He heard Donnel snort, realized she was staring at him, and a moment later realized why. He’d gotten a little panicked when he’d seen her bed was empty and raced outside wearing only the light cotton drawstring pants he’d slept in. With the early morning sun behind him, he might as well be naked.
And that would have been more reassuring had his Companion not sounded like he found the entire situation entirely too funny.
Appleby wasn’t so much a village as it was a market and clearing center for the surrounding orchards that gave it its name. Jors told the younger Herald all he knew about both the area and the inhabitants as they rode in from the Waystation, but since his available information ran out some distance before they arrived, Alyise took over the conversation.
Her mother made a terrific apple dumpling but wouldn’t give out the recipe no matter how much Alyise or her sisters begged.
Donnel was very fond of apples, especially the small, sweet pink ones that grew farther north.
She loved apples sliced and dried and hoped she’d be able to buy some of last year’s if they had a moment before they left town.
Her grandfather used to carve apples and dry them whole and they turned into the most cunning old men and women dolls’ heads.
Just when Jors was about to suggest she stop talking, she finished her story about how an apple peel taken off in one unbroken spiral would give the initial of true love when tossed over a shoulder and fell silent, straightening in the saddle and transforming from girl to Herald.
Gervais tossed his head, setting his bridle bells ringing as they passed the first of the buildings.
The Companion carefully sidestepped an overly adventurous and remarkably grubby little boy.
And that was all he was willing to say.
Judgments in Appleby were, not surprisingly, mostly about apples. More surprisingly, Jors found Alyise to be an attentive listener—both to the petitioners and to him. Although she deferred to Jors as the senior Herald, she expressed her opinions clearly and concisely when asked for them and in turn asked intelligent questions when she needed more information. Having been more than a little afraid of what the day would bring, Jors was impressed and grateful that he could set aside personal doubts and concentrate on the job at hand.
Late that afternoon, when they’d finished with official business and had moved on to the more social aspects of being a Herald—trading the gossip that kept the far-flung corners of the kingdom telling the same stories—Jors glanced over at Alyise within a circle of teenage girls and wondered if it counted as a conversation when everyone seemed to be talking at once.
“Herald Jors.”
He turned to see the eldest of the village councillors holding out a cup of cider.
“Don’t worry, it’s one of this year’s first pressings. Windfall from the early apples. It has absolute no trade value, so you needn’t fear you’re being bribed.”
A tentative sip curled his tongue. “Tart,” he gasped.
“A little young,” the councillor admitted, grinning. “And if you don’t mind my saying, you seem a little young yourself to be teaching the ray of sunshine there.”
“I’ve been doing this for a while, Councillor.” On the outside, Jors remained calm and confident. Inside, a little voice was saying,
“Oh, I’m not criticizing, lad. And given that one’s energy, it’s probably best you’re no graybeard. I imagine she’d be the death of an older man.”
The councillor obviously believed he was sleeping with Alyise. That was a belief he’d have to nip in the bud. “Heralds aren’t in the habit of taking advantage of their Interns.”
“Advantage?” The elderly councillor glanced over at Alyise and began to laugh so hard he passed a mouthful of cider out his nose. “Oh, lad,” he gasped when he had breath enough to speak again. “You
There wasn’t a lot Jors could say to that.
He glanced over at Alyise who’d turned to check on the mules.
His Companion sighed and raised his head so Jors could get at an elusive itch under the edge of his mane.
There wasn’t a lot Jors could say to that either.
Six days later Alyise handed him a mug of tea and said, “Is it because you like boys? It’s just that I’ve been as obvious as I know how without coming right out and saying we should bed down together,” she explained a few moments later, after they cleaned up the mess. “I mean, I was with Jennet for seven whole months and you’re cute and well, it’s been a while, you know.”
He knew.
“Your ears are very red,” she added.
Jors attempted to explain about being responsible and not taking advantage of her while he was in at least a nominal position of power. Alyise didn’t seem to quite understand his point.
“You’re a little young to take such a grandfatherly attitude, don’t you think?”
“That’s it, exactly.”
She wrinkled her nose, confused. “What’s it?”
She was adorable when she wrinkled her nose and some of the tea had splashed on her tunic drawing his eye right to . . .
“Maybe you should talk to Donnel about it,” he choked out. “I need to check the um . . . mules.”
“I just checked them.”
“I meant the . . . um, stores!”
“Gervais explained to Donnel who explained to me and I think I understand the problem.” Alyise smiled at Jors reassuringly when he came back inside. “I was kind of dumped on you unexpectedly, wasn’t I? I mean, there you were, out riding your circuit, just the two of you hearing petitions and riding to the rescue and being guys together and all of a sudden Jennet finds out her mother is sick and you’ve got me. I know Heralds are supposed to be adaptable and all, but this is a situation that could take