checking the shelves in the back. "This house is a disgrace. I will send a slave up later to clean it for you."
"No. It will be fine until I can do it myself."
"But—"
"No slave will work for me. Do you understand? It is wrong to force others to do your work."
"Oh, really?" Megaan put her hands on her hips. "And just how do you intend to work your new land, Kakon? Warriors are not farmers."
Mark dropped wearily to the torn sleeping mat on the floor. "I haven’t thought that far ahead. But I can tell you one thing. If I can’t do it myself, it just won’t get done."
"Mawk." Leeta burst through the door. "You all right. I glad."
Mark sat up on his elbows. "This is my new house, Leeta. What do you think?"
"It is good house." Leeta wrinkled her nose. "But I clean."
"What about your owner? She might not like it if you’re gone too long."
Leeta smiled and spoke in fluent Tsook. "My new owner is Megaan. She took me in."
"It was nothing," Megaan said. She scowled and moved to the door. "The old woman was killed trying to run from the Rawhaz. With you gone we needed another worker. Leeta will take your place, that is all."
"I swear, Megaan." Mark shook his head. "Why is it so hard for you to take a compliment? Just because you are the chiefs daughter doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to say thank you."
Megaan lifted her chin. "Come, Leeta. Kakon needs his rest."
Leeta followed her out the door and then stepped back in. "I be back, Mawk."
"Do that. And if your boss isn’t too busy acting like a snob, bring her too."
The door slammed.
chapter
30
Mark felt better than he had in a long
time. The iron band was off his leg and his wound was nearly healed. The past few weeks had been spent learning to ride, hunt with a crossbow and fight hand to hand with a sword.
Sarbo was his chief teacher, and the big man demanded perfection. "Not like that, Kakon. If you strike from above you have more power but your opponent will come in underneath and run you through. Try it again."
Mark removed his sword from the practice dummy, stepped back and wiped the sweat off his forehead. This time he whirled and came in from the side, slicing the dummy in two.
"Better. Much better. That will be enough for today. Go home and eat. Come back tomorrow."
"Wild horses couldn’t keep me away."
"Wild horses?"
"It’s an expression, Sarbo. It means nothing will stop me from being here."
"Strange boy." Sarbo picked up the dummy. "I will take this to my wife to repair. She will have it ready tomorrow. And Kakon?"
"Yes?"
"I do not think you are ready to take on any of the wild horses—whatever they are. Wait until you are a better rider."
"Right." Mark smiled, put his sword in his belt and started up the road.
Tybor, the blacksmith, shouted at him. "Kakon. Come see. I think I finally have it right."
Mark trotted over to the smoke-filled lean-to. "Let’s see."
Tybor reached behind him and brought out a flat piece of lightweight metal. "Well? What do you think?"
"This is it. This will make a perfect breastplate. It’s light and it won’t weigh me down. What about the helmet?"
"It is a much more difficult problem. I am still working on it. "
"Great. Let me know when you get it done." Mark turned and headed up the road to his house.
"Wait for me, Kakon." Barow ran up behind him. "You said you were going to show me more writing today. Did you forget?"
"I didn’t forget. Come to my house. I will make us a fine meal and then we can begin."
"I already ate, Kakon. Let us begin now. I’ve been practicing. Watch." Barow bent over and wrote his name in the dirt.
"That’s good, Barow. What else can you do?"
"I can make all the letters. Today you should teach me how to write more names."
"I don’t know. You need to work on the sounds some more."
"Will you teach me if I tell you a secret?"
"I might. Depends on the secret."
"Dagon has set the time for the feasting."
"Well?"
"Will you teach me?"
Mark tousled the little boy’s
"No. It will be fine until I can do it myself."
"But—"
"No slave will work for me. Do you understand? It is wrong to force others to do your work."
"Oh, really?" Megaan put her hands on her hips. "And just how do you intend to work your new land, Kakon? Warriors are not farmers."
Mark dropped wearily to the torn sleeping mat on the floor. "I haven’t thought that far ahead. But I can tell you one thing. If I can’t do it myself, it just won’t get done."
"Mawk." Leeta burst through the door. "You all right. I glad."
Mark sat up on his elbows. "This is my new house, Leeta. What do you think?"
"It is good house." Leeta wrinkled her nose. "But I clean."
"What about your owner? She might not like it if you’re gone too long."
Leeta smiled and spoke in fluent Tsook. "My new owner is Megaan. She took me in."
"It was nothing," Megaan said. She scowled and moved to the door. "The old woman was killed trying to run from the Rawhaz. With you gone we needed another worker. Leeta will take your place, that is all."
"I swear, Megaan." Mark shook his head. "Why is it so hard for you to take a compliment? Just because you are the chiefs daughter doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to say thank you."
Megaan lifted her chin. "Come, Leeta. Kakon needs his rest."
Leeta followed her out the door and then stepped back in. "I be back, Mawk."
"Do that. And if your boss isn’t too busy acting like a snob, bring her too."
The door slammed.
chapter
30
Mark felt better than he had in a long
time. The iron band was off his leg and his wound was nearly healed. The past few weeks had been spent learning to ride, hunt with a crossbow and fight hand to hand with a sword.
Sarbo was his chief teacher, and the big man demanded perfection. "Not like that, Kakon. If you strike from above you have more power but your opponent will come in underneath and run you through. Try it again."
Mark removed his sword from the practice dummy, stepped back and wiped the sweat off his forehead. This time he whirled and came in from the side, slicing the dummy in two.
"Better. Much better. That will be enough for today. Go home and eat. Come back tomorrow."
"Wild horses couldn’t keep me away."
"Wild horses?"
"It’s an expression, Sarbo. It means nothing will stop me from being here."
"Strange boy." Sarbo picked up the dummy. "I will take this to my wife to repair. She will have it ready tomorrow. And Kakon?"
"Yes?"
"I do not think you are ready to take on any of the wild horses—whatever they are. Wait until you are a better rider."
"Right." Mark smiled, put his sword in his belt and started up the road.
Tybor, the blacksmith, shouted at him. "Kakon. Come see. I think I finally have it right."
Mark trotted over to the smoke-filled lean-to. "Let’s see."
Tybor reached behind him and brought out a flat piece of lightweight metal. "Well? What do you think?"
"This is it. This will make a perfect breastplate. It’s light and it won’t weigh me down. What about the helmet?"
"It is a much more difficult problem. I am still working on it. "
"Great. Let me know when you get it done." Mark turned and headed up the road to his house.
"Wait for me, Kakon." Barow ran up behind him. "You said you were going to show me more writing today. Did you forget?"
"I didn’t forget. Come to my house. I will make us a fine meal and then we can begin."
"I already ate, Kakon. Let us begin now. I’ve been practicing. Watch." Barow bent over and wrote his name in the dirt.
"That’s good, Barow. What else can you do?"
"I can make all the letters. Today you should teach me how to write more names."
"I don’t know. You need to work on the sounds some more."
"Will you teach me if I tell you a secret?"
"I might. Depends on the secret."
"Dagon has set the time for the feasting."
"Well?"
"Will you teach me?"
Mark tousled the little boy’s
Similar Books
