FOUR
THE QUEEN’S RIDERS
Unloading the packs, they shooed the ponies into the meadow, and Daine followed Onua into the barracks. Climbing stairs, Onua led them through a door painted a bright red. Inside was a big room with two rows of beds, six in each row.
Taking a key from her belt-purse, the K’mir unlocked a room near the door to reveal a single bed, several chests, a desk, and a shelf of books. With a sigh, she dropped her packs on the floor and motioned for Daine to do the same. “I’m not here often, but I’m always glad to see it” She opened the shutters and flopped onto the bed. “Pull up a chair.” Daine obeyed.
The woman smiled at her. “As to your future. I’d like you to stay with me—you’re the best assistant I’ve ever had. If you don’t want that, you have other opportunities. Alanna would give you work, here or at Pirate’s Swoop. Numair could do the same. Both of them say they’ll mention you to the king.”
Daine shook her head. The road was one thing; people might forget their station in life there. Here they’d go on with their real lives. Exalted persons like Alanna would not bother their heads over a homeless Gallan. Surrounded by wealth and magic, Numair would have better things to think of.
Onua drew a leather bag out of her purse and gave it to Daine. “There’s your pay, and the bonus. You can sleep here till you decide what you want.”
“Don’t be silly,” Daine informed her. “I’ll work for you.”
Onua’s face lit, and she grinned. “Don’t you want to know the terms?”
Daine had opened the bag and was gaping at the contents: a handful of silver coins and two gold ones. “Did you overpay me?” she accused.
Onua laughed. “You earned every penny, girl-child.” She ticked points off on her fingers. “You fought Stormwings and spider-monsters. You found Numair and nursed him. That’s besides what I said I’d pay you for. No, don’t argue. Listen. The job’s two coppers a day, plus room and board and bonuses for unusual duty. You help me with the trainees—selecting mounts, handling ’em, grooming ’em, and so on. They get two, so they have a spare ready all the time. But you know these ponies—if one’s a handful for most people, think what two are like!”
Daine giggled. “I feel sorry for your trainees.”
“Don’t. They learn—or they wash out. You and I take care of the rest of the herd. In a few weeks we all go to the field training camp, and we make sure the recruits don’t abuse their ponies. You have lots of free time. Socially, you’re as good as a trainee—better, ’cause you’re trusted to know what to do with a horse, and they aren’t. Don’t let them order you around. Most of the bad apples will go home crying after a week or so, anyway.” Onua grinned. “What d’you think?”
Her head spun. Take today as it is, she thought, making herself calm down. Tomorrow I’ll deal with tomorrow. “I’ll stay.” They shook hands.
“You’re back!” Two people came in. One was a short K’mir, her face broader, less friendly, than Onua’s, her eyes black instead of gray green. The other was a big man, taller even than Numair and powerfully built. His skin was dark brown; his dose-cut hair looked like black wire. Pink, shiny skin like old scars wrapped around his wrists.
Onua hugged the visitors. “Daine, this is Buriram Tourakom—Buri, the commander of the Riders. And this is Sarge.” To the adults she said, “Daine is my assistant She’s young, but she’s worth her weight in gold.”
Blushing, Daine looked at the floor, “Onua!”
“She isn’t free with praise,” Buri told her. A smile lit her face and made her less forbidding. “If Onua says good things about you, then they’re true. Welcome.” She offered a hand for Daine to shake, and Sarge did the same. Daine was relieved to find both had the palm calluses of those who worked, and worked hard. “Actually” Buri told Onua, “we just saw Numair. Sounds like you had a rough time coming home.”
“It wasn’t so bad,” Onua replied. “Pretty uneventful, in fact, after Numair reached us. How are things?”
“Same-same.” Buri leaned against the wall. “The new class is ready. We’ll start after lunch. There’s the usual lot of soft-hands merchanters and farmers’ babies. A Player—George recommended him. He’s pretty solid, though he’s tall for ponyback. We may have to give him a horse.”
“We lost two from the Third Rider Group, one from the Fifth,” Sarge added. Sitting on the floor, he still came up to Daine’s waist. “Half of the First Rider Group is on the casualty list, but nothing permanent.”
Plainly these people had a lot to catch up on. Daine got up. “Excuse me,” she said. “Onua, I’m going to look at the herd.”
