“Speaking of noticing... I see one of our herd is missing.”
Trust him to catch that. “I’m giving one of them to the beastmaster. Shoran, he said his name was.”
“You are giving one?” He cocked a brow at her. “But have not yet.”
“The kid said they needed to try all the available ones before they decided which one they wanted.”
His mouth twitched. “I see.”
“I like him,” Reese added. She grinned at the memory. “He and the beastmaster came up yesterday to find out if the dogs were in yet. I think Shoran wanted to know about the dogs, but I’m not sure he would have come on his own, without Talthien prompting. I’m completely sure he wouldn’t have said yes to the horse without Talthien accepting for him.” She glanced at him. “Was it wrong to offer? Shoran said servants weren’t allowed to have expensive things. I’m guessing horses are expensive.”
“These horses are astronomically so.”
Something in his voice though… she knew him well enough now to know there was more, or maybe he was letting her hear it. Either way: “What?”
“Value is contextual,” Hirianthial said as they passed through the castle gates. “Liolesa paid a great deal for these horses, because they are rare purebloods resurrected from archived DNA. They are... antiques. Collectibles, in the Alliance.”
Reese nodded. “Which makes them expensive in the Alliance. You’re saying it’s different here?”
“Historically, horses here were the privilege of the wealthy,” Hirianthial said. “They are very expensive to feed and maintain. They don’t live long—compared to us—and maintaining a ready supply of them requires breeding programs that only the idle have the time to oversee. That puts them out of reach of those without money and land. Horses are also transportation, and speed, and communication, and those were advantages the aristocracy wanted to preserve for themselves.”
“So they had no reason to change the status quo.”
“No.” Hirianthial patted his horse’s neck. “Now, however, things have changed. The Pads are not ubiquitous, but Liolesa will ensure that all the provinces are linked by them to the capital. You will bring shuttles… to Firilith, at very least, and no doubt some of Liolesa’s allies will want conveyances of their own once you have demonstrated their value. And the orbital and lunar stations, and the ships that will be visiting... those will afford even more opportunities.”
“So horses will end up pets. Or status symbols.” He didn’t say anything; she could tell the idea disquieted him. So she continued. “I thought the beast servant should have one. I want more of my people to have their own… well, property. Possessions. I want them to be invested in Firilith’s success, but not at the cost of all their autonomy. Maybe because I want them be able to leave if they hate what I’m doing here, and how can they leave if they don’t have the resources to go?” She stared at the path, framed by Penny’s bright ears. “This feudal thing... some parts of it work for me, and some parts of it won’t.”
“I am already enjoying what you’re making of it,” Hirianthial said, smiling at her. “And I don’t think you’ve done any harm with your gift. No doubt it is the subject of every discussion in town. No one will know what to make of a woman wealthy enough to hand out horses to servants.”
“They might not think I’m rich,” Reese said. “They might just think I’m crazy.” She imagined the conversations, then grinned. “They might not be far off.”
“If you must claim madness,” he said, “then you must share it, Lady. What you’re doing here is necessary. I believe in it… moreover, Liolesa does as well.”
“Thanks,” she murmured, flushing.
He smiled and didn’t press.
Their path took them toward the shore, an easier one than some of the courses they’d taken into the fields because she could see the terrain better. It let her concentrate on the minutia of riding that she still didn’t have down: her wrist and hand tension, her seat, how her feet were set in the stirrups. She’d arranged a daily lesson from Terry, one of her temporary Tam-illee grooms, because horses came with the sealbearer job and while she didn’t intend to fuss with all the trappings she’d thought it a good idea to accede to at least some of them. Since Hirianthial loved horses, this choice had been easy.
Riding, though, wasn’t simple. She’d figured that out on Kerayle, and increased exposure had only confirmed the impression. But strangely, it was relaxing. Once she’d gotten used to the idea, she found it appealing: something about the creak of leather and the solidity of the animal under her, and the fact that she had to focus on something real and immediate instead of fretting about the next meeting, or the next problem, or the next schedule she had to rearrange.
