by Alisha Basso
“Now,” she said. “Half the Horseguard must go on patrol to the same positions they held last night. I leave it to you to decide which half and when they should rotate.”
“Yes, Lady Horsecaller.” He scrambled to his feet, careful of the bench. “Right away, Lady Horsecaller.” He saluted.
“I would like a list of the current Horseguard, names, ages, length of service and experience prior to joining. Can you get that to me by the end of this evening’s meal?”
He nodded, holding the salute.
“I will meet with you and the rest in the courtyard shortly.”
Another crisp nod.
“Dismissed, Captain.”
He turned smartly. Lauren let out her breath. As he called out names for sentry duty, she tried to commit them to memory but lost track.
He delegated the list making to a Lieutenant Enaid, saying she had the best handwriting. Thoughtful. He might be oversexed and presumptuous, but he took and executed orders well.
Lauren would study the list tonight and conduct individual interviews tomorrow to get to know them. Things to do that she could control. Daily responsibilities. She hadn’t realized how much she missed that.
But the overriding goal—finding the horses—still hung over her head. She hadn’t forgotten what the crone, Sebira, had said. That the horses were dying. Hadn’t forgotten what she’d felt at the burial mound.
After the room emptied, she turned to Leinos. He grinned at her, a rare, full-on smile. “Well done.”
She wasn’t sure if he meant the order giving or the fun with Geed. “I’m sorry. What I said about your bruise was inappropriate.”
His smile faded. “I am honored by your concern, my lady. You gave the good captain…pause. And he has most likely already forgotten that.”
She hated the formality. Is that how it was to be between them? Perhaps it was for the best, but she didn’t want to lose his friendship. She’d been hurt and upset to find out there could be nothing more between them, but she had kissed him because she wanted to and wouldn’t change that.
Then, his eyes glinted wickedly. “I think I saw steam coming out of his ears. And thought I would burst a blood vessel trying not to laugh.”
Relieved, she made a clumsy grab for his hand and missed. He saved her by taking hers in both of his.
“I’m sorry about before, too,” she said in a rush. “I never meant to make you do…do something…improper.”
He rested his elbows on his knees and focused on their clasped hands, massaging her palm and between her fingers, sending little waves of pleasure to her belly. She breathed deeply, wishing they were someplace private, knowing they couldn’t, shouldn’t, needing him to stop, wanting him to continue. What happened between them earlier was just an inkling, she knew, of what could be.
And so much more than she had ever dreamed of at this point in her life. Nor would she allow herself to dream of it now.
“Do you think you could make me do something I do not want?” The words came out low and husky.
The inn was silent. It was late afternoon. The lull between cleaning up from lunch and getting dinner started. Either that or everyone within earshot was holding their breath, straining to listen.
She bent and touched her forehead to his. “I guess not,” she said on a sigh.
“It is I who must apologize, k’varo risa. I should have told you before.”
She couldn’t help it. She melted a little when he called her that. “Yes, you should have.”
She could feel his smile without having to see his face.
“You did nothing wrong,” he assured her. “My behavior was dishonest and dishonorable.” He lifted her chin to look her in the eye. “I beg your forgiveness.”
“I...” Oh, he looked as desolate as she felt. Since she’d arrived, he’d been committed to her protection, comfort, and assistance. This diffident humility threw her off. She’d never seen him so exposed.
Because she’d lived small for over forty years, keeping in the background, rarely speaking up let alone complaining, no one had ever asked for absolution from her. If her feelings were hurt, she just let it go.
“Of course,” she said. “There’s really nothing—”
“Shhh.” He touched her lips. “Thank you.”
She sat back, confused and light-headed again and needing to change the subject. “How long are we staying here?”
“The sooner we leave, the sooner we get to the Bitter Reaches.”
She wouldn’t mind sleeping in that bed a few more nights, but they really did have to go.
