The Baron rapped his walking stick hard on the boardwalk he stood upon. “I must assert myself to restore order. I won’t have arguments in the street in my village. Galia, Ileth, quiet now.”
Everyone froze. It was easy for Ileth, and probably Griff, they were each so shocked at meeting the other again. Ileth had heard some talk about Griff having family in the Baronies; evidently he’d gone over to them. Gone over in many ways, as he was now in some sort of uniform. Ileth wished she had something sharp and discreet to stick in him.
The Baron made introductions. The visitor with the monocle had a long surname that began with Dandas, so to Ileth he would always be Dandas in her head and the Baronet Dandas when she addressed him. The Baron contrived to introduce them in such a way that Dandas knew they were here to take care of the “interned” dragon, intimating yet avoiding the label prisoners when it came to the women. Galia, the senior of the two, was still progressing with her Galantine, and her underling Ileth was an excellent dancer though not in the tradition that one usually saw at parties. Griff was introduced as Young Ransanse of the Air Squadron who had come to see the dragon on the Baron’s estate and make “an estimate of the situation.”
“Yes, I heard you were feeding a dragon,” Dandas said. “Aren’t you afraid it’ll go mad and burn Chapalaine down? They often do, you know.”
“No, no, no,” the Baron replied. “You speak from an unfortunate ignorance. They’re not like that at all, not if you feed them well and let them sleep. Given those two conditions, they behave in a way that could be called reasonable.
“Which reminds me,” the Baron said. “How are things with the armistice?”
“Completely collapsed,” Dandas said. “Not the armistice, that’s still in place. It’s the garrison question on the Terraslat[6] all over again. We gave on the matter of a flag, but that wasn’t good enough for them; they want the island occupied only by a religious order, not even a small honor guard for the cemetery. You’d think the Grassway had never been fought by their attitude. Well, what could we do?”
Ileth suddenly felt a little ill. Imagine years here. Or a lifetime. She wondered how much of the conversation Galia had understood, but she appeared to be studying Griff’s uniform.
“Oh,” the Baron said, casting an apologetic look at Galia and Ileth. “Well, I am fortunate in their continued stay, then. I hope your visit will not be cut short, Dandas.”
“I am entirely at liberty, cousin. Unless we get called up to the banners again, but I don’t see that happening.” He made a gesture at the nearby religious edifice.
Ileth translated for Galia. Galia took it well, her face a mask. “Baron, may I return? My sour stomach.”
“I am sorry to hear that. Azal can take you back.”
“Please, let me assist you,” Dandas said. “I expect there’s somewhere we can get you some rising soda to settle your stomach, or a tonic, here in town.”
Galia said, “I’m sorry,” and turned her horse back up the road. Azal hurried to follow her.
“Well, devils, that’s a bad start to the visit,” Dandas said. “A sick woman. Perhaps I’ll call on the priest and offer up for her.”
The Baron looked grieved and wiped his forehead with a pocket handkerchief. “It’s my fault, cousin. We should not have spoken of politics in front of ladies. I am sorry, young Ileth.”
As Dandas spoke, Galia mounted and urged her horse into a canter, despite being still in town. She was a skilled rider, thanks to dragon-hardened muscles. She veered the horse around a parked wagon with skill; Azal struggled to keep his seat as he tried to catch up.
Dandas squinted through his monocle. “Well, I’m riding after her, my fault or no. I shall see you at Chapalaine.” He tightened the girth, then mounted the spare horse the Baron indicated and was off in a clatter of hooves on cobblestones.
“Just follow Azal to the house,” the Baron shouted. “Don’t risk your neck, man!”
“How am I to get to Chapalaine?” Griff asked.
“It is a pleasant walk, especially for a soldier, Young Ransanse,” the Baron said, climbing into the cart. “Or I can send for a horse, but I don’t expect to return for some time, as I have another errand.”
“I’m to walk while this enemy jade rides?”
Ileth started to stammer out a response but quieted herself. The Baron had asked her to be silent, and silent she would remain. Besides, she was getting the feeling that the Baron didn’t much like Griff, and that sort of language with no response from her would only increase his disgust.
The Baron resettled his wig with a hand that trembled, just a little. “Sir: she is a guest of my family. She dines with the Baroness. Just one more insult to anyone under my roof and you will find the gates of Chapalaine closed to you.”
The Baron turned the cart and rode off without any sort of farewell, just a wave at the innkeeper, who bowed his head in return.
“This morning is off to a poor start,” the Baron muttered. “I’d hoped for lively company but I grossly overshot. Forgive me, Ileth.”
Ileth decided that a young Galantine lady probably would not want to speak of the recent unpleasantness and shifted to a happier subject.
“Your cousin . . . your cousin Dandas seems a g-good rider,” Ileth said.
“Second cousin, actually,” the Baron said. “He’s excellent company, though I understand he gambles. That is a most dangerous habit, but he won’t be able to indulge it here unless he’s content to play for pins and buttons. I thought he’d cheer you ladies with all the news and stories of Court. He wrote me that he was bringing some sort of dragon expert. I didn’t know he’d have bad news the instant he stepped out of the blasted inn. Forgive my language. Galia took it hard. Are you quite all right, Ileth dear?”
The Galantine thing would be to say that she was happy she’d spend more time at Chapalaine in the company of the Baron’s excellent family and surroundings, but she didn’t feel she owed him a speech. “I am well. The news about the negotiations upset me. But it is a matter I have no ability to change. So I sh-shall try not to dwell on it. Does that make sense?”
“You’re a philosopher, Ileth. Yes, it does make sense. It’s the right way to take news like that, I think. Perhaps you can give my daughters lessons. Have you ever tutored?”
“Thank you, sir. Only little children with the usual reading and such.”
“Well, let’s try to follow your philosophy and make the best of this day. Shall we, Raffleth?” he said, scratching the cat between them.
“Our first stop is the village cobbler. I am going to buy you a new pair of shoes. My daughter won’t give me a moment’s peace until you have something presentable. She wanted to gather up unused shoes from the family, but giving away some old clothes is one thing; shoes—it’s just too dismal, don’t you think? I don’t know a lot about you uplanders, but I know you’re not fond of taking charity.”
“Good sir, I can buy my own shoes. I have that gold coin. Surely that’s enough to pay for a pair of shoes.”
“In a village like this, dozens.” The Baron laughed.
He pulled up to a shoe-mender’s that looked as though it catered more to the townspeople than the Baron’s daughters. The place was mostly house, sharing walls with other houses, with a small selection of shoes and a workbench in the front. The Baron helped her down, but almost immediately a man accosted the Baron with a tale of a bull that had gone astray. The Baron begged her forgiveness and sent her into the store.
The cobbler had seen the cart pull up and left his workbench and took off his cap to give her his complete attention. She bought two pairs of shoes, some laced walking ones that just covered the ankles for going about the estate in the manner of a Galantine woman and some social slippers with a hook closure she could wear in the great house that would also be good for dancing. Though she asked to see them, just to look, he didn’t have women’s riding boots at the moment, but he could create a pair in a few days, and the Baron’s daughters had them if she wished to evaluate his skill. Ileth temporized on the riding boots; it seemed she’d probably be stuck in the Galantine lands for the foreseeable future. Upon seeing the gold coin he tried to sell her a little silver clasp for the slippers, but she declined. He had to venture upstairs to get enough coin to balance the account. She glanced out the window as she counted her change; she didn’t quite understand the coins she’d been given. The Baron seemed to have some business with men outside.