Fire And Ice (Book 1) (3 page)

             
“Are you all right?” the Queen asked him.  She was watching him closely.  They both were.              

             
Coran realized his knuckles were white as he gripped his glass and forced himself to relax.  “I am fine.  I was just thinking.”

             
“Of course, I almost forgot how close you are to those two girls.  Do not worry.  Something will come up to make things turn out for the best.”  Caroline smiled to try and reassure him.

             
“I know it will,” he replied evenly. 

             
The topic switched to more mundane matters.  The weather, was everyone well, and ‘have you ever been there’ were discussed, though Willa spoke sparingly. 

             
After the decanter had been emptied the Queen finally stood and announced that she was going to clean up before dinner.  She led the unobtrusive Willa out the door.  That left Coran alone with his thoughts.  The one that kept coming to the surface was about when could he leave.  Even through the thick stone walls he could hear the wind howl its fury.  The voice of winter protesting its being vanquished from the world for another year.

              The storm blew itself out by the following morning but the roads were obstructed by a half foot of new snow.  The spring sun emerged strong and was already at work, but it would be another day before the way south was clear.  So it fell on Coran to continue as host. 

             
He spent much of the time entertaining the subdued Willa.  Once he was able to break through her shy exterior he was pleasantly surprised with her mind.  She was clever, kind, and quite knowledgeable about the many kingdoms of the world.  Coran supposed that a princess’ education had to be extensive.  He enjoyed her company and hoped that it might be the makings of a friendship.  His father always said to never pass up the opportunity to make a friend.              

             
That afternoon he had an errand to run in the town, Willa insisted on accompanying him.  He in his heavy cloak and she in a fur-lined coat walked the slush filled streets.  She had to grab his arm to keep from falling when her foot threatened to go out from under her.  There were a few people about dressed in dark heavy cloaks like Coran’s.  They greeted him with a ‘Coran’, or a quick ‘Sir’, and always with a friendly smile.

             
A woman approached them with a leather sack in hand.  “I hear you are leaving tomorrow,” she stated.  Her silver hair was bunched up in a bun in the back of her head.  She wore a pleasant smile between two rosy cheeks.  “This is for you.”  She handed him the sack.

             
He opened it with both hands to peer inside.  As expected, it contained her famous bread.  “Thank you, Janin.”

             
“No need.”  She waved his thanks away.  “Tell your father that he must come back and I will cook a special meal for him.”

             
“I will,” he replied.

             
Happy, Janin hurried off.  Mornings were always a busy time for hardworking people, and Janin took pride in her baking.

             
“Who was that?” Willa asked him as she peered over his hands and into the bag.

             
“Janin, the baker.  Her cooking skills are locally renowned.”

             
“If she is so talented why do you not have her working in the keep?”

             
“Because her sister already heads the kitchen staff and neither of them would work for the other.  She will not take her sister’s job away from her either,” he explained closing the bag and taking her arm again.

             
“The people here certainly are friendly,” Willa commented.  She walked carefully to avoid splashing her clothes as they continued on his errand.

             
“Everyone around here is close so formality doesn’t really fit,” he explained with a sense of pride.  These were his people after all.  The lack of ceremony was the one thing he preferred over the formality of Summerhall. 

             
He walked around a building somewhat larger than the others until he came to an open doorway in the back and entered a large room where irregular shapes of iron were piled in one corner.  Tools hung by hooks covered the wall above a work table where finished pieces were arranged side by side.  There were knives and axes and a few swords, their blades shone like mirrors.  They were assaulted by the heat of the forge fire that permeated the entire room.  A boy of perhaps ten filled a bin with charcoal while a man with arms as big as Coran’s legs watched nearby.  The man turned as Coran entered and gave him a wry grin.  He was the blacksmith who did much of the work for Tyelin.  He would have worked at the forge inside the castle but he preferred the familiar forge that had been his father’s.

             
“I knew you would be here today,” the man told him in a strong voice.  He went to the bench where he picked up an object about a yard long that was wrapped in a gray wool cloth.  “It’s just like you wanted.”

             
Coran took the bundle eagerly.  “What about the sun?  You said that might be tricky.”

             
“I said it wouldn’t be easy, not that I couldn’t do it,” the blacksmith scoffed.  “Like I said it’s just how you wanted it.”

             
“Thank you,” Coran said sincerely.

             
“Don’t thank me.  You paid enough for it.”

             
Coran smiled at the larger man.  “Worth every bit.”  Then he handed over a few coins, nodded to the man, and left the smithy with Willa in tow.  The warm sun seemed colder after the heat of the smith’s forge.  He waited for Willa to catch up and take his arm before heading back to the castle.

             
“What is in the bundle?” she asked as she watched where she stepped carefully.

             
“Just something I had made for someone.”  He hoped she wouldn’t press the issue since he did not wish to explain.  It was sort of private.  “It’s a present.”

             
“Oh,” was all she said.  She must have sensed his reluctance to talk about it.

              That night the three of them ate in the family room.  The main dish was lamb bathed in a delicately spiced, white sauce.  Coran liked lamb, but was not too crazy about the sauce.  The food was washed down with more of the red wine.

