As Teine dragged the still protesting Hamoni down the stairs, he could hear glass breaking and the accompanying exclamations and screams from other rooms of the Tower. "Go downstairs!" he told Hamoni, mustering as much authority into his voice as he could.
"Right behind you!" Madric assured jovially. Teine didn't know whether to be encouraged by the wizard's cheerful expression, or annoyed. Madric looked as though he was having the time of his life. "Don't worry lad, the whole Tower won't be coming down around our ears. We're just losing some glass. It happens periodically."
"But this-" Hamoni started.
"Is no worse than some of the others we've had," Madric insisted, raising his voice to be heard above the gale. "A little glass. That's all."
Other residents of the Tower were gathering in the main rooms, milling around like frightened cattle in a pen, including the old woman from the kitchen whose name Teine hadn't caught yet and one of the lads from the stable. "Madric, Sir," the boy began, nervously glancing toward the windows. "My dad's bringing in some of the neighbors. They've lost their roof."
"Fine, fine," Madric waved, dismissively. Then, raising his voice to include everyone in the room, he continued. "Any refugees that want to come in from the storm are welcome. No need to check with me. Let's keep everyone on the main floor, though. No wandering about in the basement or the bedrooms." Looking as delighted as a person planning an impromptu party, Madric clapped his hands together. "Right, then! Break out the box of board games! Let's get that good console radio in here, and build up a roaring fire in the fireplace. If we're going to have company, we'll be hospitable hosts."
Teine was about to ask what Madric wanted him to do when the thought of his first responsibility leapt unbidden to his mind. "Marne!" he exclaimed. "Is he all right? Should I check on him?"
Madric and Hamoni exchanged a glance that Teine couldn't read, but it left an uneasy feeling in his stomach. "Likely, he's sleeping through all of this. The poor little guy sleeps a lot after he's been ill. We're really not neglecting him." Hamoni assured Teine. At a nod from Madric, she snagged Teine's arm and began to walk him back toward the stairway. "We're just making sure he gets the rest he needs." She fixed Teine with a winning smile, which helped ease some of his discomfiture. "Tell you what, if you will go bring down the radio, I'll go check on Marne straightaway."
"It's good of you to think of him," Madric remarked as he was walking away. "Your compassion speaks well of you, Teine. The more I see, the more I think Marne made a far better choice for himself than his father would have made for him."
"Thank you, Sir," Teine tried to respond, but the magician was already out of earshot.
"He really does like you," Hamoni whispered. "Now go get that radio. And it wouldn't hurt for you to grab your books and other diversions. Today will probably end up being a rest day. Madric probably won't want to risk any more of your pretty face to all that potential windblown glass upstairs. Oh, and thanks, by the way!" Reaching up she blotted a couple places on Teine's face with her sleeve, and when she pulled back, the fabric was fletched red. "If you hadn't grabbed me when you did, that would have gotten me."
Teine tried not to blush, and failed. Instead, he picked a piece of glass out of her hair. "You're welcome. You still might want to go shake off somewhere. I think you're probably still wearing parts of that window."
"Go on then," she grinned. "You're so sweet. Has anyone ever told you that?"
"Knock it off, Hamoni!" the old woman shrilled from the kitchen. "Leave the poor boy alone. I need you to get in here and help me peel potatoes, if we're going to have company."
Teine decided it was as good a time as any to make himself scarce. Still glowing from the unexpected praise and harmless flirtation, Teine headed for the furniture storage room, planning to get the console radio and drag it downstairs to the main room, but the draft in the corridor at the top of the stairs changed his mind. If there were open windows and broken glass, he could possibly forestall any more damage in those rooms by refastening the shutters, if they were still intact. Rolling up his sleeves, he began his investigation.
It didn't take much to check which rooms had broken windows, and fortunately, a couple of the broken windows still had shutters still intact. Although he was sopping wet and his skin was stinging from being pelted by ice balls, Teine left his little side project with a strong feeling of satisfaction. Of the four broken windows he'd found, he re-shuttered three of them, and he was able to drag the furniture well out of harm's way in the one room he couldn't secure. Certainly a worthwhile payoff for a few minutes effort.
