through one and was opening the second when a man shouted, “Hey! You! What are you after, grubbing in the captain’s things? Get out of there!”
A servingman ran over to grab Kel’s arm. “You think you can steal whatever you like, is that it? Well - “
“Hold it, Noack,” someone interrupted. It was the burly Sergeant Osbern. “What’s this noise? They can hear you at the council tent.”
“He was in Captain Flyndan’s bags, and I’m not to squawk?” the man Noack demanded.
“Squire Keladry?” Osbern inquired. Kel nodded.
“Squire?” cried the testy Noack. “Squire or no - “
Osbern raised his eyebrows. Noack went silent and let go of Kel.
“I was told my lord’s wine service was here, and that I should bring it and the wine to the council tent,” Kel said evenly. “I didn’t know those were Captain Flyndan’s bags.”
“Who told you?” the sergeant inquired.
Obviously Lerant was having fun at her expense, but she would keep that to herself. “One of the men, Sergeant,” she replied. “I don’t know the names yet.”
Osbern pursed his lips. “Too bad, because I would have a thing or two to say to that man,” he told Kel, his voice dry. “It isn’t just the captain’s bags, Squire Keladry. My lord doesn’t drink spirits, and he doesn’t serve them. He says he had a problem as a young man, so he doesn’t care to have liquor about. Captain Flyndan likes a glass or two. He serves it in his tent, but only when my lord isn’t there. A water service will do today.”
Kel nodded and found the pitcher, tray, and cups in Raoul’s general supplies. The company mages had declared the town’s wells to be clean, with no sickness in them. Kel used the well nearest the gate to fill her cups and pitcher, then carefully took the whole into the council tent.
Its sides were raised to accommodate five centaurs, who stood with the humans around a large table on which maps had been placed. These were younger than Graystreak, and looked to be in their twenties and thirties, though with centaurs it was hard to tell. Their youth lasted for two centuries; like other immortals, they never aged past mature adulthood. Unless an immortal was killed by accident or in a fight, she or he might live forever.
There were four human newcomers in plain white shirts, brown tunics and trousers, and riding boots. They wore the emblem of the Queen’s Riders, a crimson horse rearing on a bronze-colored field, circled by a ring. One Rider wore a crimson ring around his badge, the sign of a Rider Group commander. Two wore a crimson ring with a thin black stripe in the middle: they were second in command. The Riders had a looser command structure and did not follow traditional military rankings.
The fourth Rider was a woman with golden brown skin and straight black hair. She was five inches shorter than Kel, with a short nose, firm mouth, and level black eyes. She was stocky and muscular. Her hair, braided tightly back from her face, framed high cheekbones and a square chin. The ring around her Rider insignia was gold.
Kel blinked, surprised. As she set cups before the guests, she eyed the Commander of the Queen’s Riders. Buriram Tourakom - Buri, as she was known - was as famed as Lord Raoul or the Lioness. She’d been made full commander during the Immortals War, when Queen Thayet, the previous commander, had seen she was too busy as queen to serve the force she had created. Buri had been Thayet’s guard before she was queen; she had been co-commander since the Riders’ creation, and had done most of the everyday work in the company. She was a ferocious fighter, armed or unarmed. No one tangled with her, given a choice. When Kel placed a cup before her, Buri murmured her thanks.
Once everyone was served, Kel stood at ease behind Raoul and listened. These centaurs, three females and two males, were very different from Graystreak. They were eager for the hunt and the fight to come.
The meeting ended late.
A servingman ran over to grab Kel’s arm. “You think you can steal whatever you like, is that it? Well - “
“Hold it, Noack,” someone interrupted. It was the burly Sergeant Osbern. “What’s this noise? They can hear you at the council tent.”
“He was in Captain Flyndan’s bags, and I’m not to squawk?” the man Noack demanded.
“Squire Keladry?” Osbern inquired. Kel nodded.
“Squire?” cried the testy Noack. “Squire or no - “
Osbern raised his eyebrows. Noack went silent and let go of Kel.
“I was told my lord’s wine service was here, and that I should bring it and the wine to the council tent,” Kel said evenly. “I didn’t know those were Captain Flyndan’s bags.”
“Who told you?” the sergeant inquired.
Obviously Lerant was having fun at her expense, but she would keep that to herself. “One of the men, Sergeant,” she replied. “I don’t know the names yet.”
Osbern pursed his lips. “Too bad, because I would have a thing or two to say to that man,” he told Kel, his voice dry. “It isn’t just the captain’s bags, Squire Keladry. My lord doesn’t drink spirits, and he doesn’t serve them. He says he had a problem as a young man, so he doesn’t care to have liquor about. Captain Flyndan likes a glass or two. He serves it in his tent, but only when my lord isn’t there. A water service will do today.”
Kel nodded and found the pitcher, tray, and cups in Raoul’s general supplies. The company mages had declared the town’s wells to be clean, with no sickness in them. Kel used the well nearest the gate to fill her cups and pitcher, then carefully took the whole into the council tent.
Its sides were raised to accommodate five centaurs, who stood with the humans around a large table on which maps had been placed. These were younger than Graystreak, and looked to be in their twenties and thirties, though with centaurs it was hard to tell. Their youth lasted for two centuries; like other immortals, they never aged past mature adulthood. Unless an immortal was killed by accident or in a fight, she or he might live forever.
There were four human newcomers in plain white shirts, brown tunics and trousers, and riding boots. They wore the emblem of the Queen’s Riders, a crimson horse rearing on a bronze-colored field, circled by a ring. One Rider wore a crimson ring around his badge, the sign of a Rider Group commander. Two wore a crimson ring with a thin black stripe in the middle: they were second in command. The Riders had a looser command structure and did not follow traditional military rankings.
The fourth Rider was a woman with golden brown skin and straight black hair. She was five inches shorter than Kel, with a short nose, firm mouth, and level black eyes. She was stocky and muscular. Her hair, braided tightly back from her face, framed high cheekbones and a square chin. The ring around her Rider insignia was gold.
Kel blinked, surprised. As she set cups before the guests, she eyed the Commander of the Queen’s Riders. Buriram Tourakom - Buri, as she was known - was as famed as Lord Raoul or the Lioness. She’d been made full commander during the Immortals War, when Queen Thayet, the previous commander, had seen she was too busy as queen to serve the force she had created. Buri had been Thayet’s guard before she was queen; she had been co-commander since the Riders’ creation, and had done most of the everyday work in the company. She was a ferocious fighter, armed or unarmed. No one tangled with her, given a choice. When Kel placed a cup before her, Buri murmured her thanks.
Once everyone was served, Kel stood at ease behind Raoul and listened. These centaurs, three females and two males, were very different from Graystreak. They were eager for the hunt and the fight to come.
The meeting ended late.
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