Mindspeaker's Call by Gayle Greeno

Author:Gayle Greeno [Greeno, Gayle]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: DAW
Published: 2013-06-06T04:00:00+00:00

As a walking tour of Sidonie, it left something to be desired, Doyce decided as she watched Arras Muscadeine visibly swallow his frustration at the laggards in the group. And given the group’s small size, amazing that they should have so many laggards or—not exactly laggards, she told herself—but six people and four ghatti, each with very different personal agendas as to what they found interesting and uninteresting, exciting and boring, worthy of close scrutiny or being ignored. Still, it was a sharp spring day, nearly noon, the air crisp with a clearing breeze that snapped and popped banners and flags.

“Worse than children,” Arras muttered.

“And you don’t exactly find yourself endowed with mother hen proclivities, I gather?” she asked as Khar angled back to her, equally guilty of wandering.

His first laugh was a reluctant, polite sound, but it gradually deepened with a growing and genuine amusement. “Ah, how right you are! Short on patience to gather them close, cajole them to obey.” He threw his hands wide in mock dismay. “I think to myself that they’ve been cloistered in meetings, always busy—except for last night’s tavern visit, and you shouldn’t judge our town by our taverns. So, how hospitable, how gracious of the Chevalier Capitain to escort his new-found friends through Sidonie, show to them the sights, expound on our heritage, bask in their admiration at our culture and style. But instead, instead…” he shrugged, spinning in a helpless half-circle to check on his charges.

Doyce leaned against a shop’s sun-drenched wall and folded her arms, content to wait. Jenret lagged a good two blocks behind, squatting to inspect a drain, asking intently about heavy rain capacity. The street sweeper he bombarded with questions acted sullen, unwilling or unable to answer, indeed, had probably never considered such questions until Jenret inquired. Pushing his head between the grates, Rawn wedged his head inside the drain.

Eyes bright with longing, Jacobia had dawdled at every shop window displaying fabrics, laces, ribbons, or jewelry, darting from one to another as she matched colors and textures for an imaginary outfit. Doyce had let herself be enmeshed in the fantasy for a time, but had finally broken free to rejoin Muscadeine, embarrassed by the delays. Now Jacobia had drawn Aelbert and Nakum into her beguiling orbit, Nakum more wide-eyed than Aelbert, each torn by his own interests, but quick-dashing to Jacobia’s side when the other investigated something new. The ornate corner-post carvings on some of the oldest houses and shops fascinated Nakum, while Aelbert’s practiced eye assessed which shops prospered, what goods created the most demand and what attracted few purchasers. Saam prowled the streets and side alleys, alert to new sounds and smells and sights, while N’oor made timid little forays, jettisoned as soon as Aelbert drew too far from her.

“Come on, everyone, let’s pick up the pace, the Chevalier Capitain’s waiting!” She pitched her call to carry over the street sounds. “Well, I’ve tried.” She pulled a wry face at Muscadeine, his black, polished boot jittering with impatience.

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