Her friend smiled. “Don’t stray far.”
“It’s good to meet you, Daine,” Sarge told her. “We’ll get acquainted later. It’s just—”
Daine smiled and waved good-bye. She was a little envious of Onua, with her home and friends, but she forced that envy down. For certain she didn’t want Onua to be alone in the world as she was.
Leaving the barracks, she climbed the fence into the horse meadow. The animals she and Onua had brought hung back. Strange ponies, who had never met anyone like her, crowded around. Heads were thrust under her hands. Colors passed before her eyes: cream, dun, roan, chestnut, gray, odd-colors. She saw stars, blazes and masks, stockings and the spine-long stripe called a list; mares, geldings, stallions. All were the shaggy-coated mountain breed.
Now the ponies who knew her mixed with the strangers, bragging that she was their herdmaster. Daine giggled as they butted her with their heads and flicked her with their tails. There was no need to be envious of Onua, not with friends like these.
Time passed—she wasn’t sure how much. When a great bell chimed, she jumped.
“It’s the noon bell.” Daine hadn’t seen the woman on the fence. “Lunchtime.” She smiled. “Or will you just graze with the herd?” Her voice was low and clear.
Daine grinned and disentangled herself from her friends. Nearing the stranger, she had a good look at her and stopped. The woman was dressed simply in breeches and a shirt, but she turned them into the richest garments ever worn. Masses of coal black hair had been woven into a braid and coiled around her head. She had green hazel eyes set beneath level brows, ivory skin, and a full, red mouth. Her proudly arched nose was strong for classic beauty, but it fit her. Her only ornaments were a diamond on her gold marriage band and diamonds on her earlobes, but she didn’t need any more decoration. She was the most beautiful female Daine had seen, lovelier even than Ma.
The woman had said something. Daine wiped her hands nervously on her skirts and went to the fence. “I’m sorry, mum—I didn’t hear.”
“You look like Chavi West-wind.” She mistook Daine’s surprise and explained, “Chavi is known for horse magic. She’s a goddess, where I come from, one of the four—”
“Horse Lords. Onua told me. Bian North-wind, Shai South-wind, Vau East-wind, and Chavi. But they’re K’miri gods. Excuse my saying so, but you don’t look K’miri.”
The woman fingered the arch of her nose. “There’s bad blood in my family. I’m half K’mir, anyway. You’re a friend of Onua’s?”
“I work for her.”
The hazel eyes sharpened. “You’re Daine.” With a smile she explained, “Word travels fast here. You’ll get used to it.” She offered a small, delicate hand. Shaking it, Daine found calluses on the soft palm and smiled with relief. For a moment she’d been afraid she was talking to some kind of noble. She had never met a noble, apart from the Lioness, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to. What would she say to one?
“Let’s go eat,” the woman told her. “I’m starving—you must be too.”
Daine climbed the fence. “I think the whole city knows my name,’ she grumbled as they set off toward the barracks. “Did you tell me yours?”
“No. It’s Thayet.”
“The queen?”
“Only when I can’t avoid it,” said Thayet of Tortall. “Please don’t get all formal on me now. We were having such a nice talk.”
Daine scowled. “Odd’s bobs, this is a strange place! Knights who say call ’em by their first name and wizards that light tinder and queens that run around dressed like real people—”
Thayet laughed. “No wonder Alanna and Numair like you. You have a very unusual way of looking at things!”
Daine blushed. “I’m sorry. I’m just so—confused, here.”
“That’s normal,” the queen assured her. “I felt the same, once.” They entered the barracks. “Some lunch will make you feel better.” She steered Daine through a door and into chaos. This room was filled with long wooden tables and benches. A third of them were occupied by men and women in their late teens and early twenties, who created enough noise to fill the place.
Daine copied Thayet as the queen picked up a wooden tray and went to the servers at the back of the room. These people confirmed the woman’s identity: each bobbed respectfully and called her “Majesty” as they put bread, cheese, bowls of stew, fruit, and mugs of cider on her tray and Daine’s.
“Thayet, there you are!” Buri came up as they left the servers. “We’ve been looking for you. Onua says she and Daine here met up with Stormwings, and some kind of spiders with human heads—” Talking, she led the queen to a table at the head of the room, where Onua and Sarge waited.
