Galyne found the stirrup and used the pommel of Nova’s saddle to pull herself up one-armed. “Back,” she called, her hand pressed flat against the unicorn’s muscular neck, and the mare wheeled and galloped through the ranks, stepping nimbly over the fallen, dodging fights in progress, and once veering slightly to thrust her steel-capped horn between the shoulder blades of a Scapian soldier who was spearing one of Menshir’s wounded.
They passed into the eerie space behind the fighting, where the noise of the battle carried plainly even as men and women stood and spoke as if lives were not being lost a stone’s throw away. Some treated the wounded, some gathered equipment, some shared maps and advice and orders.
Galyne slid from Nova’s saddle as the mare came to a halt. Trainer Isabel looked in her direction, her usually-stern face concerned at seeing them return while the battle yet raged. Galyne tried to shake her head—so far as she knew, Nova was largely unharmed—but the effort dizzied her. Nova bent her neck to press her muzzle against Galyne’s chest, her horn carefully angled over Galyne’s shoulder.
Isabel said something and pointed, and two grooms started toward Galyne and Nova. What a bother, Galyne thought as she pressed her good hand to the hot gash on her upper arm where her light armor was torn away.
One of the young grooms—Melane—reached her. “That’s a lot of blood. Give me your weight, and let’s get you to a physician.”
Galyne tried to shake her head again. How exhausted she was, once out of the fighting itself. “Nova.”
“I’ll see to her myself,” Melane promised. “But she won’t get much care while you’re leaning against her.”
“Cheeky,” muttered Galyne. “Insubordinate.”
Melane did not care. Galyne let the girl pull her away from Nova and toward one of the physicians’ circles scattered to receive returning soldiers. Nova nickered and followed, her head beside Galyne all along the way.
“Galyne?”
She wasn’t accustomed to anyone calling her in the barracks, and certainly not a male voice. She tugged her belt through the buckle, one-handed the tongue through the proper hole, mildly cursing the sling on her left arm, and went to the door. “I’m here. This way.”
It was indeed a young man who stood at the end of the barracks corridor, looking awkward. “I didn’t know which room was yours,” he confessed.
“And so you decided to shout?”
“I thought—if I went to all the doors—I mean…”
Fresh meat, she decided, and poorly trained. “First,” she said, “this is a house of virgins, yes, and you should be mindful of your conduct. But it is equally a military house, and thus your conduct should be mindful of proper protocol, which does not include shouting down a hallway for a superior.”
He stiffened. “I’m—”
“Second, as I am that superior, you should address me as Trainer Galyne, at the least,” she continued.
His jaw clenched, and he assumed a parade stance. “Trainer Galyne, I apologize,” he said. “I am Rue, reporting for duty.”
Galyne closed her door behind her and came down the hallway toward him. “What duty is that?”
“I’m assigned to you and the stables, ma’am,” he answered promptly. “In that order.”
“What?”
“There’s worry the Scapians might send someone secretly to infiltrate the war stables,” he said. “I’m a—a guard, of sorts. For you.”
“What?” She was repeating herself, but what he said was laughable. “You do know I am a soldier in my own right, yes? Even before we factor in the fourteen hundred pounds of fully-trained war unicorn?”
“I have Trainer Isabel’s orders, ma’am. And with respect, you’re wounded, and there’s no unicorn here in the barracks, ma’am.”
Galyne sighed. “I’m going to the stables now. I suppose you can come along.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
He was probably in his mid-twenties, like Galyne herself, which was old for a novice groom but perhaps more typical for a guard. A bodyguard, she realized. She stifled a smile.
He caught it and mistook it. “I am sorry for my inappropriate conduct before, ma’am.”
“Oh, stop,” she said. “Another ma’am dropped here and I’ll trip on them. Trainer Galyne will do when you need to address me by name. Are you really a bodyguard?”
He nodded. “Though I am to help in the stables as well.”
“We can use that, at least,” she said.
