingly more interested in the scenery than the young people.

  He slowed. “Hoddack is an unpleasant marione, insensitive and prone to think first of money and not of people at all.”

  “His son is nice.”

  Bardon cast her a quick glance. “You met him?”

  “There was little to do all day while we waited for the race to end. Dame Hoddack ordered a feast with roasted pig, duck, and goose. The neighbors brought all sorts of food, and Holt Hoddack made sure Grandmother and I had full plates and plenty to drink in the hot afternoon. He brought cushions from the house for us to sit on in the shade.”

  Bardon stopped and turned to face her. “So, do you want to go look for your father or stay here and dally with a farmer’s son?”

  N’Rae crossed her arms over her chest, swinging the basket recklessly. A squeak of protest came from within. “I want to find my father, of course. You can be so prickly. Whatever happened to ‘Maturity wears well in soft words and even temper.’ Principle thirty-something?”

  “How do you know the principles?”

  “My mother taught me. I told you I wasn’t ignorant.”

  Bardon stomped down the lane toward the smaller barn. N’Rae and Granny Kye had to hurry to catch up. “We need a few basic supplies, transportation to Ianna, and that map.”

  “You need,” spouted N’Rae, “a bath and clean clothes.”

  Bardon turned abruptly into the barn.

  “Where are you going?” asked N’Rae.

  “I owe a man some money.”

  “Our money?”

  “His money. If it were our money, I wouldn’t owe it to him.” He paused inside the door. Several farm workers busied themselves with taking care of the kindia stock. “Ilex?”

  “I’m here.” Ilex stepped out of Ten’s stall, a brush in his hand.

  “Where can I find that man who gave up his chance to ride in the race?”

  “Blosker. His cabin is down the east road just past the puny monarch tree. It drops a limb every time there’s a wind. He ought to cut it down.”

  Bardon touched his forehead in a gesture of goodwill. “Thanks.”

  He turned to leave, but Ilex had one more thing to say.

  “You’ll be passing Cise’s place as well.”

  “Who’s Cise?”

  “The breaker Mig broke.”

  Bardon looked into the old man’s eyes for a moment. “I’ll see to it.” He walked more slowly out of the barn.

  Ilex called after him. “There’ll be a passel of kids in the yard and a swaybacked, piebald horse tethered under a trang-a-nog tree.”

  Bardon waved without turning. Not far from Hoddack’s gates the road came to a crossing.

  Bardon paused. “I have some errands to run before I go back to the inn. You ladies needn’t walk the extra way. You can go back to Norst, and I’ll be along in a little while.”

  “I want to come,” protested N’Rae.

  The older emerlindian nodded. “A walk is good for the soul.”

  Bardon cocked an eyebrow at the basket N’Rae carried.

  “Perhaps Mistress Seeno is tired of being jostled.”

  “She sleeps when we travel,” N’Rae said. “In fact, she sleeps more than anyone I’ve ever met.”

  Granny Kye touched her arm. “You’ve met very few outside of the ropma, infant.”

  “That’s true. But isn’t it also true, Grandmother, that Mistress Seeno sleeps a great deal?”

  “I think she sleeps when we are awake, and she stands guard while we are sleeping.”

  “Really?”

  “Of course. She is your protector.”

  N’Rae nodded. Bardon shook his head. He still found it absurd that the tiny minneken thought she could defend anyone. He led the way down the darkening road, beneath ancient trees rattling their leaves in the light gusts of air.

  A clutch of o’rant children clambered in and around the trang-a-nog tree and over and under the swaybacked, splotchy horse.

  Bardon asked the group in general, “Is your father at home?”

  “He’s sick-a-bed,” answered one.

  “Can’t get up,” said another.

  “I’ll fetch Ma,” said a scrawny boy whose twin nodded vigorously and then raced the slightly smaller child to the door.

  The slender woman with graying hair took the five hundred grood gratefully.

  “It’s half of what I won in Hoddack’s race today,” explained Bardon. “If Mig hadn’t trounced your husband, he might have been riding the winning kindia.”

  She wrapped the coins in a scrap of cloth and tucked them into her apron. “You could step in for a bit of supper,” she offered.

  Bardon smiled. “Thank you, Mistress, but we have another errand and then some work to be done in town.”

  As they walked away, N’Rae said, “The horse and the dog were content but hungry.”

  Granny Kye looked back over her shoulder. “I imagine the child
ren are the same.”

