damn in this weather. Thought we’d come visit.”
N’Doch wonders if the Honcho’s easy informality is an artifact of dragon simultaneous translation, or if he’s got a few more expectations to dump. In the vids, knights in armor always spoke real stiff. He’ll never know for sure till he can speak the language for himself.
“Strange company you’re keeping,” Raven murmurs.
“Isn’t it?” The Honcho straightens, his eyes scanning the little crowd until they settle on Rose, standing still as a statue on the terrace, smiling.
“Rosie,” he murmurs. “Forgive the unannounced intrusion.” He strides across the hard-packed snow to take Rose in his arms.
Rose says, before her rich voice is completely smothered in his cloak, “It’s just as well you’ve come. The dragons have returned.”
He lays a finger to her lips, tossing back a quick nod at the men in the yard. But his face lights with boyish wonder. “Dragons? There are more than one now?”
With the Honcho for sure identified, N’Doch turns his attention to the Challenger, who’s remained slumped and silent on his horse. The women seem awkward with him. They haven’t gathered around to greet him like they did the Honcho, like he’s a stranger, or maybe it’s something else. It’s too dark to tell, but N’Doch senses a glare smoldering under the shadow of the guy’s hood, and a tight-sprung readiness to him, even in his current posture of total disregard which N’Doch reads as a sullen fiction. The Bodyguard dismounts, giving his horse up to one of the redheaded twins with a grateful nod. He comes around beside the Challenger’s horse. He’s big, this Bodyguard, almost as tall as the Honcho but younger and broader, the very definition of muscle. N’Doch would not like to meet him alone in an alley. But his manner is clearly deferential as he shoots a quick glance up at the hooded rider.
“My lord, if you will allow me . . .”
The Challenger lets his horse dance a little, and looks away. N’Doch decides this guy is gonna be the trouble.
Pulling off his own gloves, the Bodyguard, who the Honcho has called Wender, clamps them between his teeth, then reaches up to the front of the guy’s saddle to untie a long piece of red cloth. N’Doch is interested to see that they’ve bound the Challenger’s wrists. Wender pulls the cloth free, then grabs the horse’s reins at the bit to steady it so the rider can dismount. The man does not move. Wender looks like he’d rather not plead. “My lord baron?”
“Let me,” says Raven, easing up beside him. The big man looks down at her, then bows a little and stands back. Raven lays a familiar hand on the rider’s calf, still neatly stowed in his stirrup. Again, N’Doch spots the dull gleam of mail. “Hello, Dolph,” said Raven. “Aren’t you coming in?”
The man raises his hands, shakes his wrists out. Slowly, as if making a big ceremony out of it, he reaches to loosen the blindfold that had been invisible under his hood. Then he turns to stare down at the woman beside his knee. He lets out a little snort of disbelief. “Christ Almighty! Raven?”
“Yes, it’s me, Dolph.”
“I thought you were . . .”
“Dead? Well, that was the general idea.”
“Where am I? Why are you here?”
“I live here. Finally found my proper calling in life. My, haven’t we both grown up a lot since I saw you last . . .?” Raven smiles up at the guy, and N’Doch feels just the faintest stirrings of jealousy.
The guy studies her. He looks like he’s gonna say something, then thinks better of it. Instead, he flicks his boot out of his stirrup, swings the opposite leg up and over his horse’s neck and is out of his saddle, upright and ready on the ground before N’Doch can take a second breath.
Now that he’s down, N’Doch sizes him up: not tall—both N’Doch and the bodyguard are taller, and the Bodyguard is broader. But the Challenger is solid enough, and
fast
. He’ll be
N’Doch wonders if the Honcho’s easy informality is an artifact of dragon simultaneous translation, or if he’s got a few more expectations to dump. In the vids, knights in armor always spoke real stiff. He’ll never know for sure till he can speak the language for himself.
“Strange company you’re keeping,” Raven murmurs.
“Isn’t it?” The Honcho straightens, his eyes scanning the little crowd until they settle on Rose, standing still as a statue on the terrace, smiling.
“Rosie,” he murmurs. “Forgive the unannounced intrusion.” He strides across the hard-packed snow to take Rose in his arms.
Rose says, before her rich voice is completely smothered in his cloak, “It’s just as well you’ve come. The dragons have returned.”
He lays a finger to her lips, tossing back a quick nod at the men in the yard. But his face lights with boyish wonder. “Dragons? There are more than one now?”
With the Honcho for sure identified, N’Doch turns his attention to the Challenger, who’s remained slumped and silent on his horse. The women seem awkward with him. They haven’t gathered around to greet him like they did the Honcho, like he’s a stranger, or maybe it’s something else. It’s too dark to tell, but N’Doch senses a glare smoldering under the shadow of the guy’s hood, and a tight-sprung readiness to him, even in his current posture of total disregard which N’Doch reads as a sullen fiction. The Bodyguard dismounts, giving his horse up to one of the redheaded twins with a grateful nod. He comes around beside the Challenger’s horse. He’s big, this Bodyguard, almost as tall as the Honcho but younger and broader, the very definition of muscle. N’Doch would not like to meet him alone in an alley. But his manner is clearly deferential as he shoots a quick glance up at the hooded rider.
“My lord, if you will allow me . . .”
The Challenger lets his horse dance a little, and looks away. N’Doch decides this guy is gonna be the trouble.
Pulling off his own gloves, the Bodyguard, who the Honcho has called Wender, clamps them between his teeth, then reaches up to the front of the guy’s saddle to untie a long piece of red cloth. N’Doch is interested to see that they’ve bound the Challenger’s wrists. Wender pulls the cloth free, then grabs the horse’s reins at the bit to steady it so the rider can dismount. The man does not move. Wender looks like he’d rather not plead. “My lord baron?”
“Let me,” says Raven, easing up beside him. The big man looks down at her, then bows a little and stands back. Raven lays a familiar hand on the rider’s calf, still neatly stowed in his stirrup. Again, N’Doch spots the dull gleam of mail. “Hello, Dolph,” said Raven. “Aren’t you coming in?”
The man raises his hands, shakes his wrists out. Slowly, as if making a big ceremony out of it, he reaches to loosen the blindfold that had been invisible under his hood. Then he turns to stare down at the woman beside his knee. He lets out a little snort of disbelief. “Christ Almighty! Raven?”
“Yes, it’s me, Dolph.”
“I thought you were . . .”
“Dead? Well, that was the general idea.”
“Where am I? Why are you here?”
“I live here. Finally found my proper calling in life. My, haven’t we both grown up a lot since I saw you last . . .?” Raven smiles up at the guy, and N’Doch feels just the faintest stirrings of jealousy.
The guy studies her. He looks like he’s gonna say something, then thinks better of it. Instead, he flicks his boot out of his stirrup, swings the opposite leg up and over his horse’s neck and is out of his saddle, upright and ready on the ground before N’Doch can take a second breath.
Now that he’s down, N’Doch sizes him up: not tall—both N’Doch and the bodyguard are taller, and the Bodyguard is broader. But the Challenger is solid enough, and
fast
. He’ll be
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