Free Cherryh, C J - Fortress 02- Fortress of Eagles by Fortress of Eagles Page A

of the Ivor plains, not to the Crysin breed that the Ivanim rode, a type which they had bred up from the Byssandin. It was horses, hounds, and hunting where Guelenfolk gathered in numbers, and Tristen listened to his second discourse on horse-breeding for the day.
    Cevulirn, with Cefwyn, opined that Murandys was likely to lose the strength of the Spestinan and add all the faults of the Byssandin shoulder, which produced a notoriously unpleasant gait. That led them to a mare Ninévrisë had brought from Elwynor, that Cefwyn much recommended and that Cevulirn greatly approved; and thus back to the spring campaign, and the ill-made tallies, which Ninévrisë declared they should not discuss tonight, no, firmly, no.
    So back to the breeding of horses and the plenitude of hay this fall, a good last cutting. The conversation all was light and pleasant, until at last Emuin enjoyed too much ale himself, fell asleep, and two pages had to see him off to his tower. Ninévrisë made her departure at the same time. So did Cevulirn and then Efanor; and Tristen thought it clearly time to go.
    But when Cevulirn and Efanor were out the door of the Blue Hall, Cefwyn stayed him for a moment with a hand on his arm, and Cherryh, C J - Fortress 02- Fortress of Eagles offered him, of all things, a purse heavy with coin.
    “Sir?” he asked, perplexed.
    “Penny day, we call it. A custom. The day after this, folk high and low repair to the Quinalt, either at high services or any hour of the day after noon, if they will, and drop the harvest penny into the collection box. Supposing that you have no great abundance of pennies, I give you these, for yourself, for Uwen, for your household, to give to the Quinalt.”
    “Yes, sir,” he said. He was unaccustomed to handling money. He wondered what a sack of pennies might buy, and he was already planning to go later rather than early and to do the deed quickly. He did not like the thought of the Quinaltine roof over his head. He wondered if he might send Uwen to do it for him, and whether there might be coins left over.
    “For each of your servants and Uwen and yourself. It is important,”
    Cefwyn added, “that each man make his gift with his own hand.
    The harvest penny repairs the Quinalt roof.”
    “Does it leak?” It seemed an odd way to deal with an urgent situation; and he made Cefwyn laugh and clap him on the shoulder.
    “Not for at least fifty years, but a benefice once accorded never goes away, not where the priests are involved. Supposedly now the money goes for the widows of the town, which is a good work, but most of all, understand, it requires even the king to make pilgrimage up the Quinalt steps, and there to drop in the harvest penny to show his piety. You are not frequent in your observances… truth, you have not been, on my advice. This time, you must do this with your Cherryh, C J - Fortress 02- Fortress of Eagles own hand sometime during the day. As I shall at the high ceremony.”
    “Yes, Your Majesty.” The warmth of the wine had deserted him in the chill of imagining that place of groined arches and pillars that stood like forbidding watchers. But Cefwyn clearly had some compelling reason for sending him there, a reason he was sure had nothing to do with the Quinalt roof, and Cefwyn’s hand on his shoulder drew him close as they walked the outside hall toward the doors.
    “Efanor has warned me before this,” Cefwyn said. “You know the priests are discontent with Her Grace, and entirely distrust the southern barons, who are not Quinalt, excepting the lord of Imor Lenúalim. And that they are also very discontent with master Emuin, who is far, far closer to me than the Quinalt has ever found comfortable. They will wish to find fault.”
    If they disapproved Emuin, it was very clear by extension that they disapproved him—which was no news at all, but troubling.
    “For my sake, do this,” Cefwyn said. “Bring the penny.
    Scrupulously, on the day. Uwen will guide you.