Fire-heart (Tales of Alterra, the World that Is)
Page 16
Gaelen saw also Anori-folk, the easterners, whom she had learned to recognize by their almond-shaped eyes and golden features. Both men and women were attired in very elaborate and colorful garments that would rival those of Elven princes. Their embroidered robes were among the most beautiful Gaelen had seen. Yet many wore plain garments of white or black, with sandals on their feet. These appeared to be laborers, for they all bore some burden and none were pausing to inspect the goods in the markets. Gaelen could identify with them, as she spent much of her time in the service of the King and did not dally among the courtiers.
Most of the sutherling women wore black, and only their eyes were visible. They stared at Gaelen, for although she had donned her black garb on Sajid’s advice, they knew there was something odd about her. She did not carry herself as they did, but strode proudly and with purpose. Her eyes were unnaturally bright and clear, and enough of her face was exposed that the color of her skin could be seen. She dropped her gaze to no one.
If only her folk could see her now, browsing a market in the Tal-fásath! Then she reminded herself that she did have a purpose here, and that was to obtain material to repair one of her boots. To be honest, they had just about outlasted their usefulness.
As she approached one of the market-stalls, Gaelen spoke to one of the sutherling men, pulling the black silk away from her mouth so that she could be clearly heard. “Good day to you. Do you know where I might find a seller of threads and leather? It seems my boot is in need of some repair, and I find myself with a needle and no thread.” Gaelen’s question was honest, warm, and friendly, but the man’s response was not at all as she expected. His eyes widened as though shocked, then filled with disgust as though Gaelen had said something very discourteous. Then his disgust turned to anger as he began yelling and gesturing with both hands, nearly alarming her into drawing a blade. He was obviously furious, but she did not understand what she had done to make him so.
Suddenly, Sajid was at her side, bowing and gesturing, speaking in his own tongue. The man fell silent, but the look on his face was almost murderous. He wore a curved blade at his side, and his hand strayed toward it. Sajid grabbed Gaelen by the arm and nearly dragged her away, still muttering apologies to the man, who gave a sort of self-righteous snarl before turning away.
“What did you think you were doing, speaking to a man with your face uncovered?” snapped Sajid. “You offended him severely, and he would have thought little of striking you, or perhaps even cutting your throat. He was of the Balalli—those folk will brook no violation of custom. Never speak to any sutherling man here again, especially without your veil. In fact, you should remain silent and allow men to speak for you.”
“But why?” asked Gaelen. “What’s so terrible about speaking to a man?”
Sajid ignored the question. “You must learn our ways, or you will not long remain here.” He looked hard at her. “I fear your fate will be raven-bait.”
Gaelen’s lip curled. She would rather have gone with the Kazhi; the sutherling customs were too strange and restrictive. She was not accustomed to such a lack of freedom, and it perturbed her to no end. Not only that, she suspected that Sajid had purposefully neglected to tell her of this taboo beforehand just to get her into trouble and allow him to swoop in and “save” her. Well, you’ve had your fun at my expense, but no more.
“My thanks, Sajid, for your help in need. Yet this rhyming game is really quite lame. In future, please, spare us this disease.”
She turned on her heel and went in search of Rogond, muttering under her breath. Perhaps it would be permissible for him to inquire as to the whereabouts of a leather-vendor.
She returned to the yurut to find Rogond napping in the shade. The journey had wearied him, and she did not wake him. Nelwyn and Galador had gone into the markets, and she did not know where Fima was. Elraen was sitting in the corner, rocking slowly back and forth, as Gaelen approached her.
“Elraen, would you like some water, or perhaps some bread and honey? I will bring it for you.” Gaelen so wanted to help Elraen, but the depth of the hurt done to her was just too great. She did not respond until Gaelen touched her shoulder, whereupon she started back as though she was being attacked. “Elraen, do not fear…it’s only your friend Gaelen. I was asking if you wanted water or bread, nothing more.” Elraen calmed, smiled slightly at Gaelen, and shook her head. Then she began once more to rock gently, humming tunelessly to herself.
