by AM Kirkby
***
It took the edge off his pride, though, when he remembered what he'd said to the stable lad. Best to put a brave face on it? He looked at the lad's wry face; he must have been with the general for years. You couldn't tell how old he was from his thin face and wiry body, but he'd seen a few things in his time. You couldn't put one over him; it would be best not to try.
“Those horses. The ugly ones.”
The lad looked up, his eyes bright and sharp. “Mm?” He was sucking on a cornstalk; he never took it out of his mouth.
“They're mine. Apparently.”
The lad nodded. He wasn't making this easy.
“Well, they're still ugly. But I suppose they might improve with training.”
The lad looked levelly at him, and shrugged. “If it's all you can get,” he said, and shrugged again. “You got to train them?”
“When I can get the time.”
“Ah.” The lad rolled the straw around at the corner of his mouth, his cheek hollowing as he sucked at it.
“I could do with some help.” That wasn't right. “I'd be grateful if...”
“Yeah,” said the lad, “You would.” He turned his back, and walked down to the end of the room; started poking about in a heap of old harness and cloths. There was a stink of rancid olive oil and rubbing alcohol.
The boy thought he'd been dismissed. He stood there a moment, uncertain, wondering whether he should have gone already, taken the hint and walked out, when the lad spoke again.
“You want to try them on the long rein first. Before you put anything on their backs, get them used to the rein first. You'll be needing this.”
It was a long strip of oiled leather, soft and blackened with use. The lad held it out, flicking it a little with his wrist to make it curve and whip about in the air.
“Well, take hold, boy.” The flickering coils flashed towards the boy's face; he grabbed for it with both hands, managed to catch the thin strip with one finger tightened against his palm, felt the sting of the leather as it snapped against his hand. There's always pain, he thought, even when you're happy there is pain.
He looked up. The lad was grinning at him, a lopsided grin as if one side of his mouth didn't quite work.
“That was well caught.” As the lad smiled he showed one tooth was missing. “Name's Rasce, by the way. And you can clean your horses out yourself tomorrow.”