Lance of Earth and Sky (The Chaos Knight Book Two) by Erin Hoffman Page B

his room, seen him sprawled in the antechamber, and naturally assumed the cause.
    Nevertheless, the remedy jar, packed with willow bark and arrowmenthe, was as good for headaches as for hangovers, and he swallowed its contents down gamely, quickly chasing the blindingly bitter flavor with a gulp of kava .
    * One imagines they keep quite a few of those little jars on hand around here, * Ruby observed dryly. It seemed her newfound humility in the face of the chaos goddess would be short-lived.
    Instead of answering her, Vidarian set the plate of meat on the floor for the pup, who had been noisily salivating from the moment the breakfast tray was unveiled. Before the plate touched down, he was already greedily gulping down mouthfuls of meat, and in moments had devoured all and licked the plate clean. He then looked back up at Vidarian, wide blue eyes expectant, tongue lolling.
    Vidarian reached for his spoon and the pup whined, very softly, beseeching. With a sigh, Vidarian instead picked up one of the thick, butter-slathered pieces of toast, and was rewarded by a frantically thumping tail. He handed it to the pup, who took it delicately between his incisors, and trotted off to chew with great contemplation beneath the shelter of the sitting room's small writing desk.
    “You need a name,” Vidarian told the pup. White-tufted ears swiveled toward him, but the rest of the pup's concentration remained on his toast.
    * Pest, * Ruby offered. * Mistake. Death-wish. Dirt. *
    “That's just mean,” Vidarian said. He took up the bowl of oatmeal, dropped a handful of dried fruit into it, and sat on the edge of the bed to eat. Between the arrowmenthe, the food, and the kava , he was shortly feeling more human again, though his muscles still complained from the unceremonious night on the floor.
    * He's colored like old firewood, or ash, * Ruby offered grudgingly.
    “Ash,” Vidarian said to himself, trying out the word, and suddenly the events of last night came pouring back into his mind. After swirling there for several moments they dropped like iron weights into his stomach, and he set aside what remained of the oatmeal.
    The pup looked up at his distress and whined again, softly. He'd finished his toast, and after licking his paws and the carpet clean of crumbs came to settle at Vidarian's feet. Swimming out of his mental paralysis, Vidarian noted that the pup was quite a bit larger than he had been when he'd first found him, perhaps even twice as large.
    When he'd found him. When he and Altair had killed the pup's pack. For an instant he fell into bleak self-pity: could he get nothing right? Was it his destiny to bring about destruction?
    The pup whined again, deep in his throat. He lifted his head and rested his chin on Vidarian's knee, looking up with soulful cerulean eyes.
    “Rai,” Vidarian said softly, and the pup—Rai—thumped his tail.
    * ‘Blue’? * Ruby asked. * Is that Old Alorean? *
    “Yes,” Vidarian agreed, reaching down to scratch the pup between his ears. “And ‘lightning’ in Qui, if I'm not mistaken.”
    * It means ‘trust’ in Rikani. *
    Vidarian blinked. “I didn't know you spoke any Rikani.”
    * I didn't know I did either. *
    Before he could press to discover whether she was joking or serious, a knock on the door startled him to his feet. He nearly knocked over the breakfast tray in the process, and the pup barked and rushed toward the door.
    Deeply conscious of his rumpled appearance, Vidarian took a last swallow of kava and crossed the room. He pushed Rai to one side, glaring a warning against further barks, and opened the door.
    A black-liveried messenger bearing the crest of the Alorean Import Company waited outside, his neatly oiled hair gleaming and accentuating the look of deep disapproval he gave Vidarian's rumpled attire. He made a token effort to mask his sigh, and said, “Captain Rulorat, my master requests the gift of your presence at luncheon today, to discuss certain matters of