Return to Kinthaldith

Return to Kinthaldith: Chapter 24

Jesh brought the book over and sat next to Lord Risser. He opened it to the first chapter. "Try reading this. Let me see how you do."

Risser looked at him uncomfortably. He took the book and looked at it. "The," he began confidently with a glance over at Jesh. The next word stopped him, though, and he paused awkwardly. The word was 'house,' but Risser didn't know it. He fidgeted and cleared his throat. Jesh realized that Risser couldn't read at all and sat back and looked at him.

"Oh, don't look so smug," said Risser, annoyed, slamming the book shut. "Forget it."

"No," said Jesh, opening the book up again. "I'll teach you. I'll read it and point to each word. You know these words. You just need to learn how to read them. The first word is 'House.'"

"That's 'house?'" asked Risser, then nodded.

Jesh continued to read for him. They spent the rest of the evening reading the book.

* * * * *

The next day turned cooler, but at least the rain stopped. Lord Risser set a more leisurely pace that day up the steep mountain trail toward Farhoven. They were making good time, and he was in no hurry.

Lord Darrish and the others were probably already in Talleighdoran, waiting for him. Risser had no idea what he'd tell them or what to do about Jesh. He had given his word to Bishop Raithenevor that he would deliver Jesh by solstice. Now, he was just putting off the inevitable.

Jesh plodded along behind him, carrying most of the supplies with no complaints, as usual. Risser felt a twinge of guilt about Jesh. He'd taken advantage of him by luring him into an oath of allegiance. It was low--almost despicable--except for the fact that Risser felt that Jesh deserved it. Or did he? He hadn't expected Jesh to turn out to be so honest and likable.

They rested reasonably often, mainly for Risser's own sake. His condition had improved, but his side still hurt from the wound, and he didn't want to aggravate it. It was bad enough that they had to walk.

"Let's camp here," Risser said at last, dropping to the ground in a grove of trees near the river. He could tell the season was turning. The air had grown cold and smelled of snowfall. Perhaps he should have kept going, but they could easily make Farhoven tomorrow.

Jesh dropped his bags on the ground and sat down, catching his breath from the steep climb.

Tonight would be cold, and both of them were drenched. After a short rest, Jesh got up and went to search for firewood. Risser scarcely had to tell him anything anymore; he was so efficient. He did everything without being asked. He always remembered just how Risser liked things done, and he found himself thinking that Jesh really could make a good valet.

It was still light and would be for a while. Risser lay down to rest and let Jesh fuss with cooking dinner. He drifted to sleep but woke later. The soup was still cooking, and Jesh was setting up the tent. It was very comfortable having Jesh around to help.

Risser tasted the soup but found it bland. He headed out into the forest to search for herbs. He needed some comfrey for his own wound. He found that and then hunted for some wild basil. Nothing helped a soup like basil.

Back at camp, Risser found Jesh stirring the soup. "It's bland," he said. He handed him the basil. "Use this." Jesh took it and added it to the soup. "And add more salt." Jesh nodded.

They ate the soup in silence. It tasted reasonably good, considering that Jesh had cooked it.

After they finished eating, Risser rested awhile. After Jesh had cleaned up, he approached Risser. "Let's read again," he suggested cheerfully. How he managed to stay cheerful under his present circumstances mystified Risser--he was a damned eternal optimist.