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Chapter Fourteen
Steam rose gently from the stew pot.
More steam rose from the far from occasional drops of rain which found their way through the open side of the lean-to Kaeritha had erected to protect her cooking fire. Centuries of Sothoii had planted trees along the lines of their roads, mainly to provide windbreaks, but also for the purpose to which Kaeritha had put this thick patch of trees. Although it was still spring, the branches above her were densely clothed in fresh, green leaves, which offered at least some protection to her campsite. And, of course, there was firewood in plenty, even if it was a bit on the damp side.
The blanket-covered packhorse was picketed beside the brawling, rain-fed stream at the foot of the slight rise on which she had encamped. Cloudy wasn’t picketed at all—the idea that she might require picketing would have been a mortal insult to any Sothoii warhorse—but she’d ambled over and parked herself on the up-wind side of the fire. Kaeritha wasn’t sure whether that was a helpful attempt to shield the fire from the rainy wind or an effort to get close enough to soak up what warmth the crackling flames could provide. Not that she was about to object in either case.
She stirred the stew again, then lifted the spoon and sampled it. She sighed. It was hot, and she knew it was going to be filling, but she was going to miss Brandark’s deft hand at the cook fire, and the mere thought of Tala’s cooking was enough to bring a glum tear to her eye.
She grimaced and sat back on her heels under the cover of the open-fronted tent she’d positioned with the eye of hard-won experience. The lean-to she’d constructed, and a rising swell of ground, served as reflectors to bounce the fire’s warmth back into her tent, and only a little of the smoke eddied in along with it. Given the general sodde
Which wasn’t saying a great deal.
She got up and began moving additional firewood under the crude lean-to, where it would be at least mostly out of the rain and the cook fire could begin drying it out. She was just about finished when Cloudy suddenly raised her head. The mare’s ears came up, pointed forward, and she turned to face back towards the road.
Kaeritha reached up under her poncho and unbuttoned the straps across the quillons of her short swords, then turned casually in the same direction.
Cloudy’s hearing was considerably more acute than Kaeritha’s. Kaeritha knew that, yet how even the mare could have heard anything through the steady drip and patter of rain surpassed her understanding. For a moment, she thought perhaps Cloudy hadn’t heard anything, but then she saw the rider emerging ghost-like from the rainy, misty evening gloom and knew the mare hadn’t been imagining things after all.
Kaeritha stood silently, watching the newcomer and waiting. The Kingdom of the Sothoii was, by and large, peaceful and law-abiding … these days. It hadn’t always been so, though, and there were still occasional brigands or outlaws, despite the ruthless justice nobles like Tellian dealt out to any they caught up with. Such predators would be likely to think of a lone traveler as easy prey, especially if they knew that traveler was a woman … and didn’t know she was one of Tomanak’s champions. As far as Kaeritha could tell, there was only one rider out there, but there might be more, and she maintained a prudent watchfulness as the other slowly approached her fire.
The possibility that the stranger might be a brigand declined as Kaeritha got a better look at his mount’s gait. It was too dim and rainy to make out color or markings, but from the way it moved, that horse was almost as good as Cloudy. No prudent horse thief would dare to keep such a readily recognizable and remarked animal for himself, which suggested this fellow wasn’t one … but didn’t bring her any closer to being able to guess what he was doing out here in the rain with night coming on.
“Hello, the fire!” a soprano voice called, and Kaeritha closed her eyes as she heard it.
“Why me?” she asked. “Why is it always me?”
The cloudy night vouchsafed no reply, and she sighed and opened her eyes again.
“Hello, yourself, Leeana,” she called back. “I suppose you might as well come on in and make yourself comfortable.”
The Lady Leeana Glorana Syliveste Bowmaster, heir conveyant of Balthar, the West Riding, and at least a dozen other major and minor fiefs, had mud on her face. Her red-gold braid was a thick, sodden serpent, hanging limp down her back, and every line of her body showed her weariness as she sat cross-legged across the fire from Kaeritha and mopped up the last bit of stew in her bowl with a crust of bread. She popped it into her mouth, chewed, and swallowed contentedly.
“You must have been hungry,” Kaeritha observed. Leeana looked at her questioningly, and she shrugged. “I’ve eaten my own cooking too often to cherish any illusions about my culinary talent, Leeana.”
“I thought it was quite good, actually, Dame Kaeritha,” Leeana said politely, and Kaeritha snorted.
“Flattering the cook isn’t going to do you any good, girl,” she replied. “Given that you look more like a half-starved, half-drowned, mud-spattered rat then the heir of one of the kingdom’s most powerful nobles, I was willing to let you wrap yourself around something hot before I began the interrogation. You’ve done that now.”
Leeana winced at Kaeritha’s pointed tone. But she didn’t try to evade it. She put her spoon into the empty bowl and set it neatly aside, then faced Kaeritha squarely.
“I’m ru
“That much I’d already guessed,” the knight told her dryly. “So why don’t we just get on to the two whys?”
“The two whys?” Leeana repeated with a puzzled expression.
“Why number one: why you ran away. Why number two: why you don’t expect me to march you straight home again.”
“Oh.” Leeana blushed slightly, and her green eyes dropped to the fire crackling between them. She gazed at the flames for several seconds, then looked back up at Kaeritha.
“I didn’t just suddenly decide overnight to run away,” she said. “There were lots of reasons. You know most of them, really.”
“I suppose I do.” Kaeritha studied the girl’s face, and it was hard to prevent the sympathy she felt from softening her own uncompromising expression. “But I also know how worried and upset your parents must be right now. I’m sure you do, too.” Leeana flinched, and Kaeritha nodded. “So why did you do this to them?” she finished coldly, and Leeana’s eyes fell to the fire once more.
“I love my parents,” the girl replied after a long, painful pause, her soft voice low enough that Kaeritha had some difficulty hearing her over the sound of the rain. “And you’re right—they are going to be worried about me. I know that. It’s just —”
She paused again, then drew a deep breath and raised her eyes to Kaeritha’s once more.
“Father’s received a formal offer for my hand,” she said.
It was Kaeritha’s turn to sit back on her heels. She’d been afraid it was something like that, but that didn’t make having it confirmed any better. She thought of several things she might have said, and discarded each of them just as promptly as she recalled her earlier conversation with Leeana.
“Who was it from?” she asked instead after a moment.
“Rulth Blackhill,” Leeana said in a flat voice. Kaeritha obviously looked blank, because the girl grimaced and continued. “He’s Lord Warden of Transhar … and he’ll be fifty years old this fall.”
“Fifty?“ Despite herself, Kaeritha couldn’t keep the surprise out of her voice, and she frowned when Leeana nodded glumly. “Why in the world would a man that age believe even for a moment that your father might consider accepting an offer of marriage on your behalf from him?”