The stables were not far from the barracks which served them. Someone had vandalized the sign. Again. Beneath the stern War Stables a line of sloppy blue paint advised, Virgins only beyond this point.
“What’s your name?” she asked.
“Rue,” he said. “Yes, really, before you ask. Like the plant, not the regret. My parents didn’t really think it through.” He looked at the sign. “Are they—is every—does it really matter? If you’re…” He trailed off, looking uncomfortable and awkward.
She took pity on him, for both his silly name and his embarrassed question. “Yes, all the handlers and trainers are virgins. It does matter. But the vandalized sign is petty.”
He followed her into the first barn. “Then it’s all right if—”
She suppressed a smile. “If you’re not? Yes, you can come into the stable—with me or another trainer, and only following our instructions. Do not approach any of the unicorns on your own, and if we tell you to move, then move. Immediately. They’re big, they’re faster than you think, and if you wait to ask if they’re serious, it’ll be too late.”
Rue looked a little panicky, so she added, “But don’t worry too much. Most of the regular army are not virgins, and the unicorns fight alongside them. You aren’t likely to get into trouble if you keep your hands to yourself.”
Rue nodded and crossed his arms, hands tucked inside. Galyne looked forward and hoped her amused smile did not show.
She went first to Nova’s stall, of course. The mare whickered and extended her head over the half door, and Galyne cradled it and rubbed her forehead about the base of the horn. “Hello there, my lovely lady.”
But Nova was pricking her ears and whuffing at Rue, who stood well back in the center of the aisle, trying not to look like he was keeping his distance. Galyne slipped a leather halter about the mare’s head, buckling it over the poll, and opened the half-door. Rue took another step back. “Is it safe?”
“She’s a war unicorn,” answered Galyne flippantly. “Of course she’s not safe.”
She had seen a unicorn put a horn through the right breast of a townswoman who had insisted on petting him, though she had been told repeatedly to back away from the animal. Some people could not understand that they were not exceptions. But as long as Rue kept his distance and Galyne kept an eye on Nova’s body language, he should be fine.
“Let me see you, girl,” Galyne said as she went over the mare’s body and legs. The grooms were to watch for any nicks, swelling, or other signs of injury or disease, but no trainer left such care solely to others. She ran her hands down the sleek neck, over the gleaming shoulder and the ugly knot of scar tissue, down the foreleg.
“What happened there?” asked Rue behind her. He was leaning to peer into the stall from a distance. “Her shoulder?”
Galyne returned to the scarring. “She took a spear,” she said, smoothing the tension from her voice. “Last year. It went deep, pushed in by her own momentum. It was a miracle it missed her heart.”
“Wow.”
“She shouldn’t be alive,” said Galyne, “much less still fighting.” She caught the head which turned to her, extending the horn over her shoulder. “Yet here she is.”
“Heads up,” came another voice, and Rue jumped forward as a man led a bay unicorn behind him. The other trainer gave Galyne a friendly nod as he passed and continued down the aisle.
Rue stared a bit too long after them, and Galyne prompted, “Yes?”
“Um,” he said, and his cheeks actuall
y were turning a faint pink. “Um, I didn’t know there were male trainers.”
Galyne couldn’t help herself, she laughed aloud. “There can be male virgins, too. And male trainers.”
Rue frowned. “Why would they…”
Now Galyne snorted. “Because they want to be trainers. They want to work with unicorns. And they don’t let someone else’s foolish standards or false superiority stop their dreams, and so they don’t bow to mockery or scorn.”
“I didn’t say—”
“You didn’t have to; we’ve all heard it often enough to know how it goes. And the guys have it the worst.” She grinned. “But it tends to end pretty quickly. It’s hard to mock a man too much for his supposed weakness when he’s standing beside a big unicorn trained to kill people.”
Rue nodded once.
Galyne gestured. “I need to take Nova out to work. I suppose you’re following?”