Part of it was Penny, though, with her doe eyes, and her determination not to let her genetic predisposition toward docility become colorless obedience. Reese could sympathize with that level of obstinacy.
Once they’d been pacing the shore for a while, and they’d both had a chance to enjoy the hushed roll and boom of the surf, she broached a topic she hadn’t known was nagging at her until it came out of her mouth. “The boy—Talthien—he’s not, I don’t know... sixty or seventy years old, is he?”
“What?” Hirianthial laughed. “Goodness, no. Though I am forced to concede the assumption is reasonable. We mature at the rate humanity does, Theresa. Until we reach adulthood, and then the process slows.”
“How... how does that work?” Reese asked, confused. “You’d think if you started out with human lifespans and stretched them... wouldn’t it stretch the entire thing equally? Why only the convenient part before your knees start aching and your eyesight gets wobbly?”
“I don’t know,” he admitted. A little more wryly, “Though I did not avoid the aching knees for as long as I’d like.” She glanced at him sharply enough to draw Penny’s attention, but he was still talking. “It is one of the things I would like to research, once we have a secure facility here to do so.”
That startled her even more than the idea that someone so perfect could have joint pains. “Really?”
His smile was wan. “The notion will outrage some part of the populace, admittedly. Even among Liolesa’s partisans. But I would like to understand our physiology better. And if not an Eldritch doctor, in an Eldritch hospital, on our homeworld, then... where? And who?”
“Good questions,” she muttered, frowning. She flexed her fingers carefully on the reins; the wet cold off the ocean was biting straight through her gloves. “So Talthien’s as old as he looks.”
“I would guess fourteen or fifteen. Perhaps older, given the probability of nutritional deficiencies. No more than eighteen, certainly—he’d be growing his hair by then.”
“Explains why he’s on my side already,” Reese said. “He’s a teenager. He’s probably bored.”
She’d expected that comment to win her a chuckle, but Hirianthial turned thoughtful instead, and she glanced at him askance... and then her gaze lingered, because Goddess and freedom, but he was gorgeous: the stallion, black coat gone matte as a silhouette beneath a cloudy sky, pacing the gray sea with Hirianthial gracefully astride, bronze cloak fanned over the horse’s back. This picture, she thought, she wished she could keep forever. Except she’d have a chance to see it every day if she wanted. Lucky her!
His face had been turned down, consumed with his own thoughts... but now his eyes slid to hers with a twinkle, and one brow lifted, as if he knew exactly what she was thinking.
“Can’t blame a girl for coveting,” Reese said, ignoring her blush.
“I’d blame any other,” he said lightly, which only made her blush harder. But he grew sober again as he continued. “You do not understand what you offer a boy like Talthien, Theresa. Eldritch women are reared to rule—their families, if not a castle or a nation. They are born with duties that distinguish them and give them pride, and those duties remain relevant even in small towns, like Rose Point’s, and among those of diminished
means. One need not have money to have authority over one’s husband, children, grandchildren, house. But men... men are expected to serve.” He cast his gaze over the sea. “What is there left to do here, with the monsters gone? No man is sent out to ensure his family’s safety anymore. If there are crops to be tended, that is labor without reward, for our farms are barely viable. Beasts, equally difficult to keep alive almost anywhere. Buildings can be maintained only if one remembers how it is done, and if one has the tools to do it. Do you suppose such tools—or the knowledge to employ them—remain in Firilith?”
“Not with the houses looking the way they do,” Reese said, disturbed.
