Deed of Paksenarrion 03-05 - The Deed of Paksenarrion by Moon Elizabeth

Author:Moon, Elizabeth [Moon, Elizabeth]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Fantasy, Science Fiction/Fantasy, Adventure, Science Fiction
ISBN: 9780671721046
Google: ojFZAAAAYAAJ
Goodreads: 96281
Publisher: Baen
Published: 1992-02-01T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

As autumn darkened into winter, Paks rode north and west, into Vérella of the Bells, and west along the Honnorgat, through one town after another, as the river narrowed. She passed from grange to grange, enjoying the hospitality of each, as the Marshal’s letter opened the doors. She thought of turning aside at Whitemeadow, and following a branch of the river north to Rocky Ford, and then on to Three Firs. But had her dowry arrived yet? Would she be welcome? She decided to wait until she had her knighthood, and ride home with Gird’s crescent on her arm. As she neared Fintha, she tried to think of a more elegant name for the black horse, something suitable for a warhorse, but she had thought of him as Socks from the first, and it stuck in her mind.

Frost whitened the ground the morning she first caught sight of Fin Panir. She had been on the road before dawn, the saddle cold as iron beneath her, and her breath pluming out before. When the sun rose into a clear cold sky, the ground sparkled in rose and gold; the tree branches interlacing overhead glittered with frost. It was like riding inside a pearl. A little wind blew the sparkling frost in swirls before her. Paks found herself grinning, and nudged the black horse into a trot. He squealed and kicked out before settling down. She laughed aloud.

Then the forest broke apart, and she saw across a bend of the river the spires of the High Lord’s Hall, gleaming in silver and gold against the blue sky. Beneath lay a tangle of roofs and walls, multi-colored stone, tiles, sliced into fantastic shapes by the sharp shadows of a winter sun. She rode toward it, yearning.

Within an hour she could pick out the gates. Between her and the walls, a small company of horsemen rode, armor glittering and banners dancing above. When she was near enough, they hailed her.

“Ho! Traveler! Where are you bound?” The leader was deep-voiced, a man of middle height in chain mail with a blue mantle bearing Gird’s crescent.

“To the Hall in Fin Panir,” said Paks. “I have a letter from Marshal Cedfer of Brewersbridge.”

“For the Marshal-General?” he seemed surprised.

“Yes, sir. Can you direct me?”

“Yes, of course. But you might ask at the gates; she may be abroad this morning. You will have left Tor’s Crossing early—or did you camp out last night?”

“I left early, sir.”

“Well, the Marshal-General’s quarters are in the Hall Courts. Take the first left, after the gate, and then a right—go straight past two turns, and then left again under the arch. Someone will take your horse there, and guide you. But, as I said, ask at the city gates if your message is urgent; they will know if she’s ridden out somewhere.”

“Thank you, sir.” Paks lifted her reins and started forward. One of the other riders spoke to the leader, and he lifted a hand.

“Wait a moment—” He looked closely at her. “Are you a Girdsman?”

“No, sir.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.