The Return of the Dragonhawk

Chapter 11 - Choices to be Made

"Whatever 'come of you?" Gorgo asked. "Three days without a sign! I reckoned you'd run away."

Rhoz grinned and strutted in her new palace livery, doing her utmost to duplicate young Drawyn's superior manner. "A sleek young thing cast eyes on me, an' I cudden gainsay her."

Gorgo's eyes rounded. "Lucky shit! I never caught nuttin for meself. Nuttin!"

"Me new sweeting has a cousin serving the Dow'ger Kyn," Rhoz continued, "who jest happen' to be on the lookout for a nag wrangler. She fancies the little nag here," Rhoz waved in Panax's direction, "and put me in charge of him. I be riding with her every day. No more lessons for me!"

"You holy stud, you! Not even Agrys be daring to lay a finger on you now. Must be a bit of magic in you." Gorgo checked himself and looked around to see if anyone was listening. "You din' hear that."

"Take care," Rhoz warned. "Iffen you lose that gilded tongue of yours, how can you charm the ladies?" She kept her tone off-hand, hiding the twinge of anxiety in her heart. Though she had come far in making peace with her memories, she would never completely forget.

Whistling her favourite pony tune, she saddled Panax, Swan, and Seabreeze. She was leading them out into the stable yard when all the folk around her stopped their work and dropped to one knee like grain bending in the wind. Arabelle and Hekla had arrived, arm in arm, the Dowager trim in her husband's leather, her trusty companion puffed out like a burgeoning purple flower in one of the ladies' riding outfits. Both had braided their hair so that it lay close to their heads, ready for action.

Master Agrys came running. "Down, lad!" he growled at Rhoz as he passed by. Hastily, Rhoz knelt.

"Welcome, Yer Kynship," Master Agrys said, bowing almost to the ground. "You do us honour." Arabelle held out her hand to him and he knelt to kiss it.

"Rise, my good man." Arabelle raised her voice so that the rest could hear. "Pray rise, all of you, and go about your business."

"Pray 'scuse us," Agrys said. "We be not 'customed to royalty here."

Arabelle smiled. "Kindly instruct your people that no special ceremonial is required in the future."

"As you wish. But I can' keep 'em from gawking."

Arabelle laughed. "They will soon lose interest when they see I am simply an old woman in need of exercise -- hardly different from their mothers at home."

She turned to Panax. "Hello, my friend," she said, and stroked his nose. "Ready for a run?"

"Full of spirit, Mistress," Rhoz said.

"And you have found a more sedate animal for Hekla? She rode like an Amazon in her time, but she is out of practice."

"The white mare, Mistress, Swan by name. Steady she be, and good-hearted."

Arabelle looked at the stable master again. "What is your name?"

"Agrys, Yer Kynship."

"Not Agrys the Horsemaster, who could ride any beast that ever lived?"

Agrys looked at Arabelle with a trace of longing in his eyes. "Heard of me, have you?"

"Indeed. I always wondered what became of you."

"Crushed under a nag, Yer Kynship. I do well enough, but me riding days be done."

"Pity," Arabelle said softly as she mounted, waving away assistance.

"It has been too long," Arabelle said to Rhoz as they walked their mounts through the inner gate. "I have not been beyond the walls for some four summers, save for the executions."