Onua beckoned to Daine, but the girl didn’t want to be there, under the eyes of everyone. Shaking her head, she went to the corner of an unoccupied table and sat with her lunch. I’m younger’n anyone here, she thought, buttering a roll. How can I make them mind what I say about the horses?
A girl sat down across from her. “Hello!” She had dark hair cut boyishly short, and a pair of dancing green eyes. With a tip-tilted nose, a cleft chin, and a dusting of freckles, she looked like pure mischief. “I’m Miri. Are you a new trainee?”
Daine shook her head. “I work for Onua, the horsemistress. I’ll be helping you with the ponies, I guess.”
“Good—we need more girls. There are too many boys.” Miri stuck her tongue out at the tall, blond youth who settled his tray beside Daine.
He smiled. “Do you mind if I sit here?”
She shook her head. He had a very kind smile and bright blue eyes.
“Evin Larse.” He sat and offered a hand.
Daine accepted it. “Daine Sarrasri.”
He reached for her ear and seemed to pull a roll out of it. “Didn’t wash this morning, did you?” He smeared cheese on the roll and grinned at Daine’s openmouthed surprise. “My family’s Player folk,” he explained. “I have all sorts of useless talents.”
“She’s going to help us with the ponies,” Miri said. “I need all the help I can get,” she informed Daine. “Up till two weeks ago I could count on one hand the times I’ve been on a horse”
“You’re doing fine,” Evin told her soothingly. He looked at Daine. “She’s been grooming and riding up at the palace stables.”
“But these ponies are different,” Miri protested. “You heard Sarge—they’re picked to be fussy and mean, and they bite.”
Daine grinned. “They’re not so bad. Me’n Onua brought some down from Galla, and I’ve been with the herd. There’s nice ones. You’ll see.” Looking around, she thought that the last time she’d seen such a mixed herd of humans was at the fair in Cría. There were two other blacks, three very brown youths, and five more as blond, pale skinned, and blue eyed as Scanrans. The rest could have come from any of the realms around the River Drell.
“You look overwhelmed,” Evin told her. “They’re just trainees, like Miri and me.”
“Yes, but what does it take to be a trainee?” she asked. “How did you two join up, if you don’t mind my asking?”
“Oh, joining’s the easy part,” Miri said. “They post the rides in all the schools and at recruiting stations in the towns.”
“You have to be fifteen or more,” Evin said. “Healthy, with all your body parts still attached—no missing hands or eyes.”
“Single,” added Miri. “No spouse and children. It helps if you ride, but it’s not required—they took me, and the only thing I ever rode in my life was a fishing boat. That’s what my people do, fish.”
“You need good reflexes,” Evin went on. “You have to read and write. For Tortallans that’s no problem—schools have been open to everyone for nine years now. For the ones that can’t read, the Riders’11 give you work in the palace till you learn. I think that’s all. Oh, and you have to be here by the March full moon. That’s when training starts every year.”
“That’s all?” Daine asked, shocked. “That doesn’t seem like much!”
“It isn’t,” said Evin. “The problem isn’t getting into the Riders—it’s staying. We’ve lost ten in the last two weeks—sick, wouldn’t take orders, couldn’t handle the schedule. We’ll lose more by summer’s end.”
Sarge rose and thundered, “Listen up, darlings! Today is your last day of fun at the king’s expense.” (“He calls running us around the meadow every day ‘fun,’” Miri whispered to Daine.) “Here’s Onua, our horsemistress.” Onua stood and nodded to everyone. “Daine—stand up, girl”—she obeyed—“is her assistant.” Daine sat when Onua did. “They brought the rest of the ponies we need,” Sarge went on, “so were ready to start the real work. You have till the bells chime one stroke to do what needs doing. At the bell, come to the horse meadow.” He clapped his hands. “Don’t sit there gawping, children—you pick your mounts today. Get those trays to the kitchen and get out of here!”
Onua took Daine aside. “What about sleeping arrangements? I can put a cot for you in my room or a storeroom, or you can sleep with the trainee girls. Your choice.”
“Please, Horsemistress—” It was Miri. “If nobody minds, Daine could bunk with me—if you want to, Daine.”
Daine thought it over and nodded.
“Fine,” Onua said. “After supper you can show Daine the bed. Would you excuse us now, though? I want to ask her something.”
