Firebrand

“What?” Estral said in surprise.

“Meep.” The cat was nose-to-nose with her, and started sniffing her face.

Estral stroked his cheek. “Where did he come from?”

“I don’t know,” Karigan replied. “He was just suddenly there. He must live nearby.”

Enver had an odd look in his eye as he gazed at the cat, but offered nothing, not even surprise.

“He sure seems to like you,” Karigan told Estral.

“Well, what do you expect? He’s a nice kitty with good taste,” she said. “And he has majestic white whiskers. Yes, you do, you little sweetie.”

“Prrrt.”

For gods’ sake, Karigan thought. She cleared her throat. “I’ve decided to accompany you to North.”

Estral smiled as if she’d known all along that she would.

Karigan narrowed her eyes. “I am going so I can keep you two out of trouble.” As if she were any good at keeping herself out of trouble. It would take several days for them to reach North. Maybe Estral would change her mind about going there in the meantime, but by the look of triumph on her face, she doubted it.

“Meep,” the cat said.

GETTING BACK IN THE SADDLE

“You are as poor a patient as my predecessors made you out to be in their reports,” said Master Mender Vanlynn.

This particular statement, Laren thought, in misery, was not helping. Her shoulder was back in its socket, the pain greatly diminished, but her whole body felt like it had been trampled by a herd of horses. She sat hunched on Vanlynn’s exam table, her shoulder and arm tightly bound to her body to prevent the joint from shifting and causing additional tearing and pain.

Vanlynn shook her head; her eyes crinkled as she gazed at Laren. “This is not a first for you, either.”

“No,” Laren mumbled.

“Not surprising.”

Laren glanced sharply at her and instantly regretted the move, for her neck was not feeling well either.

Vanlynn was not at all cowed by her patient’s temper. “Captain, once you have dislocated your shoulder, it makes it more susceptible to recurrence.”

“It was years ago, the first time.”

Vanlynn shrugged. “Well, you have my instructions, the willowbark tea, and the ice. Your concussion is mild, but I recommend you rest for a few days.”

That was not very likely, Laren thought.

Vanlynn, as if reading her mind, looked askance at her. “You are fortunate it’s not worse. I’ll send Ben to look in on you later. Do you need assistance to return to your quarters?”

“No, thank you.” Laren slid off the table and Vanlynn helped her into her coat, loosely draping the left side over her injured shoulder.

Laren tottered out of the mending wing, thinking maybe she’d been a little too hasty to decline help. It was not so very long ago she’d blacked out and vomited with the pain after the fall, and she had only made it to Vanlynn’s exam room because Hep and his assistant had half-carried her. But, Zachary was scheduled for his public audience today, and she was determined to be at his side as usual.

As she slowly descended the stairs, willing the vertigo to go away, she figured Vanlynn was right, that she could have been much worse off. Yes, she had broken fence rails when she went flying off Loon, but snowdrifts had buffered her fall. She could have broken bones, even her neck. She could have gotten a more severe concussion.

Luckily, she injured her left shoulder and not her right. She’d be able to write and do the things she had always done with her right hand. Or, maybe that was not so lucky, considering the number of reports that needed writing. She smiled a little thinking that she’d get out of Gresia’s arms training sessions.

When finally she reached the main hall, she paused to rest and gather herself for the trudge to the throne room. She wouldn’t be late. The hurrying to-and-fro motion of the people in the main hall, however, did not help her vertigo and she fought to keep her stomach down. Cold sweat beaded on her forehead.

“Ah, Captain, there you are.”

Les Tallman, one of the king’s chief advisors and the head of the Weapons, strode up to her. He peered appraisingly at her.

“What happened to you?” he asked.

“It’s nothing. Just a riding mishap.”

To his credit, he did not dispute her claim of it being “nothing,” but by his skeptical expression, she could tell he’d formed a contrary opinion on the matter.

“Are you on your way to audience?” she asked.

“Yes, I was hoping to intercept you to advise you that the king will not be present.”

“What?” He’d been choosing not to attend meetings of late, but he never missed public audiences.

“He has ordered us to oversee the audience, and has commended to us his authority to make judgments in the cases presented to us.”

There was nothing especially egregious about this, except that Zachary was very hands-on and his subjects were accustomed to seeing him on audience day. It was important for the citizens of Sacoridia to actually see the man who ruled over them and tell him their concerns.

“Did he give you a reason?” Laren asked.

“The same as before. He wants to be with his queen.”

Laren was pleased Zachary had suddenly become so devoted to Estora, but he hadn’t left her side in days.

“My mother,” Les Tallman said, “was a midwife, and she used to say that there were some expectant fathers who’d start nesting during a pregnancy. Perhaps our king is doing just that.”