Michael A. Stackpole by A Hero Born Page A

by benefit of my blood, 1 had passed muster with him. Still, the formality in his address of me made me feel uneasy.
    “Call me Locke; everyone does.” One of his hounds brought its head up under my right hand, so I scratched it behind the right ear.
    The man gave me a half nod of his gray-capped head, but then shook his head in full denial. “Might be the way it is out in the wilds of Garik, Master Lachlan, but not here in the capital of the Empire. We knows the proper ways to talk and all. Your kindness is appreciated, but your grandmother is a grand lady in this city, and I’ll not do her disrespect by calling you familiarlike.”
    Thank you,” I hesitated, not knowing the man’s name.
    “Nob, sir, just Nob.” He smiled infectiously. “Andrew is the stableboy, and my grandsons help him out. James, he sees to the house—‘cept where me wife, Rose, holds sway. Been with your grandmother for years and years, we all have, save my grandsons.”
    I pulled my saddlebags from the bay and looped them over my right shoulder. “Then you would have known my father?”
    “Met him on numerous occasions, sir. To these old, tired eyes you look his spitting image, too, Master Lachlan.” Nob looked me up and down, head to toe, and nodded proudly. “Was him what taught me chess. I ne’er did get ranked, and he always beat me, but he said as how I was getting better.”
    “If I want a game, I will find you.”
    “That would be nice, sir. You’ll whip me good, of that I am certain, but I can show you a few things I’ve learned since your father, well, since the last time I played him.”
    1 clapped Nob on the shoulder and gave him a nod. “I will look forward to that.” 1 let him lead Stail off toward the stables in the back and headed directly toward the secondary entrance to the mansion. Part of me realized 1 probably should have gone to the front door and made a proper entrance, but the house felt too familiar for me to go through such formality.
    1 kicked the steps twice to knock the dust from my boots, then upped the latch and walked into the kitchen. Immediately the sweet scent of pies and bread baking in the ovens hit me. I shut the door quickly against the cold and luxuriated in the warmth being put out by the ovens.
    Without looking up, the older woman kneading dough at the table in the center of the kitchen jerked her head toward the water pump behind her. “Nob, you worthless lout, I told you not to dawdle. I need some water, and I’m not of a mind to pump it meself.”
    I let my saddlebags slide to the stone floor. “Nob is taking care of my horse. I will draw your water.”
    At the sound of my voice her head came up, and her jaw slackened. An apple-cheeked woman with hair as iron gray as Nob’s, she stared at me with gray eyes as steady as stone. “It’s you! Forgive me, my lord. We were expecting you, but…”
    I held up my hands. “Nothing to be forgiven. I am Lachlan.” I crossed the room in three long strides and scooped up the wooden water bucket. I hung it by the rope handle on the little hook beneath the pump’s spout. “Rose, your baking smells wonderful.”
    “Oh, Master Lachlan, I didn’t mean for you to get the water. Let me.”
    I brushed her suggestion aside with a wave of my right hand. “Nonsense, good woman, I will pump your water. After a month fetching it from cold mountain streams and lugging it back to camp, I had begun to think a pump was but a faery tale.”
    She wiped her hands on her apron and reached for the bucket. “I will handle it from here, Master Lachlan.”
    I pulled it from the hook and held it out of her reach. “Where do you want it?”
    She pointed to the table, and I lifted it to the spot she indicated, even though I knew that would not be its final destination. The way she and Nob deferred to me made me feel uncomfortable, but it also made me feel proud. I did not feel I was better than they were by any stretch of the imagination, but I took their attitude,