Gaelen’s melancholy was interrupted by Fima, who had just come from the markets and was now in a state of happy excitement. “Gaelen! I’m so glad to find you here…I have interesting news,” he said.
“Indeed?” she replied, all melancholy gone from her mind. It was very difficult to remain in a dark mood in the presence of her friend Fima.
“You know that Rogond has been wondering how we will gain wealth to provide for our needs here? Well, I may have found a way, but I shall need you and Nelwyn for it.”
“Tell your tale, most helpful and enterprising dwarf,” said Gaelen, sitting down in front of him. When he had done so, Gaelen was as enthused as Fima. She would go and find Nelwyn, and then they would see whether his idea would bear fruit. But first, she thought, she would remove the black garments. I saw plenty of women in the market, dressed in all sorts of ways! Why do I need to pretend to be a sutherling, when other folk walk freely here? Sajid is just trying to keep Nelwyn and me under his thumb, and I expect she’s as fed up with it as I am.
Despite Sajid’s advice, she would go forth as herself from then on, wearing only her linen headband to conceal her nature as the daughter of Elves. She shuddered with relief as the shroud fell to the floor, and she donned her quiver, bow, and blades, shaking her tousled head, her ginger-brown hair fanning around her face.
“Are you sure of this, little Wood-elf?” said Fima with a rather worried expression.
“I am,” she replied. “I will get into far greater trouble trying to be something I’m not, and I am most certainly not a sutherling woman. Anori women wear the same clothing as men, and so do the Kazhi—I saw them in the market. The sutherlings may not know what to make of me, but at least now it’s clear that I’m a stranger here, and they will not expect me to behave otherwise. Let’s go and find Nelwyn.”
They didn’t need to go far. Nelwyn appeared in the doorway, having come back to see to Elraen. She took one look at Gaelen’s lack of black shroud and removed her own at once, breathing a sigh of relief as she slung her beloved bow across her shoulders.
“Fima has hit upon a way that we may earn money to pay for our needs. He told me only a little, but it sounds intriguing,” said Gaelen.
Nelwyn, who had brought some honey-cakes for Elraen, instructed her to remain inside in the cool darkness, away from prying eyes. Then she set off with Gaelen and Fima to the south end of the plateau, Fima explaining the plan as they went.
It seemed that one of the regular denizens of the settlement had been a horse-breaker who had recently found himself on the wrong side of a gambling debt. Because he could not pay, his legs had both been broken, and it would now be a long while before he would sit astride a horse. Yet there were nearly twenty young horses in need of training, and the horse-breaker’s apprentices had abandoned him lest they be held responsible for his debts. The only way the unfortunate horse-breaker could pay was to ply his trade, which he could not do until his legs were healed. The horses languished in their paddocks, for none in the settlement had the skill to tackle them. Several had tried, for the owner would pay for each animal that was tamed and trained, but so far the horses had decided that they preferred the life of leisure, and no one had succeeded.
“The horse-merchant is practically begging for help,” said Fima. “He has put the word out that he will give ten pieces of silver for each animal that is tamed and ridden. You two have such a knack for this, it should be no problem. We could earn two hundred pieces of silver if you are successful! What say you, my fine Wood-elves? Are you up to
demonstrating your skill?” Such a question was, of course, entirely unnecessary.
The horse-merchant was in a bad way, for none would buy untrained stock, and he had to feed all twenty of these wild, headstrong animals. They had little to occupy their attention and had turned to mischief—the merchant had needed to repair his corrals twice in the past three days. He had not the skill to break them; he had relied on his now-crippled horse breaker for that. If he did not find someone fairly soon, he would be forced to sacrifice them at meat-market price.
