DragonKnight (9 page)

Down below, Bardon saw a huge tree with the distinctive upswept branches of a monarch. Beyond that it looked like one section of the mountain had fallen away, leaving a bare escarpment.

Bardon clenched his jaw and did exactly as Ilex had instructed him.

Wulder, protect me and this beast. Protect the men and animals before and after me. And keep this saddle in one piece and on Ten’s back.

Two kindias and their riders still led the way in front of Bardon and Ten. They rounded the monarch and disappeared. Bardon followed and closed his eyes. Not out of fear, but because dust and gravel flew into the air from the other animals’ feet. He wondered if Ten had closed his eyes as well.

He heard a rider shout behind him, and a torrent of loose rock pelted them. Something whapped them from behind. Ten pitched forward and rolled. Bardon fell from the saddle and tumbled beside the kindia. They stopped at a broad ledge littered with crumbled shale and granite gravel.

Bardon sat up and shook his head. Ten stood prancing, as if to say, “Come on.” The two riders who’d been ahead of them were down, as well as two more who must have been directly behind. The men staggered to their feet, brushed the dust from their faces, and ran to jump in the saddles. Bardon left the lower ridge in second place.

At the bottom, they zigged and zagged and hopped through the pile of rocks that had tumbled from the mountain. Bardon sighed his relief when they hit the riverbed, then realized how hard Ten worked to gallop across the soft, dry sand. Even though trees lining the way provided shade, sweat soaked Bardon’s clothing, and lather flecked Ten’s coat. A kindia Bardon had not noticed managed to pass them.

When they climbed the embankment, the road they had raced down on the way out reappeared. The last leg of the race stretched before them.

“Well, Ten,” Bardon shouted behind the animal’s head. “Do you want to come in third or first?”

Ten extended his long neck. The muscles in his powerful shoulders moved in an accelerated rhythm under Bardon’s knees. They passed the second rider and came up on the right side of the leader.

A multitude of people lined the roadway. Their roar assaulted Bardon’s ears. The colors of clothing and waving pennants blurred in his side vision as he set his eyes on the red ribbon stretched across the finish line.

He leaned forward, shifting his weight to his lower legs. Crouching over the saddle instead of sitting in it, he finally found the rhythm that kept his bones from absorbing all the pounding. The distance between him and the leader of the race narrowed. He heard both animals gasping, and he felt Ten surge ahead. The second kindia pulled ahead and then fell back. The ribbon trailed from Ten’s ample chest as they crossed the finish line.

The contestants slowed and circled back to the front porch of the big house, cooling the animals. More riders came in, late but finishing. All six of the kindias Bardon and N’Rae had worked with completed the race.

The crowd pushed in on the circle of first runners. Bardon searched the faces until he spotted N’Rae with Granny Kye beside her. The mass of people made it impossible for them to come together. People jumped and cheered, laughed and pounded each other on the back.

The only one who didn’t look happy stood on the porch. Hoddack scowled at the people on his property. His eyes met Bardon’s, and the young squire saw trouble brewing.

         
10
         

C
HOICES

Swinging his leg over the kindia’s neck, Bardon dismounted.

“I’ll take him,” said Ilex, removing the reins from the squire’s hand. “I’ve got a fine bed of hay, a bin of bossel, and clear water waiting for him in the barn. This boy is going to have a rubdown, too, and I’m going to sing him the songs my pa sang to me.”

Ilex patted Ten on the neck, reached up to scratch behind the animal’s ears, and led him off, chuckling to himself. Bardon watched as they pushed through the crowd, and the old farm worker greeted those eager to heap praises on the winner.

Bardon eased between mingling farmers and townspeople, edging his way to the porch. Hoddack pointed his finger at one of the revelers, a neatly dressed young marione with a thick thatch of slicked-down, golden hair. Hoddack hooked his finger in a “Come” gesture and pointed to the front door. Then the kindia breeder turned abruptly, signaling with a wave of his hand for Bardon to follow. He marched into his house without looking back to see if his silent commands were obeyed.

Now what?

Bardon’s boots thumped the wooden steps as he climbed to the porch. He met the summoned young man at the top of the steps. The marione’s jaw angled just like Master Hoddack’s, and he had the same deep-set eyes and large, straight nose.

