Night Blooming by Chelsea Quinn Yarbro Read Free Book Online Page A

runnered sledge behind them, a sturdy square, equal to a tall man’s height, of thick oaken planks with a lip around the edge and a place to attach a rudder. The man in the lead was red-faced and panting, his loose mantel clinging to him, darkened by sweat.
    The peasants approached the ferrying ropes, going as far out on the gravel bar as was prudent, the sun falling full upon them and a swath of the river, making it shine like polished metal. The leader signaled his fellows to begin loading the sledge. His orders, although largely incomprehensible, resulted in the packsaddles on the mules being unloaded and the crates and chests they had carried stacked on the sledge; then the laden sledge was shoved down to the edge of the river. The leader looked at Otfrid, and said, in poor Frankish, “Three of you cross, and get ready to pull the load out of the water.”
    Otfrid bristled at the effrontery of the man, but Rakoczy said, “A very good idea. My man will lead the mules across, and I’ll come after the ferry. This way we will be able to help if anything goes awry, and need not depend wholly on you to guard my goods. The Fratre can go with whichever group suits him, but it would probably be best if you, Otfrid, went with Rorthger, to supervise the retrieval of the sledge.” He coughed once and made a self-deprecating gesture. “I will do all I can to help the men handle the ferry; these are my things, and I should be responsible for them.”
    This last concession gave the missi dominici an acceptable reason to accept Rakoczy’s proposal; Otfrid nodded and signaled to Rotgaud. “You and I will go with the manservant. Adalgis and Stracholf, you stay on either side of the ferry; if it needs steadying, you are to do it. If any of the Magnatus’ chests are lost, you will be accountable. The rest can bring up the rear with Magnatus Rakoczy. Keep to the downstream side, in case any of the chests should slip into the water. I don’t want to have to chase them down the river.” He urged his horse into the water, letting her drink before using his heels to move her on across; behind him, Rorthger tugged the lead-ropes to pony the mules into the water.
    “We’re ready,” said the head of the peasants, and stepped aboard the ferry, putting the rudder in place to swing it down once the ferry was fully in the river. Beside him, two of the soldiers set their horses splashing into the current, Adalgis whooping at the relief from the heat.
    The smallest of the mules balked just before he began to swim across the deepest stretch of river; he craned his neck as high as he could and angled his ears back in disapproval of what he had to do. Rorthger clicked his tongue and tugged on the lead, and the mule finally caught up with his fellows just as Rorthger’s dun gelding began to scramble up the bank, water streaming off his now-mud-colored coat. The mules came after him, far more surefooted than the horse, and tried to shake themselves off—they succeeded only in loosening the girths of their packsaddles. Rorthger led them to the side of the road, leaving a clear path for the ferry, which was now almost at midstream, holding its course precariously as the three peasants aboard it struggled to pull it along the guy-ropes while their leader held onto the rudder for dear life and his companion held the guy-ropes steady.
    Rakoczy tapped his grey with his heels; the horse moved into the sunlight and the river behind the ferry, bringing his head up as the water rose above his chest; Rakoczy wrapped one hand around the high pommel of the saddle to keep from swaying with vertigo. He kept his hand on the reins but relied on the horse to choose the most direct crossing, for weakness overwhelmed him as he strove to maintain his seat. The pull of the current insidiously sapped his strength, his vision wobbled, and he felt his skin start to burn. Pressing his lips firmly together, he concentrated on reaching the far bank. He could feel the grey