rights, and I worked out the strategy going to and fro, planning all that I would do if I had the right to meddle in Ruathan affairs. A harmless enough pastime, to be sure.
The drums had begun midmorning, telling us what quantities were needed and which dragonriders would collect what amounts. Alessan explained that the quantities had to be listed accurately, but he really couldn’t spare Tuero to listen to drum codes.
“Then have Rill do it,” Desdra said bluntly.
“Can you understand drum messages, Rill?” Alessan asked, somewhat surprised. I had been taken so unaware that I couldn’t answer. I had even begun to think that Desdra had not recognized Tolocamp’s daughter in grimy, sweaty, short-haired Rill.
“And probably the codes as well, isn’t that right, Rill?” Desdra was quite ruthless, but at least she did not explain to anyone how she knew so much about my unmentioned skills. “She can fill serum bottles between messages. She needs a bit of sit-down time. She’s been going full pelt for some days now.”
I took that to mean that Desdra approved of my labors here and at the internment camp and was permitting me my whimsy. Fortunately, not even Alessan questioned how a drudge who had risen to volunteer healer understood such arcane matters. But I was indeed grateful for the chance to sit down. How Alessan kept up his level of energy, I do not know. I could see why Suriana had admired as well as adored him. He deserved respect, and he had mine for new reasons at every turn. I could also perceive that he was driven. Somehow, despite all the brutal odds against him, Alessan was going to restore Ruatha Hold, repeople its vacant holds, restock its empty fields. I wanted to stay on here, and help him.
I was also discovering that once back in a formal Hall, I automatically assumed familiar responsibilities, such as ordering drudges to tasks or explaining how to do a job more efficiently. Fortunately, no one questioned my right to do so when it was all in the best interest of the work at hand.
Despite a deceptively frail appearance, Oklina worked as hard as her brother, but the sheer press of her obligations appalled me, who had always had sisters to ease burdens. Whenever I could, I lent her a hand. She wasn’t a pretty girl, which the uncharitable might say was one reason I related to her so easily, for the dark complexion and strong features that became a man suited her no better than my family resemblance suited me. But she was an exceptionally graceful young woman, with a charming smile and great, dark, expressive eyes in which lurked a sort of secret bemusement. I often caught her gazing toward the northwest and wondered if she had fallen in love with some young man. She would make an excellent holder’s wife, young though she was, and I devoutly hoped that Alessan would not require her to remain at Ruatha, but would settle her with a kind and generous man. Ruatha might be poverty-stricken now, but the prestige of the Bloodline was still undisputed. Nor would this altruistic labor on the serum, so willingly undertaken by Alessan and Oklina, reduce them in the estimation of their peers.
And so we worked on, turning from one urgent and necessary task to another, ladling a quick cup of soup from the pot simmering on the main hearth, or chewing from a hunk of fresh bread in a free hand and a spare moment. From somewhere, fresh fruit had appeared—one of the dragonriders was dropping off supplies. Why ripe melon slices would cause Oklina’s eyes to tear, I could not then fathom. I doubted that she was so moved by the thoughtfulness behind the gift. Then I noticed that Alessan regarded the fruit with a soft smile of reminiscence, but he was off to work again so quickly, bread in one hand, the melon slice in the other, that I could have been wrong. Then another message came in, and I had to listen to record the message accurately.
Time had lost all order in the press of work. On my third day at
The drums had begun midmorning, telling us what quantities were needed and which dragonriders would collect what amounts. Alessan explained that the quantities had to be listed accurately, but he really couldn’t spare Tuero to listen to drum codes.
“Then have Rill do it,” Desdra said bluntly.
“Can you understand drum messages, Rill?” Alessan asked, somewhat surprised. I had been taken so unaware that I couldn’t answer. I had even begun to think that Desdra had not recognized Tolocamp’s daughter in grimy, sweaty, short-haired Rill.
“And probably the codes as well, isn’t that right, Rill?” Desdra was quite ruthless, but at least she did not explain to anyone how she knew so much about my unmentioned skills. “She can fill serum bottles between messages. She needs a bit of sit-down time. She’s been going full pelt for some days now.”
I took that to mean that Desdra approved of my labors here and at the internment camp and was permitting me my whimsy. Fortunately, not even Alessan questioned how a drudge who had risen to volunteer healer understood such arcane matters. But I was indeed grateful for the chance to sit down. How Alessan kept up his level of energy, I do not know. I could see why Suriana had admired as well as adored him. He deserved respect, and he had mine for new reasons at every turn. I could also perceive that he was driven. Somehow, despite all the brutal odds against him, Alessan was going to restore Ruatha Hold, repeople its vacant holds, restock its empty fields. I wanted to stay on here, and help him.
I was also discovering that once back in a formal Hall, I automatically assumed familiar responsibilities, such as ordering drudges to tasks or explaining how to do a job more efficiently. Fortunately, no one questioned my right to do so when it was all in the best interest of the work at hand.
Despite a deceptively frail appearance, Oklina worked as hard as her brother, but the sheer press of her obligations appalled me, who had always had sisters to ease burdens. Whenever I could, I lent her a hand. She wasn’t a pretty girl, which the uncharitable might say was one reason I related to her so easily, for the dark complexion and strong features that became a man suited her no better than my family resemblance suited me. But she was an exceptionally graceful young woman, with a charming smile and great, dark, expressive eyes in which lurked a sort of secret bemusement. I often caught her gazing toward the northwest and wondered if she had fallen in love with some young man. She would make an excellent holder’s wife, young though she was, and I devoutly hoped that Alessan would not require her to remain at Ruatha, but would settle her with a kind and generous man. Ruatha might be poverty-stricken now, but the prestige of the Bloodline was still undisputed. Nor would this altruistic labor on the serum, so willingly undertaken by Alessan and Oklina, reduce them in the estimation of their peers.
And so we worked on, turning from one urgent and necessary task to another, ladling a quick cup of soup from the pot simmering on the main hearth, or chewing from a hunk of fresh bread in a free hand and a spare moment. From somewhere, fresh fruit had appeared—one of the dragonriders was dropping off supplies. Why ripe melon slices would cause Oklina’s eyes to tear, I could not then fathom. I doubted that she was so moved by the thoughtfulness behind the gift. Then I noticed that Alessan regarded the fruit with a soft smile of reminiscence, but he was off to work again so quickly, bread in one hand, the melon slice in the other, that I could have been wrong. Then another message came in, and I had to listen to record the message accurately.
Time had lost all order in the press of work. On my third day at
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