Read Online Kirith Kirin (The City Behind the Stars) by Jim Grimsley - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Jim Grimsley
Tags: Fantasy
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“Everything seems good tonight, even Karsten’s sarcasm. We can’t stay here long, you’ve caused a fuss. Will you ride with me on Keikindavii, Jessex?”
Maybe it was only that he said my name, that made me trust him. Though, more likely, it was simply his charm, something that everyone felt. We walked to his horse. Kirith Kirin saw that I was shivering and wrapped his cloak around me. “How can you be cold in Cunuduerum perpetual summer?”
“It doesn’t feel like spring to me,” I said, and he watched me carefully again and mounted Keikindavii, Nixva’s father, who greeted me grandly. Kirith Kirin drew me up behind him.
“Hold on to me. You’ll soon be warm.”
I hugged his waist. The warmth of his body was wonderful. He paused a moment before he turned the horse to cross the courtyard. “I must have dreamed of seeing the city this way a thousand times,” he said, “and here it is at last.” We rode to meet his soldiers who awaited him with patient torches burning.
4
That ride through darkness was more dreamlike than the walk through the city. His outriders led us quickly, with torches, across the bridge to camp. The woman he had called Karsten rode close to us. I watched her through the folds of the cloak, noting the strength of her long brown legs, the power of her arms, the beauty of her face framed in shining white hair. There were many riders round her and behind her, and she shouted commands to them, beautiful syllables like singing. In their company, my fear of the dream vanished.
I could hear Prince Imral’s voice along with my uncle’s in the crowd of riders but I could not see them. Keikindavii started neighing long before we reached the clearing where long ago I had helped make camp. The voice that greeted him was one I knew. Prince Kirith felt me squirm against him and half turned. “Do you hear Nixva? He knows his father is coming. He’s wondering about you too, if you can credit it.”
I could, remembering Nixva’s gray eyes from the morning we rode into Arthen. I settled against Kirith Kirin again, brief last moments of warmth before we rode onto the lawn where the cook fire was burning.
We dismounted by a smaller fire close to the river. Kirith Kirin helped me down and kept me by him, not yet claiming his cloak. When his riders assembled he had his Marshal of the Ordinary, a woman named Gaelex, assign them to posts. He wanted a watch kept while we were near Cunuduerum, and sentries. He wanted his own tent pitched wherever Imral was. The soldiers were to be fed even if they had already eaten and anybody who wanted wine was to get it, to the last cup if necessary. He said this in a jovial way. He dismissed his retinue soon after, and turned to his friends. When I started to find Uncle Sivisal Kirith Kirin held me back and said, “Not yet. Wait.”
I stood awkwardly, trying to hold up his cloak and look dignified. In the fire shadows I glimpsed Uncle Sivisal, walking toward the cook fire scowling at me. He bowed to Kirith Kirin, who greeted him by name. “We found your nephew,” he said, “so wipe that look off your face.”
Uncle Sivisal glanced at me, a warning and a question. “Sir, I’m sorry, I don’t know what got into him —”
“He wanted to see the city,” Kirith Kirin shrugged. “Who wouldn’t, being so close?”
Said in this way, as if I were simply a curious tourist, the remark brought laughter. No one, it seemed, ever had such thought about this place. Lady Karsten added, “At least we know your nephew’s no coward, Sivisal. We found him near the High Place. He was singing.”
This time Sivisal gave me a look with some pride in it. “Well, he’s a sturdy boy, sir. If we can get him back to camp without any more adventure, I expect he’ll get by all right.”
That was that, it seemed. Kirith Kirin’s servant took his cloak. Uncle Sivisal led me back to our fire — with the new arrivals,
Maybe it was only that he said my name, that made me trust him. Though, more likely, it was simply his charm, something that everyone felt. We walked to his horse. Kirith Kirin saw that I was shivering and wrapped his cloak around me. “How can you be cold in Cunuduerum perpetual summer?”
“It doesn’t feel like spring to me,” I said, and he watched me carefully again and mounted Keikindavii, Nixva’s father, who greeted me grandly. Kirith Kirin drew me up behind him.
“Hold on to me. You’ll soon be warm.”
I hugged his waist. The warmth of his body was wonderful. He paused a moment before he turned the horse to cross the courtyard. “I must have dreamed of seeing the city this way a thousand times,” he said, “and here it is at last.” We rode to meet his soldiers who awaited him with patient torches burning.
4
That ride through darkness was more dreamlike than the walk through the city. His outriders led us quickly, with torches, across the bridge to camp. The woman he had called Karsten rode close to us. I watched her through the folds of the cloak, noting the strength of her long brown legs, the power of her arms, the beauty of her face framed in shining white hair. There were many riders round her and behind her, and she shouted commands to them, beautiful syllables like singing. In their company, my fear of the dream vanished.
I could hear Prince Imral’s voice along with my uncle’s in the crowd of riders but I could not see them. Keikindavii started neighing long before we reached the clearing where long ago I had helped make camp. The voice that greeted him was one I knew. Prince Kirith felt me squirm against him and half turned. “Do you hear Nixva? He knows his father is coming. He’s wondering about you too, if you can credit it.”
I could, remembering Nixva’s gray eyes from the morning we rode into Arthen. I settled against Kirith Kirin again, brief last moments of warmth before we rode onto the lawn where the cook fire was burning.
We dismounted by a smaller fire close to the river. Kirith Kirin helped me down and kept me by him, not yet claiming his cloak. When his riders assembled he had his Marshal of the Ordinary, a woman named Gaelex, assign them to posts. He wanted a watch kept while we were near Cunuduerum, and sentries. He wanted his own tent pitched wherever Imral was. The soldiers were to be fed even if they had already eaten and anybody who wanted wine was to get it, to the last cup if necessary. He said this in a jovial way. He dismissed his retinue soon after, and turned to his friends. When I started to find Uncle Sivisal Kirith Kirin held me back and said, “Not yet. Wait.”
I stood awkwardly, trying to hold up his cloak and look dignified. In the fire shadows I glimpsed Uncle Sivisal, walking toward the cook fire scowling at me. He bowed to Kirith Kirin, who greeted him by name. “We found your nephew,” he said, “so wipe that look off your face.”
Uncle Sivisal glanced at me, a warning and a question. “Sir, I’m sorry, I don’t know what got into him —”
“He wanted to see the city,” Kirith Kirin shrugged. “Who wouldn’t, being so close?”
Said in this way, as if I were simply a curious tourist, the remark brought laughter. No one, it seemed, ever had such thought about this place. Lady Karsten added, “At least we know your nephew’s no coward, Sivisal. We found him near the High Place. He was singing.”
This time Sivisal gave me a look with some pride in it. “Well, he’s a sturdy boy, sir. If we can get him back to camp without any more adventure, I expect he’ll get by all right.”
That was that, it seemed. Kirith Kirin’s servant took his cloak. Uncle Sivisal led me back to our fire — with the new arrivals,
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