Onua beckoned to Daine, but the girl didn’t want to be there, under the eyes of everyone. Shaking her head, she went to the corner of an unoccupied table and sat with her lunch. I’m younger’n anyone here, she thought, buttering a roll. How can I make them mind what I say about the horses?
A girl sat down across from her. “Hello!” She had dark hair cut boyishly short, and a pair of dancing green eyes. With a tip-tilted nose, a cleft chin, and a dusting of freckles, she looked like pure mischief. “I’m Miri. Are you a new trainee?”
Daine shook her head. “I work for Onua, the horsemistress. I’ll be helping you with the ponies, I guess.”
“Good—we need more girls. There are too many boys.” Miri stuck her tongue out at the tall, blond youth who settled his tray beside Daine.
He smiled. “Do you mind if I sit here?”
She shook her head. He had a very kind smile and bright blue eyes.
“Evin Larse.” He sat and offered a hand.
Daine accepted it. “Daine Sarrasri.”
He reached for her ear and seemed to pull a roll out of it. “Didn’t wash this morning, did you?” He smeared cheese on the roll and grinned at Daine’s openmouthed surprise. “My family’s Player folk,” he explained. “I have all sorts of useless talents.”
“She’s going to help us with the ponies,” Miri said. “I need all the help I can get,” she informed Daine. “Up till two weeks ago I could count on one hand the times I’ve been on a horse.”
“You’re doing fine,” Evin told her soothingly. He looked at Daine. “She’s been grooming and riding up at the palace stables.”
“But these ponies are different,” Miri protested. “You heard Sarge—they’re picked to be fussy and mean, and they bite.”
Daine grinned. “They’re not so bad. Me’n Onua brought some down from Galla, and I’ve been with the herd. There’s nice ones. You’ll see.” Looking around, she thought that the last time she’d seen such a mixed herd of humans was at the fair in Cría. There were two other blacks, three very brown youths, and five more as blond, pale skinned, and blue eyed as Scanrans. The rest could have come from any of the realms around the River Drell.
“You look overwhelmed,” Evin told her. “They’re just trainees, like Miri and me.”
“Yes, but what does it take to be a trainee?” she asked. “How did you two join up, if you don’t mind my asking?”
“Oh, joining’s the easy part,” Miri said. “They post the rules in all the schools and at recruiting stations in the towns.”
“You have to be fifteen or more,” Evin said. “Healthy, with all your body parts still attached—no missing hands or eyes.”
“Single,” added Miri. “No spouse and children. It helps if you ride, but it’s not required—they took me, and the only thing I ever rode in my life was a fishing boat. That’s what my people do, fish.”
“You need good reflexes,” Evin went on. “You have to read and write. For Tortallans that’s no problem—schools have been open to everyone for nine years now. For the ones that can’t read, the Riders’ll give you work in the palace till you learn. I think that’s all. Oh, and you have to be here by the March full moon. That’s when training starts every year.
“That’s all?” Daine asked, shocked. “That doesn’t seem like much!”
“It isn’t,” said Evin. “The problem isn’t getting into the Riders—it’s staying. We’ve lost ten in the last two weeks—sick, wouldn’t take orders, couldn’t handle the schedule. We’ll lose more by summer’s end.”
Sarge rose and thundered, “Listen up, darlings! Today is your last day of fun at the king’s expense.” (“He calls running us around the meadow every day ‘fun,’” Miri whispered to Daine.) “Here’s Onua, our horsemistress.” Onua stood and nodded to everyone. “Daine—stand up, girl”—she obeyed—“is her assistant.” Daine sat when Onua did. “They brought the rest of the ponies we need,” Sarge went on, “so we’re ready to start the real work. You have till the bells chime one stroke to do what needs doing. At the bell, come to the horse meadow.” He clapped his hands. “Don’t sit there gawping, children—you pick your mounts today. Get those trays to the kitchen and get out of here!”
Onua took Daine aside. “What about sleeping arrangements? I can put a cot for you in my room or a storeroom, or you can sleep with the trainee girls. Your choice.”
