A Gift of Dragons (14 page)

Rosa shrugged. “It can for all of me but it’s going to interfere with running something fierce.”

“I noticed that the Benden Thread halts are all repaired,” Tenna said.

Spacia shrugged. “We’d be fools to take any chances, wouldn’t we?” Then she grimaced. “I’d really hate to be stuck in one of those boxes with Thread falling all around me. Why, the wardrobe in Silvina’s storeroom is larger. What if it got in a crack, Thread got in, and I couldn’t get out?” She pantomimed terror and revulsion.

“It’ll never come to that,” Rosa said confidently.

“Lord Groghe certainly got rid of all the greenery around the Hold,” Spacia remarked, gesturing around.

“That was as much for the Gather as because the dragonriders said he had to,” Rosa said dismissively. “Oh, here come the Boll runners. . . .” She jumped to her feet, waving at the spearhead of runners who had just appeared on the southern road.

They were running effortlessly, their legs moving as if they had drilled that matched stride. They certainly made a fine sight, Tenna thought, pride swelling in her chest and catching her breath.

“They must have started last night,” Rosa said. “Oh, d’you see Cleve, Spacia?”

“Third rank from the rear,” Spacia said pointing. “As if anyone could miss
him
!” she added in a slightly derisive tone, winking at Tenna. Then she murmured, behind her hand for Tenna’s ears only, “She’s been so sure he wouldn’t come . . . Ha!”

Tenna grinned, now understanding why Rosa had wanted to sit outside that morning and why she had sent Spacia in when they needed more klah.

Then, all of a sudden, as if the arrival of that contingent had been the signal, the Gather was ready. All stalls were up and furnished, the first shift of harpers on the platform and ready to entertain. Then Rosa pointed to the wide steps leading down from the entrance to the Hold and there were the Lord and Lady, looking exceedingly grand in brown Gather finery, descending to the court to formally open the Gather Square. They were accompanied by the dragonriders as well as a clutch of folk, young and old and all related to the Lord Holder. According to Rosa, Lord Groghe had a large family.

“Oh, let’s not miss the opening,” Spacia told Tenna. Rosa had accompanied Cleve into the station and was helping Penda serve the Boll group a second breakfast after their long run.

So the two girls had excellent seats to watch the two Lord Holders do the official walk through the Gather.

“There’s Haligon,” Spacia said, her tone hard, pointing.

“Which one?”

“He’s wearing brown,” Spacia said.

Tenna was none the wiser. “There are a lot of people wearing brown.”

“He’s walking just behind Lord Groghe.”

“So are a lot of other people.”

“He’s got the curliest head of hair,” Spacia added.

There were two who answered that description, but Tenna decided it was the shorter of the young men, the one who walked with a definite swagger. That had to be Haligon. He was handsome enough, though she liked the appearance of the taller man in brown more: not as attractive perhaps, but with a nicer grin on his face. Haligon obviously thought himself very much the lad, from the smug expression on
his
face.

Tenna nodded. She’d give him what-for, so she would.

“C’mon, we should change before the mob gets upstairs,” Spacia said, touching Tenna’s arm to get her attention.

Now that she had identified Haligon, Tenna was quite ready to be looking her very best. Spacia was also determined to assist and took pains with Tenna’s appearance, fluffing her hair so that it framed her face, helping her with lip color and a touch of eye shadow.

“Bring out the blue in ’em, though your eyes are really gray, aren’t they?”

“Depends on what I’m wearing.” Tenna gave a little twirl in front of the long mirror in the room, watching the bias-cut swirl around her ankles. As Spacia had suggested, the anklets took up the spare room in the toes of the borrowed boots. Nor did they look ungainly on the end of her legs as her long feet usually did. She was really quite pleased with her looks. And had to admit, with a degree of satisfaction, that she looked “pretty.”

Then Spacia stood beside her, the yellow of her gown an attractive contrast to Tenna’s deep blue.

“Oops, I’d better find you some spare runner cords or everyone’ll think you’re new in the Harper Hall.”