  “Did you not mindspeak?” Bardon asked the granny. He knew Kale might have used her talent to gather as much information as needed from the poor family.

  “As little as possible. The older I get, the more I’m inclined to think it’s often an invasion of privacy.”

  In memory, Bardon heard his own voice repeating a principle to Scribe Moran. “Draw the boundary of the mind that keeps you whole and respect the boundary drawn by another.”

  Not much farther, they passed a woebegone monarch tree. Many rough stubs showed where limbs had cracked and fallen. Uneven patches of good growth revealed the heart of the tree to be sound. A man and his dog came out to greet them. Blosker took his half of the one-thousand-grood prize money readily.

  “I knew that would be one whopper of a race,” said the man who’d given up Ten so Squire Bardon could ride. “I’ve done that course plenty. It’s punishment for rider and kindia.” He grinned and bounced the sack of coins in the palm of his hand. “It’s good to have the money without the soreness you’re going to feel tomorrow.”

  Bardon laughed and agreed. Already his muscles ached for a hot bath.

  “Why did you come home?” asked N’Rae. “Why didn’t you wait at the finish line to get your money?”

  The weathered man pressed the bag of coins against his chest and pondered for a moment before answering. “Why, to give your friend here a chance to do the honorable thing. Then again, Hoddack might not have given the squire here the purse to carry to me. Then the old man himself would have a chance to show his core is aboveboard even if his style of dealing with folks makes you think otherwise.

  “Master Hoddack’s a strange boss,” added Blosker. “Prides himself in being honest because his own family weren’t known for being straightforward. When he married to get the farm, everyone thought he would be a stain on the neighborhood. But he’s honorable in his begrudging way.”

  Blosker tossed the bag in the air, caught it, and slipped it inside his shirt. “The dame’s father ran the business with a smile. It was right prosperous. Hoddack’s kept it making a profit, but he doesn’t have the genteel feel about him. Works hard, just doesn’t know how to relax and enjoy what he’s worked for.”

  Drummerbugs and crickets sang as the three walked back toward town.

  “What did you learn, infant?” asked Granny Kye.

  N’Rae shrugged.

  “I won’t take that for an answer.” The old woman spoke softly as if she did not want to disturb the music of the night air. “Think of the people you saw today. The seven high races have much in common. All are prone to err. Not one of the high races is more righteous than another. Without fail you may count on individuals to sometimes make mistakes and sometimes do things right when dealing with their lot.”

  Bardon thought N’Rae would not answer, but eventually her small voice mingled with the cool breeze. “Hoddack does not enjoy his life and seeks to better it. The children of the injured man enjoy without having much. The mother sought to share what little supper she had. It’s choices, isn’t it?”

  Granny patted her arm. “Yes, choices.”

  Bardon wondered what choices Hoddack would be making. He couldn’t get the last thing Blosker said about the kindia breeder out of his mind.

  “Hoddack holds on to an idea like a bodoggin. Once he’s thought of a plan, he don’t give up.”

  11

  BE PREPARED

  Bardon managed to escape the women to have supper and a bath in his room. Too weary to master his thoughts, he lay in the tub of hot water and drifted from one scenario to another. In one half dream, Paladin arrived and took over the care of the three women, ordering Bardon to return to the mountain cabin. In another, N’Rae’s father strode through the inn door and announced he’d been shipwrecked and just managed to return to Amara. In the last, N’Rae declared her undying love for Holt Hoddack, and the farm boy took over the expedition to the Northern Reach.

  He could think of no principle that would allow him to indulge in these fantasies.

  “‘A meager man looks to his own comfort first,’” he recited as he hauled his aching body out of the cooling water.

  “‘The straight path to easy living is fraught with deception, the worst being in the heart of the man who looks neither right nor left.’” He toweled himself dry with a vigorous rub.

  “‘A man moves forward faster if he doesn’t have to look over his shoulder.’” He rubbed in the last of Master Hoddack’s liniment and put on his nightshirt.

  The mattress cushioned his sore muscles in a most satisfying manner. Bardon stretched carefully under the weighty covers and stared at the pine-beam ceiling. When a knock resounded on the door, he thought the manservant had come to haul off the bath water. Still, responding to training, he reached for his hunting knife and laid it alongside his leg, on top of the blanket.

  “Come in.”

