by Helen Gosney
“Aye, ‘tis, I suppose.”
“Do you think you could…? Gods, Captain Fess would likely kill me for suggesting it, but…”
“Fess isn’t in the habit of killing folk unnecessarily, Ross, and certainly not without a bloody good reason. No more than I am, anyway,” Rowan said, “What is it you want me to do? You’re in Sian now, laddie, so just bloody speak up! I promise I won’t bite you; at least not in front of Dorrel and Kurt.”
Ross took a deep breath and spoke up, as instructed.
“I’d like you to teach me how to train horses like you’ve trained Mica and Soot, so that I can train some too, and so that I can teach other troopers, other Horsemasters and instructors, to do the same. So that we can have more horses with the higher training in the Guard.”
“Not every horse can physically do it, Ross. They must be strong and brave and agile, but not too heavy, and they must have complete trust in their trainer for the above ground stuff. And it doesn’t happen overnight, either. It takes years of practice.”
“So, you don’t think it’s possible.”
“I didn’t say that.”
Dorrel and Kurt looked from one man to the other. Ross looked disappointed, but was trying hard not to show it; Rowan looked thoughtful.
“Let me think on it, Ross. I’d be happy to teach you what I can, and anyone else who’s interested, I suppose, and the book I learned from is just inside the house there, but… I can see a few problems…”
“What sort of problems, Rowan? Memories of…?”
“… Messton? No. No, they come and go as they will, no matter what I’m doing. ‘Tisn’t that. But… look, ‘tis a good idea, in theory. ‘Twould be a shame to see the techniques die out completely, I think. We’d have to talk to Honi and Griff about it, of course, but I don’t think that’ll be a problem, really. No, the main issue that I can really see is where we’d actually do it. I’m not going back to Den Siddon for months and months at a time after the Trophy. It’s been hard enough being there training for the Trophy, but that’s unavoidable,” he said slowly, “I’ll be back at the garrison for eight weeks or so to get the new recruits broken in, but that’ll be it. So, if the Guard wants it badly enough, they’d just have to cope with the idea of some of their Horsemasters coming to Sian for a while.”
“You’d do it here?”
“Aye. This is my home, Ross; this is where Griff and I are breeding and training our horses and there’s a lot of work goes with that, as you know. I’m not leaving it all to him and Honi all the time. ‘Tisn’t right.”
Rowan frowned and for a moment Ross saw the steely inner strength of his easygoing friend. Nobody would be talking him into doing something that he didn’t want to do, in a place he didn’t want to do it. The Guard would simply have to accept that or do without his services.
“And then, of course, there’s the problem of when we’d actually do it… I don’t mean this year or the year after, but well, summer? Autumn? Winter?” he said, then partially answered his own question, “Well, it certainly couldn’t be spring, because ‘tis simply too damned busy around here…”
“And not autumn, because that’s when the new recruits start,” Ross said thoughtfully, “What about in the summer?”
“Summer? No, I don’t think so. It’s still fairly busy here in the summer, because that’s when we put the finishing touches to the young horses’ training for the Frissender Horse Fair. We’re starting to get quite a good thing going there, and we want to build on that if we can. Besides, everyone’s time’s taken up thinking about, putting out and cleaning up after fires,” Rowan frowned again as he gave it more thought. They’d missed taking the horses to Frissender that year, with Rowan away training for the Trophy. Still, it had worked out well, with Den Siddon buying almost all of them. It wouldn’t be like that all the time.
“Well, we’re not left with a lot of choice, are we?” he said at last, “Winter it is, then. That mightn’t be so bad, it’d give us time to break in the new recruits and then run off back here and leave the poor buggers behind. We’d just have to leave Wirran before the Dogleg Pass gets snowed in, if we’d be going that way.” And they would be if he had anything to do with it.
“But what about the damned snow here in Sian?”