“But we’re still going to Lerom first? To the queen?” Lauren didn’t like the queen. That wasn’t fair since they hadn’t met. But the woman was a barrier to the horses.
“We must.”
“Why? Why can’t we just get the horses and then go to Lerom?”
“It will take more than you and the Horseguard if there are any number of horses left to call. We must recruit more guards and secure supplies to feed them. The only place to do that is Lerom. Without the queen’s order, you will have recruits but no supplies will be released.”
“The battle is won or lost by the quartermasters.”
“Quartermasters?”
“The people responsible for procuring and distributing everything the troops need.”
“Exactly so.”
Gently, she extricated her hand. “I’m going to introduce Captain Geed and the rest of them to Pindar. Come with me?”
“If it is your command.”
“I will not order you.”
“It is your right, Horsecaller.”
“Well, I won’t be exercising that right, Supreme Guardian. It’s your choice. But it’s getting dark, so I’m going to do it now.”
She walked out to where the Horseguard waited in a straight line. Each had a staff, crossbow, and quiver of arrows. She’d gotten used to carrying the staff but doubted the rest would become part of her kit. The stick was clumsy enough when she was mounted. How they would manage when they had horses to ride, she didn’t know. And they couldn’t eat weapons. That wasn’t a particularly original thought, but she understood better now why some made that argument. How did Belenn keep their bellies full?
The sun had been out all day, and she’d barely caught a ray. Maybe it would shine again tomorrow. She corralled her thoughts. Focus, Lauren. She faced them, started to chew her lip, caught herself, stopped. They looked as nervous as she.
Chickens clucked and scratched in the awkward silence.
“Permission to speak, Horsecaller?”
Lauren followed the voice, male, to the end of the line. Slim—they were all slim—reddish hair, blue eyes, on the younger side. Perhaps in his early thirties. “Yes? Your name, please?”
“Dosin, Horsecaller.”
“Thank you, Dosin. What is it you need?”
“I am wondering where you hail from. We have been waiting our whole lives for the Horsecaller, and our parents and grandparents before.”
“Longer still,” a woman said without asking permission.
The captain rebuked her for speaking out of turn.
“Meaning no disrespect,” Dosin said. “But where have you been?”
She should have been ready for this. “I—”
“The Horsecaller was detained,” Leinos said. He had hung back, leaning in the inn’s doorway, but now he stood beside her. “That is all you need to know.”
Dosin made a brisk nod. “Yes, Supreme Guardian.”
Lauren schooled her features into pleasant nonchalance, a well-practiced, almost reflexive state for her, in her old life. “Yes. I have indeed been detained,” she said, making a mental note to find out why Leinos had cut her off. “Now, would you like to meet my horse?”
Astonishment flashed. Hope surged through the group, excited whispers—a horse!
They formed a rough semicircle around the door to the stable. Inside, Pindar stood with a hind leg cocked, dozing. He lifted his head
and blinked as she approached.
My horse, she’d said. But he wasn’t. In that moment, she realized no one could ever own him. If he chose to allow her to ride him, if he chose to carry her where they needed to go, she would be grateful. But hers? Never.
Malek and Armody sat in a pile of straw. Malek dozed, Armody read a book. A book! What a welcome sight.
“Is all well?” Armody asked.
“Yes. I’m taking Pindar out to meet the Horseguard. You guys okay? Did you get enough to eat?”
“Oh, yes, my lady. Do not worry over us. We are content to keep him company.” She looked at Pindar.
“Good. Thank you.” Armody looked better every day. Paling around with Malek and sharing Pindar’s care agreed with her. “I appreciate your help. Pindar likes company.”
She picked straw from his mane and tail and smoothed the hair along his back.
“Don’t be surprised when we go out,” she said to him. “There are a bunch of people waiting to meet you.” He nudged her side, looking for treats. “I’ll try to find carrots for you, later.”
