 |
e should have set off an hour ago,” Morisedd grumbled.
Uriel rolled her eyes at the lanky ranger.
“I told you once and I’m telling you again, we wait for Lem,” she said peevishly, “No Lem, no go.”
He rubbed the subtle of his chin with his left hand and his gray eyes narrowed with annoyance. It was a mannerism she had learned was a precursor to one of his silent sulks and this morning she was in no mood to console him.
“We could be there before nightfall if she wouldn’t drag her feet,” he retorted.
“Sulk away, nature boy,” she thought angrily.
She waited for him to begin unstringing his bow, which happened, on cue, approximately five minutes later. And when Lem finally showed up, he would make a point of re-stringing it angrily to show just how put out he was by being made to wait.
Piken Square was quiet at this hour. The reek of campfires stung her nostrils and made her eyes water, which was odd given her predilection for fire. She gazed at the tents that lined the edge of the open plaza. A sudden movement drew her sharp eyes and she strained to discern its source. A lone figure emerged from the blasted wilderness, rat-like as he slinked through the gate, barely causing the guards who stood there to take note. She watched his progress as he pressed against the wall, his humble ragged garb nearly blending in with the dun colored stone. The figure stopped for a moment, surveying the square surreptitiously, his shadowed face unreadable from her vantage. He scuttled purposefully toward a merchant’s table and effortlessly palmed a choice slab of smoked pork with a supple twitch of a purple gloved hand. The merchant continued to lay out provisions for the morning’s market unaware of his loss.
“Good morning!” sang out Lem’s musical voice. Uriel turned to regard the little monk, as ever greeted by steepled palms and a shallow nod, “Sorry about the delay.”
“Good morning to you as well,” Uriel replied, aware that Morisedd even now stood behind her straining ferociously to restring his bow with a violent and demonstrative grunt. Lem was either completely oblivious or chose to ignore the ranger’s outburst for she smiled sweetly, her childish features emphasized by her shorn scalp. Uriel glanced toward the thief, but he had vanished.
“Do we have everything we need for the trip?” Uriel asked before Morisedd could comment upon Lem’s tardiness.
“Yes, I’ve done my morning prayers. Thank you for waiting so I could do them at my accustomed time.”
“It pays to wait for a talented healer,” Uriel said pointedly as she glared at Morisedd. He grunted a greeting at the monk.
“We could use a fourth,” he muttered, “It’s a long way to Yak’s Bend.”
“And it so happens, that is where I am bound,” said a warm voice.
The three of them turned to look upon the intruder. He was tall and well proportioned and put Uriel in mind of a fine chestnut stallion. He was neither too muscular nor too lightly boned, but sleek, fiery and angular. He wore a black velvet jacket adorned with carved jet buttons and edged with rich swathes of Canthan brocade. His boots were of ebon suede folded over to reveal purple silk stockings that peered alluringly through his form-fitting breeches. She noted his gloves were a matching shade of purple as he extended a hand of greeting to Uriel.
She reached out to receive his hand and clasp it but stiffened as he instead gazed demurely up into her face with his stormy green eyes and kissed it lightly. The thin line of his mustache emphasized his perfect mouth. Blushing like a foolish girl, she suppressed her sudden urge to giggle and merely nodded, retracting her hand. He was a charmer, and a thief. Precisely the kind of man she needed.
“Pendaran Caradec at your service, my Lady,” he said, proffering a low courtly bow. His mink-lined traveling cloak drifted aside in a sable wave. Its deep red highlights perfectly matched his well-manicured hair.
“Uriel Ninnocha,” she replied and she turned to introduce the others to him. Morisedd frowned, his coarse, weathered features made all the more dull in the presence of Pendaran’s princely figure.
“Sister Lem,” Pendaran said sweetly as he kissed the young monk’s hand, “What a pretty name. Is it short for something?”
“Lemony,” she croaked, her face flushed red. Oh, he was smooth, Uriel observed, for he smiled as if her name were the most beautiful thing he had ever encountered and not a source of humor or derision as it so often was. A lesser man would have joked about the color of the monk’s dull attire, that perhaps she might dye it yellow to match her name. Thankfully, Lem was allowed to retain her dignity and was completely taken in by Pendaran’s charade.
Lem was a little gullible despite being in her late twenties. That went with the territory. A gentle heart and a loving demeanor were the hallmarks of a good healer. Uriel just hoped she got what she needed from Pendaran before he could do harm to her friend.
“Well then, welcome to our little expedition. Just do as Morisedd, our wise and experienced trailblazer asks and we’ll get there unscathed,” Uriel said into the awkward silence. The ranger preened under her praise and nocked an arrow, motioning them toward the gate.
“I most assuredly will,” Pendaran crooned.
Uriel smiled crookedly to herself as he walked beside her. What a catch. What a perfectly marvelous catch.
<< Previous Next >>
|
