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Daine slept in the stable loft, cushioned by the bodies of the castle’s many dogs and cats. At breakfast, she listened as the trainees were given a day off (except from caring for their mounts). That meant a day off for her as well, and she could use one. All her shirts needed mending, and a wash wouldn’t hurt any of her clothes.
Getting directions to the castle laundry, she returned to her loft and gathered her clothes. On the way back from the laundry, she found Selda checking the saddlebags that had been issued to each trainee for the trip south.
“Smile,” the brunette said, shoving her belongings into a pack. “I’m quitting. I’ve had enough fun in the wilderness.”
Daine glanced away. She wouldn’t miss the girl at all.
“Don’t look so pleased.” Selda folded the bags and hung them next to her tack. “One of these days you’ll be packing yourself.”
“Me? Whatever for?”
The older girl’s smile was bitter as she looked Daine over. “Are you blind? How long can they afford to keep you on, do you suppose? After that thing with the griffins, I figured it was all over for you.”
Daine felt cold. “I’ve no notion what you mean.”
“What happens if they’re in a battle and you get hurt? You think they can risk their mounts coming to your rescue? I don’t.” The girl shouldered her pack as Onua came in. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Onua looked at her suspiciously. “You’d best get to the wharf. That boat won’t wait.”
Selda gave both of them an ironic salute, and was gone.
Onua rolled up her sleeves. “This is a surprise inspection. Let’s see how the trainees’ mounts look while they’re off relaxing. You start on that side; I’ll start here,” she ordered. “We can talk while we work. Look at everything, mind—nose to tail. What poison was she dripping in your ear?”
Daine stroked the muzzle of the first pony with a hand that shook. “She said the Riders can’t afford to keep me. She’s right, isn’t she? If animals know I’m in trouble, they will come to me. Numair himself said I couldn’t shield all my wild magic.”
“Maybe that’s so.” Onua ran a brush over Padrach’s Minchi to see if extra hair fell out after a morning grooming. “But it wasn’t the Riders that hired you. It was me. As long as I say so, you work for me, not them.”
“How can you do that?” she whispered. “You’re a Rider.”
“No, I’m a civilian expert. I deal with whatever concerns horses, and that’s all. I’m no soldier.” Onua pointed at her with a brush. “You saved my life in the marsh and at the palace, when the Stormwings hit. You saved Numair—he was the first person here I knew liked me for myself. I won’t let you down.” She reached over and dabbed at a tear rolling down Daine’s cheek. Those of us that’s horse-hearted have to stick together, all right?”
Daine nodded. “But you’d tell me if I wasn’t giving satisfaction?”
Onua grinned. “If we spend more than the morning checking these mounts, I will be most unhappy. I was planning to take the afternoon off.”
Daine went to work, smiling. They had just finished when hoofbeats rang outside and a voice yelled, “Daine? They said you were in here.”
She ran outside as Numair climbed off his sweat stained gelding. “Come with me,” he ordered. “We have to find the Stormwings.”
She shaded her eyes to look up at him. “What d’you mean? Aren’t they behind their little clouds, being sneaky?”
He shook his head. “They’re gone. Vanished.”
She spent the afternoon on the observation deck with Numair and Alanna, searching as far out as she could drive her magic for any sign of the immortals. The Gifted ones applied themselves to scrying, or looking. Numair used a round crystal he carried in a pouch, Alanna a mirror with (Daine was tickled to see) roses painted on the back.
“It’s not my taste,” the knight said dryly. “This is from Thom—my oldest. A birthday gift. It’s the thought that matters.” She glanced at the back of the mirror, winced, and turned it to the reflecting side. “That’s what I keep telling myself, anyway. And it makes a very good scrying tool.”
For herself, Daine sank deep into meditation, listening up and down the coast. She heard the griffin female return to the nest with food: griffin males, it seemed, helped to brood eggs. Her friends among the sea lions were prospering, as were other seals and sea lions. A number of whales had come to swim in the waters around the Swoop, but she didn’t have time to attempt to speak with them. Crossing her fingers, she hoped they’d stay close long enough for her to get a chance. Other sounds she identified as two groups—Miri called them “pods”—of dolphins.
At last she drew her senses back to the castle. “Nothing.”
Alanna grimaced. “No luck for us, either.”
