Read Online Rosemary Kirstein - Steerswoman 04 by The Language of Power - Free Book Online
Authors: The Language of Power
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he pantomimed an immense arrow shaft
piercing his breast. He fell back, to lie on the ground with eyes closed and
arms spread, a beatific smile on his face. Laughter all around, but for Rowan,
who watched the performance, perplexed.
“Lowry’s dead!” the boy cried, overcome with giggles; “He’s
in love,” the girl corrected, in mock-seriousness. Playing along, she knelt by
the old man’s head, leaned her ear near his mouth. Theatrically, old Lowry
breathed, as if it were his last breath: “Latitia …”
“Actually,” Rowan said, bemused, “yes.”
Lowry broke his pose, reached up to tousle the girl’s hair,
then used her shoulder to pull himself up again.
Rowan said: “May I assume that you were lovers?”
“Oh, no!” Astonishment. “Ah, if only that were true, but no,
no. She wouldn’t look at me twice, me such a scrawny little man and her so …”
He sighed ostentatiously. “… magnificent.”
“Really?” Rowan was delighted. “What was she like?”
“Tall, tall, and slim as a willow wand. Skin so dark that
blue light seemed to shine off it. She moved lovely, regal, long graceful steps
with her head held high, like a princess from some strange land. And eyes like
cool stars in the night sky …”
“Oh, my,” Rowan said. “And did you ever speak to this veritable
paragon of beauty?”
He threw his head back and laughed. “Constantly! What a pest
I was! Ah, but she was a steerswoman, and all I had to do was ask, and she had
to answer. Oh, I asked and asked …”
“Did she ever mention what brought her to Donner?”
“Well, steerswomen travel. I don’t think I ever asked her
that one. Mostly, lady, I just asked to hear the sound of her voice. Never paid
much attention to what she was saying …” His voice trailed off; the
self-mocking air faded; he acquired a contemplative look.
Interested, Rowan waited, and when Lowry looked at her
again, it was with a tinge of speculation. “Might have been that wizard.”
Rowan could not help leaning forward eagerly. “Do you know
that for a fact, or are you reasoning it?”
“A little of both, maybe. She was mad at him, I knew that.”
“Really?” This was unexpected. “Why?”
“For dying. That’s how she said it. She was angry,
underneath, the whole time she was here, and I couldn’t help noticing it. So I
asked her straight out: Tell me, lady, what’s made you so angry? And she
said: Kieran. And I asked: What did he do? And she told me, He
died too soon.” He thought long, and hard, and Rowan waited; but at the end
of his thoughts, he only shook his head. “If the conversation went on from
there, lady, I don’t know what was said. It’s a long time ago, and really, I
was just listening to her voice.”
Rowan said: “Something about Kieran brought her to Donner.”
His gaze became sharper. “And it’s brought you, too, hasn’t
it?”
She sighed. “Yes. But I have no idea what, or why.”
Returning from the orchard, Rowan caught sight of a pair of
figures standing on a bridge that crossed one of the many streams flowing down
from the hills. Even from so great a distance, Rowan easily recognized Bel and
Dan. The two seemed to be conversing idly, but Bel had arranged it so that she
was facing the orchard.
From Rowan’s vantage on the low hill, she could see quite a
distance across the flat land: down toward the stream, across northeast to
where Greyriver curved around the city. In the fields and in the visible
streets, there was no sign of either the beggar or the stout gray woman.
The steerswoman continued down into the city.
The owner of the next name on Rowan’s list was not at home,
the house shuttered and apparently abandoned. Instead of proceeding directly to
the next address, Rowan rambled, in a widening circle, turning left and right
in the close streets, occasionally pausing just past corners to glance back.
Neither of her suspected followers was present, but eventually Bel and Dan
appeared in
piercing his breast. He fell back, to lie on the ground with eyes closed and
arms spread, a beatific smile on his face. Laughter all around, but for Rowan,
who watched the performance, perplexed.
“Lowry’s dead!” the boy cried, overcome with giggles; “He’s
in love,” the girl corrected, in mock-seriousness. Playing along, she knelt by
the old man’s head, leaned her ear near his mouth. Theatrically, old Lowry
breathed, as if it were his last breath: “Latitia …”
“Actually,” Rowan said, bemused, “yes.”
Lowry broke his pose, reached up to tousle the girl’s hair,
then used her shoulder to pull himself up again.
Rowan said: “May I assume that you were lovers?”
“Oh, no!” Astonishment. “Ah, if only that were true, but no,
no. She wouldn’t look at me twice, me such a scrawny little man and her so …”
He sighed ostentatiously. “… magnificent.”
“Really?” Rowan was delighted. “What was she like?”
“Tall, tall, and slim as a willow wand. Skin so dark that
blue light seemed to shine off it. She moved lovely, regal, long graceful steps
with her head held high, like a princess from some strange land. And eyes like
cool stars in the night sky …”
“Oh, my,” Rowan said. “And did you ever speak to this veritable
paragon of beauty?”
He threw his head back and laughed. “Constantly! What a pest
I was! Ah, but she was a steerswoman, and all I had to do was ask, and she had
to answer. Oh, I asked and asked …”
“Did she ever mention what brought her to Donner?”
“Well, steerswomen travel. I don’t think I ever asked her
that one. Mostly, lady, I just asked to hear the sound of her voice. Never paid
much attention to what she was saying …” His voice trailed off; the
self-mocking air faded; he acquired a contemplative look.
Interested, Rowan waited, and when Lowry looked at her
again, it was with a tinge of speculation. “Might have been that wizard.”
Rowan could not help leaning forward eagerly. “Do you know
that for a fact, or are you reasoning it?”
“A little of both, maybe. She was mad at him, I knew that.”
“Really?” This was unexpected. “Why?”
“For dying. That’s how she said it. She was angry,
underneath, the whole time she was here, and I couldn’t help noticing it. So I
asked her straight out: Tell me, lady, what’s made you so angry? And she
said: Kieran. And I asked: What did he do? And she told me, He
died too soon.” He thought long, and hard, and Rowan waited; but at the end
of his thoughts, he only shook his head. “If the conversation went on from
there, lady, I don’t know what was said. It’s a long time ago, and really, I
was just listening to her voice.”
Rowan said: “Something about Kieran brought her to Donner.”
His gaze became sharper. “And it’s brought you, too, hasn’t
it?”
She sighed. “Yes. But I have no idea what, or why.”
Returning from the orchard, Rowan caught sight of a pair of
figures standing on a bridge that crossed one of the many streams flowing down
from the hills. Even from so great a distance, Rowan easily recognized Bel and
Dan. The two seemed to be conversing idly, but Bel had arranged it so that she
was facing the orchard.
From Rowan’s vantage on the low hill, she could see quite a
distance across the flat land: down toward the stream, across northeast to
where Greyriver curved around the city. In the fields and in the visible
streets, there was no sign of either the beggar or the stout gray woman.
The steerswoman continued down into the city.
The owner of the next name on Rowan’s list was not at home,
the house shuttered and apparently abandoned. Instead of proceeding directly to
the next address, Rowan rambled, in a widening circle, turning left and right
in the close streets, occasionally pausing just past corners to glance back.
Neither of her suspected followers was present, but eventually Bel and Dan
appeared in
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