Kitemaster and Other Stories by Jim C. Hines

Author:Jim C. Hines
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fantasy, Humor, Short Stories
ISBN: 9781936535538
Publisher: Jabberwocky Literary Agency, Inc.
Published: 2011-08-01T00:00:00+00:00

Over the Hill

Florence bundled her blankets and cloak tighter around her shoulders as she trudged through the snow. "Back when I was younger, I could march half a day without a break. Now I can't go half an hour without stopping to piss."

Millicent Redhand smirked. "Some of us expand with age," she said, patting her own thick trunk. "You shrank, so now you're stuck with a bladder the size of a chipmunk's."

Beside her, Grace the Bloody flashed a toothless scowl. "Less talking, more walking."

Florence rested her weight on her staff. "Don't worry, Grace. We'll get Jacob back."

"I know, mother," she said.

Florence sighed. Grace, two years Florence's senior, had taken to calling her "mother" almost a decade ago. Florence wasn't even sure Grace understood it was her grandson who had been kidnapped.

"Why didn't we hitch a ride with that wine merchant's caravan?" Florence asked. "Wait, I remember. Because somebody tried to seduce the driver."

"How was I supposed to know his wife was one of the guards?" asked Millie. "Besides, I was only trying to warm my hands."

Grace glanced back. "Do you need to borrow my mittens?"

Hoofbeats cut off Florence's retort. Millie looked at Florence, who listened for a moment, then said, "Sounds like a single rider."

Both women took up protective positions in front of Grace. Florence relaxed slightly when she saw the rider. The gold and green armor on the Appaloosa mare and her rider marked them as belonging to the Viscount's Guard.

The rider's armor was skimpier than that of her horse. Aside from a few bits of steel and bronze to protect her chest and nether regions, she wore only a long, green cape. Not the most practical uniform, but tradition was tradition. Millie gave a whistle of sympathy. "Folks say Guardswomen don't feel pain. Ha! You try donning cold breast-cups on a crisp mid-winter morning and see if you feel anything else for the rest of the day. I used to stuff wool into mine to keep warm."

"You stuffed to keep warm," Florence repeated. "Right."

The rider drew to a halt. Florence could see the goosebumps from here. "Out of the way. I've no time for beggars and grandmothers today."

"Name and rank," Florence barked, loud enough to make Grace jump.

"Lissa, Scout Second Class." She drew her cape around herself. "Who are you, and what are you doing on the road on a morning like this?"

"We were heading toward Blind Snake River," Florence snapped. "Now we're arguing with a girl who can't bother to show her elders a bit of respect."

Lissa flushed. "The river is unsafe. Bandits have assailed travelers far better protected than yourselves. There have been robberies, kidnappings..."

"We know. We'll take our chances," said Florence.

Lissa nudged her mount, and the horse trotted past to block the road. "Part of my duty is to protect the people of Adenkar. I'll take you back to town, where it's safe."

"Only if that wine merchant and his caravan have left," Millie muttered.

"We don't have time for this nonsense, girl. Who's your commanding officer?" Florence said.

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