Duty-Bound [ Lore of Penrua: Book II ]

24

With a clattering of hooves on flagstones, Uachi's horse cantered into the courtyard to the side of the imperial palace. The horse knew what he was about and turned immediately toward the stables, where he was met at once by Master Callin.

"Aye, there's my handsome lad," said Callin, reaching for the horse's rein. He gave Uachi a good-natured smile. "The horse, of course."

Uachi raised a brow and made no other response to Callin's joke. Ealin was still seated in front of him. She had hardly moved and had not spoken at all through their long ride back from the Mage's Keep in the south of the city. "A little help?" Uachi said.

"Of course. Miss, if you please?" Callin reached out to lend Ealin some support as she teetered in the saddle. "Careful, now. Not used to riding horses? You'll be a bit sore tomorrow if you've come as far as the south of the city."

Gracelessly, the dark-haired young woman slid down from the horse into Callin's arms. He set her on her feet while Uachi smoothly dismounted, giving the horse a pat that was less affection and more tolerant respect.

"I'll see to the horse," said Callin, leading the beast away. "Good afternoon to you both."

Uachi gave a noncommittal grunt in response, then turned his attention to Ealin, who stood stiffly in the center of the courtyard, looking around with wide eyes the color of hazelnuts. "Are you all right?"

She looked at him, brow knit in confusion.

"I mean, do you feel okay?"

Ealin nodded.

"He's right, you know; you will feel it tomorrow. I remember my first ride. Couldn't walk the next day." Uachi gestured toward the way out of the stable courtyard, indicating that Ealin should precede him. She began to walk with obvious reluctance, and he noted how frail she was. Her hollow cheeks and thin arms bespoke either terrible neglect, or hardship, or both. "Hungry?"

She darted a guarded look his way.

"Come with me."

He led the way to the palace kitchens in complete silence. Ealin walked more or less at his side, sometimes trailing a couple of steps behind. Uachi did not let her out of his sight. He could tell from the very way she held herself in his presence that if he looked away for an instant, she would bolt. And, while he was not particularly invested in whether Matei got answers out of this woman or one of the other apprentices from the Mage's Keep, he did not want to get a tongue-lashing for letting a "guest"—they all knew she was a prisoner—get away.

In the kitchens, the ancient Starborn woman who was always flitting around Mhera was busily chopping vegetables. Uachi paused in the doorway, automatically reaching out an arm into the space behind Ealin—not touching her, but preventing her from slipping back and away. "Are you making lunch?"

The woman looked up. She was clad in black, with a severe-looking head covering pinned over her steely gray hair. She fixed Uachi with such a look of pointed distaste that he felt like a wayward child found out in some mischief. No sooner had he identified this creeping feeling than it shifted to an intense and thorough dislike of the one who had caused it.

"For Her Grace, yes," said the wench.

"All right, well, don't let us get in your way," Uachi muttered. He turned to Ealin and pointed to a plain wooden chair that stood against the wall. "Sit down. I'll find us something."

"What is that girl doing here?" asked the woman, her knife still hovering where she had stopped it in midair above the vegetables.

"Sitting down, in a moment," Uachi said. "Go on, Ealin, sit."