Nova flattened her ears at Rue as he backed away, and Galyne shortened the lead, just in case. The mare wasn’t usually testy, but they were often wary of strangers in the stable. She would let Nova work out her nerves in the practice pen.
“Come on,” Galyne called down the corridor. “They’re pulling another unicorn today. I have to be there, and that means you have to be there.” She turned and started away.
Rue dutifully followed her at nearly every waking moment, even waiting outside the privies. It was irritating, but he was so apologetic about his trespasses that she forgave him and even found herself looking for him when she emerged in the mornings.
Rue caught up with her and slowed his jog. “Another unicorn?”
“To train,” Galyne said with exaggerated clarity. “Because unfortunately it doesn’t look as if the Scapians are going to go home soon.”
The Scapians were a stubborn enemy. It was common knowledge they could not field a force to match the war unicorns and were gradually losing to them, and it was common rumor that they would counter not with direct battle but by sending assassins to eliminate the unicorn trainers. There were a number of new guards about the barracks and stables, but only a few injured trainers had their own personal protection, as Galyne did Rue.
There was a small group gathered on the beach, half-ringed about a woman of perhaps forty, dressed in fitted skirts with her hair drawn back severely. Trainer Isabel, stablemaster and head of all the royal trainers, stepped close to speak with her, and Galyne thought they might have been sisters.
Then Trainer Isabel stepped back to join the half-circle. “We are ready when you wish.”
The sun dipped against the ocean. Rue stepped close to Galyne, keeping his eyes on the sorceress as if he did not trust her. Sorceresses had that effect on people, especially at first.
The woman spoke strange words in an awful voice and raised her bare hands against the wind and sea. She stood immovable on the wet sand, deliberately weaving her hands as if to pull the wind like wool or candy.
And then, as another wave rolled to break against the shore, Galyne saw a horse’s form in the waves, its mane rising and falling with the waves’ crests, though there was no flesh-and-blood horse there. The dread woman on the sand called again, and the head broke above the water, an ivory horn piercing the air.
The unicorn was the color of night upon the ocean, its mane and tail like foam lit by moonlight. It rose majestically from the waves and stepped onto the packed sand, arching its thick crest as if aware of its own powerful beauty. It paused before the woman who had summoned it from the elements and raked the sand with one magnificent hoof.
“Reaver,” said the sorceress simply, and the beast bowed its head in gracious acknowledgment. Trainer Isabel stepped forward, extending a halter of worked silver and gems, and the unicorn tossed its head, sending spray over the women, and then extended its neck to accept the halter.
“How does she do it?” Rue whispered.
“It’s a request,” Galyne said. “She invites a unicorn from the elements, but it is always the unicorn’s choice. She grinned. “You don’t argue with a creature of magic who has agreed to fight on your behalf.”
Reaver, gleaming with seawater and his new silver halter, walked away with Trainer Isabel. Galyne’s eyes followed them. “I hope I have a chance at him,” she said. “He’s gorgeous.”
“Like everything to do with unicorns,” Rue said, and there was a note in his voice which should not have been there.
Galyne looked at him, but he was watching the sorceress and Trainer Isabel, and she did not ask him to explain.
It was awkward to always stand by and watch someone else work, so after ten days or so Rue began helping Galyne with some of her training tasks, especially those which required two strong arms as hers was recovering well but slowly. Nova did not like him too near, but she appeared to have reluctantly accepted his presence, and so he could carry grooming boxes or drag jumps and training dummies as needed.
The first time he saw the training dummies used left him speechless. He knew, like everyone else, the war unicorns were trained for battle. But he had clearly never observed a fully-trained unicorn perform an elegant capriole, leaping into the air and striking backward with enough precise force to detach the dummy’s head and send it careening into the wall beyond.
Galyne had to prompt him to fetch the wooden head and try to refit it on the dummy. “If it won’t go back on, don’t worry about it,” she called. “It wasn’t a good strike, anyway.”
That surprised him. “What?”
“Better to go for the chest, where it’s harder to miss if he dodges. Armor won’t save him from a direct hit.”
