Read Online Fortune and Fate (Twelve Houses) by Sharon Shinn - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Sharon Shinn
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called Fortune. It was probably dead center in the city but cut off from the noise, the traffic, and the odors by a high, twining hedgerow of some hardy, unfamiliar evergreen. Through the snaky weave of branches, which rose higher than her head, she could see a reinforcing line of solid metal. The wrought-iron fence was hidden by the plaited green and offered what was probably the real first line of defense for the House.
Wen pushed her face deeper into the living border. Here at the very trailing edge of spring, the needles were sparse and a little yellow, allowing Wen a chance to peer past them to see a large, rambling home of graceful proportions and weathered gray stone. She grinned to see the lintels and archways constructed of the same glittering black marble used on the other lord’s house. But here it looked elegant and perfectly suitable.
Wen sent her gaze around what she could see of the lawns and outbuildings. The grass was starting to preen with color, and the flower beds showed spots of yellow and lavender. A kitchen servant was hurrying up from some back path with buckets in her hands, so dairy cows were probably housed in those buildings that might be barns, and the kitchen was no doubt situated at the rear left of the house. Two soldiers slouched along the walkway that led from the main gate to the wide double doors that fronted the house.
Wen frowned. Only two guards in attendance? Hadn’t Jasper Paladar learned anything from the serramarra’s mishap?
She turned to the left and strolled along the perimeter, hoping to come across barracks and perhaps a training yard in the rear of the house. But the hedgerow grew thicker and more tangled the farther she progressed, and eventually the iron spikes were replaced by slats of hammered metal. She could no longer catch any glimpses of the yards surrounding Fortune.
Not that Wen cared anyway. The serramarra was no longer her concern, and the decisions of her guardian were of supreme uninterest. Wen would be on her way in the morning and have no cause to wonder about Karryn Fortunalt or Jasper Paladar again.
DAWN brought rain, gentle and steady, and Wen was tempted to stay in Forten City another day just to avoid the misery of traveling in wet weather. But choices like that would turn her soft, and she couldn’t afford to be soft. She made sure her saddlebags were tightly buckled, she buttoned her coat all the way to her throat, and she gamely set out into the unpleasant weather, just to prove she would.
She picked a southeasterly direction more or less at random and plodded along without any concerns about speed or efficiency. The rain eased off to a drizzle by noon and had actually stopped when she finally broke for a meal, though the road was heavy with mud. She was far from the only one stubborn enough to travel in bad weather, for she overtook three or four wagons on the way, and pulled aside for a handful of oncoming vehicles. Not too many other solitary riders were out this day, though, at least not that she’d encountered by the time the afternoon sun began tilting over toward evening.
She was on a lonely stretch of road where all the vegetation was low but tangled; even the trees were twisted and scrubby as if too tired to stand up against the constant wind. No doubt storms blew off the ocean fiercely enough at times to keep the trees small and the shrubbery bent close to the ground.
She rounded a curve and almost rode over a small, sobbing form sprawled in the middle of the road.
Cursing, she sawed back on the reins, causing the horse to rear and whinny, but at least the figure on the ground had time to roll out of the way of the thrashing hooves. It took Wen a moment to calm the gelding, but when she was free to look around, the person who had caused all the trouble was standing at the side of the road, watching her.
He was a child, maybe ten years
Wen pushed her face deeper into the living border. Here at the very trailing edge of spring, the needles were sparse and a little yellow, allowing Wen a chance to peer past them to see a large, rambling home of graceful proportions and weathered gray stone. She grinned to see the lintels and archways constructed of the same glittering black marble used on the other lord’s house. But here it looked elegant and perfectly suitable.
Wen sent her gaze around what she could see of the lawns and outbuildings. The grass was starting to preen with color, and the flower beds showed spots of yellow and lavender. A kitchen servant was hurrying up from some back path with buckets in her hands, so dairy cows were probably housed in those buildings that might be barns, and the kitchen was no doubt situated at the rear left of the house. Two soldiers slouched along the walkway that led from the main gate to the wide double doors that fronted the house.
Wen frowned. Only two guards in attendance? Hadn’t Jasper Paladar learned anything from the serramarra’s mishap?
She turned to the left and strolled along the perimeter, hoping to come across barracks and perhaps a training yard in the rear of the house. But the hedgerow grew thicker and more tangled the farther she progressed, and eventually the iron spikes were replaced by slats of hammered metal. She could no longer catch any glimpses of the yards surrounding Fortune.
Not that Wen cared anyway. The serramarra was no longer her concern, and the decisions of her guardian were of supreme uninterest. Wen would be on her way in the morning and have no cause to wonder about Karryn Fortunalt or Jasper Paladar again.
DAWN brought rain, gentle and steady, and Wen was tempted to stay in Forten City another day just to avoid the misery of traveling in wet weather. But choices like that would turn her soft, and she couldn’t afford to be soft. She made sure her saddlebags were tightly buckled, she buttoned her coat all the way to her throat, and she gamely set out into the unpleasant weather, just to prove she would.
She picked a southeasterly direction more or less at random and plodded along without any concerns about speed or efficiency. The rain eased off to a drizzle by noon and had actually stopped when she finally broke for a meal, though the road was heavy with mud. She was far from the only one stubborn enough to travel in bad weather, for she overtook three or four wagons on the way, and pulled aside for a handful of oncoming vehicles. Not too many other solitary riders were out this day, though, at least not that she’d encountered by the time the afternoon sun began tilting over toward evening.
She was on a lonely stretch of road where all the vegetation was low but tangled; even the trees were twisted and scrubby as if too tired to stand up against the constant wind. No doubt storms blew off the ocean fiercely enough at times to keep the trees small and the shrubbery bent close to the ground.
She rounded a curve and almost rode over a small, sobbing form sprawled in the middle of the road.
Cursing, she sawed back on the reins, causing the horse to rear and whinny, but at least the figure on the ground had time to roll out of the way of the thrashing hooves. It took Wen a moment to calm the gelding, but when she was free to look around, the person who had caused all the trouble was standing at the side of the road, watching her.
He was a child, maybe ten years
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