She put his bridle on, the heavy metal bit clinking against his teeth. “Sorry. Good boy,” she crooned as she buckled the noseband and throatlatch. Pindar nodded. “Yes, you’re a good boy. Ready?”
She pushed on the heavy door. There was a collective gasp as the soldiers of the Horseguard looked upon their first horse.
Pindar lifted his head, ears flicking back and forth, awake now, nostrils flared as he assayed the group. She thought all horses beautiful, but knew him to be particularly impressive. His coat was a dappled mix of white, black, and gray, giving him the luster of moonlight on water. He had large, intelligent, wide-set eyes, a mane of white, and a sumptuous tail shot with silver. Looking at him brought a small hitch to her chest. They would face Cirq’s challenges together—already had.
The Horseguard inched forward, murmuring—magnificent… incredible… beautiful. She tried to imagine never seeing a horse when your entire world revolved around them.
“Who wants to touch him?”
They stood transfixed, rooted, silent. She picked out the woman Geed had told to make the list. “How about you? Enaid?”
Enaid stumbled as if being pushed from behind. Pindar stood quietly as Lauren guided the woman’s hand to his neck. The rest of the group edged closer. Enaid smiled. She was tall and thin, like Artepa, with the same stick-straight blonde hair. Lauren knew what the horse felt like. Smooth, warm, with hard muscles flexing just under the surface; power encased in satin.
Everyone had to touch him now. She couldn’t be happier than to be with a group who loved and respected horses as much as she. One at a time, each received a quick summary of how to approach a horse—not tentatively, but firmly. Pindar leaned his chin on her shoulder, bored.
Geed put hands on hips and looked Pindar in the eye.
“What are you doing, Captain?” she asked.
Geed didn’t look away from the horse. “Apologizing to him for my rudeness to you, Horsecaller.” He shifted his gaze to her. “I would not want him sneaking up on me.”
“I don’t think you have to worry.”
Geed patted Pindar’s cheek, making a dull slapping sound. The horse blinked and jerked his head back.
“The paintings and statues in Lerom do not compare with seeing one in the flesh.”
Pindar sniffed Geed, and she kept tight hold of the reins, just in case the big gray decided to take a taste, too. The captain smiled as the horse snuffled his belly. She was about to warn him not to be too trusting when Pindar swung his head and butted the big man hard in the stomach.
With a grunt, Geed fell backwards and tumbled into a puddle. She put her hand over her mouth to keep control, but no one else felt the need. The rest of the Horseguard burst out laughing.
Astonishment swept Geed’s features, then a raucous, howling guffaw erupted from him, ending in a loud snort, which continued as he picked himself up off the ground but remained doubled over with mirth.
She looked at Leinos. He mouthed, “thunderous snorting,” quoting from the book of Job. She buried her face in Pindar’s mane and laughed until tears streamed down her face, a much-needed release.
“Well,” Geed said after he could stand straight again, addressing Pindar. “I guess you showed me who is boss after all. I give you my oath I will never insult the Horsecaller again. I will never let anyone else do it, either. If they do, I will cut out their tongue.”
Leinos clapped Geed on the back. “A good oath, Captain. For now, Pindar and the Horsecaller need rest. We leave for Lerom tomorrow.”
“I think Belenn still has some ale left,” Geed suggested, and the Horseguard followed him back to the inn.
Inside the barn, Leinos addressed Pindar as Geed had. “You have good instincts. I wish I could be so direct myself.” To Lauren, he said, “You will have no trouble with them.”
Lauren narrowed her eyes at him, giving him the same look he often gave her. She even felt her back teeth grinding together, just as his must when she did something annoying or suspicious. Did he really think she hadn’t noticed how he’d stepped in to answer Dosin’s question?
“Why don’t you want them to know I’m a Raver?” When he didn’t answer right away, she added, “Try being direct.”
“I suppose it is time you know.”
“I suppose it is past time.”
He turned to Armody and Malek. “You two, go wash up and get something to eat.”
