“Ziga’s a woman grown, and she handled herself well last night. Have faith she’ll continue on as she has. Her water-sight is true, truer than mine. If she thinks it’s safe to trawl, I trust her word and her gift.” His gaze hardened when he turned his gaze to Zigana. “Next time, you rouse me from bed, even if you have to put a torch to my feet. Understand?”
“Yes, Papa.” The underlying tone of his voice warned she would never be too old to turn over his knee for a swat if she scared him like that again.
Frishi harrumphed her displeasure but stopped haranguing Zigana, preferring to sulk and put her back to both her and Odon.
“We have to tell the council today, Papa.”
He nodded. “I’ll go to them this morning once the chores are finished. I can get Elek’s oldest to take Voreg out with you and Gitta. Elek will be grateful for half of whatever Voreg hauls in as payment.”
A sudden thought occurred to Zigana, and she rubbed her face, groaning. “I almost forgot. Jolen’s daughter is visiting the beach today with her father. I’ve promised she can have a ride on Gitta after I trawl.”
“Are you sure that’s safe?” Frishi scowled, snapping the dish towel she held at a pesky fly. “With the way Gitta acted last night, can you trust her?”
Zigana bristled. “Unless young Tunde Frantisek is a sea monster in disguise, I don’t think we have anything to worry about, Mama.”
“But this is Lord Boda’s grandchild.”
“And Gitta is Gitta. Besides, Tunde won’t be in the saddle alone; I’ll be with her.”
Odon rose from the table. “You should tell his lordship what happened when he’s there.”
“Agreed. Something like this shouldn’t be kept from him. Even if he’s a stranger among us, he’s also the lord in residence at Banat. He has a right to know.” Zigana didn’t say it, but she’d bet a fat purse that once she told Frantisek about the creature, he’d pack up his wife and his daughter and ride out of Banat before sundown. And she wouldn’t blame him in the least.
She loaded her cart as usual, helped Elek’s son harness Voreg and set off for the beach with Frishi’s admonishments not to do anything foolish echoing in her ears. The waters under her hand revealed their secrets to her as before, bearing remnants of the sea spider’s nightly hunt but nothing else. They trawled as they always did, and Gitta exhibited no hint of her aggression from the previous night.
Zigana had almost not bothered with the blinders on the harness this morning. Used to shield a horse’s eyes and keep them focused on their task without being startled by every movement around them, they seemed superfluous now after Gitta decided to challenge a sea monster and only fled because of her mistress’s terrified pleas. But anything different incited questions, and Zigana didn’t want to answer a cartload of them before the council called a meeting.
During their break after the first trawl, she spotted Andras Frantisek striding toward her on foot. She had expected him to arrive on horseback. Instead, he was the horse. A small child perched on his wide shoulders, grasping his hair and drumming her heels into his chest. He flinched at one hard pull as she commanded him to “Go faster, horse!”
The shrimpers spread along the beach bowed as he passed, some grinning at the child’s antics, others following their progress with raised eyebrows. None were used to seeing one of the nobility strolling along the beach, especially in such a fashion.
The little girl fell silent as they passed the first trawler horse, her lips pursed in an “o” of amazement. Andras reached Zigana where she waited next to Gitta, his memorable face wreathed in the devastating smile that had stolen her ability to speak the previous day.
“Fair morning, Mistress Imre. I’ve brought a companion.” He winced a second time as his rider yanked a lock of his hair to rein him to a stop. “A demanding one.”
Zigana bowed and offered a smile of her own. “My lord. Is this your daughter?”
He swung the girl off his shoulders where she immediately skirted behind his long legs to peer up at the snoozing Gitta. Andras tugged her in front of him. “Tunde, your greeting.”
Tunde dragged her gaze from the giant horse to Zigana. Woman and child stared at one another before Tunde tilted her head and said “You look like my mother.”
Zigana crouched in front of her. “That is a fine compliment, indeed, my lady, for I think she is the most beautiful woman in the world.” She glanced at Andras, whose face had taken on a guarded expression, before returning to Tunde. “And you look like both your parents. A very pretty girl.”
She didn’t lie. Tunde was pretty, a combination of good looks inherited from both parents. She had her mother’s lighter hair and arched eyebrows, and her father’s gray eyes as well as the high cheekbones hinted at under the baby fat.
Tunde inclined her head, the formality of her response at odds with her high, childish voice. “My thanks, mistress.”
Zigana chortled. “You can call me Ziga, my lady. Your mother does.” She gestured to the mare. “This is Gitta. My best trawler and dearest friend. Would you like to pet her?” Tunde shrank back against her father’s legs, intimidated by Gitta’s size. “It’s all right,” Zigana reassured her. “She’s gentle as a lamb.” If one didn’t count last night. She kept that thought to herself.
Gitta held still as Tunde’s small hands patted her legs. She even lowered her head so the girl could reach her nose and the salt-matted forelock between her ears. Andras joined her daughter, instructing her on where a horse liked to be scratched and warning her to keep an eye on Gitta’s feet. Zigana kept her hand against the mare’s shoulder, sensitive to the flex and quiver of every muscle.
They would have continued like that for the next hour if Zigana didn’t have work to do. “I have to trawl now,” she told a disappointed Tunde. “But you can watch from the shore or help Vencel there sort the rest of the shrimp from the crab and fish.” She gestured to the boy, a few years older than Tunde, bent over a cluster of baskets and harassed by a gang of gulls.
Tunde’s eyes lit up before they clouded again. “But I want to ride Gitta!”
Zigana looked to Andras. “If you’ve no objections, Tunde can ride with me along the beach when I’ve finished my haul.”
“Why can’t I ride Gitta now?” Tunde’s lower lip pushed out, and she scowled at her father. The expression reminded Zigana so much of an indignant Jolen, she had to bite her own lip to keep from laughing aloud.