Bardon slowed, allowing the young man to go first.
Hoddack’s son? First Hoddack looks as though he has swallowed a drummerbug, then he calls for his son to join us. I hope this isn’t going to be unpleasant.
He shook his head as he tried to determine the type of person the son could be.
He doesn’t look as contrary as the father. In fact, he looks rather soft, as though he isn’t used to laboring beside the farm workers.

The son held his shoulders straight, but they weren’t as broad as his father’s. He wore tailored clothing without one grubby mark on him. Instead of commonplace boots, he wore shiny brown shoes of tooled leather.

He looks as though he enjoys his father’s success but doesn’t help with the business of running this kindia farm. But then, all this is supposition. “Judgment passed before facts are known judges the judger.” Principle sixty-eight.

Inside, the refined décor of the home surprised Bardon. Hoddack had disappeared, but the young man led the squire into a side room. An older woman sat in the dim light on a brocade-covered settee.

“Mother, may we disturb you for a moment?”

She lifted her chin and smiled toward the voice. “Of course, Holt.”

He took her extended hand and raised it to bestow a kiss.

Her other hand came up to briefly caress his cheek. “I suspect you’ve brought one of the riders to meet me. Perhaps, the winner?”

Bardon stepped forward with the assurance of years in Sir Dar’s court. He bent over her hand and brushed it with his lips.

“I beg your pardon, Dame Hoddack, for coming into your presence in such a state. I must smell like the kindia I rode. A fine animal, but not one that should be brought into a lady’s parlor.”

The genteel woman wrinkled her nose delicately and chortled. “And with my sight gone, my sense of smell is most keen. But I am glad Holt brought you to meet me. Are you the same young man who tamed the kindia in such an unusual manner?”

“Not exactly.” Bardon looked over to Holt, who nodded his approval of telling the story to his mother. “I spent the first day convincing Mig to accept a working relationship, using the common procedure. My friend, N’Rae, has a gift for dealing with animals. She tamed five in less time than I took with one.”

“The lovely emerlindian girl?”

“Yes.” He hesitated. “Excuse me, Dame Hoddack, but how do you know of her?”

She straightened the lace shawl draped over her shoulders.

“I have many visitors, and most of the servants are aware that I enjoy knowing what goes on beyond the walls of this house.” She’d answered almost immediately, but Bardon detected a slight shuttering of her open friendliness. “I’m glad Holt brought you in. I am very interested in this N’Rae.”

“It is my turn to beg your pardon, Mother. Father will be waiting for us in his study.”

She reached for him, and he gave her his arm, which she patted. The pleased smile on her face transformed a weary expression to one of loveliness. “Yes, go, dear. See what he wants.” She turned slightly toward Bardon, and the mask of the grand lady slipped back in place. “Good luck to you, young man.”

“Thank you, Dame Hoddack.” Squire Bardon followed Holt to another room on the ground floor.

Hoddack sat behind a large desk cluttered with papers. A sack of coins spilled across the top. Seven neat stacks of five shiny gold pieces, each large coin worth one hundred grood, lined up across the front edge of the desk. A thick, dark purple rug muffled their footsteps, but the kindia breeder’s shaggy head jerked up as they entered.

“Took your time.”

“We went to see Mother.”

Hoddack grunted and waved an impatient hand, urging them closer. “Have a seat, Squire Bardon. I have an additional proposition for you.”

Holt took a chair, lounging with a look of disinterest on his handsome face. His fingers played with the fringe sewn into the armrest. His foot silently jiggled.

Bardon remained standing. “My companions and I are on a journey. We’ve delayed long enough.”

“This won’t take much of your time, and what I have to offer might make your trip less taxing.”

Bardon wanted nothing more than to collect his earnings and leave the crotchety old kindia breeder to stew over whether he’d been shrewd in their interchange. Or, whether he appeared a shrewd businessman in the eyes of the populace. Bone-weary and uncomfortable in his sweaty, dirty clothing, the squire wanted a bath, a meal, and to begin arranging for the transport of his companions down the river to Ianna. He sat on the leather chair next to Holt and waited to see what the farmer had in mind.

“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?”