Armody closed her book and elbowed Malek. He yawned but got up and trudged out. Lauren put Pindar in his stall and removed the bridle. His lower legs were a little filled from standing all day. She would walk him around the courtyard later, after the guard rotated and the other half returned. Leinos waited for the kids to leave.
“There are some in Cirq, including Queen Naele, who believe nothing good comes from the Ravery. Although legend has it the first Horsecaller was a Raver.”
She absorbed this, liking the queen even less than she already did.
“If you can’t say I’m a Raver, what will you say? That a horse and rider magically appeared out of thin air?”
She came out of the stall, closed the door and leaned against it. “I’m good with that, you know, because from my perspective, that is what happened.”
The comment was flippant, but her mind raced with the implications of the first Horsecaller coming through the Ravery, the portal having an opening on their farm, and the long-ago disappearance of her family ancestor, Enzo, with his prized stallion—forebear to Pindar. The parallels were almost too neat. And what had Leinos called the first Horsecaller? Ebro?
“If the first Horsecaller came through the Ravery, that’s a good thing, right?” Lauren asked. “There would be no Cirq without the horses.”
“True, but Naele would argue they were also the cause of Cirq’s ruin.”
Just as Pheeso had said. She’d hoped he’d been wrong, speaking from fear rather than any real understanding. “Are you saying the queen doesn’t want the horses?”
“She is ambivalent, at best. And not all that has come through the Ravery is good.”
“Such as?”
“Such as yekerk.”
“Oh.” She swallowed a moment of panic thinking of the vicious creatures. “That is bad. They didn’t come from my world.” She added quickly while filling Pindar’s water pail from a pump near the door and giving him a ration of grain. “But I’m glad you told me. Forewarned is forearmed.”
Without doubt there was more, such as precisely how he intended to get supplies out of a queen who didn’t want the horses found, or if he thought that job belonged to the Horsecaller. She had enough for one night, and her stomach was growling.
“Is there anything else?”
“No,” he said.
A flat-out lie told with a straight face. Well. She reminded herself that regardless of what had happened between them that morning, he was the Supreme Guardian of Cirq. As such, he would do wh
atever it took to save his country.
“Okay, then. Let’s eat.”
They went in through the kitchen, Lauren realizing he hadn’t answered her question. How would they explain her origins? Human nature being what it was—and Cirqians were as human as she—if they didn’t tell the truth, then it would be decided for them by someone else, and rumors would fly.
She reined in the worry and stopped to see if she could get enough hot water to freshen up. She had decided to change and retire her old clothes. Perhaps looking Cirqian would bend the queen more favorably in her direction.
Belenn sweated over a large pot on the stove, and the two women who had helped Jana bring water upstairs earlier chopped vegetables. Another man cut slices from a large block of yellow cheese. Jana kneaded dough. The smells were mouth-wateringly familiar, and she longed to jump in and help, to do something so ordinary as cook a meal. She wondered where all the food came from if there were shortages, supposing that supply and demand ebbed and flowed everywhere.
Jana looked up and blew a strand of frizzy hair out of her eye. Lauren went over to her just as the woman punched the dough and folded it under.
“I wouldn’t mind doing that,” Lauren said.
Jana smiled. “It is good for frustration, that is for sure.”
“That obvious?”
“Oh, no, my lady. I mean, Lauren. It is a chronic problem around here what with trying to coax healthy plants from the soil and people up and dying. We are luckier than most. This close to the Resting Plains, things have never as bad as other places.”
Said so matter-of-factly, a lump formed in Lauren’s chest. She cleared her throat, suddenly feeling very tired. Perhaps she would take her meal alone in her room.
Jana turned the dough and pressed it with the heels of her hands. “But it will be better soon, thanks to you and Pindar.”
Lauren felt the weight of an entire country’s hope. She checked her concerns, trying to take it one step at a time. “I won’t keep you from your work. How do I get a half-bucket of hot water? I’ll take it up myself.”