“We don’t get as much snow here as you do in Wirran; I suppose the mountains protect us from the worst of it. We do get a bit, though. Dammit! Hmm… I suppose we could build a sort of indoor training area, a bit like a big gymnasium for horses,” Rowan said slowly, “Might need to extend one of the barns a bit too, or make a, um, a visitors’ barn.”
**********
“Do you still think Fess might kill you for the idea?” he said with the sudden grin that made him look very young.
“Gods! Him and Commandant Telli would be standing in line.”
Rowan laughed.
“Depends on how much they like the idea and how much they want to see it happen, really. I doubt that Den Siddon’s collapsed while you’ve been here in Sian, with all respect to you and your value there. But if they’re truly interested, and they want me to be involved, then here is where it’ll be happening, and I suspect that winter will be when.”
“But where would everyone stay?” Dorrel said curiously.
“Tents?” Kurt suggested.
“Mmm… tents’d be all right for a while, I suppose, but not in winter. And I’m thinking we’d have to do it for most of the winter, then you lot’d go back to the garrisons and practice like hell, and then do it all over again for a few years,” Rowan said slowly, trying not to smile as the ramifications of his simple idea finally struck Ross.
“Bugger me,” the Wirran managed.
“Indeed. Perhaps we should give it a bit more thought, Ross,” Rowan said, “But, you know, I’m starting to think it could work. The Guard would just have to be a bit more, er, flexible about things. Maybe they could hire a few civilian riding masters to help out…ha! Maybe they should damned do that anyway, instead of running you poor bloody Horsemasters ragged! There’s plenty of old troopers around and every one of them can ride well.”
“That’ll happen the day that horses fly, Rowan.”
“And yet that’s just what they say of Mica and Soot, isn’t it? Anyway, as for using tents in winter, here we are in Sian, surrounded by beautiful trees just waiting to be chopped down and made into something useful. The poor buggers are everywhere. As long as we’re already building something nice for the horses, we could build a lovely little timber barracks for you.”
**********
The Cadets had listened to the conversation with a lot of interest, but both were puzzled by something. Finally Kurt spoke up.
“Who’d build the, um, barracks and things that you were talking about, Rowan?” he said.
“Good question, lad,” Rowan replied thoughtfully, “We could do it ourselves, but of course time would be the damned problem. It can get pretty busy around here, as you’ve all seen for yourselves.”
Ross nodded. The sheer amount of work that accompanied the foaling and breeding was astonishing.
“Aye, it certainly can,” he said, “And even with the foaling over, the work doesn’t stop, does it?”
“No. It never stops, lad.”
“Anyway, the buildings would be for our benefit, wouldn’t they? The Guard’s, I mean. Surely the Guard should make a bit of a contribution,” Ross said.
“What about the, um… what do they call it now? The Engineers’ Corps? They build bridges and things…” it was Dorrel’s turn to put in his tuppence worth.
Rowan laughed.
“Dorrel, my lad, you’re a bloody genius! ‘Tis always good to keep the Engineers busy and out of mischief, and I’m sure they’d like to try their hand at something other than bridges,” he said, “And as I said, there’s plenty of timber around.”
**********
“And what about the horses? Would our troop horses be suitable, do you think?”
“Ay
e, some of them certainly would be, but not all horses are physically or mentally capable of the above ground stuff, anyway. It’s a big strain on a horse, doing that… they have to be strong without being heavy, and very fit of course… then they have to be brave, agile, clever, able to think for themselves but yet be totally responsive to their rider…”
“Sounds like Mica and Soot…” Ross said thoughtfully.
Rowan laughed.
“Aye, just like Mica and Soot!”
Ross looked thoughtful for a moment.
“So some of those horses we bought from you might be suitable?”
Rowan nodded.