“So, then. What future for a youth? Talthien is the youngest of the population of Rose Point’s castle town. He lives too far from other townships to know their children, or he would if Firilith had them, which it does not. He grew up without playmates, and now has no peers. His only society is that of men who have nothing to give him: no path to dignity or utility, no tools, no apprenticeship. All they will have offered is a legend of what life was like when there was work for men to do, work that gave them self-respect and an honored place in their community. Reared on stories of men he cannot emulate and deprived of the chance at their future, what do you suppose he felt?” Hirianthial inhaled. “And now here you are. You bring changes, where his future was once sealed. You bring work: work that men can do as well as women. You promise him dogs, like the ones that once companioned heroes on the hunt. Do you find yourself surprised that he might cleave to you?”
“No,” Reese said, hoarse. She cleared her throat, tasted sea spray on her lips. How had it never occurred to her that life for most of the Eldritch was as much of a dead end as hers had been on Mars? Her heart hurt for them all now, urgently. “That would explain why the men were more interested in the gifts than the women, I guess.”
“You will have won them already just by suggesting that Rose Point might wake again. With this offer of a horse, to go with the dogs?” Hirianthial shook his head, and that chuckle was happy, was him focused on the future and finding it beautiful. “You will have them on your doorstep sooner than you think.”
“They’re only half the problem, though,” Reese said.
“Mayhap. But a household with productive members is a more pleasurable one to manage than one without a future. The women may take longer, Theresa, and I fear you may have to wait for longer than you hope for them to come around. But they will.”
“You’re a lot more confident of that than I am,” she said, but she was smiling. So when he looked at her like that—indulgent, confident, loving—she was ready to accept the gentle reproof. She lowered her head, flushing, and added, “I’m allowed a little bit of doubt? After all the mistakes I’ve made, I’d think I’ve earned it!”
He kneed his horse closer and reached for her hand, a lot more steadily than she would have had she been trying the same maneuver. “Theresa. Not everyone you lead will love you; Liolesa will be the first to tell you so. But believe me when I say that most of your people will. Women and men both.”
“I guess if I convinced one Eldritch not to pitch me out, I can handle twenty-eight.”
He snorted. “As I recall, I was the one who had to do the convincing. There were times I was certain you were ready to toss me out an airlock.”
“You were insufferable,” she said, mouth twitching.
Hirianthial laughed. “Insufferable!”
“But only because I fell in love with you the moment I saw you and I had a stupid habit of throwing away anything that might be good for me.” Reese squeezed his hand, then let it go so she could pay attention to her reins again. “I got over that habit. Maybe I can help the Eldritch figure out how to do it too.”
“You are making a good beginning.” He glanced at the horizon. “That, though, is a poor one. Shall we return before we are inconvenienced?”
Reese followed his gaze and winced at the dark rim on the stormfront the wind was blowing in. “Yeah. I don’t want to be caught out in that.”
“We go, then.” He smiled at her as he turned Iecuriel. “Too little time with you, my Courage. And yet, a little too much, to also be forced to remain so apart. I will be glad to be wed.”
Was she blushing? She was definitely blushing. Blood and freedom, but she was blushing. At least it made the cold easier to handle? Or maybe it made her notice it more. She was babbling, and he could probably hear it. “Me too.”
His grin made it all worthwhile. Even the impossible trot she had to try to post all the way back to the castle.
They had no sooner ridden through the gates when Bryer demonstrated just how phlegmatic Penny was by swooping to the path in front of them. Hirianthial’s horse did a little prancing plunge that he handled with his usual skill, but Reese almost ran Penny into him: she was so busy staring at the sight of the Phoenix flying that she forgot to give the horse instructions. Like ‘stop’, maybe. But Bryer could fly here, and it was magnificent and surreal. Birds flew. People didn’t. People-sized birds? She was still staring when Bryer strode to them and said, “Bad storm comes.”
“That?” Reese glanced back toward the seashore.
“Off ocean, yes. Go check satellite.”
“Right,” Reese said. Curious, she added, “Do you know when it’ll hit? I guess this is some thing you just… know. Because of the winds?”
