with the oceans, lakes, and rivers done in blue, the forests in green, the deserts in tan. He got himself the last cup of coffee and sat down on the log, his back to the camp, to look at it for a while. That way he could say he’d been studying, but it was in fact pure pleasure.
Dingus took a couple sips of the cof fee, but after that he forgot about it, trying to imagine the places on the map. Every so often he’d flip the pages to look at the more detailed maps of somewhere; he had the book memorized, really, but that didn’t matter.
After a while he fetched himself Kessa’s share of dinner, since she hadn’t shown up to claim it, and kept reading. Books weren’t something he’d expected to enjoy, but then, Grandma had only three: a book of recipes she’d made herself; a copy of The Scripture of Mother and Father , the hitul holy book; and an almanac in Trader’s. She’d taught him to read with them, but they weren’t exciting, not like the books in the way station library. He wished he’d dared to ask for one of the history books, too, maybe the one about Brightwater-Lightsbridge relations for the past eight hundred years; interesting stuff, that, especially when he thought about their latest war, the one they’d been having for almost three years now over trading rights with the Monmouth Islands.
He read the book of maps all afternoon and hardly noticed himself shifting around to stay with the changing light, but eventually he had to stop, partly because the trees blocked what light was left, and partly because it was about time to start supper. The fire had burned down to embers. He was just wondering if he should cook for Vandis and Kessa when Wallace came around. It surprised him, but the pleasure he felt at seeing the other boy surprised him more.
“You want to come by our camp for supper? We cooked too much, and Evan said I could invite you if I wanted.” Wallace beamed through his beard. “Henry’s doing up raisin pudding for afters, he does the best pudding.”
Weirdly enough, Dingus did want to. “I don’t know if Vandis is gonna want anything.”
“Oh,” Wallace said, that phlegmy sound again, “let him fend for himself. He always did before.”
Dingus grinned. Wallace seemed to have that effect. “Just let me bank the fire.”
Going with Wallace turned out to be a good decision. Lady Pearl and Francine sat around with Evan while Henry, who Dingus learned was Evan’s Junior and about to make Senior on Longday, dished up johnnycake and pork livers and sweetbreads with gravy. The raisin pudding tasted as good as Wallace’s promise: sweet and spiced, with fat raisins soaked in brandy and a soft texture just this side of mushy. It came with a generous pat of butter on top, which melted down into the crevices and spoon holes, gilding the lily. There was plenty of food for everyone, even with Wallace’s putting away two helpings of everything, so Dingus ended up having thirds.
“Good supper. Thanks for inviting me,” he said when the dishes were all cleared up. “See you guys around.”
“Aren’t you coming to the party?” Francine asked.
There’s a party? His experience of parties wasn’t exactly broad, but the ones he’d been to, he wished he hadn’t. He shrugged. “Wasn’t planning on it.”
Wallace said, “And what were your plans? There’s always a Squire party, didn’t you know that? Everyone’ll be there.”
Everyone. Arkady, he thought, and swallowed hard. “Uh, I was gonna…” Think, think fast. “…study,” he decided. “You know, for the Quiz.”
“If you don’t know it now, you never will.” The beard split in another grin. “C’mon with Franny and me, you won’t be regretting it.”
“I don’t know anybody.”
“That’s a piss-poor excuse for an excuse,” Francine said, and she and Wallace laughed over it.
Dingus tried to think of something else, anything. “I have a—” Headache, he thought, that’s a good excuse.
She reached
Dingus took a couple sips of the cof fee, but after that he forgot about it, trying to imagine the places on the map. Every so often he’d flip the pages to look at the more detailed maps of somewhere; he had the book memorized, really, but that didn’t matter.
After a while he fetched himself Kessa’s share of dinner, since she hadn’t shown up to claim it, and kept reading. Books weren’t something he’d expected to enjoy, but then, Grandma had only three: a book of recipes she’d made herself; a copy of The Scripture of Mother and Father , the hitul holy book; and an almanac in Trader’s. She’d taught him to read with them, but they weren’t exciting, not like the books in the way station library. He wished he’d dared to ask for one of the history books, too, maybe the one about Brightwater-Lightsbridge relations for the past eight hundred years; interesting stuff, that, especially when he thought about their latest war, the one they’d been having for almost three years now over trading rights with the Monmouth Islands.
He read the book of maps all afternoon and hardly noticed himself shifting around to stay with the changing light, but eventually he had to stop, partly because the trees blocked what light was left, and partly because it was about time to start supper. The fire had burned down to embers. He was just wondering if he should cook for Vandis and Kessa when Wallace came around. It surprised him, but the pleasure he felt at seeing the other boy surprised him more.
“You want to come by our camp for supper? We cooked too much, and Evan said I could invite you if I wanted.” Wallace beamed through his beard. “Henry’s doing up raisin pudding for afters, he does the best pudding.”
Weirdly enough, Dingus did want to. “I don’t know if Vandis is gonna want anything.”
“Oh,” Wallace said, that phlegmy sound again, “let him fend for himself. He always did before.”
Dingus grinned. Wallace seemed to have that effect. “Just let me bank the fire.”
Going with Wallace turned out to be a good decision. Lady Pearl and Francine sat around with Evan while Henry, who Dingus learned was Evan’s Junior and about to make Senior on Longday, dished up johnnycake and pork livers and sweetbreads with gravy. The raisin pudding tasted as good as Wallace’s promise: sweet and spiced, with fat raisins soaked in brandy and a soft texture just this side of mushy. It came with a generous pat of butter on top, which melted down into the crevices and spoon holes, gilding the lily. There was plenty of food for everyone, even with Wallace’s putting away two helpings of everything, so Dingus ended up having thirds.
“Good supper. Thanks for inviting me,” he said when the dishes were all cleared up. “See you guys around.”
“Aren’t you coming to the party?” Francine asked.
There’s a party? His experience of parties wasn’t exactly broad, but the ones he’d been to, he wished he hadn’t. He shrugged. “Wasn’t planning on it.”
Wallace said, “And what were your plans? There’s always a Squire party, didn’t you know that? Everyone’ll be there.”
Everyone. Arkady, he thought, and swallowed hard. “Uh, I was gonna…” Think, think fast. “…study,” he decided. “You know, for the Quiz.”
“If you don’t know it now, you never will.” The beard split in another grin. “C’mon with Franny and me, you won’t be regretting it.”
“I don’t know anybody.”
“That’s a piss-poor excuse for an excuse,” Francine said, and she and Wallace laughed over it.
Dingus tried to think of something else, anything. “I have a—” Headache, he thought, that’s a good excuse.
She reached
Similar Books
