Regents’ announcement. “I’ll just get this posted,” he said instead, and made his escape.
The clock that capped the Venturers’ Hall was striking ten as Eslingen crossed into the New Fair. At this hour, Dreams was barely stirring, actors and musicians and dancers—and fencing masters, all too often—just dragging themselves out of bed to face a meal and early rehearsals. Here it seemed the dog trainers had been up since first sunrise, and the women gathered at the cook-stands scattered across the open grounds were buying the thick pease soup that served carters and farm workers as a mid-morning meal There were a good dozen broadsheet sellers as well, most hawking sheets that were tinted a pale new-leaf green. When he stopped to examine one, it proved to be a tip sheet, complete with certified horoscopes for the first week’s races. They were still some days off, but he bought one anyway, and took the opportunity to ask the way to Maewes DeVoss’s kennels.
She proved to have one of the larger buildings on the eas tern end of the New Fair, not far from the chute-like tracks that had been erected in the center of the Fair. Eslingen winced at the noise from the back, but the front courtyard was well-swept and a brightly-painted awning had been spread to shade most of the area. DeVoss herself was not entirely delighted by his presence, but Rathe’s name brought her to the courtyard gate, and Eslingen doffed his hat as he offered a quick explanation for his presence.
“ And here I’d hoped you had word on Jero,” DeVoss said.
“ That would be Rathe’s business. I’m sorry.” Eslingen couldn’t help wishing it was his right, that the Guard was formed and him a part of it: it was hard to be known as Rathe’s leman and yet have no place in the most important part of his life.
DeVoss waved away the apology. “I shouldn’t have expected it,” she said. “So you’ve got one of de Calior’s dogs? Which one?”
“ Sunflower,” Eslingen said. He felt a little foolish saying it, but to his surprise she nodded.
“ Nice little dog. Some potential there. So what do you want to do with him?”
“ I’d like to see him race,” Eslingen answered. “But that has to be this year. I can’t really afford to keep him in training for another year.”
“ I don’t race maidens,” DeVoss said. “But some of my assistants do. Besetje Naimi has space in her kennel right now, and so does Felis Tibeë. If you’ll bring the dog by, Lieutenant—tomorrow, say, at eleven o’clock?—they’ll look him over and see if either of them wants to take him on.” She paused. “They’ll expect you to stand them lunch for their pains, regardless.”
“ I’d be delighted,” Eslingen said
“ Meet them here, then,” DeVoss said. “And be sure and bring the dog.”
“ Absolutely,” Eslingen said, despite what he felt were reasonable qualms about walking through the city with a barking basket under his arm, and she turned away without another word.
Still, it was progress, he told himself as he started back across the larger fairgrounds. It was far less crowded than it had been at Mi dsummer, only the permanent arcades at each end of the area fully occupied along with a lunar dozen two-room booths that marched in a row down the center of the grounds. There was a forge at the far end, set a little apart from the other buildings for fear of fire, and he slowed as he saw the inlaid back-and-breast hung on a stand just inside the building. It looked like Leaguer work, the slightly pointed breast with brass scrollwork at hip and shoulder—Altheim or even Curtling, he thought, though he couldn’t see how the journey would pay. Unless a Leaguer smith had managed to pay the Guild fees, or marry into an Astreianter family?
He paused in the door, blinking at the heat and smoke that rolled off the open hearth. A heavyset youth was hauling rhythmically on the bellows-beam while a man and a woman rolled bar steel in the
The clock that capped the Venturers’ Hall was striking ten as Eslingen crossed into the New Fair. At this hour, Dreams was barely stirring, actors and musicians and dancers—and fencing masters, all too often—just dragging themselves out of bed to face a meal and early rehearsals. Here it seemed the dog trainers had been up since first sunrise, and the women gathered at the cook-stands scattered across the open grounds were buying the thick pease soup that served carters and farm workers as a mid-morning meal There were a good dozen broadsheet sellers as well, most hawking sheets that were tinted a pale new-leaf green. When he stopped to examine one, it proved to be a tip sheet, complete with certified horoscopes for the first week’s races. They were still some days off, but he bought one anyway, and took the opportunity to ask the way to Maewes DeVoss’s kennels.
She proved to have one of the larger buildings on the eas tern end of the New Fair, not far from the chute-like tracks that had been erected in the center of the Fair. Eslingen winced at the noise from the back, but the front courtyard was well-swept and a brightly-painted awning had been spread to shade most of the area. DeVoss herself was not entirely delighted by his presence, but Rathe’s name brought her to the courtyard gate, and Eslingen doffed his hat as he offered a quick explanation for his presence.
“ And here I’d hoped you had word on Jero,” DeVoss said.
“ That would be Rathe’s business. I’m sorry.” Eslingen couldn’t help wishing it was his right, that the Guard was formed and him a part of it: it was hard to be known as Rathe’s leman and yet have no place in the most important part of his life.
DeVoss waved away the apology. “I shouldn’t have expected it,” she said. “So you’ve got one of de Calior’s dogs? Which one?”
“ Sunflower,” Eslingen said. He felt a little foolish saying it, but to his surprise she nodded.
“ Nice little dog. Some potential there. So what do you want to do with him?”
“ I’d like to see him race,” Eslingen answered. “But that has to be this year. I can’t really afford to keep him in training for another year.”
“ I don’t race maidens,” DeVoss said. “But some of my assistants do. Besetje Naimi has space in her kennel right now, and so does Felis Tibeë. If you’ll bring the dog by, Lieutenant—tomorrow, say, at eleven o’clock?—they’ll look him over and see if either of them wants to take him on.” She paused. “They’ll expect you to stand them lunch for their pains, regardless.”
“ I’d be delighted,” Eslingen said
“ Meet them here, then,” DeVoss said. “And be sure and bring the dog.”
“ Absolutely,” Eslingen said, despite what he felt were reasonable qualms about walking through the city with a barking basket under his arm, and she turned away without another word.
Still, it was progress, he told himself as he started back across the larger fairgrounds. It was far less crowded than it had been at Mi dsummer, only the permanent arcades at each end of the area fully occupied along with a lunar dozen two-room booths that marched in a row down the center of the grounds. There was a forge at the far end, set a little apart from the other buildings for fear of fire, and he slowed as he saw the inlaid back-and-breast hung on a stand just inside the building. It looked like Leaguer work, the slightly pointed breast with brass scrollwork at hip and shoulder—Altheim or even Curtling, he thought, though he couldn’t see how the journey would pay. Unless a Leaguer smith had managed to pay the Guild fees, or marry into an Astreianter family?
He paused in the door, blinking at the heat and smoke that rolled off the open hearth. A heavyset youth was hauling rhythmically on the bellows-beam while a man and a woman rolled bar steel in the
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