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SIX
MAGELET
The next day, a month after her arrival, she was waiting for the trainees to finish their morning workout when she heard a low persistent rumble. For a week the hill above the barracks had swarmed with men loading empty wagons. Now draft horses had been hitched to the wagons; one by one, they towed the laden vehicles up the hill.
Sarge clapped Daine on the shoulder. “This is it,” he said cheerfully. “The king is on his way, so we can be on ours. I’m ready!”
“I’m confused,” she said, craning to see his face. “He’s on what way?”
“See, my lamb, in summer the king goes on progress, to see how fares the kingdom. Soon as he goes, the queen takes the trainees to our summer camp—”
“Pirate’s Swoop this year,” Alanna put in. She’d been training with the Riders for the last week. “We set out tomorrow.”
“That isn’t much notice,” remarked Farant, who had overheard.
“How much notice do you need, trainee?” Sarge asked. “You have half a day to prepare. One day you’ll have to roll out of bed ready for a long ride. Then you’ll appreciate this leisurely pace.”
Technically, Daine thought that night, the trainees didn’t have even half a day to get ready. They’d put in their usual afternoon’s work with their spare mounts. The only change in their routine was that they were excused from their lessons before meditation to pack. She hadn’t been excused from her lessons, but she had little packing to do.
Meditation was held, as always, in the mess hall, and everyone attended. When Numair gave the word to begin, she decided to try her idea from the night before. Instead of thinking of nothing, she closed her eyes and listened.
How could breathing be so loud? She concentrated, putting the sound of her lungs aside. As the noise lessened, her nerves calmed. Her neck itched, but it was a distant feeling, not a distracting one. She scratched, lazily, and let her hand settle into her lap. A drumlike thud in her ears was her own heart. Easy, she told it in her mind, and the sound retreated.
Something bumped steadily at the front of the mess: Tahoi, lying near Onua, was wagging his tail. Daine peeked and saw the dog shining with copper fire. She looked at Onua—the K’mir was veined with fine copper threads.
Taking a deep breath, she looked inside. The wellspring of her own power was there, just as it had been the night by the undine’s pool.
Remembering Numair’s lectures, she trapped how it had felt just now, to listen and to find her power, and memorized it. When she placed the feeling in her mind, she knew exactly where it was and how to find it again, quickly. It’s organized, she thought with an inner smile.
She let the excitement fade and listened again. In the closed and dark kitchen at her back, mice hunted for scraps. She directed them to a rind of cheese she’d hidden for them beneath the long table, then sent her hearing out of the mess hall, into the night. Sounds crashed into her skull: bats seeking insects, cats on the hunt, kenneled dogs settling for sleep, horses relaxing, the hawks in the palace mews. It was too much to hear all at once: she almost lost her inner silence in panic. Stopping, she pushed the animal sounds back with her mind until they didn’t overpower her. Only when she was sure they were under control did she send her hearing out to the horse meadow once more.
A herd of ponies, including Cloud, grazed there. All of them knew her by now, from the silent-calling lessons. She joined with them, entering the herd. A breeze filled the air, bringing lush scents: ripe grass, leaves, the heady, rich smell of the earth. Around her were the others, her brothers and sisters. A king stallion watched over their family, ready to lead them to safety at the smallest hint of danger.
Spring made them all coltish. With a snort, the king horse broke into a run, just to be running. The herd and Daine followed, racing, black earth thudding under their hooves, the night air in their nostrils. With the herd she was safe; with the herd she had all she could need of comrades and family . . .
Cloud knew the instant Daine came into the herd. She’d seen this coming, as the stork-man encouraged the girl to venture farther and farther from herself. Tonight the feel of Daine’s presence was stronger than it had been since they came to this giant human stable, making Cloud edgy. When Daine’s spirit began to change, to take on the scent of the herd, the mare knew they were in trouble again.
She ran for the fence and jumped it. From the meadow she felt the herd call her to go with them. She wavered, wanting to follow. Then, with an angry neigh at the part of her that made her think unhorselike things, she broke free of the call and ran to the stable where Daine’s body was.
The gate was barred. She flung herself at it, flailing with her hooves. Putting her hindquarters to it she kicked the gate once, and again, until the large human, the wood brown man, yanked it open. She shoved past him—no time to be polite—and looked around this room that smelled of human food.
Sure enough, there Daine sat on the ground, front hooves limp in her lap, eyes closed. Cloud went to the girl and knocked her over.
A warm force slammed into Daine’s body. Suddenly she was free of the herd, safe inside her own mind. Opening her eyes, she saw Cloud standing over her. People around them were talking.
