Chapter 33
The smell of horse manure permeated the structure as if it were part of the air, and several students worked with stable-hands to muck out the stalls and transfer the fruits of their labor to the gardens for fertilizer. No more than a few heartbeats passed from Gavin’s entry into the stables before a middle-aged man with a stocky, muscular frame approached him.
“Good day to you, sir,” the man said. “I’m Robillard, the Master of the Stables.”
“Well met,” Gavin said, extending his hand. “I’m Gavin Cross.”
“What brings you here today, sir?”
“Well, I have what I feel is an uncommon question. Who owns the horses of the stable? I imagine individual students or arcanists currently visiting the College?”
“Yes, there’s a few here that match those descriptions, but by and large, the Society owns these fine animals. They’re available for use to members of the Society.”
“I see. How would one go about obtaining the use of one?”
“What you’re doing right now…talking to me. Want to take one for a ride?”
Gavin nodded. “I do.”
“Very well. Follow me.” Robillard turned and led Gavin over to a door. Opening the door revealed an office, possessing only a couple chairs, a desk, and some file cabinets. Robillard waved Gavin to a chair and sat behind the desk.
“So…how much riding experience do you have? How comfortable are you in the saddle?”
Gavin frowned and shrugged. “Well, I don’t really know. I can’t say I ever remember riding a horse, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t. I only have memories for the past five to seven months, and I haven’t ridden a horse in that time. Does it matter?”
“Knowing how to ride a horse will mean the difference between mildly sore and unbearably sore, depending on the distance of your ride. I can give you a few quick pointers if you’re dead-set on heading out. If something should happen to the horse or its tack while in your care, it will be your responsibility to replace them. Beyond that, there’s a fee per day that you have the horse signed out. Any problems so far?”
“No. I don’t think so.”
“I’ll set you up with one of our older mares. She still has many good years in her, but she won’t be as restive as one of the younger mounts would be. It’ll make for a better ride.”
“Thank you.”
A brief time later, Robillard led Gavin up to a horse whose back was level with Gavin’s shoulders. Her coat was a tan color, and her mane and tail were white. The word palomino came to Gavin’s mind unbidden.
Robillard stopped Gavin just outside the stall.
“Okay. Lesson 1: do not trust any horse. We don’t think like they do; we don’t see the world the same way they do, so you’re not going to predict how they’ll react. I’ve been working with horses since I was in short pants, and even I get surprised from time to time. Treat her with respect and kindness, and chances are, she’ll return them.”
“Lesson 2: do not stand directly behind any horse, especially unruly ones. Their kicks can kill you. How are we doing so far?”
Gavin nodded. “Everything so far seems fairly straightforward.”
For the next hour, Robillard gave Gavin a crash-course in basic horsemanship and horse care while traveling, demonstrating all the necessary implements included in the over-sized saddlebags.
“That’s about all I have for you,” Robillard said. “Do you still want to proceed?”
“Yes, I do,” Gavin said. “Oh…I have just one more question. What’s her name?”
Robillard gave Gavin an approving smile before saying, “Jasmine.”
Within a few minutes, Gavin led Jasmine out of the stables, saddled and ready to go, to the approving nods of Robillard.
“Not bad. I think you have handled horses before. This isn’t really any of my business, but are you planning a long trip or something close?”
Gavin shrugged as he rubbed Jasmine’s neck. “I haven’t really given it much thought. I need to think and clear my head, and I thought seeing some unfamiliar places might help with that.”
“In that case, you might want to stop by Hakamri’s; it’s on the way if you’re heading to the West Gate, and it’s the best emporium around for tents, bedrolls, and such. Tell Hakamri I sent you, and he’ll take care of you.”
Gavin nodded and pulled himself into the saddle, saying, “Thank you for your time, Master Robillard. I’ll take care of Jasmine while she’s with me.”
A light touch of his heels to her sides prompted Jasmine to start off at a leisurely walk. The two gate attendants opened the gates at Gavin’s approach, and they headed off for Hakamri’s, Jasmine clip-clopping her way along the streets.
Hakamri’s was indeed on the way to West Gate. The store fronted the main east-west street and was just beyond the secondary avenue that ran north-south through the western half of the city. From the outside, it looked like every other building in Tel Mivar-one solid piece of marble-like stone-except that it was fifty feet square; inside, the store was one large, open room. Racks of shelves were arranged in aisles and sections, the sections based on what type of merchandise one might find on its shelves.
Movement to the right drew Gavin’s attention, and he saw a male standing beside him whose eye-level was just above Gavin’s navel. His hair was coarse and gray; his beard was gathered into two braids the ends of which touched his chest, and his unkempt mane touched his shoulders. He gave Gavin an appraising look, his left eye squinted.
“And who be you?”
“I’m Gavin Cross. Robillard in the College stables said I should see Hakamri for traveling supplies.”
“Is that so? Where be you off to?”
Gavin frowned. “Well, I’m not really sure. I just need some time away from the city…and maybe some clothes that aren’t as conspicuous.”
“What supplies have ye now?”
“A saddle, horse blanket, and saddlebags.”
“Ye won’t be going very far on that. Come wit’ me, youngster.”
A rough hand grabbed Gavin’s right wrist, and he set off into the store at a brisk pace for such a short fellow.
“Hold on,” Gavin said. “I’d at least like to meet Hakamri.”
The oldster stopped and peered up at Gavin once more, saying, “Ye’ve been talking wit’ him. Now…are ye coming or not?”
An hour later, Gavin left the store with a bedroll, tent, and ten days of travel rations, having paid for the goods by pressing his medallion into sealing wax at the bottom of a bill; the bill would be sent to the Bank of Tel, which would transfer the balance from House Kirloth’s account to Hakamri’s. Gavin wore traveling clothes designed to survive the rough conditions of the trail, his shirt a pleasant, forest green and his trousers the color of lightly-stained oak. His medallion lay against his chest, beneath his shirt.
Gavin placed his folded robe, linen shirt, and trousers in one of the saddlebags and secured the tent and bedroll behind the saddle. The travel rations went in the other saddlebag before Gavin hooked his left foot into the stirrup and heaved himself up to sit astride Jasmine. Gavin nudged Jasmine into the traffic flow heading toward West Gate and, soon, left Tel Mivar behind him.
Chapter 34
Kiri stared at the section of floor where Gavin had once slept, and not for the first time, she wished she knew where he was. It felt odd sleeping in this room-living in this suite-without Gavin, and she had not seen Gavin since the day after Nathrac delivered Marcus’s will…almost a week and a half ago.
Walking out of the bedroom, Kiri stopped at the edge of the table in the common room, and her eyes fell on the shelves teeming with books and scrolls in the small room Marcus called his library. And there it was. Kiri knew what she would do now.