Making her way back to the stairs, she passed the bathroom and heard the hum of masculine voices, then a laugh that was clearly from a female runner. As she came down the stairs, she was aware of the smell of roasting meats. Her stomach rumbled. One long narrow window lit the hall that led to the main room and she gauged that she had slept most of the day. Perhaps she ought to have had a healer check out the scratches but Penda knew what to do as well as any Hall-trained healer . . . probably better since she was a station manager’s mate.
‘Now here’s a one who’s prompt for her supper,’ Torlo said, calling the attention of the runners sitting around the room to Tenna’s appearance. He introduced her. ‘Had a brush with Haligon early this morning,’ he added and Tenna did not fail to note that this brash personage was known to them all from the nods and grimaces on their faces.
`I tol’ Lord Groghe myself,’ one of the older runners said, nodding his head and looking solemn, ‘that there’d be an accident . . . then what’d he say to that? I asked him. Someone hurt because a wild lad won’t respect what’s our rights and propitty.’ Then he nodded directly at Tenna. ‘You aren’t the only one he’s knocked aside. Dinncha hear him coming?’
‘Met him on the hill curve, she said,’ Torlo answered before Tenna could open her own mouth.
‘Bad place, bad place. Runner can’t see around it,’ a second man said and nodded his sympathy to her. ‘See you’ve scratches? Penda put her good junk on ya?’ Tenna nodded. ‘You’ll be right then. I’ve seen your kin on the traces, haven’t I? Betchur one of Fedri and Cesila’s, aincha?’ He smiled knowingly at the others. ‘You’re prettier than she was and she was some pretty woman.’
Tenna decided to ignore the compliment and admitted to her parentage. ‘Have you been through Station 97?’
‘A time or two, a time or two,’ he said, grinning amiably. His runner’s belt was covered with stitches.
Torlo had come up beside her and now took her left arm to peer at the side she couldn’t really see well.
‘Punctures,’ he said in a flat tone.
The other runners came to be sure his verdict was correct. They all nodded sagely and resumed their seats.
‘Sometimes I wonder if all those berries’re worth the risk of them slivers in spring,’ the veteran runner said.
‘Worse time of the Turn to fall into them,’ she was told again.
‘Misler, you run over to Healer Hall,’ Torlo said to one of them.
`Oh, I don’t think that’s necessary,’ Tenna said, because you had to pay healers and she then wouldn’t have enough for good leathers.
‘Being as how it was the Lord Holder’s runnerbeast knocked you in, he’ll pay for it,’ Torlo said, sensing her reluctance and winking at her.
‘One of these days he’ll have to pay out blood money iffen he doesn’t bring that Haligon up short and make him quit our traces. Did those shod hooves leave many holes?’ another man asked her.
‘No,’ she had to admit. ‘Surface sprang right back up.’
‘Hmmm, that’s what it’s supposed to do.’
‘But we don’t need Haligon galloping up and down like traces was put there for his benefit.’
Misler had departed on his errand and then, after each runner spoke his or her name and home station, a glass of wine was poured for her. She started to demur but Torlo eyed her sternly.
‘You’re not on the run-list this day, girl.’
‘I need to finish my first Cross,’ she said wistfully as she took the glass and found an empty seat.
‘You will, lass, you will,’ the first man – Grolly – said so assuredly as he held his glass up that she was heartened. The others all seconded his words.
A few scratches and maybe the three-four punctures were not going to keep her from reaching the western seashore. She sipped her wine.
The runners who’d been bathing descended now and were served their wine by the time Misler came trotting back, a man in healer colours following behind, with a hop and a skip to keep up with his long-legged escort.