“I did it again, didn’t I?” she whispered.
Numair knelt beside her, dark eyes worried. “What happened? She nearly kicked down the door to get at you—”
Daine was shaking. They didn’t know. They didn’t know what Cloud had prevented. Thank you, she told the mare.
Don’t run with the People again until you remember to hold on to yourself, the mare ordered. I won’t always be here to wake you up!
Daine fumbled in her pocket and produced two lumps of sugar. “You’d best go outside now,” she whispered, and Cloud obeyed.
Numair helped the girl to her feet. “It’s all right,” he told everyone. “We were just trying an experiment. I didn’t realize it would work so well.” Shielding her from the stares of the trainees, he guided Daine out of the mess and into her own room. “What happened?” he asked, closing the door.
“I felt sick,” she lied. “Just a headache, that’s all.”
“Cloud wouldn’t come here for that,” he retorted. “She was in a panic. What went wrong? And what’s this?” The badger’s token had fallen outside her shirt. He picked it up, squinting at it. “From its appearance, it’s a claw.”
“It’s mine,” she retorted, yanking it away from him. “It’s private. Can’t I have anything private anymore?”
“Daine—”
Her voice rose. She knew she was about to cry. “Would you please go away? I’m tired and my head hurts! Can’t you leave me alone for once?”
“Very well.” His face was grave and sad. “But I wish you would trust me.” He left, quietly shutting the door.
Daine sat on her bed, tears on her cheeks. What could she do? If she went too deep in meditation, she risked madness. If she didn’t go deep—He said I might learn to heal, she thought desperately, squeezing the claw tight. But I have to master this first—or I’ll never be able to heal.
Caught between fear of losing control and wanting the power Numair said she could have, the girl tossed and turned all night. She would doze off, only to dream of running down a forest trail on all fours. Behind her would be the trainees, or the King’s Own, or Stormwings, tracking her so they could tear her to pieces.
Habit woke her at dawn, the hour Sarge usually bellowed for everyone to turn out. That morning the trainees had been given an extra hour to sleep, which meant if she hurried, she’d have the stable to herself. Soundlessly she called Cloud in for a thorough grooming and breakfast: there’d be no time for it later on. Onua had asked her to handle the supply wagon, and Daine expected her time before they left would be spent looking over the cart horse and making sure any last-minute additions to her load were safely stowed away.
A stranger was in the stable, a potbellied man the ponies greeted with enthusiasm from their stalls. Coppe
r fire shone inside his red face. When he saw her, his head flew up as if he were a surprised horse.
Suddenly shy, Daine halted just inside the door. “Excuse me—might you be Stefan? The chief hostler?”
“Maybe. Who’re you?”
He can’t see it in me, she realized. I can see his magic, but he can’t see mine. “Daine, sir. Master Numair said you have wild magic. So do I.”
The man relaxed—slightly. “You’re the one, then. I brung ye a cart horse.” He led her to a newcomer, a sturdy bay cob. “This be Mangle.”
Daine offered the gelding her hands to sniff. “Mangle?” she asked with a grin. The cob felt like a calm well-behaved sort of horse to her.
Stefan smiled and ducked his head. “Oh, well,” he muttered by way of explanation. “Anyways, he’s good for whatever ye need in th’ way of work.” Daine leaned down to blow in Mangle’s nostrils. “He likes ye. Onua said I needn’t worry if you was in charge of ’im.” Cloud butted him from behind. “Who’s this fine lady?” He bent to the task of greeting the mare, while Daine finished getting acquainted with the cob. When she finished, Stefan was looking at her oddly. “You know this little beauty’s changed, ’cause of you.”
She couldn’t tell what the emotion in his pale blue eyes was. “Me’n Cloud have been through a lot together.”
He gave the mare a last pat. “It shows.” With a wave to Daine, he walked to the stable door.
“Master Stefan?” He turned to look at her. “D’you ever want to run with the herd? To just—be a horse? Do what the herd does?” She sweated, waiting for an answer. It had cost a lot to ask.
“’Course I do,” was the mild reply. “Don’t everybody?”
She gripped the badger’s claw hidden under her shirt. “What keeps you from doing it?”
He rubbed his strawlike hair. “I’m a man. I can’t be runnin’ with the herd, now can I?” He left, closing the door behind him.
He makes it sound easy, but it’s not. There’s something wrong with me, she decided. It’s the madness, just waiting for me to drop my guard so it can take me again. That’s how he can protect himself—he never forgets what he really is. And I can’t remember.
