Her smile took the sting from her words. Almost.
The door opened and Horeb bustled in bearing a copper tray containing bread, cheese and a tankard.
"How's the head?" he asked, placing the tray on the wooden table by the bed.
"Fine," said Rek. "Is that orange juice?"
"It is, and it'll cost you dear. Nessa waylaid the Vagrian trader as he left the ship. She waited an hour and risked frostbite just to get oranges for you. I don't think you're worth it."
"True," smiled Rek. "Sad but true."
"Are you really heading south today?" asked Besa, as Rek sipped his fruit juice. He nodded. "You're a fool. I thought you'd had enough of Reinard."
"I'll avoid him. Are my clothes cleaned?"
"Dori spent hours on them," said Besa. "And for what? So that you can get them filthy in Graven Forest."
"That's not the point. One should always look one's best when leaving a city." He glanced at the tray. "I can't face the cheese."
"Doesn't matter," said Horeb. "It's still on the bill!"
"In that case I'll force myself to eat it. Any other travellers today?"
"There's a spices caravan heading for Lentria that will go through Graven. Twenty men, well-armed. They're taking the circular route south and west. There's a woman travelling alone - but she's already left," said Horeb. "Lastly there's a group of pilgrims. But they don't leave until tomorrow."
"A woman?"
"Not quite," said Besa. "But almost."
"Now, girl," said Horeb, smiling broadly, "it's not like you to be catty. A tall girl with a fine horse. And she's armed."
"I could have travelled with her," said Rek. "It might have made the journey more pleasant."
"And she could have protected you from Reinard," said Besa. "She looked the part. Now come on, Regnak, get dressed. I've not the time to sit here and watch you breakfast like a lord. You've caused enough chaos in this house."
"I can't get up while you're here," protested Rek. "It wouldn't be decent."
"You idiot," she said, gathering up the tray. "Get him up, father, else he'll lie there all day."
"She's right, Rek," said Horeb, as the door closed behind her. "It's time for you to move, and knowing how long it takes you to prepare your public appearance I think I'll leave you to get on with it."
"One must look one's best..."
"... when leaving a city. I know. That's what you always say, Rek. I'll see you downstairs."
Once alone Rek's manner changed, the laughter lines about his eyes easing into marks of tension, sorrow almost. The Drenai were finished as a world power. Ulric and the Nadir tribes had already begun their march upon Drenan and they would ride into the cities of the plains on rivers of blood. Should every Drenai warrior kill thirty tribesmen, still there would be hundreds of thousands left.
The world was changing and Rek was running out of places to hide.
He thought of Horeb and his daughters. For six hundred years the Drenai race had stamped civilisation on a world ill suited to it. They had conquered savagely, taught wisely and, in the main, ruled well. But they had arrived at their sunset and a new empire was waiting, ready to rise from the blood and ashes of the old. He thought again of Horeb and laughed. Whatever happens, there is one old man who will survive, he thought. Even the Nadir need good inns. And the daughters? How would they fare when the hordes burst the city gates? Bloody images flooded his mind.
"Damn!" he shouted, rolling from the bed to push open the ice-sealed window.
The winter wind struck his bed-warmed body, snatching his mind back to the reality of today and the long ride south. He crossed to the bench on which his clothes had been laid out and swiftly dressed. The white woollen undershirt and the blue hose were gifts from gentle Dori; the tunic with gold embroidered collar a legacy of better days in Vagria; the reversed sheepskin jerkin and gold ties a present from Horeb and the thigh-length doeskin boots a surprise gift from a weary traveller at an outland inn. And he must have been
The door opened and Horeb bustled in bearing a copper tray containing bread, cheese and a tankard.
"How's the head?" he asked, placing the tray on the wooden table by the bed.
"Fine," said Rek. "Is that orange juice?"
"It is, and it'll cost you dear. Nessa waylaid the Vagrian trader as he left the ship. She waited an hour and risked frostbite just to get oranges for you. I don't think you're worth it."
"True," smiled Rek. "Sad but true."
"Are you really heading south today?" asked Besa, as Rek sipped his fruit juice. He nodded. "You're a fool. I thought you'd had enough of Reinard."
"I'll avoid him. Are my clothes cleaned?"
"Dori spent hours on them," said Besa. "And for what? So that you can get them filthy in Graven Forest."
"That's not the point. One should always look one's best when leaving a city." He glanced at the tray. "I can't face the cheese."
"Doesn't matter," said Horeb. "It's still on the bill!"
"In that case I'll force myself to eat it. Any other travellers today?"
"There's a spices caravan heading for Lentria that will go through Graven. Twenty men, well-armed. They're taking the circular route south and west. There's a woman travelling alone - but she's already left," said Horeb. "Lastly there's a group of pilgrims. But they don't leave until tomorrow."
"A woman?"
"Not quite," said Besa. "But almost."
"Now, girl," said Horeb, smiling broadly, "it's not like you to be catty. A tall girl with a fine horse. And she's armed."
"I could have travelled with her," said Rek. "It might have made the journey more pleasant."
"And she could have protected you from Reinard," said Besa. "She looked the part. Now come on, Regnak, get dressed. I've not the time to sit here and watch you breakfast like a lord. You've caused enough chaos in this house."
"I can't get up while you're here," protested Rek. "It wouldn't be decent."
"You idiot," she said, gathering up the tray. "Get him up, father, else he'll lie there all day."
"She's right, Rek," said Horeb, as the door closed behind her. "It's time for you to move, and knowing how long it takes you to prepare your public appearance I think I'll leave you to get on with it."
"One must look one's best..."
"... when leaving a city. I know. That's what you always say, Rek. I'll see you downstairs."
Once alone Rek's manner changed, the laughter lines about his eyes easing into marks of tension, sorrow almost. The Drenai were finished as a world power. Ulric and the Nadir tribes had already begun their march upon Drenan and they would ride into the cities of the plains on rivers of blood. Should every Drenai warrior kill thirty tribesmen, still there would be hundreds of thousands left.
The world was changing and Rek was running out of places to hide.
He thought of Horeb and his daughters. For six hundred years the Drenai race had stamped civilisation on a world ill suited to it. They had conquered savagely, taught wisely and, in the main, ruled well. But they had arrived at their sunset and a new empire was waiting, ready to rise from the blood and ashes of the old. He thought again of Horeb and laughed. Whatever happens, there is one old man who will survive, he thought. Even the Nadir need good inns. And the daughters? How would they fare when the hordes burst the city gates? Bloody images flooded his mind.
"Damn!" he shouted, rolling from the bed to push open the ice-sealed window.
The winter wind struck his bed-warmed body, snatching his mind back to the reality of today and the long ride south. He crossed to the bench on which his clothes had been laid out and swiftly dressed. The white woollen undershirt and the blue hose were gifts from gentle Dori; the tunic with gold embroidered collar a legacy of better days in Vagria; the reversed sheepskin jerkin and gold ties a present from Horeb and the thigh-length doeskin boots a surprise gift from a weary traveller at an outland inn. And he must have been
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