When he looked up and beheld three strange folk approaching the compound, he was unsure of what to think. There was a very short, stocky fellow with a long, white beard; he was barely chest-high to the horse-merchant. He carried a broad-bladed axe slung at his back, and two smaller ones tucked into his belt. He was flanked by two tall, willowy females attired as men in boots and breeches; with bare arms and windblown hair. One wore a silk scarf tied around her head, and the other wore a linen headband. They were confident and purposeful in their approach, and they bore various weapons. The horse-merchant was afraid of them on first glance.
As they drew near, the very short stocky one spoke to him in the common-tongue: “I understand you are in need of a horse-breaker? Well, my two friends might be interested, if the pay is sufficient. We are travelers from a distant land to the north. I am Fima, son of Khima, of the Deep-cavern realm. This is Gaelen and her cousin Nelwyn, of the northern Greatwood forest. Tell us what you need, and we will see if it is worth our while. My friends have rather amazing abilities, and when we heard of your predicament they expressed the desire to be of aid.”
The dealer bowed, introducing himself as Hari, the horse provider. “I breed and purchase untrained stock, and then sell it when it is trained and useful,” he said. “But these have proven particularly difficult. Come and have a look at them.”
Gaelen liked Hari from the moment she viewed the sleek, well-kept stock in the paddocks. He had freely admitted that these horses were being difficult; he had not tried to deceive her. She looked over at Nelwyn, who obviously was of similar mind. They would aid this man if they could.
The young horses regarded the newcomers with a haughty air. So, here were more to try and tame them, well, let them try! They turned their tails to Hari and pretended to ignore him.
“You see? Bad attitudes, the lot of them. I believe they’ve grown used to their easy, comfortable lives, where they drain my pockets every day, and are reluctant to learn to do an honest day’s work.” He looked at the Elves. “If you can get them to the point that they can be ridden, turned left and right, stop and stand, I will give you ten pieces of silver for each. In addition, I will add both your names to my prayers.” He shook his head. “My horse-breaker has a gambling problem, and I must now suffer for it. Will you aid me?”
Gaelen looked over at Nelwyn. What did they have to lose? They nodded and bowed, placing their right hands over their hearts. Then they spoke words that Hari thrilled to hear: “We shall give it our best effort.”
A considerable crowd had appeared around the stock-pens by the time the Elves began their task. Word had spread that two strangers from some far northern land were going to try their hand at breaking Hari’s upstart animals. The horses had already placed several would-be horse-breakers in need of healing, and men were gathering to see this undoubtedly entertaining sight for themselves. Ordinarily, young horses are not especially dangerous provided they are given time and care, but groups of them can be deadly; an unwitting man could find himself amid a storm of flying hooves with little hope of escaping injury.
When Gaelen and Nelwyn appeared, there was laughter from many of the onlookers. Surely these two women did not think they had either the skill or the strength for this task! Horse-breaking was a man’s profession.
Gaelen and Nelwyn ignored the laughter, and they did not take the ropes and bridles offered them by Hari, but simply entered the enclosure with empty hands. The young animals regarded them suspiciously, with proud heads in the air and mischief on their minds.
“They will have ridden all twenty before sundown,” declared Fima, who immediately found himself in the center of a storm of wagering. Soon a considerable fortune rested on the abilities of the two Elves, and Fima kept all his fingers crossed, for he would not be able to cover the wager should they fail. He was not truly worried, for Gaelen and Nelwyn had learned from Capellion, the Master of Horse in the Greatwood, and they had been among the most eager of his apprentices.
“The dark grey colt and the bay filly lead the others,” said Nelwyn. “Bring them into line, and the others will follow. You take the colt…I will handle the filly.”
Gaelen nodded, and wandered in an indirect line to the group of horses, not looking directly at any of them. Rather than running blindly around as they had with past attempts, the horses simply stared at her in confusion. These would-be usurpers of their freedom did not appear threatening, as had the others.