“Please, Horsemistress—” It was Miri. “If nobody minds, Daine could bunk with me—if you want to, Daine.”
Daine thought it over and nodded.
“Fine,” Onua said. “After supper you can show Daine the bed. Would you excuse us now, though? I want to ask her something.”
The girl nodded and raced upstairs. Onua and Daine followed at a slower pace. “I’m glad you’re making friends,” the K’mir said. “It’s good for you to meet people your own age. Listen—I have to ask”—she pointed to Daine’s skirts—“doesn’t that outfit get hot?”
She’d hit on the burden of Daine’s life. The girl scowled: the litany she’d given Ma and Grandda for years bubbled to her lips. “Hot in summer, cold in winter, always getting tangled and ripped and soaked, clumsy, heavy—”
Onua smiled. She knew an old grievance when she heard one. “Then why wear ’em? Get yourself breeches and a shirt like me.”
Daine gaped at her. “Men’s gear? With folk talking about me all the time as is?”
Onua shook her head. “You’re not home now. The rules have changed.”
Daine opened her mouth to object—then closed it. She looked at her skirts. To be rid of them, and the petticoats . . . it hit her, really hit her, that she was free of Snowsdale. What could they do to her now?
From what Evin and Miri said, Riders came from all walks of life. In Galla she was strange. Here, everyone was different. These people wouldn’t care if Ma was a hedgewitch. Maybe they wouldn’t even care that her father was unknown, someone her ma met one Beltane night and never saw again.
But they’ll care if they know you went mad, a tiny voice inside her cautioned. Best keep shut about that!
Onua let her think, and was rewarded when Daine’s blue-gray eyes shone like lanterns. “I’d love to put on breeches.”
“Come on then.” Onua took her out of the girls’ dormitory and down the hall. “That’s men’s country,” she said, pointing to a bright yellow door. “Off-limits to females, like we’re off-limits to them.”
In the supply room, a tall woman with red-bronze hair and great kindness in her face looked up from her desk. “Onua, welcome!” She came over to hug the K’mir. “Your assistant?” she asked.
“Daine, this is Kuri Tailor—she’s in charge of the girls. If there’s anything you need, Kuri’s the woman to ask.” Onua hugged Daine around the shoulders. “Kuri, she needs breeches and shirts. Daine, I hate to rush, but I need to talk with Sarge. You’ll be all right?” The girl nodded. “When you’re done, come out to the meadow and we’ll get these two-leggers mounted.” She left the room.
“The first day or so is crazy,” explained Kuri. “They always start as soon as Onua comes, so she has to move fast. You’ll be rushing too, once the Riders see how much work they can get from you—my word on it.” She measured Daine quickly and wrote down her findings. “I’ll have others tonight, but take these for now.” From stacks of homespun garments on one side of the room, she chose a pair of worn breeches and a patched white shirt. “No use wearing good clothes when you’re with the horses,” she explained. “Step behind that screen and try these on—let’s see how they fit.”
Behind the screen, Daine drew the shirt and breeches on with trembling hands. Doubtless the trainee girls were used to such things. She had seen they all wore breeches. But she was a little scared. Dressed, she stepped out into the open.
“What the matter?” Kuri walked over to tug and adjust the garments.
“It’s—men’s gear,” she explained shyly. “At home, the priests and the headman—they’d never approve.
It was a lot to digest. Onua? It was impossible to think of Onua as beaten and abandoned by anyone. And Sarge? “I—I think so.”
Palace bells chimed one stroke, making Daine jump. “The bells take getting used to,” the woman informed her with a sigh.
“How often do they ring?” the girl asked, pulling on her boots.
“Every hour until late in the evening.” Kuri smiled. “All set?”
“Yes’m.” Daine grinned at her. “Thank you.”
“Welcome to Corus, dear,” the woman said as Daine ran out the door.
