Artesans of Albia: 01 - King's Envoy (32 page)

Bull and Robin snapped a salute and Cal followed them out. As Taran turned to go with them, he saw Sullyan place a hand on Rienne’s arm. The healer hesitated and Taran would have waited, but Robin called him and reluctantly, he left.

Bemused by what had just happened and still more than a little hung-over, Rienne gazed inquiringly at the Major. She wasn’t sure whether she had imagined it last night, but now, despite her pounding head, it was undeniable. There was definitely a connection between them. She smiled; it was a good feeling.

Sullyan smiled too. “Thank you so much for last night, Rienne, and for the little gift you left on my nightstand. Without it, I doubt I would have woken had the bugler stood by my ear. Willow, was it?” Rienne nodded. “Well, you have done wonders for my reputation. Did you see the look on Robin’s face when I came in? I am in your debt and I do not forget my friends.”

She dropped her eyes, appearing, thought Rienne, uncertain.

“Rienne, I have heard what happened to you yesterday before you came to my room. I want to assure you that the matter has been dealt with. Morin is in the cells and Corporal Rusch has joined him for good measure. I have let it be known that you are under my personal protection, so there will be no more trouble of that nature. You should have no worries about your safety while you remain among us.”

Rienne didn’t know what to say, her thumping head had prevented her from thinking about her ordeal the day before. Yet the fear would have returned, she knew, and she appreciated the trouble the Major had taken.

“Thank you,” she said, “that makes me feel much better.”

Sullyan smiled warmly and departed, leaving Rienne struggling with what she had heard. She was more than a little surprised.

Rienne hurried to catch up with the others, excitement making her forget the ache in her head. She couldn’t deny it, she’d been missing her patients in Hyecombe and they would certainly be missing her, but this opportunity seemed to offer much in the way of compensation.

Since enjoying Hanan’s tour of the Manor’s sophisticated facilities, Rienne had been feeling quite envious. Now she would get to use them herself, maybe even learn new skills and techniques. And she would be paid, to boot. She smiled. All of this had come about because she had blindly stumbled into Sullyan’s office looking for sanctuary. Instead, she had found a friend. That was well worth a pounding head and queasy stomach.

When she finally caught up with them, Robin and Bull were discussing their amazement over the Major’s swift recovery from alcohol poisoning. Rienne hid a smile and swore a silent oath never to tell a soul her secret.

They also discussed Taran’s astonishing inclusion in their mission. Taran, she could see, looked concerned and she wondered if he was worried they might resent his presence. However, they merely seemed surprised and she saw him visibly relax when Robin admitted this would be his first diplomatic assignment.

“You’ve been on a few, though, Bull,” said the Captain. “What can we expect?”

Bull shrugged. “Almost anything. Marik’s alright in a gloomy kind of way but he’s a reluctant ally and I don’t altogether trust him. Just keep your eyes open and be careful not to give offense.”

“Why?” asked Taran.

“Because the Andaryan social structure is different than ours, and it’s easy to make a wrong step. The other thing you have to remember is their attitude toward women. In their eyes, females are only there to propagate the species. They hold no lands or wealth, or power of any kind. Including ours.”

Rienne frowned. “No power at all? There aren’t any women in the nobility?”

Bull shook his head. “Andaryans place great store in physical and metaphysical prowess. Generally nobles rise no higher than count unless their power is strong. The metaphysical kind is prized above all, and since the Artesan gift only passes through the male line in the Fifth Realm, it effectively precludes all women.”

“So why is the Major accepted as the King’s ambassador?” asked Taran.

Bull grinned wickedly. “Count Marik has had, er, personal experience of her skill at arms. She’s proved herself equal to him or any of his swordsmen. She’s widely respected in the province of Cardon and I would bet there are plenty of other commanders who are aware of her reputation.”

He sobered. “But still, even she has to abide by Andaryan customs. My advice is to take your cues from her. Just hope and pray that Marik doesn’t have any balls or banquets planned—they can be murder.

“Now, I’d better go. I’ve got to pack and get down to the horse lines. I’ll see you later.”

Robin guided the others to the Quartermaster’s office. Rienne felt a bit embarrassed that they were getting their own rooms, but it seemed to be easily arranged. There was a small vacant suite of rooms fairly close to Bull and Robin’s, and it even had an extra room that Taran could use.

“It’ll feel strange not staying with Bull,” she said. “What can we do to thank him for his hospitality, Robin?”

The Captain laughed. “Oh, that’s easy. Get him another bottle of liquid poison. I’ll send a runner to Milo’s, if you like.”

Taran was issued combat leathers by Quartermaster Adyn and Rienne was happy to accept the light blue clothing worn by the healers. Taran was also allocated a russet dress uniform for formal occasions and Rienne shared his astonishment when he, too, was assigned a temporary captain’s rank. They stepped into a curtained-off area to try on their new clothes.

