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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 close-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.