The girl nodded and raced upstairs. Onua and Daine followed at a slower pace. “I’m glad you’re making friends,” the K’mir said. “It’s good for you to meet people your own age. Listen—I have to ask”—she pointed to Daine’s skirts—“doesn’t that outfit get hot?”
She’d hit on the burden of Daine’s life. The girl scowled: the litany she’d given Ma and Grandda for years bubbled to her lips. “Hot in summer, cold in winter, always getting tangled and ripped and soaked, clumsy, heavy—”
Onua smiled. She knew an old grievance when she heard one. “Then why wear ’em? Get yourself breeches and a shirt like me.”
Daine gaped at her. “Men’s gear? With folk talking about me all the time as is?”
Onua shook her head. “You’re not home now. The rules have changed.”
Daine opened her mouth to object—then closed it. She looked at her skirts. To be rid of them, and the petticoats…it hit her, really hit her, that she was free of Snowsdale. What could they do to her now?
From what Evin and Miri said, Riders came from all walks of life. In Galla she was strange. Here, everyone was different These people wouldn’t care if Ma was a hedgewitch. Maybe they wouldn’t even care that her father was unknown, someone her ma met one Beltane night and never saw again.
But they’ll care if they know you went mad, a tiny voice inside her cautioned. Best keep shut about that!
Onua let her think, and was rewarded when Daine’s blue-gray eyes shone like lanterns. “I’d love to put on breeches”
“Come on, then” Onua took her out of the girls’ dormitory and down the hall. “That’s mens country,” she said, pointing to a bright yellow door. “Off-limits to females, like were off-limits to them.”
In the supply room, a tall woman with red-bronze hair and great kindness in her face looked up from her desk. “Onua, welcome!” She came over to hug the K’mir. “Your assistant?” she asked.
“Daine, this is Kuri Tailor—she’s in charge of the girls. If there’s anything you need, Kuri’s the woman to ask.” Onua hugged Daine around the shoulders. “Kuri, she needs breeches and shirts. Daine, I hate to rush, but I need to talk with Sarge. You’ll be all right?” The girl nodded. “When you’re done, come out to the meadow and we’ll get these two-leggers mounted.” She left the room.
“The first day or so is crazy,” explained Kuri. “They always start as soon as Onua comes, so she has to move fast. You’ll be rushing too, once the Riders see how much work they can get from you—my word on it.” She measured Daine quickly and wrote down her findings. “I’ll have others tonight, but take these for now.” From stacks of homespun garments on one side of the room, she chose a pair of worn breeches and a patched white shirt. “No use wearing good clothes when you’re with the horses,” she explained. “Step behind that screen and try these on—let’s see how they fit”
Behind the screen, Daine drew the shirt and breeches on with trembling hands. Doubtless the trainee girls were used to such things. She had seen they all wore breeches. But she was a little scared. Dressed, she stepped out into the open.
“What the matter?” Kuri walked over to tug and adjust the garments.
“It’s—men’s gear,” she explained shyly. “At home, the priests and the headman—they’d never approve.”
“Forget them.” Kuri turned her, checking the clothes. “You’re ours, now. I’m not saying there won’t be people to carp and pinch at you. That’s human nature, alas.” Daine nodded. She knew. “But here life’s what you make it. Who you used to be doesn’t matter. Look at Sarge—he was a slave, once. Onua was beaten by her husband and left to die. Her Majesty and Commander Buri had to flee Saraine. Do you catch my drift?”
It was a lot to digest. Onua? It was impossible to think of Onua as beaten and abandoned by anyone. And Sarge? “I—I think so.”
Palace bells chimed one stroke, making Daine jump. “The bells take getting used to,” the woman informed her with a sigh.
“How often do they ring?” the girl asked, pulling on her boots.
“Every hour until late in the evening.” Kuri smiled. “All. set?”
“Yes’m.” Daine grinned at her. “Thank you.”
“Welcome to Corus, dear,” the woman said as Daine ran out the door.
Onua, Buri, and Sarge waited at the fence with a barrel of apples. Daine arrived just as Onua stuffed fruit into every pocket Miri had. “Bribe them,” she said, and shooed the reluctant girl through the gate Sarge held open.
“What do I do?” Daine asked.