Onua, Buri, and Sarge waited at the fence with a barrel of apples. Daine arrived just as Onua stuffed fruit into every pocket Miri had. “Bribe them,” she said, and shooed the reluctant girl through the gate Sarge held open.
“What do I do?” Daine asked.
“Use your instincts.” Onua watched the field as she spoke. “You have to make your own authority with the trainees. Not that I think that will be a problem. Just keep an eye out. Remember they have to pick two.”
“One for morning, one for afternoon,” Sarge added with a grin.
It was one thing to say “Make your own authority,” another to start doing it. For the moment Daine watched. Most trainees met the ponies cautiously or easily, depending on their natures. A mouse-gray mare twined about Evin as if she were a cat.
Looking for Miri, she saw trouble. Some of the more wicked animals had gone to torment the girl, who was plainly scared. Stopping an arm’s reach from her, they frolicked, showing more tooth and hoof than was necessary.
This won’t do! Daine thought, jumping into the meadow. She bore down on the mischief-makers with a scowl, Cloud following like a lonely dog. “Stop that!” she ordered. “What would your mas say if they saw you acting bad? Shame on you! Scat—and don’t come back till you’ve learnt manners!” The ponies shook their heads, looking properly ashamed, and fled.
“If she wanted to be a Rider, she ought to know how to ride,” a female voice muttered. Daine looked for the source, but none of the nearby trainees met her eyes.
“At home only lords or couriers ride,” Miri explained, shamefaced. “I’ve been practicing. It’s just—there’s so many, and they’re so frisky.”
Daine put a hand on her shoulder. Her new friend was solid, muscular, with a love of life she could almost feel. “Look—there’s some you’ll like.” She pointed to a cluster of ponies milling around a tree in the open meadow.
“I’d have to go through the herd,” the older girl whispered.
Daine stuck her hands in her pockets. “See how you kept to the fence, because you’re shy?”
“I didn’t think ‘shy’ was the right word,” Miri confessed.
“Hush. Those ponies are nice, but they’re shy too. If you want to meet them, you have to do the walking. They’re just animals. They can’t know you’ve kept to the fence because you’re shy.”
“It can’t be worse than sailing through a storm,” Evin said from nearby.
“I only did that once.” Miri looked at the herd and the shy ponies, swallowed—and walked forward. Daine and Cloud followed her to the tree.
“Here, boy.” The pony Daine beckoned forward was a gelding, his body hairs a mixture of black and white, his mane, tail, face, and socks black. “I want you to meet someone.” The pony sidled around until he was behind Daine, peering at her human friend. “This fellow is what we call a blue roan. We came south together.” Daine looked over her shoulder. “Come out here and meet Miri. If you ask nice, she might give you an apple.”
The roan’s ears pricked forward at the word apple. Carefully he emerged from behind Daine to approach the older girl.
“He’s beautiful.” Timidly Miri offered him a fruit. Within seconds it was gone and he was inspecting her pockets for more. Daine instructed, “Now blow in his nostrils, gentle like. It’s how you get acquainted.”
“It seems rude to me.” Miri obeyed, and giggled when the blue returned the courtesy. “You know, they aren’t as scary as I thought.”
“Animals are easy to understand,” Daine told her. “You just have to know how to talk to them.”
“You talk to them like they really are people.” Miri smiled as the roan leaned into her hands.
“Don’t say it’s like I have magic,” Daine said. “I hear it all the time, and it makes me crazy.”
“Depends on what you mean,” Miri commented. “The sea’s full of magic, but we can’t use it like the Gift. It isn’t the same. My uncle is a wave-speaker—he swims with dolphins. He talks to them, whole conversations. Have an apple,” she told a tan mare who had come near. The pony took one daintily. Soon they were breathing into each other’s faces.
“Walk with them a bit,” Evin suggested, joining them. The reins he held belonged to the mouse-gray mare and to a tall stallion, a cream-colored beauty with a white mane and tail. “Daine, what do you think?”