             
Shortly after they finished eating, while a couple of servants came to clear the table, the Queen informed them that she wished to retire for the night.  It was rather late and the meal had been filling, so Coran could understand.  He was a bit sleepy himself, and would have to get up early to leave in the morning.

             
He found himself alone with the princess of Westland.  They each took a glass of wine and went to sit on the couch near the fire.

             
“Have you ever been to Westland?” she asked him to begin the conversation.

             
“Not to Westhaven, but I have been to Allard,” he told her and sipped his drink.  “I know that you were in Kluele, have you been anywhere else?”

             
“Unfortunately, no.  I have been just about everywhere in Westland, but this is the first time I have left my kingdom.  I wish that I could see more before going home,” she sighed. 

             
“I hope you get the chance.  I enjoy traveling myself, and hope to do more of it now that my duties are fulfilled.”              

“Duties?”

              “Yes.  My father sent me here to learn how to run the place.  For some time in the future, I think.  I have learned about everything there is to learn.”

             
“So you are leaving?”

             
He nodded.  “In the morning.”

             
“Where will you go first?” she asked and he sensed a rising interest.

             
“Summerhall.  After that I cannot say.  Maybe Arryvestra.  I have heard how beautiful the city is supposed to be.” 

             
“I have always wanted to go there as well.  The architecture is supposed to reflect the best that Ithan ever produced,” she told him, raising a hand to cover her yawn. Any interest had faded for some reason.

             
“I hope I am not boring you?”

             
“Of course not.  I am just suddenly tired.”  She stood, finished her drink and went to set the empty glass on the table.  He rose when she did. She turned to face him as he came within a step of her.

             
“I should thank you for a wonderful time,” she told him looking up into his face.  “It is too bad that we do not have more of it.”   

             
“I agree, but I must be up early myself,” he explained.  “I will see you in the morning?”

             
“Of course.”  Opening the door and stepping out she smiled back one last time. 

             
The following morning Coran was checking to see that the packs were securely tied onto his horse.  He wore all black except for a silver hawk sewn onto the front of his shirt and the hilt of his sword, with a black grip and silver pommel, which protruded out from under his rich, black cloak.  He was not alone in the yard.  The Queen’s escort was forming up around the carriage before the gates, the captain barked orders to straighten backs and secure saddlebags.  At the appearance of Queen Caroline and Willameina, Coran finished his inspection, crossed the yard, and offered his hand to help the ladies into the coach.

             
“Thank you for your hospitality,” the Queen said as she took his hand and stepped up.  “I shall write your father and let him know what a wonderful host you have been.”

             
“I thank you, your Majesty, but there is no need for that.”

             
“Nonsense.”  She released his hand and disappeared inside. “I hope we will meet again soon,” she finished from her seat.

             
“As do I,” Willa agreed.  She gripped his hand but made no move towards the waiting carriage.  “I really enjoyed meeting you.”

             
“I enjoyed your company as well.  I hope we will have a chance to continue our friendship,” he told her sincerely.

             
“I look forward to that day.”  She gave him a dazzling smile complete with dimples before climbing inside and taking the seat opposite her mother.

             
The driver shut the door tightly and pulled himself up to his seat.  The Captain ordered the column forward, the driver flicked the reins and the coach jerked ahead.  Coran watched it disappear through the open gates before turning toward his own mount.  He put his left foot in the stirrup and swung his right over the horse’s back, then settled into the saddle.

             
“Any idea when you might be returning, Sir?” Kirsire asked looking up at him.  His eyes betrayed the sadness he felt at his Lord leaving once again.

             
Coran did not know where his path would lead him, but he didn’t think it would be back here for some time.  “I am sorry old friend, but I do not know.” 

             
Kirsire was a little taken aback at being called friend.  Coran had never addressed him in such a familiar way.  He also appeared to be touched by it.  He looked up at him fondly and nodded his understanding.  “Fare you well.”

             
“You too.”  He took a last look at the home of his childhood and then spurred his horse forward, towards the home of his adolescence.  He wondered where the home of his adulthood would be.

             
He followed the column of Westlanders until they turned onto the road that led west to continue their interrupted journey.  Coran left the road behind, he traversed the foothills by way of a trail he knew well from hunting with his father when he was a boy.  It took until the next day for him to reach the lower lands to the south and the beginning of the Sun Plain.  Farms began to appear and villages came more frequently.  He met the road to Whent that afternoon, the miles passed more quickly after that.

             
Coran felt invigorated as the land changed the further he rode.  Oaks and maples replaced the evergreens of the higher elevations and brown grass became a healthy green.  The air smelled of warmth and life.  The world’s transformation wasn’t the only reason for his lightheartedness.  There was an enormous sense of freedom that came with being on the open road and having no urgent need to be anywhere. 

             
Three days later he saw the walled city of Whent.  At least four times as large as Tyelin, it still could not compare with Summerhall.  There was still a lot of daylight left so he decided to bypass the place rather than ride through.