A Gift of Dragons (16 page)

“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 half-wits. 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 . . .” 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?”

She heard Rosa inhale sharply but she really did find him an agreeable sort. Certainly the invitation was acceptable. “I would be delighted to,” she said graciously.

It was so arranged and Haligon toasted the agreement with the last of his wine, rose, bowed to them all, and left the table.

“Yo-ho, Tenna,” Rosa murmured as they watched his tall figure disappear in the Gather crowd.

Cleve, too, grinned. “Neatly done. Do hope you’ll be back on another Cross soon in case we have some more problems you can help us with.”

“Oh, run off, will you?” Tenna replied flippantly. Now she allowed herself to finger the dark green leather hide. “Was he watching us, do you suppose? How’d he know?”

“Oh, no one’s ever said Haligon was a dimwit,” Rosa said. “Though he is, riding runner traces like he has.”

“
He
must have told his father, then,” Cleve said. “Owning up to all that shows an honest nature. I might end up liking him after all.”

“Proper order,” Rosa said. “Though he never admitted using the traces before when Torlo braced him on that.” She grinned at Tenna. “It’s sure true that a pretty girl gets more attention than a plain one like me.”

“You are not plain,” Cleve said indignantly and realized he had fallen into Rosa’s neatly laid trap to elicit a compliment from him.

“I’m not?” she replied, smiling archly.

“Oh, you!” he said with the wordless disgust of the well-baited. Then he laughed and carefully split Groghe’s glass between their glasses. “Much too good to waste.”

Tenna returned to the station long enough to put away the beautiful leather. And long enough to get many requests for dances and to be supper partner from other runners who congratulated her.

“Told ya so, dinnit I?” Penda said, catching Tenna’s arm as she was leaving. The woman was grinning from ear to ear. “Pretty girl’s always heard, ya know.”

Tenna laughed. “And Haligon’s going to stay off the traces.”

“So his father promised,” Penda said, “but we’ll have to see does he.”

“I’ll see that he does,” Tenna promised airily and returned to the Gather Square. She’d never had such a marvelous time before.

The supper lines were now forming down the road at the roasting pits and she began to wonder if Haligon had just been funning her and had never intended, Lord Holder’s son that he was, to honor his invitation. Then he appeared beside her, offering his arm.

“I didn’t forget,” he murmured, taking her by the arm.

Being partnered with a Holder’s son allowed them to patronize a different line at the roasting pits and so they were served well before Cleve and Rosa. The wine Haligon ordered was more of the excellent one she’d sampled in the afternoon so Tenna was quite merry and relaxed by the time the dancing began.

What surprised her, because she’d given the first dance to Grolly—as much because he didn’t expect to get any dances from such a pretty girl as because he asked her first—was that Haligon did not dance it with someone else. He waited at the table for a breathless Grolly to bring her back. It was a sprightly enough tune for dancing but not as fast or complicated as the toss was. The next dance was at a slower tempo and she held out her hand to Haligon, despite the fact that half the male runners at the Gather were now crowding about for a chance to dance with her.

He pulled her into his arms with a deft movement and they were suddenly cheek to cheek. He was only a little taller than she was so their steps matched effortlessly. One circuit of the room and she had perfect confidence in his leading.

Since they were dancing cheek to cheek—he was only a little taller than she was—she could feel his face muscles lifting in a smile. And he gave her a quick pressure with both hands.

“Do you know when you’re running again?”

“I’ve already had a short leg, down to the port,” she said. “Enough for a good warm-up.”

“How
do
you manage such long distances on your own legs?” he asked, holding her out slightly to see her face in the light of the glowbaskets that lined the dance floor. He really wanted to know, too.

“Part of it’s training, of course. Part that my Blood is bred to produce runners.”

“Could you have done anything else with your life?”

“I could but I like running. There’s a sort of . . . magic to it. Sometimes you feel you could run ’round the world. And I like night running. You feel like you’re the only one awake and alive and moving.”

“Quite likely you are, save for dimwits on mounts on traces they shouldn’t be using,” he said in a wry tone. “How long
have
you been running?”

He sounded genuinely interested. She had thought perhaps she had made a mistake, being sentimental about something as commonplace as running.

“Almost two whole Turns. This is my first Cross.”

