"Just sit still will you stop moving around so much.” Lyn grabs the reins and pulls Mary’s horse along.
"Okay, but this saddle is uncomfortable too." Mary complains. “We’ve been riding for days. Do you see Patsy?”
”More like hours silly. Just relax and let the horse do the work. We’re almost there I know it.” Lyn reassures Mary as they catch up to Sharon. “Patsy is back there, but I see her cantering towards us. She’ll catch up soon enough.
“Look at the countryside it’s so much like home. I miss home.” Lyn sighs”
“Me too my friend. Me too…” Mary sympathizes with Lyn.
Sharon way up ahead. Hollers back to them. “I see it up ahead the sign was right. Branbury. Oh my, it’s beautiful. Hurray up you guys.”
“Oh look at that!” Mary’s jaw drops as she gazes out over the city. “Look at all the cottages. Window boxes are just overflowing with flowers and the emerald grasses.”
“I can see a town square up ahead too. I thought riding through the wilderness of Sequoia trees, was amazing. This is like out of a Tolkein novel.” Lyn exclaims.
“My butt is killing me and when do we get to meet the Chunuk that will take us to Melissa Douthit’s cottage?” Mary complains some more.
“Calm down will you.” Patsy rides up behind the others and her horse rears up as she stops.
“This place is great. I love the horses. I thought you liked them Mary.”
“I do, it’s just been such a long ride and I’m not used to it I guess.” Mary smiles and points to a
lovely thatched cottage on the edge of town. “That her, it’s Melissa. Hi Melissa!”
“Hi Melissa,” the others call out as they all slide off their horses.
“Do you have the tabac and Brandy Patsy?” Sharon asks her while she loosens her horse's cinch.
“Yup, I got more then enough to give to the old man. Hey, Oliver is here already right Sharon” Patsy helps them all with the cinches as they struggle to loosen them.
“Well of course, he is Oliver after all. There will be all kinds of BarBQ dishes, ribs, beef, pork, lamb chops, chicken and every other grilled thing imaginable. Local vegetables cooked over the fires too!” Sharon licks her lips at the thought. “Cheese platters and bread baskets. And chocolate everything. Puddings, cakes, pies, cookies, Melissa is fond of chocolate.”
“Will there be Mead?” Lyn wonders.
“I think so, but mostly wine, and all kinds of wine and rich Branburian ale to boot.” Sharon smiles.
“And of course the Branburian brandy.” Patsy holds up two bottles. “Mmmmm good!
All available at the Farrier village tavern where the wine is fine, the ale is sweet, the company is good, and the fire on the hearth never goes out."
“Hurry up girls.” Melissa yells to them as they scuttle up to the door of the cottage and each throw their arms around Melissa.
“Congratulations on the books, all of them.” The four hostesses of the Author Roast and Toast Exclaim as one.
“It’s Nibby, Cuddles, and Hampy!” Patsy smiles as Hampy jumps up into her arms.
Mary grins as Nibby knocks her down and kisses her all over the face. And Lyn hugs Cuddles to her with a grin.
It’s just another Roast and Toast!
This time it’s for Melissa Douthit and her wonderful YA
stories. Let’s welcome her to our roast everyone!
THE RAIE CHAELIA
When Chalice sets off for Branbury in the middle of the night with her grandfather’s instructions, she has no idea of the dangers that await her. The King’s men have destroyed her home village of Canton and she is suddenly thrown into a Terravailian world that she does not know. Lost and alone, she is hard pressed to evade the iron grasp of the madman who rules the land. With the help of a friendly Chinuk, an old man, and a book that she discovers along the way, not only does she find true friends and true love, but she also finds her true self and what it means to be the Raie’Chaelia.
She couldn’t believe her eyes. At the bottom of the page was, like all of the other entries in the book, a symbol and a name to the left of it. Above it was a short passage of lines and at the top, the title. As he moved toward the firelight, she showed him the page.
“It’s pronounced Rye-kale-ya. You don’t know Angaulic, Jeremiah?” she asked.
“A little but not much. I never really had time to learn it.”
She motioned to the bottom of the page, to the symbol. He squinted to make sure he was seeing it correctly.
“Isn’t that your birthmark, Chalice?” he asked. And it was. It was the mark of her birth and her pendant.
Then he read the name, pronouncing it awkwardly. “Chalicia Maefeline Raie’Chaelia D’Ielieria.”
With an inquiring look, he asked: “What does that mean?”
Staring down at the page in front of her with an expression of astonished incredulity, she spoke slowly. “It means …” she said as she glanced up and continued, the firelight dancing in her eyes, “Beautiful Chalice, True Princess of Ielieria.”
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