Storm Warning

hoofbeats, the sounds of the white horse's hooves striking the ground had a bell-like tone to them.

Maybe the Valdemarans did treat the beast's hooves in some way—how else could they be silver and have such a musical sound to them?

The road they were on generally followed the contour of the land itself, staying pretty much in the valleys between the hills. Once in a while Karal caught a whiff of he-goat musk, or spotted the white blobs of grazing sheep among the trees. Forest rose on either side of the road; tall trees that had been growing for decades at least. In places the limestone bones of these hills showed through the thin soil; the trees themselves were mostly goldenoak with a sprinkling of pine or other conifers, and the occasional beech or larch.

What the forest lacked in human inhabitants, it made up for in animals. Squirrels scolded them as they passed, and songbirds called off in the distance, their voices filtering through the leaves. Jays and crows followed them with rowdy catcalls, telling all the world that interlopers were passing through. Once a hawk stooped on something right at the edge of the road, and lumbered up out of the way just as they reached the spot, with a snake squirming in its talons.

The road met the path of a wide river as the sun westered and sank below the level of the treetops. Karal caught glimpses of the water through the screening of trees, reflecting the light in shiny bursts through the brush.

By this time, despite his master's assertion that the two of them could stay in the saddle as long as need be, he was getting saddle sore and stiff. His buttocks ached; his back and shoulders were in knots. He began to wonder just when this Rubrik intended to stop—or did he want to ride all night?

There was no sign of a town or village, though, so there didn't seem to be any place they could stop. I don't mind camping out—but Ulrich is too old for that sort of thing, he thought, a bit resentfully, but telling himself that concern for his master was more important than his own aches and pains. We don't have tents, we don't even have proper blanket rolls. Surely this man isn't going to expect the envoy of the Son of the Sun to sleep in leaves, rolled up in his own cloak like a vagabond!

'There's a village I expect to reach just after sundown,' Rubrik said, startling Karal. It was almost as if the man had just read his own thoughts! 'If you don't think you can make it that far, please tell me, but I've made arrangements there for a private suite for you two.' He made an apologetic grimace. 'I hope this doesn't seem boorish, but I would rather that no one know your exact origin or your mission here until we reach Haven, and the best way to keep quiet is to keep the two of you away from people who might be a bit too curious about visitors to Valdemar.'

Ulrich waved away any apologies. 'Those are my thoughts, precisely,' he replied. 'The fewer folk who even know there are two Priests traveling here, the better. That was why I requested that Queen Selenay send only a single escort. But I must confess, I am not as confident of my stamina as I was when we met you.' He shook his head at his own weakness, then shrugged. 'We are used to riding most of the day, but I have just begun to realize that 'most' of the day is not the same as 'all' of the day.'

'If it helps any, I have requested that a hot dinner be served in the suite as soon as you arrive,' Rubrik answered with an engaging smile. 'And hot baths to follow.'

'I wouldn't say no to a bottle of horse-liniment as well, sir,' Karal ventured, a little shy at inserting himself into the conversation.

'That I can supply myself—muscle-salve, and not horse-liniment, young sir,' the escort said, turning to look at him, as if surprised that he was back behind his master. Perhaps Rubrik had forgotten him?

Karal was far more pleased than offended, for if that was what had happened, it meant that he had achieved his end of being 'invisible.' Ulrich had told him that a good secretary would develop the knack of vanishing into the background; that would make him less intrusive, especially to people who might be nervous about a third party being present at a delicate negotiation.

'That would be very much appreciated, my lord Rubrik,' Karal replied, ducking his head in an approximation of a bow.

But Rubrik shook an admonishing finger at Karal. 'Not 'my lord,' youngling,' he chided gently. 'Just 'Rubrik.' Among Heralds, there are no titles—with the sole exception of the Lady Elspeth, the Queen's daughter. My father —was something of a landowner, a kind of farmer.'

'Ah?' That clearly caught his master's attention. 'And what did he farm, if I may ask?'

'Root crops, mostly, though he had some herds as well,' was the ready answer. That set the two of them off on a discussion of the condition of farms and farmers in both Valdemar and Karse, and it was Rubrik's turn for questions, mostly about the weather, and whether or not it had affected the Karsites as badly as it had their Valdemaran counterparts.

Karal wondered if Rubrik realized how much information he was giving with the way he phrased his questions.

The moon rose, silvering the road before them. Karal listened and made mental notes for later. If all that Rubrik told them was true, Valdemar had been suffering from truly horrible weather until very recently—storms and disturbances out of season that were somehow connected with the magics Ancar of Karse had been working.