With that he rose and walked off, nodding and smiling as he went, leaving the three runners stunned. Rosa was the first to recover. She took a good swig of the wine.
‘Torlo was right. You did it,’ Rosa said. ‘And this is good wine.’
‘What else would they serve Lord Groghe?’ Cleve said and surreptitiously eased the glass left at the Lord Holder’s seat closer to his. The level of wine had not been much reduced by the sip that Lord Groghe had taken. ‘We can split this one.’
‘I can’t believe that Lord Holder apologized to . . .’ and Tenna shook her head, hand on her chest, ‘me. Tenna.’
‘You were the one injured, weren’t you?’ Rosa said.
‘Yes, but . . .’
‘How did Lord Groghe know?’ Cleve finished for Tenna who was puzzling such an answer.
‘We all saw Haligon go up to the station,’ Rosa said before taking another sip of the wine. She rolled her eyes in appreciation of the taste. ‘But Lord Groghe’s a fair man, even if he usually thinks women are halfwits. But he’s fair.’ Then she giggled again. ‘And he said how pretty you are so that helped, you know. Haligon likes his girls pretty. So does Lord Groghe, but he only looks.’
The three runners had been so intent on their own conversation that they did not notice Haligon’s approach until he unrolled the green hide from Ligand’s stall in front of Tenna.
‘In apology, Runner Tenna, because I really didn’t know there was someone on the curve of the trace the other night,’ Haligon said and gave a courteous bow, his eyes fixed on Tenna’s face. Then his contrite expression altered to chagrin. ‘The station master gave me what-for in triples. So did my father.’
‘Oh, didn’t you believe Tenna?’ Rosa asked him pertly.
‘How could I doubt the injuries she showed me?’ Haligon said. Now he waved for the wineman to serve their table.
Cleve gestured for him to be seated.
‘Is . . . your brother all right?’ Tenna asked, a question she hadn’t quite dared ask Lord Groghe.
Haligon’s eyes twinkled with merriment. ‘You have taught him a lesson, too, you know.’
‘I don’t usually go around knocking people down,’ Tenna began and received another surreptitious jab in her ribs from Rosa, sitting beside her. ‘Except when they need it.’ She leaned forward, away from Rosa. ‘I meant to hit you.’
Haligon rubbed his jaw. ‘I’m as glad enough you didn’t. When Master Torlo told me that you’d been kept from running for three days, I knew I was very much at fault. Then he told me of the other near-misses. Will you accept this leather in compensation, with my apology?’
‘Your father has already apologized.’
‘I make my own, Runner Tenna,’ he said with an edge to his voice and a solemn expression.
‘I accept, but . . .’ and she was about to refuse the leather when, once again, Rosa jabbed her. She’d have sore ribs at this rate. ‘I accept.’
‘Good, for I should have a miserable Gather without your forgiveness,’ Haligon said, his expression lightening. Lifting the glass he had just been served, he tilted it in her direction and drank. ‘Will you save me a dance?’
Tenna pretended to consider. But she was secretly thrilled for, despite their first encounter, there was something about Haligon that she found very attractive. Just in case, she shifted in her chair, moving her upper body away from Rosa to avoid another peremptory jab.
‘I was hoping to be able to do the Toss dance,’ she began and, when Haligon eagerly opened his mouth to claim that, she added, ‘but my right leg isn’t entirely sound.’
‘But sound enough surely for the quieter dances?’ Haligon asked. ‘You seemed to be walking well enough.’
‘Yes, walking’s no strain for me . . .’ and Tenna hesitated a little longer, ‘but I would enjoy having a partner.’ Which allowed him to ask for more than one dance.
‘The slow ones, then?’
‘Beveny asked for one, remember,’ Rosa said casually.
‘When does the dancing start?’ Tenna asked.
‘Not until full dark, after the meal,’ Haligon said. ‘Would you be my supper partner?’