Teine spent a moment to retrieve his bag, and his journals and art supplies were slung over his shoulder while he carried the console radio down the stairs. He could hear doors slamming on the main level, hearty laughter and loud voices that heralded visitors. The radio was heavy for one person to carry, and Teine grunted with the effort, but he managed to get it down to the main level without any mishap. Blinking in surprise, he realized he was suddenly surrounded by lots of people.
There were several Aoife he'd never seen before, men dressed in riding leathers with heraldry and armor. One of the armored men was shepherding in a large family of common farmers. The four Aoife children each carried a hastily assembled bundle of belongings and seemed frightened and overwhelmed, like fawns caught in the glare of carriage lights. Blinking and shivering, the children looked so helpless, so much like Teine had felt only the day before when all that was familiar had been yanked out from under him. He couldn't help but feel for them, noticing the steam rising from their dirty and patched garments in the warm room.
Teine set the radio down, remembering his physical education classes that had drilled the phrase "lift with your legs, not with your back" into his brain with a startling permanence. It turned out to be good advice for setting down a heavy burden, too. As soon as he had plugged the unit in and the music began playing, Hamoni popped her head out of the kitchen with further instructions. "Teine, can you help these people get their things inside?"
"Sure," Teine agreed, turning to the Aoife man in armor. "Point me at them!""
"Their barrow is in stable," the ranger replied, nodding pleasantly. "Aren't you the plucky one? Madric said they can camp out here in the greatroom till it's over."
"Right, then." Teine did as he was told with a playful grin at the wide eyed Aoife children as he passed. "Hopefully there will be someone to play cards with when I get back," he added over his shoulder as he walked away.
"Momma, can we play cards with the Human boy?" piped one of the children. Teine smiled as the child's pleas were ripped away by the wind when he stepped outside.
When Teine arrived in the stable he could do nothing but stare open-mouthed like a child at the zoo. Beyond the uninteresting possessions of the farmer Aoife, were stabled the most magnificent mounts Teine had ever seen. There was no question- these were the mounts of the Royal Rangers. By sheer quantity, Teine noticed the horses first, the like of which he'd never seen in his life. They were broad across the chest, as powerfully built as the draft horses that worked the fields, but with clean legs and shapely heads with large, alert, bright eyes. They seemed a far cry from the sleepy, cold-blooded carting horses Teine was most familiar with.
In stalls of their own were a couple of riding deer. The doe, as soon as she saw him, leaned her broad, wedge shaped head out over her stall front at Teine, and lipped the sleeve of his tunic when he reached out to touch her. Her russet coat was soft and her nose was black and leathery like a dog's. Also, the deer didn't seem to have any upper teeth for biting like the horses did. More aloof than the doe, the stag stood at the back of his stall, his impressive rack of antlers heavy on his head like the crown of a king. It gave him a very regal bearing, indeed.
A shiny black mule of similar quality to the horses leaned its head over the stall gate down at the end and yawned, waggling its long ears and mugging shamelessly for attention. Drifting down toward it, Teine allowed his feet to carry him down the aisle way. "Aren't you a character?" he whispered to the mule. But, as he leaned in to stroke the inviting, soft nose, a large, grizzled grey hound in the same stall jumped up on its hind legs and barked a warning practically in Teine's face. He let out a strangled cry of alarm, stumbled backwards over his own feet, and landed painfully on his rear. "Serves me right for being nosy, I guess," he grumbled. The hound, a specimen of the same breed as Marne's beloved old pet, grumbled back, barking a couple more times before settling back in the straw.
To read the second half of Chapter 11: "Refugees and Orders", click HERE!
The Gilded Shackle is the first book in The Evermancer Saga, a series of online serial novels. Go go right to the most recent chapter, go to www.evermancer.com.
To read the whole story, starting at the beginning, click HERE!
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