She went over both. Evin had chosen well: they were tall for ponies, which meant they would suit his long legs. The stallion was a showy, life-loving fellow, reflecting the Player’s extravagance of character. The mare was smitten with him, matching the sweetness that lay close to Evin’s bones.
“You got lucky,” she said when she was done. “This pair will do anything for you, if you handle them right.”
Evin grinned. “I’m glad you approve.”
Another trainee called her for help, a redheaded youth named Padrach. She gave it to him, then to another. Before she knew it the afternoon was done, and the trainees were taking their new mounts to the stables for grooming. Daine, Onua, Buri, and Sarge helped then too, though Daine couldn’t see how she could ever be comfortable telling a twenty-year-old man he was missing spots on the pony he was grooming.
She did try it: “Excuse me, trainee—what did you say your name was?”
Blue gray eyes twinkled at her over his cream-colored mare’s back. “I didn’t. It’s Farant.” His blond hair curled thickly over his head, almost matching the pony’s in color.
“Thank you. Trainee Farant, you’re missing spots.”
“Not at all, sweetheart. I’m just combing too fast for you to see.”
“Trainee Farant, you’re missing spots!” Sarge boomed just behind Daine. She thought later she actually might have levitated at that moment—certainly Farant had. “Next time the assistant horsemistress tells you something, don’t flirt—correct it!”
He moved on, and Daine pressed her hands against her burning cheeks. Farant leaned on his mare and sighed. “Yes, Assistant Horsemistress. Right away.” He winked at her and went back to work.
Daine went to Sarge as the trainees were finishing up. “Sarge, I—”
He shook his head. Daine thought if he leaned against the stable wall any harder, it would collapse. How did a human, without bear blood in him, get to be so large? “Not your fault. These city boys see you, you’re young, sweet-lookin’”—he winked at her—“they’re gonna try to take advantage. If they can’t keep their minds on the job after I’ve had them two weeks already in my patty-paws, then I ain’t been doing my job right.” His grin was wolfish. “But that can be fixed.” Seeing her openmouthed stare, he asked, “Something the matter, my lamb?”
She closed her jaw. “No, sir. I just never met nobody like you.”
“And if you’re lucky, you won’t again,” muttered Buri, passing by.
After the stables there was a bath, a hot one. Bathing with other females in a tub as large as a pond would take getting used to, Daine thought, but at least she had plenty of soap and shampoo.
“Tonight it’s medicinal herbs,” she told them, and the trainees groaned. She smiled. “That’s not so bad. Remember, last week I was teaching you how to sew your own cuts—without anything to numb the pain.”
Daine saw Onua slip out the back, and followed. “Do I have to stay?”
“No, indeed not. You aren’t a trainee. You can help me unpack.”
That sounded like something she could get her exhausted muscles and brain to do. She followed Onua up the stairs to her room. “Do they have to study all the time?”
She sat on the bed while the K’mir opened her packs. “Clothes in a pile by the door. Don’t get up—just throw them. Packages on the bed next to you. Hand me scrolls and papers.” Daine hoisted a pack onto her lap and went to work. “Well, they have to get their book learning now, while they’re here. They won’t have much time, once we head for the summer training site. You’ll like the one this year: Pirate’s Swoop.”
Daine’s face lit. “Lady Alanna’s home?
“The very same.”
Returning to the subject on her mind, she asked, “What do they study? The trainees?”
Onua numbered the topics on her fingers. “Poisons, medicines, edible plants. Tracking and hunting, all terrains. Reading maps, drawing them—maps here are a lot more accurate, now that Riders help draw them. Battle tactics. Weapons and hand-to-hand combat. Teaching combat and tactics—they show villagers how to protect themselves. The ones with the Gift have to learn all they can do with it. Veterinary medicine. I think that’s most of it.”
“And they learn all this?” the girl asked, shocked.
The K’mir laughed. “They do their best. They have to. At the end of fall they go to groups in the field to start their trial year. If they survive, and most do these days, they’re assigned a permanent group. Why? Were you thinking of going for a Rider after all?”
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