  The doorknob turned hesitantly. A narrow line of light appeared as the door creaked open an inch. Bardon’s hand tightened on his weapon. This is not the way the servant would enter the room.

  “It’s me,” said Granny Kye, a second before she pushed open the door. “I’ve brought you tea to ease your aches and help you sleep.”

  Relaxing, he sat up awkwardly in the bed to receive the mug.

  “Thank you, Granny Kye.”

  “You’re welcome, son. I know that not only your overworked body would give you trouble tonight as you try to sleep but also your keenly felt need to do what is right.”

  Bardon sipped the tea and chose not to answer.

  Granny Kye took a step back but did not turn to leave. “It’s hard to be wise.” The humble woman stood peacefully beside his bed. Her dark eyes gleamed in the candlelight. “I shall tell you something about myself that is unusual for an emerlindian.”

  She remained silent, and Bardon wondered if he was required to say something. “Yes?”

  “I did not darken as one of our race usually does. People would think I was much younger than my years because of my pallor.”

  Her shoulders drooped, and she folded her hands at her waist. “I did not learn from my mistakes. I could not reason out a problem. I could not remember what had been told to me the day before. It was not until I realized that Wulder gave me a different gift of wisdom that I began to mature, to darken.” She sighed and looked the young squire in the eye. “You won’t be able to depend on me to know the answers, to guide you on this journey.”

  “You knew there’s a mapmaker in Ianna.”

  “Because Paladin told me so a dozen times in the past year.” She spread her hands in a gesture of helplessness. “He also gave me funds for the quest.”

  “And you lost them?”

  “Oh no! I would never be so careless. I gave them away.” Her face did not reflect any qualms about her misuse of the money.

  “If Paladin gave you funds for a specific purpose and you used them for another, don’t you think you have done wrong?”

  A whimsical smile lifted the corners of her mouth, and her brown eyes flashed with amusement. “He said they were for needs as I would meet them. Unfortunately, I continually meet people whose needs are greater than my own.”

  “Remind me not to let you carry the purse.”

  Granny Kye chortled. “See? You already prove that you’re wiser than I am.”

  “The coins I left with you on our first morning in Norst?”

  “Gone.”

  “Gone?”

  “Before the day ended.” She paused. “The wheelwright had a need for a new hammer. The kitchen maid has a poorly mother. The boy delivering milk needed sturdy shoes.”

  “I see.”

  “Also, anything requiring memory is troublesome. However, I am good with herbs, though I sometimes make mistakes.”

  Bardon stopped before taking the next sip.

  “Oh, the tea’s all right,” Granny Kye assured him. “Jue Seeno helped me.”

  He let out a gust of pent-
up breath and took another soothing swallow.

  “What area is your wisdom in, Granny Kye?”

  She beamed. “Painting.”

  Bardon considered this for a moment. “You don’t happen to paint murals, do you?”

  “No.” She tilted her head and looked curiously at him. “Why?”

  “Kale Allerion has seen two murals which turned out to be prophetic.”

  “How odd. No, I do portraits, mostly.”

  “Portraits? And how does your wisdom show up in portraits?”

  “I paint the people as I see them. But when I finish, there’s more there. While I’m painting, the expressions on their faces and the colors around them become clear in my mind. Some people say that the finished picture looks like the inside of the person instead of just what is seen on the outside.”

  Bardon nodded. “I had a friend who saw colors around people, and he said they reflected character and inner conflict.”

  “He saw them all the time?”

  “Yes, but he said he had to focus especially on the colors to read them correctly.”

  “I don’t see them with my eyes even when I paint. But some part of me does, because they always end up on the canvas.” Granny Kye still stood relaxed in the same position. “Where is your friend now?”

  “In Bedderman’s Bog, at the home of Wizard Fenworth. He’s training to be a wizard. You said ‘mostly,’ Granny Kye. What else do you paint?”

  “Landscapes, houses…They rarely turn out very well.” Her face brightened. “Once I painted a neighbor’s house, and in the painting, we saw an odd object under a bush. We went to look, and there was the bracelet she’d lost months before.”

  “So you saw something while you painted that couldn’t be seen just by looking?”

  “Yes!”

  “I agree with you, Granny Kye, that’s definitely a type of wisdom.”

  The old emerlindian’s expression clouded. “Not one that’s very useful in the normal way of things. I understand N’Rae much better than most people would, though. She, too, does not fit the typical image of an emerlindian.”

  “Mistress Seeno would prefer that she did.”