“Use your instincts.” Onua watched the field as she spoke. “You have to make your own authority with the trainees. Not that I think that will be a problem. Just keep an eye out. Remember they have to pick two.”
“One for morning, one for afternoon,” Sarge added with a grin.
It was one thing to say “Make your own authority,” another to start doing it. For the moment Daine watched. Most trainees met the ponies cautiously or easily, depending on their natures. A mouse-gray mare twined about Evin as if she were a cat.
Looking for Miri, she saw trouble. Some of the more wicked animals had gone to torment the girl, who was plainly scared. Stopping an arm’s reach from her, they frolicked, showing more tooth and hoof than was necessary.
This won’t do! Daine thought, jumping into the meadow. She bore down on the mischief-makers with a scowl, Cloud following like a lonely dog, “Stop that!” she ordered. “What would your mas say if they saw you acting bad? Shame on you! Scat—and don’t come back till you’ve learnt manners!” The ponies shook their heads, looking properly ashamed, and fled.
“If she wanted to be a Rider, she ought to know how to ride,” a female voice muttered. Daine looked for the source, but none of the nearby trainees met her eyes.
“At home only lords or couriers ride,” Miri explained, shamefaced. “I’ve been practicing. It’s just—there’s so many, and they’re so frisky.”
Daine put a hand on her shoulder. Her new friend was solid, muscular, with a love of life she could almost feel. “Look—there’s some you’ll like.” She pointed to a cluster of ponies milling around a tree in the open meadow.
“I’d have to go through the herd,” the older girl whispered.
Daine stuck her hands in her pockets. “See how you kept to the fence, because you’re shy?”
“I didn’t think ‘shy’ was the right word,” Miri confessed.
“Hush. Those ponies are nice, but they’re shy too. If you want to meet them, you have to do the walking. They’re just animals. They can’t know you’ve kept to the fence because you’re shy.”
“It can’t be worse than sailing through a storm,” Evin said from nearby.
“I only did that once.” Miri looked at the herd and the shy ponies, swallowed—and walked forward. Daine and Cloud followed her to the tree.
“Here, boy.” The pony Daine beckoned forward was a gelding, his body hairs a mixture of black and white, his mane, tail, face, and socks black. “I want you to meet someone.” The pony sidled around until he was behind Daine, peering at her human friend. “This fellow is what we call a blue roan. We came south together.” Daine looked over her shoulder. “Come out here and meet Miri. If you ask nice, she might give you an apple.”
The roan’s ears pricked forward at the word apple. Carefully he emerged from behind Daine to approach the older girl.
“He’s beautiful.” Timidly Miri offered him a fruit. Within seconds it was gone and he was inspecting her pockets for more. Daine instructed, “Now blow in his nostrils, gentle like. It’s how you get acquainted.”
“It seems rude to me.” Miri obeyed, and giggled when the blue returned the courtesy. “You know, they aren’t as scary as I thought.”
“Animals are easy to understand,” Daine told her. “You just have to know how to talk to them.”
“You talk to them like they really are people.” Miri smiled as the roan leaned into her hands.
“Don’t say it’s like I have magic” Daine said. “I hear it all the time, and it makes me crazy.”
“Depends on what you mean,” Miri commented. “The sea’s full of magic, but we can’t use it like the Gift. It isn’t the same. My uncle is a wave-speaker—he swims with dolphins. He talks to them, whole conversations. Have an apple,” she told a tan mare who had come near. The pony took one daintily. Soon they were breathing into each other’s faces.
“Walk with them a bit,” Evin suggested, joining them. The reins he held belonged to the mouse-gray mare and to a tall stallion, a cream-colored beauty with a white mane and tail. “Daine, what do you think?”
She went over both. Evin had chosen well: they were tall for ponies, which meant they would suit his long legs. The stallion was a showy, life-loving fellow, reflecting the Player’s extravagance of character. The mare was smitten with him, matching the sweetness that lay close to Evin’s bones.
“You got lucky,” she said when she was done. “This pair will do anything for you, if you handle them right.”
Evin grinned. “I’m glad you approve.”
Another trainee called her for help, a redheaded youth named Padrach. She gave it to him, then to another. Before she knew it the afternoon was done, and the trainees were taking their new mounts to the stables for grooming. Daine, Onua, Buri, and Sarge helped then too, though Daine couldn’t see how she could ever be comfortable telling a twenty-year-old man he was missing spots on the pony he was grooming.
