Midnight Quest by Honor Raconteur Page B

this.”
    Jewel sat up straighter. “Yes, Exalted One?”
    “I shall no be pleased if you get him killed.”
    The threat was clear. Jewel raised both hands in supplication. “I won’t be reckless with him, I promise. Um, may I assume that we have permission to act within your territory?”
    “Eh, that you do,” Juven agreed although it sounded reluctant. “Well enough, then.”
    Between one blink and the next, the overwhelming presence of the goddess disappeared. Jewel let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. She cleared her throat, twice, to make sure her voice would come out normal before speaking. “Rialt. Is your goddess normally capricious like this?”
    “Eh, she blows hot and cold all the time. You get used to it.” Gravel crunched as he turned about. “I think the stew be done.”
    ~*~*~*~
    They started out again early the next morning before the dew even had a chance to be evaporated by the rising sun. The air had a distinct chill to it that froze their breath. Rialt had been colder, and this early spring weather seemed warm compared to the winter he had just survived, but the blue tint to Jewel’s skin said clearly she felt the cold all the way to the bone.
    Rialt caught Sarvell’s eye and inclined his head toward the girl. Sarvell nodded grimly. They could no keep her out in this air, exposed, without taking some measures to keep her warm. Jewel was a mere slip of a thing—she did no have any fat to keep her warmer.
    Without a word between them, they wrapped her up in her cloak and Rialt’s before sitting her in front of the Ramathan. Jewel huddled down in her layers, letting her head rest against his chest, and did no make a peep. He kept an arm around her waist as a support, the other on the reins, and prodded his stallion into a brisk walk. The caravan drivers, still harnessing the horses as Sarvell mounted up, waved a farewell. Sarvell passed Rialt and took point, keeping an eye out for trouble.
    Rialt knew the moment that she warmed up enough to talk without chattering, as Jewel started peppering him with questions. The morning passed pleasantly with him telling her of his clan. Sarvell hung back several times, head canted a bit their direction as he listened in. Rialt let him eavesdrop without comment, knowing the man had just as many questions he needed answered.
    By noon, they reached Rialt’s hometown of Denzbane. The whole city had been built along three hills, with bridges that spanned the valleys between them. When Rialt had left last fall, one of the bridges had been torn down with another being built to replace it. Now that he had proper lighting to see by, he observed with pleasure that the new bridge neared completion, with only a side of railing lacking.
    “Describe it to me,” Jewel urged him.
    “It be a sizeable enough town, spread out on three hilltops,” he told her factually, “and three bridges connecting them. Place is mostly made of stone, as it be less likely to burn. We have got crafts and artisans here since we be close enough to trade with Belthain. What farms we have are on the hillsides, but mostly we deal with livestock, and they live in the valleys between the city.”
    “Sounds like a peaceful, prosperous place.”
    “The wee lass be praised, it be.” The peace likely would no last ten seconds after word spread he was back. Rialt led their way past the first turn in the road to the second, leading them toward the outer wall of the city. A few were out with their sheep or cattle, letting them graze on the new grass on the flatlands. When they spied him, they waved a hand in greeting, which Rialt returned. No one challenged them until they reached the thick wooden gates where two of his clansmen stood guard.
    “Rialt!” Kal greeted with a wave of the hands and an outraged finger pointed his direction. “Where by Cherchez’s beard have you been? Your whole family has been plaguing me all morning about turning you loose on the world, and I was