“So our friends have given us the bag.” The baron had joined them at some point. Seeing Daine’s puzzled look, he said, “They’ve escaped us. It’s thieves’ cant, meanin’ a delightful trick whereby you wait for your pursuer and slip a large bag over his head to blind him.”
Daine scowled. “Well, I’m not blinded, and they aren’t there.”
George smiled at her. “I believe you.” He looked at Numair. “Is there a way to nab one of these beasties for questionin’?”
Numair frowned. “I’m not really sure. If we can kill them, I assume we can capture them. . . . You know, it’s moments like this that I really miss the university library.”
“We’re working on ours,” Alanna pointed out. “Maybe the king has the proper books already. And wait—what about the Golden Net?”
Numair’s face lit. “You know, with a few adjustments—”
“My lords and ladies.” A proper man in the livery of a castle servant had come up to the deck. “We dine in half an hour.”
“I think I have the basic spell in a book I’ve been reading,” Alanna told Numair. “If you want to come take a look—” They followed the servant down into the tower, talking about spells and their variations.
Daine looked at the sun; it was low. “No wonder I’m hungry.”
“If you hear one of those nasties again, let’s catch it,” George said.
“I don’t think we’ll get anywhere talking to one,” she pointed out.
The baron’s grin was neither warm nor friendly. “You leave that to me.” They studied the ocean together. “It’s strange how folk look at a thing. Numair sees what’s comin’ to us—he thinks of the return of old magic, magic that’s controlled by none and understood only by a few. My wife sees a threat to her kingdom. Me, I’m a commoner born and bred, title or no. You know what I think of? Omens and portents—-like the red star that blazed over us when the emperor Ozorne was crowned, seven years back.”
“Then maybe we’re lucky the Stormwings are giving us so much time to think about them before they do something really nasty,” Daine said.
George laughed. “Now there’s a practical way to look at it, and I thank you. It does no good to brood about what might come.” He offered his arm with a bow. “Let’s go to supper and drink to the confusion of our enemies.”
Numair kept her at her lessons until the midnight hour was called. She trudged back to the stable the Riders used, yawning heartily as she climbed to her loft bed. Her mind spinning with new animal groups, she kept her eyes open barely long enough to pull on her nightshirt.
She awoke to a stable cat giving birth near her ear and three children—a girl and two boys—watching her solemnly.
“I s’pose you’re fair proud of yourself,” Daine told the cat. “My wondrous book says you’re a feline, and a carnivore, and a vertebrate, and a mammal. I wish them that wrote it could smell around here right now and maybe they wouldn’t call you all those pretty names.” The girl wriggled out from between her blankets and grabbed her clothes. The feline was busy cleaning the last of the new kittens and refused to reply. “It’s too early to be paying social calls,” she told the children.
“Our mamas sai
d you’re a mage.” That was Thayet’s daughter, Kalasin. She took after her handsome father, sharing his blue eyes and coal black hair.
Daine sat on her bed. “I’m no mage.” She grinned. “Numair calls me a magelet, but that’s just for fun. It’s too early to be answering questions.”
“Ma says you help animals.” Thom’s hair was redder than Alanna’s, and he had George’s green hazel eyes. “We brung you him. He was on the wall.”
The two older children lifted a basket and offered it to Daine. Inside lay an osprey, a fishing hawk, glaring at her over a broken leg. If the cat hadn’t been giving birth close by, she would have known about him already.
She sighed and took the basket. “It’s all right, then. You can go now.” Turning her attention to the bird, she carefully took him from the basket. “How’d you manage this, sir?”
He shrieked and slashed at her when she joggled his leg. “I’m sorry,” she murmured, gentling him with her mind. “I’ll make it better—I hope.”
She went to work, unaware that the children watched her, fascinated. Bird bone was easier than otter bone to mend: it was thinner and hollow. Better still, it wasn’t a clean break, but one of the greenstick kind, which meant the bone simply had to be fused together again.
Opening her eyes, she saw that the break was healed, the bird’s pain gone. She was dripping sweat onto him. “Sorry,” she murmured as he shook himself.
He cocked his head, looking at the mended leg. He was impressed, and intrigued by what she had done. At the moment, however, what he was most interested in was a nap.
She smiled. “Just, when you wake up, obey the rules—no hunting or teasing any other creatures in this castle. They’re all my friends too.”
