The Will of the Empress - By Tamora Pierce Page 0,75

she explained, "you learn the quickest ways to get hold of breakfast before you ride off at sunrise."

"Actually, Her Imperial Majesty would think the day was half over at this point," said Caidy, looking east. "We tend to sort ourselves into two groups over time: the ones who couldn't sleep past dawn even if we wanted to, and the ones like Fin, who sleep in every chance they get."

"Will you look at this?" Rizu asked. "Here we are, three females, all mounted up and ready to ride. If Jak and Briar don't get out here soon, I say we should leave these lazy men behind and eat all the rolls."

"Jak was complaining just last week that women always keep him waiting," Caidy explained. "He's never going to hear the end of this."

"End of what?" Jak sauntered into the stableyard, a sausage roll in one gloved hand. A hostler led his mount over to him.

"You're late," Rizu said.

"You're still here, so how can I be late? And here comes Briar." Jak pointed to a side door.

"We were all here and ready to go," Rizu informed Jak as Briar accepted the reins of his horse.

"Isn't Clehame Sandrilene coming?" Jak wanted to know. "I thought I'd be needed to save her from ferocious goats and the like."

"Those goats should look for someone to save them from her," Briar told the young nobleman. "Haven't you been paying attention?"

"She has to do responsible things," Rizu informed Jak. "Unless you want to hold account books for her to read, I'd mount up."

Jak shuddered as he followed her suggestion. "That's what I have older brothers for," he said, patting his bay's glossy neck. "Responsible things." He looked at Briar. "Race you to the river bridge," he said quickly, and urged his mount into a gallop.

"Coming through!" Briar yelled, setting his own horse to a trot. He pulled himself up into the mare's saddle as she moved, effortlessly swinging his leg over her back. Caidy laughed and galloped alongside Briar as they raced for the first gate.

Rizu sighed. "Children," she said. "Overgrown children, the lot of them." She and Daja followed the racers at a more leisurely pace. "Let's hope all of the gates are open, or this will be a short race." She winked at Daja.

Daja looked down, feeling her cheeks grow warm. She wished she had long, curling lashes like Rizu's. They made everything she did look flirtatious.

*

For the next two days, Sandry's companions amused themselves while Sandry acquainted herself with her ancient family home and its management at the hands of Ambros and his father. After that the group ranged farther afield with Ambros on rides to introduce Sandry to her many acres and those who worked them. They lost Briar for a day when he got to talking with the man in charge of the river tolls and crossings. All it took was the mention of particularly tough, long waterweeds that fouled oars and rudders to sidetrack Briar from his flirtation with Caidy. She pouted for two days and reserved her smiles for Jak, until Briar produced a small bottle of lily-of-the-valley perfume, made so that one drop would leave her smelling hauntingly of the flowers. That gift returned him to her good graces.

Daja, too, enjoyed the rides, partly because they took her to the villages that lay on Sandry's vast holdings. Those villages had smiths, men and women who were more than happy to talk with, and to trade tips with, another smith. After time spent in the nobles' glittering company, Daja needed the solidity of the forge and those who worked in them. She always felt excited among the nobles, as if she stood on the brink of some great discovery. It was wonderful, but exhausting. Metal brought her back to earth.

Tris never accompanied them. She was too busy working with Zhegorz, teaching him ways to shut out the things he saw and heard, being more patient with Daja's jittery friend than Daja believed Tris could ever be. Something she learned on her travels gentled her a bit, Daja thought one night over supper, watching Tris rest a hand on Zhegorz's shoulder as he stared into the hearth fire. If she doesn't think anyone's watching her, she can actually be kind. Tris. Who would have thought it?

Sandry thought she would go mad with Ambros's dry recounting of grain yields, mule sales, and tax records, but she had to admire his work. In those immense account books she could trace the progress he