No spare cords were found, though Spacia turned out all the drawers.

“Maybe I should be Harper Hall,” Tenna said thoughtfully. “That way I can deal with Haligon as he deserves before he suspects.”

“Hmm, that might be the wiser idea, you know,” Spacia agreed.

Rosa came rushing in, pulling at her clothes in a rush to change.

“Need any help?” Spacia asked as Rosa pulled her pink, floral-printed Gather dress from its hanger.

“No, no but get down there and keep Felisha from Cleve. She’s determined to get him, you know. Waltzed right in before he’d finished eating and started hanging on his arm as if they were espoused.” Rosa’s voice was muffled as she pulled the dress over her head. They all heard a little tearing and Rosa cried out in protest, standing completely still, the dress half on. “Oh, no, no! What did I rip? What’ll I do? How bad is it? Can you see?”

While the seam had only parted a bit, and Spacia was threading a needle to make the repairs, Rosa was so disturbed at the thought of her rival that Tenna volunteered to go down.

“You know which one Cleve is?” Rosa asked anxiously, and Tenna nodded and left the room.

She identified Felisha before she did Cleve. The girl, with a mop of curly black tangles half covering her face, was flirting outrageously with the tall, lantern-jawed runner. He had an engaging smile, though a trifle absent, as he kept looking toward the stairs. Tenna chuckled to herself. Rosa needn’t worry. Cleve was obviously uncomfortable with Felisha’s coy looks and the way she kept tossing her hair over her shoulder, letting it flick into his face.

“Cleve?” she asked as she approached them. Felisha glared at her and gave her head a perceptible tilt to indicate to Tenna to move on.

“Yes?” Cleve moved a step closer to Tenna, and farther from Felisha, who then altered her stance to put her arm through his in a proprietary fashion that obviously annoyed Cleve.

“Rosa told me that you’d had a run-in with Haligon, too?”

“Yes, I did,” Cleve said, seizing on the subject and trying to disentangle himself. “Ran me down on the Boll trace six sevendays ago. Got a nasty sprain out of it. Rosa mentioned he pushed you into sticklebush and you had some mean slivers. Caught you on the hill curve, did he?”

Tenna turned up her hands to show the mottled sliver pricks still visible from that encounter.

“How terrible!” Felisha said insincerely. “That boy’s far too reckless.”

“Indeed,” Tenna said, not liking this girl at all, though she smiled amiably. Surely she was too heavyset to be a runner. Her mop of hair covered whatever Hall or Hold cords she might be wearing. Tenna turned to Cleve. “Spacia told me that you know a lot about the local leathers and I need new shoes.”

“Don’t they tan hides wherever you come from?” Felisha asked snidely.

“Station Ninety-Seven, isn’t it?” Cleve said, grinning. “Come, I’ve a mind to look for new leathers myself and the bigger the Gather the more chance at a good price, right?” He brushed free of Felisha and, taking Tenna by the arm, propelled her across to the door.

Tenna had a brief glance at the furious look on Felisha’s face as they made their escape.

“Thank
you
, Tenna,” Cleve said, exhaling with exaggeration as they strode across the court to the Gather Square. “That girl’s a menace.”

“Is she a Boll runner? She didn’t introduce herself.”

Cleve chuckled. “No, she’s Weaver Hall,” he said dismissively, “but my station runs messages for her Craftmaster.” He grimaced.

“Tenna?” Torlo called from the door, and they both stopped, allowing him to catch up with them.

“Anyone point out Haligon to you yet?” he asked.

“Yes, Rosa and Spacia did. He was behind the Lord Holder. I’ll have a word with him when we meet.”

“Good girl, good girl,” Torlo said, pressing her arm firmly in encouragement, and then he returned to the station.

“Will you?” Cleve asked, eyes wide with surprise.

“Will I what? Give him what-for? Indeed I will,” Tenna said, firming her mind with purpose. “A bit of what he gave me.”

“I thought it was sticklebushes you fell into?” Cleve asked, taking it all literally. “There’re none of those in a Square.”