She did try it: “Excuse me, trainee—what did you say your name was?”
Blue gray eyes twinkled at her over his cream-colored mare’s back. “I didn’t. It’s Farant.” His blond hair curled thickly over his head, almost matching the pony’s in color.
“Thank you. Trainee Farant, you’re missing spots”
“Not at all, sweetheart. I’m just combing too fast for you to see.”
“Trainee Farant, you’re missing spots!” Sarge boomed just behind Daine. She thought later she actually might have levitated at that moment—certainly Farant had. “Next time the assistant horsemistress tells you something, don’t flirt—correct it!”
He moved on, and Daine pressed her hands against her burning cheeks. Farant leaned on his mare and sighed. “Yes, Assistant Horsemistress. Right away.” He winked at her and went back to work.
Daine went to Sarge as the trainees were finishing up. “Sarge, I—”
He shook his head. Daine thought if he leaned against the stable wall any harder, it would collapse. How did a human, without bear blood in him, get to be so large? “Not your fault. These city boys see you, you’re young, sweet-lookin’”—he winked at her—“they’re gonna try to take advantage. If they can’t keep their minds on the job after I’ve had them two weeks already in my patty-paws, then I ain’t been doing my job right.” His grin was wolfish. “But that can be fixed.” Seeing her openmouthed stare, he asked, “Something the matter, my lamb?”
She closed her jaw. “No, sir. I just never met nobody like you.”
“And if you’re lucky, you won’t again,” muttered Buri, passing by.
After the stables there was a bath, a hot one. Bathing with other females in a tub as large as a pond would take getting used to, Daine thought, but at least she had plenty of soap and shampoo.
Dressed in clean clothes, she went to the mess hall, where Evin and Miri waved for her to join them. She noticed there was much less talk than at lunch. Afterward, the trainees cleared and scrubbed the tables, and Kuri went to the head of the room. Buri and Sarge were moving a map of Tortall into place behind her as she laid bundles of plants onto the table before her.
“Tonight it’s medicinal herbs,” she told them, and the trainees groaned. She smiled. “That’s not so bad. Remember, last week I was teaching you how to sew your own cuts—without anything to numb the pain.”
Daine saw Onua slip out the back, and followed. “Do I have to stay?”
“No, indeed not. You aren’t a trainee. You can help me unpack.”
That sounded like something she could get her exhausted muscles and brain to do. She followed Onua up the stairs to her room. “Do they have to study all the time?”
She sat on the bed while the K’mir opened her packs. “Clothes in a pile by the door. Don’t get up—just throw them. Packages on the bed next to you. Hand me scrolls and papers.” Daine hoisted a pack onto her lap and went to work. “Well, they have to get their book learning now, while they’re here. They won’t have much time, once we head for the summer training site. You’ll like the one this year: Pirate’s Swoop.”
Daine’s face lit. “Lady Alanna’s home?”
“The very same.”
Returning to the subject on her mind, she asked, “What do they study? The trainees?”
Onua numbered the topics on her fingers. “Poisons, medicines, edible plants. Tracking and hunting, all terrains. Reading maps, drawing them—maps here are a lot more accurate, now that Riders help draw them. Battle tactics. Weapons and hand-to-hand combat. Teaching combat and tactics—they show villagers how to protect themselves. The ones with the Gift have to learn all they can do with it. Veterinary medicine. I think that’s most of it.”
“And they learn all this?’ the girl asked, shocked.
The K’mir laughed. “They do their best. They have to. At the end of fall they go to groups in the field to start their trial year. If they survive, and most do these days, they’re assigned a permanent group. Why? Were you thinking of going for a Rider after all?”
“Not anymore!” Daine said emphatically.
Onua grinned. “I have trouble seeing you play soldier, even so odd a soldier as the Riders turn out.”
Later, tucked into a bed next to Miri’s, Daine thought Onua was probably right. It must be hard, having to account for every minute of the day as the trainees did. Why, she’d never get to meet any new animals!
Dozing off, she woke abruptly, feeling trapped. At first she didn’t even remember where she was. Sitting up, she looked around: the five girl trainees were in their beds, asleep. The barracks were silent.
