“We have to go,” said the black rider when Aritka had stepped into the room. He pushed the door back in place. “I didn’t intend to stay the night. We must get to Jinjan tonight. We only needed to avoid a pack of Jakgrare that were between us and our destination.” He went out and ran to the stables.
“We have those in the Kinly territory,” Aritka told Geneeva, “but we call them Rikaks. One took my mother when I was young. But they do not usually make house visits.”
“Things are different here, dear,” said Geneeva, rummaging in a chest. She drew out a majestic purple cloak and threw it around Aritka’s shoulders. Aritka tapped her own forehead by way of gratitude in the manner of her tribe and handed back the cheesecloth. “Do care for yourself,” said Geneeva, leading the young girl to the door. “Haste be yours. You’ll need it to get to Jinjan without capture. And I’m sure you’ll win the prince’s fancy.”
“I do not wish for it,” said Aritka. “I do not think he sounds like a kind sort of person. He sounds foul.”
“Yes, you might be right,” said Geneeva, watching as her husband and the black rider led the mounts out of the stable. “Still, how disappointing for you to have been torn away from home, dragged across hostile territory, and so close to life of highest heaven, only to lose it.”
“I can think of better endings,” Aritka said lightly, but she saw that Geneeva had an argument. She mounted the pack mule and the black rider secured him to the stallion. “Thank you, Geneeva,” Aritka said, touching her forehead, “and you, Gangar. I will care for the cape and try to arrange for its passage back to you.”
“No need,” said Geneeva. The matron stepped out of the way and smiled warmly. “You are a great beauty. The cloak will make a good impression when you get to town. Use it well. Use it often.”
“Thank you, katinka,” said Aritka gratefully. “Raise petitions that I find a mother for the child.”
“We will,” said Geneeva, after a moment of faltering over the girl’s strange dialect. “May all protection be with you.”
To Be Continued....
“We have those in the Kinly territory,” Aritka told Geneeva, “but we call them Rikaks. One took my mother when I was young. But they do not usually make house visits.”
“Things are different here, dear,” said Geneeva, rummaging in a chest. She drew out a majestic purple cloak and threw it around Aritka’s shoulders. Aritka tapped her own forehead by way of gratitude in the manner of her tribe and handed back the cheesecloth. “Do care for yourself,” said Geneeva, leading the young girl to the door. “Haste be yours. You’ll need it to get to Jinjan without capture. And I’m sure you’ll win the prince’s fancy.”
“I do not wish for it,” said Aritka. “I do not think he sounds like a kind sort of person. He sounds foul.”
“Yes, you might be right,” said Geneeva, watching as her husband and the black rider led the mounts out of the stable. “Still, how disappointing for you to have been torn away from home, dragged across hostile territory, and so close to life of highest heaven, only to lose it.”
“I can think of better endings,” Aritka said lightly, but she saw that Geneeva had an argument. She mounted the pack mule and the black rider secured him to the stallion. “Thank you, Geneeva,” Aritka said, touching her forehead, “and you, Gangar. I will care for the cape and try to arrange for its passage back to you.”
“No need,” said Geneeva. The matron stepped out of the way and smiled warmly. “You are a great beauty. The cloak will make a good impression when you get to town. Use it well. Use it often.”
“Thank you, katinka,” said Aritka gratefully. “Raise petitions that I find a mother for the child.”
“We will,” said Geneeva, after a moment of faltering over the girl’s strange dialect. “May all protection be with you.”
To Be Continued....
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