CHAPTER 57
Down one of the turnoffs that ran to the rapids of Gonglik Jong, where the water rushed over the stepped falls, Zandaril led her to a grassy spot near a backwater and pulled her off her horse, careful of her left arm. He tethered both mares where they could graze the autumn-tinged herbage and walked Penrys over to the bank before letting her rest.
“That hand needs looking at, now that we have lots of water,” he said. “And you’ll feel better if you can get cleaned up proper.”
Penrys let herself be handled. It was pleasant to sit and do nothing, the music of the falls drowning out everything else, and the spray soft against her skin, if a bit chilly.
Zandaril came back with yet another shirt, and someone’s tunic, too.
“Well-stuffed saddle bags,” she commented.
“I didn’t just
