Read Online Son of the Hero by Rick Shelley - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Rick Shelley
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isn’t a blanket. There are gaps all around, some natural, more made by folks who need space to plant their beans and taters. Peasants can’t wait for strangers to send them food from someplace else.”
Our ride was no mad gallop. We let the horses stick to a fast walk most of the time, a gait that would allow them to keep going for the five or six days we might need to get to Thyme and back. During the hottest part of the first day, we stopped to rest the animals and get ourselves out of the sun for a few minutes every hour or so. We had a long way to go. When we talked, it wasn’t about Castle Thyme or what might have happened to my parents. I couldn’t fully accept the danger yet, not on a gut level. We talked about Varay and Fairy, and about ourselves. Mostly, I listened and let the others talk. I was the new kid on the block and I had a lot to learn.
“Tell me about yourself, Lesh,” I said, early in the ride.
“What’s to tell, lord? I’m a soldier. I’ve always been a soldier.”
“Where were you raised? What was it like at home? Even a soldier has a history.”
“I was born in County Gemma, somewhat south of Castle Thyme. My folks farmed a small clay patch. Of six children, only four of us made it out of the cradle. I worked on the farm until I was old enough to join the King’s Guard. I’ve been a soldier ever since, nigh on thirty years. Like I said, what’s to tell?”
I looked back at him: a bored face, uncomfortable talking about himself.
“Are you married? Do you have children of your own?”
He shrugged. “I’ve never been married formal-like. As to brats, who can tell?”
The willows and birches that flanked a creek alongside the path gave way to oaks, chestnuts, and firs. The air cooled a little in the shade.
“Do you know Castle Thyme?” I asked.
“I’ve been there, lord,” Lesh admitted. “It’s not much of a castle, not nearly so grand or strong as Castle Basil. Thyme is little more than a single tower with a puny curtain wall behind a dry ditch.”
“Not much to the eye but important,” Parthet contributed. “It has been fought over so often that the magics around it are quite unpredictable.”
“Let’s leave that till tomorrow,” I suggested. I didn’t want to cram my head full of porcupines yet. Magic . So far, all I had seen was the doorways, and while I couldn’t explain them logically, that didn’t mean that there was no logical explanation—something out of science fiction maybe, something like folded space.
“How far have we traveled?” Timon asked when we took our first break. The boy was dressed in forest green, in an outfit that looked as though it had been handed down several times. He wore a long dagger on his belt. Timon was skinny but nearly as tall as Parthet. The boy’s voice was still childish, high-pitched. His hair was lopped off simply at the sides and back.
“About seven miles,” Parthet said.
“I’ve never been this far before.” Timon didn’t seem nearly as awed by being assigned to serve the heir of Varay as he was at being seven miles from home.
“And what’s your life been like, Timon?” I asked. I was sitting on the ground, leaning back against a cedar, trying to put my weight on parts of my butt that the saddle hadn’t chafed. A difficult quest.
“My mam works in the kitchen at the castle. I’ve been scrubbing pots as far back as I know.”
“You get any schooling?”
“I can read a little, and write my name,” Timon said proudly.
“Education is a practical matter here,” Parthet said. “Children learn what they need to know by doing it, by apprenticeship and imitation.”
“No need to sound so defensive, Uncle,” I said, not even glancing his way. “I wasn’t going to criticize. It’s a good way to learn practical affairs. As long as you’re not building computers or H-bombs.”
“We have no need of those things here,” Parthet said.
“No H-bombs?” No kidding, I thought. “That may be
Our ride was no mad gallop. We let the horses stick to a fast walk most of the time, a gait that would allow them to keep going for the five or six days we might need to get to Thyme and back. During the hottest part of the first day, we stopped to rest the animals and get ourselves out of the sun for a few minutes every hour or so. We had a long way to go. When we talked, it wasn’t about Castle Thyme or what might have happened to my parents. I couldn’t fully accept the danger yet, not on a gut level. We talked about Varay and Fairy, and about ourselves. Mostly, I listened and let the others talk. I was the new kid on the block and I had a lot to learn.
“Tell me about yourself, Lesh,” I said, early in the ride.
“What’s to tell, lord? I’m a soldier. I’ve always been a soldier.”
“Where were you raised? What was it like at home? Even a soldier has a history.”
“I was born in County Gemma, somewhat south of Castle Thyme. My folks farmed a small clay patch. Of six children, only four of us made it out of the cradle. I worked on the farm until I was old enough to join the King’s Guard. I’ve been a soldier ever since, nigh on thirty years. Like I said, what’s to tell?”
I looked back at him: a bored face, uncomfortable talking about himself.
“Are you married? Do you have children of your own?”
He shrugged. “I’ve never been married formal-like. As to brats, who can tell?”
The willows and birches that flanked a creek alongside the path gave way to oaks, chestnuts, and firs. The air cooled a little in the shade.
“Do you know Castle Thyme?” I asked.
“I’ve been there, lord,” Lesh admitted. “It’s not much of a castle, not nearly so grand or strong as Castle Basil. Thyme is little more than a single tower with a puny curtain wall behind a dry ditch.”
“Not much to the eye but important,” Parthet contributed. “It has been fought over so often that the magics around it are quite unpredictable.”
“Let’s leave that till tomorrow,” I suggested. I didn’t want to cram my head full of porcupines yet. Magic . So far, all I had seen was the doorways, and while I couldn’t explain them logically, that didn’t mean that there was no logical explanation—something out of science fiction maybe, something like folded space.
“How far have we traveled?” Timon asked when we took our first break. The boy was dressed in forest green, in an outfit that looked as though it had been handed down several times. He wore a long dagger on his belt. Timon was skinny but nearly as tall as Parthet. The boy’s voice was still childish, high-pitched. His hair was lopped off simply at the sides and back.
“About seven miles,” Parthet said.
“I’ve never been this far before.” Timon didn’t seem nearly as awed by being assigned to serve the heir of Varay as he was at being seven miles from home.
“And what’s your life been like, Timon?” I asked. I was sitting on the ground, leaning back against a cedar, trying to put my weight on parts of my butt that the saddle hadn’t chafed. A difficult quest.
“My mam works in the kitchen at the castle. I’ve been scrubbing pots as far back as I know.”
“You get any schooling?”
“I can read a little, and write my name,” Timon said proudly.
“Education is a practical matter here,” Parthet said. “Children learn what they need to know by doing it, by apprenticeship and imitation.”
“No need to sound so defensive, Uncle,” I said, not even glancing his way. “I wasn’t going to criticize. It’s a good way to learn practical affairs. As long as you’re not building computers or H-bombs.”
“We have no need of those things here,” Parthet said.
“No H-bombs?” No kidding, I thought. “That may be
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