“And I was a dimglowed idiot who interrupted it,” he said in an apologetic tone.

Tenna was almost embarrassed at his continued references to his mistake.

“How often do I have to say I’ve forgiven you?” she said, putting her lips closer to his ear. “That green leather is going to make fine shoes for me. By the way, how’d you know that was the hide I wanted? Were you following us about?”

“Father said I had to make amends in some way more personal than handing you marks . . .”

“You didn’t give Tanner Ligand what he asked for, did you?” Her query was sharp, because she didn’t want him to have had to spend more than she felt necessary. And she leaned away from his guiding arm enough so that she could see his face as he answered

“I won’t tell you how much, Tenna, but we struck a fair bargain. Trouble was,” and now Haligon’s voice was rueful, “he knew just how much I needed that particular hide. It’s the talk of the Gather, you know.”

Tenna suspected that it was and she hoped she could tell it to her own station before they heard rumor, which always exaggerated.

“Hmmm. I should have expected that,” she said. “I shall be able to make two pairs of summer shoes out of that much leather and I’ll think of you every time I wear them.” She grinned up at him.

“Fair enough.” Evidently satisfied by this exchange, he resettled his arms about her, drawing her just that much closer. “You didn’t seem as interested in any other hide, you know. So I’d got off more lightly than I thought I might. I didn’t know runners made their own footwear.”

“We do and it’s much better to make them for yourself. Then you’ve only yourself to blame if you’ve blisters.”

“Blisters? They would be bad for a runner.”

“Almost as bad as sticklebush slivers.”

He groaned. “Will I ever be able to live that down?”

“You can try.” Maybe she could get him to dance with her all night. He was possibly the best partner she’d ever had. Not that she ever lacked for them. But he was subtly different. In his dancing, too, for he seemed to know many combinations of the dance steps and she really had to keep her attention on her feet and following his lead. Maybe it was him being a Holder’s son.

“Maybe it’s being a runner,” and his remark startled her, it being near what she’d just been thinking, “but you’re the lightest thing on your feet.” He reset his hands more firmly about her, drawing her as close as he could.

They were both silent, each concentrating on the complexities of the dance. It ended all too soon for Tenna. She didn’t really wish to release him. Nor he, her. So they stood on the dance floor, arms at their sides but not with much distance between them. The music began again, a faster dance, and before she could say a word, Haligon had swung her into his arms and moved off in the rhythm of this tune. This time they had to concentrate not only on the steps but also to avoid collisions with more erratic dancers whirling about the floor.

Three dances to a set and Haligon whisked her off the floor during the change of musicians on the pretext of needing a drink. With glasses of chilled white wine, he guided her into the shadow of a deserted stall.

She smiled to herself, rehearsing a number of deft rejections if she needed them.

“I don’t think you’re at all lame, Tenna,” he said conversationally. “Especially if the station master let you take a run down to the port. Care to have a go at the first toss dance after all?”

His expression dared her.

“We’ll see.”

Pause.

“So, will you run on tomorrow?”

“I’ll be careful with the wine in case I do,” she said, half warning him as she lifted the glass.

“Will you make it to the sea from here in one run?”

“Quite likely. It’s spring and there’d be no snow on the pass trace.”

“Would you still go if there were?”

“No one said anything about snow on the pass trace at the station.”

“Keep your ears open, won’t you?”

“A runner always needs to know conditions on the trace.” She gave him a stern look.

“All right, I’ve got the message.”

“Fair enough.”

Pause.

“You’re not at all what I expected, you know,” Haligon said respectfully.

“I can quite candidly say the same of you, Haligon,” she replied.

The new musicians played the first bar of the next song, to acquaint people with a sample of the dance to come.

So, when Tenna felt his arm about her shoulders, she did not resist the pressure. Nor did she when both arms enfolded her and his mouth found hers. It was a nice kiss, not sloppy as others had been, but well placed on her lips, as if he knew what he was about in kissing. His arms about her were sure, too, not crushing her needlessly against him. Respectful, she thought . . . and then, as the kiss deepened with her cooperation, she didn’t think of anything but enjoying the experience.

Haligon monopolized her all evening, rather deftly, she realized. Always whisking her off the dance floor before anyone else could find her. They kissed quite a bit between dances. He was far more respectful of her person than she expected. And said so.