Rue looked at the crude and dented head in his hands. “No, it won’t.”
Galyne dressed Nova for battle, to practice in the weight of armor: the chamfron, fitted over the horn to shield her face, the criniere for her neck, the peytral for her chest—though it could not always prevent a spear coming from underneath, as they knew too well—and the flanchards and croupiere for her flanks and hindquarters. Finally the steep-tipped coronel set at the end of the horn, lending a honed edge to the natural power and thrust. It was a heavy set, but Nova worked frequently in it and had the strength and endurance to perform even in its weight.
Afterward, however, she needed thoroughly bathed to clean away the dusty sweat. Galyne could leave this task to the grooms, but it was good to care for the mare herself, and anyway it was a more pleasant task in the summer heat.
Rue stayed near as she sponged the mare. He watched her work, arms crossed, unable to help directly but bringing her a refilled bucket before she asked. Finally he blurted, “So, you’ll do this—forever? Without…you know, without love?”
Galyne laughed. “Not without love, just without sex.”
“But…”
She shook her head at him. “Haven’t you ever loved something? Loved someone? Loved a personality more than a throb in your pants? This is what I choose, and I love it, and I have no regrets.”
“But you don’t even know what you’re missing.”
“I’m not entirely ignorant,” she said, raising a stern eyebrow. “I’ve seen the sheep and the goats and the dogs, you know. And half the taproom, on a winter’s night when there’s no planting in the morning. I know the gist of it. And it’s a few minutes of sweaty, squirty hugging against a lifetime of working with the most amazing creatures I know. Look at Reaver—such a glorious creature, entrusted to my care and training. No, it’s no sacrifice at all.”
Rue shook his head. “You’re dedicated.”
“Yes,” she said simply. “And don’t say it like it’s a bad thing. There’s more to life than an itch in the crotch.”
He looked down the path away from her. “My itch can get pretty insistent.”
She snorted. “The apothecary probably has a powder for that.”
He threw a sponge at her, which she ducked, and Nova tossed her head in mock alarm as they laughed and sought soft missiles.
It was possible to see the Scapian
advance, if one climbed high enough on the mountain behind the city. Rue and Galyne squinted into the distance to discern the tents and cooking fire smoke against the horizon.
“Why don’t they go home?” asked Galyne, surprising herself. “Leave us alone? It’s a trade route. It’s money. It’s not worth all this.”
“It is to them,” Rue said. “And it is to us, too, or else we’d let them have it.” He shrugged. “People will do a lot of things for money.”
Galyne took another drink from the skin Rue had brought. It was heavily watered tea with a fruity taste, different but refreshing. The climb had brought out a light sweat, and the mountain breeze was perfectly cool against her skin.
“Thanks for coming up here with me,” Rue said. “It gets very close in the barracks.”
“Military quarters aren’t known for spacious accommodation,” agreed Galyne. “It’s good to get out once in a while.”
“I didn’t know if they would, you know, let you.”
“What? My arm’s healing well enough.”
“I didn’t mean that.”
“Oh. No, of course we can go out. We’re virgins, we’re not fragile statues or gems to hoard. We made a choice and if we change our minds, we can retire instead of sneaking around. We couldn’t sneak, anyway; the unicorns would tell on us.” She laughed and thought she sounded just a bit drunk. Which was funny, because she was drinking fruity tea, but maybe it was because she liked Rue.
She did. Not that way, not all the way that way, but it was different having him around. And he liked her, she could tell, and that was very flattering for someone who was more used to mockery for her strict choice.
Rue was still worried about their outing. “But the Scapians?”
“Are over there.” She pointed at the distant army. The perspective or height made her feel strangely unbalanced, and she took another drink. “Besides, I have my personal bodyguard with me.”
He frowned at her. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. Weird dizzy spell or something, maybe from the climb.” She shook her head, as if that might do something to help. It didn’t. “I might be losing condition faster than I thought. Stupid arm.”
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