“Any of the first lot, the ones that are officers’ mounts now, could probably do it. Ashen was from that lot, and he’s doing really well. ‘Tis the Guard’s loss that they thought he wasn’t quite tall enough,” he smiled happily. Less than an inch in height was meaningless as far as he was concerned. It wasn’t as if Ashen was pony-sized; in fact he was a fraction bigger than Mica himself. “Possibly some of the second lot, that weren’t quite as good, could do it too. And not just my horses, Ross. The Guard has hundreds of horses – thousands, I should say. You just need one that’s not one of those big gangling lumbering things that some garrisons have. They need to be sort of compact and muscular to be able to do the leaps properly, and of course they need a damned good grounding in all of the basic stuff too. Some might need that reviewed a bit, but surely the Guard has some that’d be suitable.”
Rowan smiled to himself as he saw Ross taking a mental inventory of Den Siddon’s horses. He thought there’d certainly be some that could both cope with the training and do it well.
**********
“Gods, Ross! I’ve just had another thought about all this, while we’ve been busily planning and plotting,” Rowan said after a little while.
“Oh, aye? And what might that be? And what do you mean ‘planning and bloody plotting’?”
“Sorry, just a figure of speech. But if Telli and Fess and the other Captains do decide to do this, I truly think Telli would have to approach the Siannen Guard Commandant about it.”
Ross and the Cadets looked puzzled.
“Well, we don’t want him to think that Sian’s going to be invaded by the Wirran Guard, do we?”
“Bugger me, Rowan, I never even thought of that!” Ross said, shocked at the implications, “But surely he wouldn’t…?”
“Who knows how the old bugger thinks? Best not to give him any cause for concern, I’d imagine, lad.”
Ross thought about it and nodded slowly.
“Aye, I think you’re right. Bloody politics. Mind you, I suppose we Wirrans wouldn’t like it if the Siannen Guard fronted up and started training their troops and horses in Wirran without at least letting us know the whys and wherefores of it.”
“Aye, ‘tis what I was thinking too.”
“Well, it might turn out to be a damned sight bigger undertaking than I thought, Rowan.”
“Mmm, I think it might, too. But if we’re going to do it, it should be done properly, and it’ll simply take time. You can’t train a horse overnight, after all.”
“Well, I’ll put it to Captain Fess when we get back to the garrison, and he can think about it and talk to the Commandant about it, maybe do some planning and plotting of his own. And then he can pester you about it after the Trophy’s over.”
“That sounds like a good plan, Ross lad.”
**********
“And the long and the short of it is that it’ll likely start sometime after the next lot of new recruits are sorted out, Finn. ‘Tis too hard to get it all organised before then. And it’ll only be in a smallish way to start, I think,” Rowan said to his g’Hakken friend and kinsman.
**********
3. “you’re going to be a bit busy, then…”
“Mmm… well, it sounds like you’re going to be a bit busy, then…” the dwarf’s deep voice trailed away.
“A bit busy for what?” Rowan was surprised at the note of disappointment in his friend’s voice.
“’Tis the Dwarf Moot later this year and… well, the clan sort of hoped you might… er…”
“Gods! I’d damned nearly forgotten all about it, with one thing and another,” Rowan said contritely, “I’m sorry, Finn. Of course I’ll go. I’d be honoured to.” He remembered something else though, “But, umm, is it truly all right for me to go to it? I’ve always thought that men aren’t, er, really welcome at the Moot…”
“Ah… well, you’re right, they’re not, generally speaking. But you bear the g’Hakken mark, don’t you? You’re g’Hakken, laddie.”
“Aye, of course I am, but…”
“Don’t fret yourself, Rowan lad. There’ve been a few others adopted into various clans over the years, and they’ve been to the Moots with no trouble. Besides, you’re the fraggin Dwarf Champion. Who the hell’s going to be keeping you out when you’ve got a perfect right to be there?”
Rowan laughed.
“Who indeed? I’ll look forward to it then, Finn. When is it?”
“’Tis after the Horse Fair, but the bloody thing’s in Gian this year, so it’ll take us a while to actually get there and we’ll have to cut across that eastern end of Candellar, or it’ll take us forever. We’ll be leaving after the foaling and the Fair and everything’s finished.”