“Measuring his length on a Gather floor will do nicely, I think,” she replied. It ought to be rather easy to trip someone up with such a crowd around. And she had committed herself rather publicly to giving this Haligon a visible lesson. Even Healer Beveny was helping her. She was obliged to act. She certainly didn’t wish to lose respect in the station. She took a deep breath. Would tripping him be sufficient? At least on the personal level. There’d still be the charge of reckless behavior leveled against him with the healer-verified proof of her injuries. These had certainly kept her from running for three days—loss of income.

“Oh!” she said, seeing the display for fabrics draped on the Weaver Hall booth: brilliant colors, and floral prints, as well as stripes in both bold and muted colors. She put her hands behind her back because the temptation to finger the cloth was almost irresistible.

Cleve wrinkled his nose. “That’s Felisha’s Hall’s stuff.”

“Oh, that red is amazing. . . .”

“Yeah, it’s a good Hall. . . .”

“In spite of her?” Tenna chuckled at his reluctant admission.

“Yes . . .” and he grinned ruefully.

They passed the Glasscraft display: mirrors with ornate frames and plain wood, goblets and drinking glasses in all shapes and colors, pitchers in all sizes.

Tenna caught a reflection and almost didn’t recognize herself except for that fact that there was Cleve beside her. She straightened her shoulders and smiled back at the unfamiliar girl in the glass.

The next stand was a large Tailor Hall display with finished goods in tempting array: dresses, shirts, trousers, and more intimate garments—enticing merchandise, to be sure, and this one was already packed out with buyers.

“What’s keeping Rosa?” Cleve asked, glancing back over his shoulder toward the station, which would be visible until they turned the corner.

“Well, she wanted to look extra nice for you,” Tenna said.

Cleve grinned. “She always looks nice.” And he blushed suddenly.

“She’s a very kind and thoughtful person,” Tenna said sincerely.

“Ah, here we are,” he said, pointing to the hides displayed at the stall on the corner of the square. “Though I think there are several stalls. Fort Gathers’re big enough to attract a lot of crafthalls. Let’s see what’s available everyplace. Are you good at haggling? If you’re not, we can leave it to Rosa. She’s very good. And they’d know she means business. You being unknown, they might think they could put one over on you.”

Tenna grinned slyly. “I plan to get the most for my mark, I assure you.”

“I shouldn’t teach you how to run traces, then, should I?” Cleve said with a tinge of rueful apology in his voice.

Tenna smiled back and began to saunter aimlessly past the leather stall. Just then Rosa caught up with them, giving Tenna a kiss as if they hadn’t parted company fifteen minutes before. Cleve threw one arm about Rosa’s shoulders and whispered in her ear, making her giggle. Other shoppers walked around the three, standing in the middle of the wide aisle. Tenna didn’t object to the chance to examine the leather goods without appearing to do so. The journeyman behind the counter pretended not to see her not looking at his wares. She was also trying to see if she could spot Haligon among those promenading about the Square.

By the time the three of them had done their first circuit of the Gather, it was almost impossible to move for the crowds. But a goodly crowd also added to the “Gather feeling,” and the trio of runners were exhilarated by the atmosphere. They spent so many hours in work that was solitary and time-consuming, often at hours when most other folk had finished their labors and were enjoying companionship and family life. True, they had the constant satisfaction of knowing that they provided an important service, but you didn’t think of that running through a chilling rain or battling against a fierce gale. You thought more of what you
didn’t
have and what you were missing.

Refreshment stalls displayed all kinds of drink and finger edibles. So, when they had finished their circuit, they bought food and drink and sat at the tables about the dance square.

“There he is!” Rosa said suddenly, pointing across the square to where a group of young men were surveying girls parading in their Gather finery. It was a custom to take a Gather partner, someone with whom to spend the occasion—which could include the day, the evening meal, the dancing, and whatever else was mutually decided. Everyone recognized the limitation and made sure that the details were arranged ahead of time so that there wouldn’t be a misunderstanding of intent.