He cocked his head, the feathers of his crest splaying. Confusion? Interest? There were nuances to Phoenix body language she still didn’t know after years of Bryer’s acquaintance... because, she now realized, the life they’d been living hadn’t given him much impetus for it. When every day was ‘another cargo, another minor but expected crisis,’ how many facial expressions did you need? Her own standard had been ‘scowl’ for so long that smiling this much all the time still made her cheeks ache.
“Yes,” he said. “There is a great deal in wind. One must be very still inside to hear it.” Of course. “Have maybe most of day. Depends.”
“Understood. Thanks for the warning.”
He nodded and jogged away, and that jog became a sprint that flung him back into the sky. This time Reese remembered to stop Penny so she could stare, jaw agape.
“It is aweing,” Hirianthial said, baritone low.
“Yeah.” Reese straightened in her saddle. “But it’s not so bad, flying by machine.”
He smiled over at her. “Not so bad at all, no.”
She nodded and sighed. “But, duty calls. You staying?”
“I can see us back to the stables, at least.”
If Reese remembered right, Kisses Number 12, 16, 19 and 27 had happened in the stables. She ignored her blush and said, “Sounds good to me.” Pointing Penny’s nose in that direction, she fumbled in her vest pocket for her telegem and flicked it on. “Give me… um… Taylor.” A chime.
“Goodfix here.”
“Hey, Taylor? Do we have any weather people tracking a storm on the satellite feed? Can you tell me how bad it’s going to be?”
“Oh? Oh, yeah.” A pause. “Okay, I see it. It’s not a hurricane if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“I might have been born on a dust bowl but I know hurricanes happen when it’s hot out.”
“Blizzard, then. Just a bad squall line. It’ll be nasty for a day or so. Might actually get snow!”
“Really?” Reese said, wondering if she was looking forward to that or not. She was leaning toward ‘not’ given how much of the castle still needed sealing.
“Or it might get too cold for snow.” A chuckle. “We’ll be fine, alet.”
“But the villagers might not be,” Reese said. They had reached the stable, so she cut off the Tam-illee before she could start suggesting the inevitable fixes the Eldritch wouldn’t accept. “I guess they’ve handled weather like this before, though. Keep an eye on it for me, please?”
“All right. But alet—”
“I appreciate it,” Reese said. “Thanks, Taylor. Reese out.”
Dismounting in front of the doors, Hirianthial said, “Neatly done.”
“A little obvious, maybe, but I don’t want to fight with her about it.” Reese sighed. “I just hope she doesn’t take it into her head to rush down there and put up storm shutters.”
“She won’t. You were correct when you guessed such weather has come through before and will no doubt again.” He tossed the reins over a post in a way that looped them—stylish, that, she wondered if she could figure out how to do it—and came around Penny’s side to help her down. Technically she could could make it off Penny’s back without help now, though she wouldn’t take any bets on how good she looked doing it. But she wasn’t about to say no to those hands wrapped around her waist.
They were probably glowing like two people who were impatient with their self-enforced premarital abstinence when they entered the stables and interrupted the catechism there. Urise was perched on a hay bale with Allacazam in the puddled robes of his lap; Belinor was hovering at his side like an overprotective parent. Seeing him with his mentor made it clearer how much older Belinor looked; Reese hadn’t known him that long, but the events on-world had matured him enough that she found the scene endearing as well as humorous. She could see the shape of future-Belinor’s personality and thought he’d make an excellent priest, if Eldritch priests considered themselves stewards of their flocks.
Their students were Shoran and Talthien, also seated on hay bales. Val, of course, was slouching against the door of a stall. Petting a horse. Because all Eldritch inevitably were horse-mad, and had a penchant for coming to rest in poses that would have made lovesick teens swoon. When Reese had been learning how to brush out Penny’s coat, her mare had liked to lean over and leave spit all over her braids. She bet no horse ever did that to an Eldritch.
Maybe she was a little annoyed to have been planning a tiny sliver of alone-time with her fiancé only to have walked in on a religious thing. Complete with celibate priests.
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