The grey colt was the first to approach, and Gaelen knew that Nelwyn had given her the easier of the two herd leaders. He trotted toward her, stiff-legged, his knees breaking unnaturally high. He stopped and snorted, tossing his head, his long black forelock flying back around his shapely ears. He pawed the ground, trying to intimidate her, and several observers were speculating that she would soon be trampled if she did not retreat. She lifted her chin and turned to face him, looking directly into his eyes, meeting his challenge. He took two steps forward, tail in the air, and struck the ground hard with one foreleg, squealing. Gaelen did not move. One more step forward, and another strike. This one was close enough for Gaelen—it was time to begin.
“Aiyah!”
Gaelen spoke the word in a loud, commanding voice, and the colt snorted in surprise, throwing his head in the air, taking a step back from her. He regained his composure—she had startled him…that was all. He would soon put things right. He raised his body up, forelegs leaving the sand for a moment, shaking his head again.
“AIYAH!”
Something in her voice could not be denied. The colt stood on all his feet once more, looking quizzically at her as she approached him. She reached out to place a hand on his neck, whereupon he gave a half-hearted squeal and swung his teeth at her.
“Attend me, now,” she said in the Elven-tongue. “Look to me, and be still. Be still and be silent. Attend me!”
She placed her hand again on the colt’s neck, and he shivered and dropped his head. She spoke to him in a soothing but assertive tone, telling him that she would hear no argument, nor would she allow him to be harmed. It was best if he gave himself to her, for then they could be great friends and share adventures together. She spoke to him in this manner for several minutes, as she ran her hands over his entire body while he stood as still as stone.
When she massaged his ears, he shuddered with pleasure, and she knew then that he would suffer her every whim. She swung onto his back without another word, and he walked placidly as though in a pleasant dream, turning left and right, stopping when she wished it. Then she trotted and cantered around the enclosure, all the while stroking him with both hands, speaking to him in her gentle voice. When she finally swung down from his strong, grey back, he stood as though disappointed that the ride had ended, and he followed her all the way to the rail where Hari, provider of horses, stood with his mouth open.
Elves, Wood-elves in particular, have such a way, and Fima smiled. He knew that none of these animals would present any great difficulty.
Gaelen bowed before Hari. “Is that sufficient for your purposes? He will now suffer himself to be ridden anywhere that I desire. Will that serve your needs?”
Hari nodded, for he was speechless. He had reckoned the grey colt would be one of the hardest to tame, and now this same fearsome colt stood with his head bowed, asking Gaelen if she would please rub his ears once more. She smiled and bowed again, then led the grey colt into a neighboring paddock so that he would be out of the way of the others.
The filly sensed that she had more than met her match in Nelwyn. She tried to avoid her, wheeling on her hind feet, and began to run around the yard with the herd behind her, raising a choking cloud of dust. Faster and faster she flew, occasionally changing direction so that Gaelen and Nelwyn were hard put to stay out of the way of trampling feet.
At one point, the horses seemed to run right over Nelwyn; it was impossible to determine through the grey, swirling dust. But then they slowed, first cantering easily, then trotting, and finally coming to a halt in the center of the enclosure. The men shook their heads, expecting to see Nelwyn’s broken body trampled flat into the sand, but there she was, astride the bay filly, speaking in a strange and beautiful tongue as she stroked the glossy neck. The filly turned and trotted quietly around the enclosure, then cantered smoothly as the other horses watched in obvious confusion. Once she tossed her head and squealed, pinning her ears and leaping to the side. Everyone thought Nelwyn would be unseated, but she hung on and rode through this disobedience. It was the last; the filly now stood as placidly as had the colt. Nelwyn dismounted, bowed to Hari, and led the filly to the holding-yard.
The onlookers had never seen anything like it. Gaelen and Nelwyn caught and tamed each animal in turn, as Hari rejoiced. Fima was likewise quite happy with life, as it appeared that he would be a great deal richer provided they could tame just one more animal each before sundown.
The sun was still visible over the rim of the Sandstone when Gaelen and Nelwyn approached the last two horses. Both Elves were weary, for taming horses in this manner requires more strength of spirit than of body, and they had each ridden nine animals in a little more than two hours.