Jenny: Chessmen

As they came up the rise toward the villa through the sprawling little hamlet, the Guttersnipe's ears twitched to the noises of metal. Not metal from the smith's booth, but from the courtyard before Vortigern's house: loud and irregular, interspersed with the angry calls of horses. She knew those sounds. "Just - just a minute..." she said vaguely to Domitia, and spurred her colt up the gravel path. Rounding the corner, she came into sight of the courtyard. Her heart stopped.

There were soldiers there, dismounting and taking off their packs and saddles, disorderly and brawny. In their midst was a big man with a head of long, fair hair braided at the temples and hands that could play a harp. He bore a long shaft of fresh, green juniper in one of his hands, and as he turned to look about, the Guttersnipe saw his eyes were rimmed with black so that they looked soft and feminine and joltingly fierce. Her mouth went dry.

The sounds of hooves came up behind her. She knew without really looking that it was Domitia, curious and wary. But there was no time to explain. She slid her right leg over her saddle, digging her bare foot into the stirrup to hold on. "Never mind the dog," she hissed and, snapping her fingers at Domitia, whipped up the colt with such a fury that he sent a spray of gravel careening into the air. Like a shot she went back down the road for the stables.