“Aye, I’d have to wait until all that’s over with too. ‘Tisn’t fair to leave Griff with all the work, all the time. But how long does the Moot go for? I had the feeling Owen told me once that it goes for quite a while.”
Finn laughed.
“Aye, it does! Probably just as well we only have it every five years. It’s on for… hmm… three or four months or so.” He grinned at Rowan’s surprise. “Don’t worry, laddie, nobody expects anyone to stay the whole damned time! They do it like that to give everyone a chance to get there, see and do what they want to, then clear off home again and get back to getting their work done. They know that some of us will be busy with breeding season, and other poor bloody farmers will be planting crops and such. All the important stuff, the diplomacy and thrashing out of problems and so on, is done at the Meeting, about the middle of the whole thing, so the early ones can go home after that, and the later ones can arrive just in time for it, if you take my meaning.”
Rowan nodded thoughtfully. It made good sense to have the important talking done then. He thought some more… he could go to the Moot and still have time to come back to Den Siddon for the new recruits, with a bit of luck and good planning.
“I can probably catch up with you on the way, after everything’s calmed down at home with the horses. With all respect to you and your ponies, I can travel a bit faster than you, especially as you’ll have a few wagons and I’ll only have myself to look out for,” he said.
“Aye, so you can. We’ll set off when we’re ready then. We can talk about a rough time sometime between now and then,” Finn said.
He hit himself on the forehead with the heel of his hand as he remembered something else… a most important something else. How the hell could he have nearly forgotten it?
“But don’t forget your new axe we’ll be making for you. We can do quite a bit of it without you actually needing to be there…”
Rowan stared at Finn in surprise.
“Can you? But I remember you watching me like damned hawks for weeks when you made my sabre,” he said, puzzled.
Said to be the best in Yaarl by an enormous way, every fine g’Hakken weapon was made especially for its bearer and no other, and the dwarves studied the way that bearer moved, the way they did things and held things for quite some time before they began their forging. The weapons were superb: perfectly balanced and perfectly suited to their bearer. They were also said to be worth more than their weight in diamonds and gold if one could merely buy one… but of course one could not ‘buy one’. The dwarves simply wouldn’t and didn’t sell them. They would however sell the other, merely magnificent, swords and other w
eapons that they made if they felt the buyer was worthy.
“And we’ve been watching you like bloody hawks during the Trophy too, laddie. Surely you noticed us?”
Yes, Rowan had noticed their intense scrutiny during training and matches, but he’d simply put it down to the clan’s parochial interest in their adopted clansman, coupled with concern for his ankle injury.
“… So you’ll really only have to spend a week or so with us while we just finish it off,” Finn said happily.
“Well… maybe I can do that and then travel with you to the Moot after all.”
And perhaps if all went well with the g’Farrien and their business, he could deliver the results to the g’Hakken then as well.
**********
“That’d be good, Rowan lad. Oh, and don’t forget to bring your sabre with you, will you?” Finn said. He knew that Rowan rarely carried his magnificent Champion’s Sabre these days, and he’d be even less likely to when he had his new axe.
Rowan looked at him in surprise.
“But won’t they be offended if I front up to the Moot armed to the teeth like that? I’ll have my axe and my knives with me. I thought it was supposed to be a, um, peaceful sort of thing?” he said.
“Aye, ‘tis too. Of course there’s always a few odd brawls and disagreements, but nothing serious,” Finn smiled at him, “But no, Rowan, they’d be upset if you didn’t take the damned sabre and everything else, and show them off for them. They’ve done nowt but whinge at the last few Moots because they’ve not seen them. Or you, laddie, I’m sorry to say.”
Rowan shook his head at the thought of several thousand dwarves all whingeing at once. No, that would never do.
“Well, that’s been sort of unavoidable, Finn. But I’m looking forward to this one, and I’ll make sure I take all the bits and pieces for them to see. I’ll even keep up the practice so that I don’t disgrace the clan,” he smiled at Finn, “So, tell me more about the Dwarf Moot…”