Blackveil
Page 54

“I don’ know, sir,” Yap said.
“If you agree to work for me, I certainly won’t kill you.”
Yap blanched at the implication that if he walked out, Amberhill would indeed kill him.
“You’ll be very comfortable in my employ. Regular meals and good accommodations. There will be a monthly payment, of course, so long as I am pleased with your service.”
“Meals?” Yap asked, brightening.
Amberhill nodded.
“Land flesh?”
Amberhill nodded again.
“Well, sir, that is worth a thought or two.”
Yap, Amberhill reflected, had no choice in the matter, whether he realized it or not. Nor did Amberhill. He could almost hear the breaking of waves, the call of the gulls.
He had no choice but to go to sea.
SUMMONED
Karigan leaned against the fence rail, Elgin beside her, watching the newest batch of green Greenies circling the riding ring on horseback at a trot under the hawklike scrutiny of their instructor, Horsemaster Riggs.
Karigan had come outside to rest her eyes after trying to untangle Rider accounts and payroll. They were an even bigger mess than she originally thought. After too many hours crouched over tiny notations, she’d grown restless. Days had passed and she hadn’t received a single message errand, while Tegan had been out twice, and Garth disappeared during the night.
Maybe it was the bright sunlight and the smell of damp earth as the snow melted that made her twitchy. Birds returned from the south in chittering flocks, and the horses ran and kicked in their pastures with renewed vigor. The world was coming alive, but Karigan was stuck in the damp, dark deeps of the castle with her dim lamp and ledgers. Maybe she ought to tack up Condor and take him around the ring a time or two herself.
Some of the new Riders were clearly more acquainted with the finer points of horsemanship than others. Horsemaster Riggs did not demand perfect form. She did train her students to be capable riders able to sit a saddle for long hours, to keep their seat in difficult situations, even during battle, and how to pace a cross-country journey. The care of a horse and its equipment were also among her important lessons.
Currently they rode retired cavalry horses. New messenger horses would arrive later in the spring, brought by the trader whose family had supplied the Green Riders with their mounts for generations. The horses came from the wild and were very intelligent, even uncannily knowing. When they chose to be.
Pretty soon each of these new Riders would have a horse that was his or her own to ride and care for, forming a special partnership and friendship that would last as long as both lived.
“Reverse trot,” Master Riggs called out.
The Riders obeyed, or attempted to obey, the command. One girl flailed her legs against the sides of her horse, who merely halted and dropped his head to graze. A boy could not stop his horse from circling. Others failed to switch diagonals as technique required for the posting trot. Master Riggs sorted them out one by one.
“They seem to be coming along,” Karigan said.
“Got a ways to go,” Elgin replied.
“At least it’s not more etiquette training. Did you ever talk to Mara about Ty?”
Elgin made a snorting laugh.
“That would be a ‘yes’?” Karigan inquired.
Elgin nodded. “I must give Mara credit for a creative solution.”
“Oh?”
“Yep. Instead of confronting Ty directly, she simply sent him on an errand to Penburn. He’ll be gone a good bit and I can see that these wee chicks are turned into real Riders.”
Karigan had to admit it was a clever move on Mara’s part. Sending Ty away would not ruffle his feathers the way correcting him on his training methods would, and he could not argue with a direct order to head out on a message errand.
“Heh, when Ty suggested she send you instead,” Elgin said, “Mara told him that if he wanted his pay on time that you be left here to continue working on payroll. That sealed it.”
And it explained why Karigan hadn’t been sent on any errands. She sighed. The sooner she fixed the ledgers, the sooner she could be out riding.
They watched the lesson in silence for a while more. The sun felt good on Karigan’s back, and she was not inclined to return to the darkness of the castle. Master Riggs called on her students to canter. Again, some made the transition more easily than others. Some sat the gait nicely, others lurched around on their saddles.
“That Merla,” Elgin said, “is coming along fine.”
Karigan spotted the girl, a gawky sixteen-year-old who sat her horse competently enough, even though her elbows stuck out and her posture was slouched.
“From Adolind,” Elgin said. “Her folks are tenant farmers. Real poor. No horses for them. She’d never been on one before she came here. Look at her now—a natural. See the extension on Baron? He’s liking it. Now Sophina on the other hand ...”
Karigan glanced at the young woman who rode her horse very erectly, heels down and toes up, shoulders thrown back, hands steady. Here was someone who had been taught proper equitation, but who appeared stiff and uncomfortable. It did not help she had her chin pointed up and a scowl of disdain on her face at having, Karigan assumed, to endure lessons at such a rudimentary level.
“She’s a bit of a priss,” Elgin said.
Karigan raised an eyebrow at his bluntness.
“Aristocratic family, I hear, and her parents none too happy she’s been called. She’s riding old Graft like a stick of firewood. Thinks she’s too good for us and our old cav horses. No doubt her poppy provided her with all sorts of hotbloods to ride around on at home.”