If she didn’t get some air, she’d suffocate.
A window opened over her bed. She pried the shutters apart in time to hear a watchman’s distant cry: “The midnight hour, and all is well!”
Her bed was too soft after so much sleeping on the ground. She cursed under her breath and took blankets and pillow to the floor That at least was firm, and the air was cooler too. She waited for sleep again.
Miri turned over and said clearly, “But I love to ride.” Daine sat up to peer at her. The girl was fast asleep.
She lay back. The badger’s claw weighed heavy on her chest. When she turned onto her side, the thong half-choked her. She eased it and closed her eyes. Sheets and blankets rustled. A blond girl who had snubbed her in the baths snored. Another tossed and turned for what seemed like hours before she settled. Outside, Daine heard a dog’s bark.
A headache grew in her temples. She missed having animals close by. At home, she’d had a ground-floor room. Even in winter she left the shutters open a crack, and never slept cold. Her friends always kept her warm.
Disgusted, she grabbed her breeches from the chest in front of her bed. Her traveling gear was there, including her bedroll. It was the work of a second to dress and stuff her feet into boots. With her bedroll under her arm, she slipped downstairs and outside.
The night air was a relief. She inhaled the scents of field and forest happily, feeling sleepy and content as she crossed the open pasture. The tree that had sheltered the shy ponies that afternoon was there, the ground underneath mercifully free of manure. She spread out her bedroll and, already half-asleep, crawled in. Cloud lay down to support her back. Someone—a pony she didn’t know—lipped the foot of her covers.
“This is much better,” Daine said. “Good night, everybody.” Falling asleep, she knew the free ponies had come to stand nearby and keep her company.
In her dream, she walked down the road with Onua. Instead of ponies, they led people—the trainees—in chains. The night air was thick and sour, and marsh creatures made an incredible noise.
The noise stopped abruptly, cut off. Onua halted. “What’s that?”
A stench jell on them in waves. “Stormwings!” Daine cried.
She was awake and sitting up. Dawn shone between clouds in the east. The ponies milled nearby, restless and afraid. She drew a deep breath, feeling air pour into her chest like soup. Lurching to her feet, she peered overhead. The sky was empty, but that meant nothing. They were coming.
She dragged her boots on and ran for the building; the ponies ran with her. “Ho, the barracks!” she yelled, knowing she was too far away. “Riders!” On the second floor a window was open—her own. “Miri! Onua, wake up!”
A tousled head appeared, “Daine, what’s wrong?” Kuri yelled.
“Get Onua!” Daine screamed. “Tell her Stormwings are coming!” She gasped for breath. At her back she felt wrongness surge.
Kuri vanished from the window. The girl turned, knowing she could never reach the barracks in time. They rose from the trees, the suns first thin rays striking off metal wings. The familiar stink fell over her.
Zhaneh Bitterclaws led her flock, homing in on Daine. “Kill it!” she screeched. Her left eye was a black and oozing ruin. “Kill this beast!”
More than fifty Stormwings stooped to the attack. Cold with terror, Daine crouched against the ground. Cloud reared, ordering the Stormwing queen to come down and fight like a horse. Steel claws groped for her as the mare struck at the creature with her hooves. The ponies crowded around Daine, lunging at the Stormwings when they came too close.
Goddess, Horse Lords, get me out of this and I will never, ever sleep without a bow again, she promised.
Tahoi raced onto the field with a pack of hounds, all of them as big as he was. More dogs followed, baying. Seeing rocks nearby, three of them as big as her fist, Daine grabbed them. Her first struck Zhaneh Bitterclaws square on the nose.
“There, you monster!” she yelled, shaking her fist at the Stormwings. “Come close, so I can do it again!” A little dog that came with the hounds wove in and out of the ponies’ hooves to bring her more ammunition.
Black fire filled with silver lights wrapped around a Stormwing. The creature struggled, trying to throw it off: the fire crept into its mouth and blew it apart. More clouds of black fire chased Stormwings to kill them.
Darkmoon came, saddled and trailing his reins. He leaped to seize a Stormwing by the leg. Shaking his prize like a terrier, he snapped its neck.
