“K’lon’s already stumbled onto timing; besides, he’s done a lot of conveying lately, you know.”
“I didn’t know”Kamiana rolled her eyes expressively again “just how much was going on around here, Moreta, and your queen on the Hatching Ground, pushing sand about to warm her eggs!”
3.22.43
In the main Hall of Ruatha Hold, which had so recently been a hospital, forty cartwheels had been rigged as centrifuges. A hundred or more ornamental bottles had also served their purpose and were now stacked against the stair wall where once the banquet table of Ruathan Lords had graced the raised end of the long Hall. The frenzied activity of the past three days had, in the late hours of this night, abated to weary preparations for the morning’s final effort. It was no comfort to the fatigued that similar activity had wearied anxious men and women in Keroon Beasthall and Benden Hold.
In the corner nearest the kitchen entrance, a trestle table had been serving as dining table at appropriate hours and a worktable at all other times. The remnants of an evening meal were at the end near—
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est the wall, where maps and lists had been tacked to the hangings, On its long benches sat the eight people whom Alessan called his Loyal Crew, relaxing with a cup of wine from Alessan’s skin of Benden white.
“I wasn’t so taken with that Master Balfor, Lord Alessan,” Dag was saying, his eyes on the wine in his cup.
“He’s not confirmed in the honor,” Alessan said. He was too weary to take part in an argument and well aware that Fergal was listening with avid ears to store bits and pieces of irrelevant information in his cunning young mind.
“I’d worry who else might have the rank, for Master Balfor certainly hasn’t the experience.”
“He has done all that Master Capiam asked,” Tuero said with an eye on Desdra, who apparently was not listening.
“Ah, it’s sad to realize how many good men and women have died.” Dag lifted his cup in a silent toast. “And sadder to think of the fine bloodlines just wiped out. When I think of the races Squealer will walk away with and no competition to stretch him in a challenge.”
Alessan poured a bit more wine in his cup, Fergal’s eyes on the business. He’d been offered a portion but disdained it with an insolence that Alessan excused only because the lad had worked so diligently at any task assigned him. But then, the work had been to save runners, and the boy had obviously inherited his grandfather’s total commitment to the breed.
“You say Runel died?” Dag continued, finding it hard to comprehend how few of his old cronies remained. “Did all his bloodline go?”
“The oldest son and his family are safe in the hold.”
“Ah, well, he’s the right one for it. I’ll just have a look at that brown mare. She could foal tonight. Come along, Fergal.” Dag swung his splinted leg off the bench and took up the crutches Tuero had contrived for him. For just a moment, Fergal looked rebellious.
“I’ll come with you if I may,” Rill said, rising and unobtrusively assisting Dag. “A birth is a happy moment!”
Fergal was on his feet in an instant, extremely possessive of Dag and unwilling to share the man’s attention with anyone, not even with Nerilka, for whom he had taken a curious liking.
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Tuero watched the curious trio until they had left the hall. “I know I’ve seen that woman before.”
“I have, too,” Desdra said, “or maybe her kinfolk. Faces have got blurred. Overdose!” She was leaning back against the wall behind her, hands limp in her lap, a few wisps of dark hair escaping from the tight braids. “When this is over tomorrow, I’m going to sleep and sleep and sleep. Anyone, anyone whosoever attempts to rouse me, shall be … shall be … I’m too tired to think of something suitably vile.”
“The wine was excellent, Lord Alessan,” Follen said, rising. He
pulled at Deefer’s sleeve. “We’ve just three more batches to decant tonight. There could be breakages, so we must have spares. It won’t