“Not bad for civilians,” said Robin when they re-emerged, “but I know which of you looks best.”

Rienne blushed under the handsome Captain’s gaze. She felt very smart in the trim blue uniform and luckily Cal thought so, too.

Robin obviously caught his admiring look because he said, “If I were you, I’d keep an eye on some of the junior officers, Cal, my lad.” Cal looked startled and Rienne blushed even deeper. “Just remember, both of you,” continued Robin, “you hold rank now, however temporary. Don’t do anything to bring it into ill repute.”

Rienne and Taran assured him they would be careful. The Quartermaster then presented Taran with a light sword, which the Journeyman buckled onto his sword belt. Rienne was surprised to see Robin take a small and sturdy crossbow, the sort that could be used on horseback. From the way he handled it, she could see he was very familiar with it.

“We’d better go pack,” Robin said.

He glanced at Rienne, giving her a special smile. “Will you two be alright while we’re gone?”

She nodded. “We’ll be fine, Robin. I’m almost looking forward to it. Have you any idea how long you’ll be?”

“Could be anything from a couple of days to a week, I imagine, depending on what Marik can tell us. But we’ll keep in touch and Taran can practice his link with Cal so you’ll know what’s going on. If you have any problems while we’re away, go to Hanan. She’ll know how to sort it out.

“Come on, Taran, we’d better pack. Sullyan hates to be kept waiting.”

Taran packed quickly and helped his friends move what little gear they had into their new quarters. The rooms were bare but clean and he watched Rienne bustle happily about, planning how to make the place more homely.

Soon, Robin appeared at the door to collect him. Taran took an apprehensive leave of Cal and Rienne but he knew they would be fine until he returned. He was less confident about his own safety.

His pack over his shoulder, he fell into step beside Robin. They made their way to the commons, where Robin collected a pack of supplies, probably ordered by the Major. Young Tad fetched it for them and saluted proudly as he handed it over. Both men returned his salute and Taran made a fair job of it, which drew a smile from Robin.

“Good luck, sirs,” called Tad as they waved a farewell.

On reaching the main outer doors, they stepped out into an autumnal day bathed in pale sunshine. There was a definite chill in the air and Taran thought he’d be glad of the warm cloak in his pack.

When they arrived at the horse lines, Bull was already there. His pack lay on the ground next to a large military-style saddle and he was engaged in an animated conversation with a tall, thin, middle-aged man who sported sandy hair and a sullen expression. Bull stood next to a stocky bay stallion that was half-dozing, one hind leg propped. There were only two other stallions beside it, a darker bay and a chestnut with a white face. All three looked powerfully strong.

As he and Robin came closer, Taran realized the conversation was actually a heated argument.

“She specifically requested Mandias, Solet, those were her orders,” Bull was saying loudly. “If you want to tell her to take a different horse, then be my guest, but I wouldn’t bet on you still having your post tomorrow.”

Clearly unimpressed by the threat, the thin man thrust the halter he was holding toward Bull. “Well, you go catch him, then. I’m not risking it, I tell you, not with a mare in season out there.”

“It’s not my job to catch your horses for you,” snapped Bull. “If you can’t manage the mares, perhaps you deserve to be relieved of your post.”

The stablemaster was about to reply when Taran and Robin caught up.

“What’s going on?” demanded Robin, dropping his pack beside Bull’s. “Why isn’t Mandias ready? You know the Major doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

Solet turned to him, appeal in his eyes. “You know the horse well, sir, would you care to catch him? He’s not taking any notice of me.”

Robin frowned. “I’m not surprised, man, if there’s a mare in season out there. Why isn’t she with the brood stock?”

Unseen by Solet, Bull winked at Taran and leaned back against his stallion’s rump, clearly content to let Robin continue the argument.

“Took us by surprise,” Solet was grumbling. “Wasn’t supposed to come into season for another month.”

Irritably, Robin said, “Very well, I’ll give it a try, but don’t think I’m doing you a favor. It’s only because the Major can do without the aggravation. But I’m warning you, Solet, if he kicks me anywhere painful, you’ll have me to deal with as well as her.”

He snatched the halter out of Solet’s hands and approached the field where twenty or so horses were grazing. Dumping his pack on the ground, Taran went to watch. His own horse was a gelding, he had no experience with stallions.

Robin stopped by the fence and gave a peculiar, chirruping whistle. A horse in the middle of the field flung up its head, whickering in response. It was a handsome beast and Taran admired the small, neat ears, strongly muscled neck, clean legs covered with delicate but profuse feathering, and powerful hindquarters. Mandias was huge—Taran thought he must be at least eighteen hands at the withers—and coal-black but for a white star in the center of his forehead.

The horse watched Robin, ears flicking backward and forward. He took a step toward him, then stopped. The Captain whistled again and the stallion swished his long tail, as if at a fly. He raised his muzzle, snuffling the wind, then dropped his head and took another mouthful of grass.