Other war-horses followed. Behind them ran Sarge in only a breechclout, armed with a fistful of javelins. He threw the first with a yell. Daine gaped when a Stormwing dropped, trying to drag the weapon from its chest. The black man fixed on a new target and waited for his best shot, as calm as he’d been at lunch. Each time he threw, a Stormwing went down.
Onua raced onto the field in her nightgown, her small bow and quiver in her hands. She had an arrow on the string: lining up her shot, she dropped the Stormwing that was her target. Zhaneh Bitterclaws saw the K’mir and screeched her triumph as she attacked.
Daine yelled. Half of the animals went to Onua, ringing her as the others ringed Daine. More horses and dogs leaped the fence to cover Sarge.
Purple fire—Alanna’s magic—appeared, weaving a net around a pair of attackers. They screamed and beat at it uselessly: it dragged them to earth and the hounds. Thunder that was more than thunder pealed. The dogs howled—Daine clapped her hands over smarting ears. The Stormwings shrieked, trying to do the same thing with their steel feathers. Blue lightning darted from the top of the field, consuming each Stormwing it struck.
Near the fence a bearded man in shirt and breeches was the source of the blue fire. It shone around him, and pooled in his hands. Beside him was Alanna, dressed as he was, for riding. Nurnair was there too, in what looked like a nightshirt. Fire lashed from their hands—purple for the Lioness, black for Numair—to cut the enemy in two.
Zhaneh spoke in her odd language and began to climb; those that were able followed. A wall of their own fire wrapped around them, coloring them scarlet with an edge of gold light.
The bearded man threw a fistful of blue. The red shield consumed it, but the man continued to hurl bolts until the monsters were specks in the sky.
Daine’s knees buckled from exhaustion and shock. Numair came down the rise, looking as tired as when she had first seen him as a man. “I said I’d see you again,” he joked, leaning on the tree.
She grinned at him. “You timed it perfect.”
Darkmoon and the other horses, ponies, and hounds sat where they were, trembling with nerves. Many were cut and bleeding, but—miraculously—none were dead.
The bearded man crouched beside a Stormwing corpse. He must have discovered their smell: he sneezed and put a hand over his nose. Alanna and Onua went to him, Onua leaning on Tahoi for support. A liver chestnut and an iron gray horse nuzzled Sarge, making sure he was in one piece. Daine giggled, and found she was getting the same treatment from Cloud.
Numair offered Daine his hand. Cloud supported her on her free side, and a stranger mare let Numair prop himself on her. “The trainees usually wait till they’re away from the palace before starting any wars,” Numair told her. “The nobles will complain you got them out of bed.”
Daine looked up at him, worried. “Will I get in trouble?”
Sarge had heard. He laughed. “Let ’em complain. It’s good for them to be up in time for breakfast.”
When she was calmer, she thanked the dogs, horses, and ponies who had come to her rescue. Only when the men who worked in the palace stables and kennels arrived to retrieve their charges did she return to the Rider barracks.
“Should I go help them?” she asked Onua as she cleaned up. “Some of the animals were hurt. They’ll need stitching and bandaging—”
“Calm down,” the woman said. “There’s a sorcerer attached to each of the stables and kennels, to do any healing. Your animals will be fine.”
Daine followed her to breakfast, envious. Wouldn’t that be a wonderful thing, to be able to wave her hands and put an end to a creature’s hurts?
Evin and Miri besieged her with questions as she joined them. Why was she in the field? Hadn’t she been scared? Why did the animals fight for her and Onua? She answered as well as she could, but when Padrach and Farant came to ask the same things, she felt embarrassed.
After breakfast, Sarge ordered the trainees to report to the horse meadow for cleanup. Daine helped Kuri to clear a ground-floor storeroom, freeing it to serve as her bedroom. Its best feature was a door to the outside she could leave open. Other than that, it was tiny, just big enough to hold a bed, a storage chest, a chair, and a small table.
That afternoon she helped the trainees saddle and ride their new mounts. By the time everyone took their day’s-end bath, she was exhausted. She was content, at supper, just to listen to her new friends talk. Afterward, as the trainees got ready for their night’s lessons, Onua beckoned.
“What’s up?” Daine asked.
The K’mir led her to a room across the hall from the mess, “There’s somebody who’d like to meet you.” She opened the door, “I brought her,” she announced, following Daine inside. “Are we late?”