“Maybe a Karag healer,” she suggested. “Our healer here in Grymia, Raran…she’s quite knowledgeable about all kinds of ailments, both heartstone-induced and mortal. Perhaps you can consult with her.”
I smiled because I knew Syris was only trying to help. “I think that’s a good idea. While I’m here, of course. It couldn’t hurt.”
She beamed. But then her smile slowly died. “Just be careful. With Alaryk. Did you know that Elysom thinks he’s a spy for the Hartans?”
“Surely, you’re kidding,” I said, frowning. “How long has he been aKarath?”
“Oh, over a decade now,” Syris said, her tone breezy. “But you never know. People talk.”
“Well, maybe that’s the issue,” I said. “People seem to talk too much here.”
To our right, just past the landing field and on a steep incline, I spied rider training. A large group of acolytes, being barked orders from an older female, Myzalla close by.
The riders had a rucksack filled with stones strapped to their backs as they tried to sprint up the incline. I nearly winced in sympathy, imagining how much their lungs and legs must’ve burned. But then I spied Ryak, nearly doubled over. I imagined Kiron in his place and looked away.
“He’s handsome,” Syris said quietly as we walked past. Ryak had turned his head to regard us, glaring. “What’s his name again?”
“Ryak,” I told her. “But I wouldn’t go near him.”
“Why not?” she asked, though I knew she was probably too shy to ever approach on her own.
“Just a gut feeling. I don’t really know him. But, well, back in Dothik, all the females know to stay away from a guardsman.”
“Like a rider, perhaps,” Syris said. “All they want is to be on dragonback. My father was one.”
“Oh?”
“And he left long ago,” she said pointedly.
“Oh,” I said quietly. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. My mother and I aren’t.”
“Does she live here?” I asked as we were nearing the grain field. There was a path that cut to the right, curving around thefields, and in the distance there were a few stone buildings where we could see people milling around.
“No, she has a shop back in Grym. She can’t leave it for the season unless she hires on help. I used to help her run it…but she always knew I wanted to work with the Elthika. And there’s nowhere better to do it than here.”
I took her hand, giving it a squeeze. “Well, I’m glad you’re here,” I told her.
She gave me a smile, her scar pulling at her mouth.
“Now, let’s go get these awful oats.”
After we left the farmstead, our baskets overfilled with satchels of the heavy, stinking grain, we both struggled up the incline back to the village.
“On Muron’s blood, I know why those farmers are so fit,” Syris grumbled through her heaving breaths. “Usually Moak does this, but of course he’s nowhere to be found today of all days.”
“We should’ve asked Brune,” I said. While I was feeling much better today than last night, I still had a prickling headache and felt like I needed a solid day of sleep. But I hadn’t wanted to give Tarkosh another reason to mistrust me if I lay in bed all day.
“Yeah, we should’ve. He’d been quite eager for the chance, actually,” Syris said.
“He probably just wanted to go into the village for a chance at spotting Ethrisha,” I panted through gritted teeth.
Syris’s exhausted giggle drowned out my heaving breath. Momentarily, we paused for a break close to where the riders were in training, though they were all sprawled out on the ground, listening to their instructor. The instructor clapped, and they all pushed themselves to their feet, beginning to dispersewith weary shoulders and slow limbs. Perhaps it was their midday break.
“Think he’ll carry these for us?” Syris asked, hands on her hips, as she spotted Ryak, who’d caught a glimpse of us.
“Maybe if they were filled with gold and he got to keep it,” I said, watching as he approached, my eyes narrowing on him. We’d been here for a little over a week already, and we hadn’t spoken with the exception of that first day upon arriving.
