Kerowyn's Ride v(bts-1

by Mercedes Lackey

  And she was sure now that this was the source of his deep-seated bitterness—that he owed everything, not only to his wife’s mother, not only to a woman, but to a mage. And one who had earned it all honestly, herself.

  That must have rankled the most. Mages were not to be trusted; mages could change reality into whatever suited them at the moment. Mages were the source of everything that was wrong with the world....

  “That’s how and why your folk ended up with a breeding-herd of Shin’a’in horses,” Tarma said, startling her out of deep thought. “I don’t know if you know how rare it is for us to sell a stud, but we let him have one—an ungelded cull, but still, a stud. He wouldn’t listen to Keth about the lands, he didn’t have her resources, and he didn’t have her capital. He was operating on the edge of disaster, squeaking through season after season, never making a profit. We had done fine, but we’d had the Schools. This land is too rocky to be good farm land; the tenants barely managed to make ends meet. Finally I had the Clan bring in a herd of the best culls and sell them to him at a bargain price. He figured he’d outbargained the ignorant barbarians. We didn’t care; that got him something he could use to maintain the Keep and Lenore without stripping the lands bare or abusing the tenants. Then, when you and your brother were of an age to train your own beasts, I arranged to have a couple of good young mares slipped into the next batch he bought.”

  She lifted her face to the sun and breeze, and Kero thought she looked very like a weathered, bronze statue. Tough, yet somehow graceful.

  “It wasn’t all that hard to do,” Kethry said wryly. “Really, it wasn’t. After all, we were making trips back to the Clan every year to see the rest of my brood. It was more than worth the fuss to get him convinced you two should have them and then convince him it had been all his own idea. It was about my only way of doing anything for you after I pulled back to the Tower and promised to leave you all alone.”

  “So what do you think of all this?” Tarma asked, finally turning those bright blue eyes back toward Kero. “It isn’t often a person gets an entire Clan as relatives, and right out of nowhere, too.”

  “Am I ever going to get to meet them?” she asked impulsively. “The others, my uncles and aunts and all—”

  Tarma laughed. “Oh, I imagine. Eventually. But right now you and I have a previous appointment.”

  Kero felt a moment of disappointment, then smiled. After all, it wasn’t as if everything had to happen all at once. Look how much has happened in just the past few weeks! I think I can wait a little longer.

  “Then we’d better get to it before we both get stiff,” she replied, and grinned. “Or before I get a chance to think about what you’re going to do to me at practice!”

  The one thing Tarma was an absolute fanatic about was cleanliness. She insisted Kero take a bath after morning work and afternoon training, both. There was no shortage of hot water at the Tower, unlike the Keep—that was one magical extravagance Kethry was more than willing to indulge in. Once Kero got over her initial surprise, she found that she liked the idea of twice-daily baths. Hot water did a great deal to ease aching muscles, and the evening bath was a good place to think things over, with a light dinner and good wine right beside the enormous tub. Kethry left her granddaughter alone after dinner, saying when Kero asked her that “everyone needs a little privacy.” Kero was just as glad. She tended to fall asleep rather quickly after those long soaks, and she doubted she’d be very good company for anyone.

  With unlimited hot water, she found she was following Tarma’s example; drawing one bath to get rid of the dirt and sweat, then draining it and drawing a second of hotter, clean water to soak in.

  The bathing chamber in her room was far nicer than the corresponding room at the Keep. It was as big as her sleeping chamber, easily, and the tub could have held two comfortably. That tub looked as if it had been hollowed out of a huge granite boulder, then polished to a mirror-smooth finish. There were convenient flattened places, just the right size to rest a plate and a cup, at either end of it. Water, hot and cold, came out of spouts in the wall above the middle. You simply pulled a little lever, attached to something like a sluice-gate, and the water ran into the tub. The water itself came from a spring in the mountain above. Kethry had shown her the cisterns at the top of the cliff the Tower had been built into—telling her they were part of the original building.

  The original building. And she doesn’t know how old it is. That’s—amazing. It made Kero wonder who those builders were—and what they’d been like.

  They certainly enjoyed their comforts, she mused idly, sipping her wine. Set into the wall of the bathing chamber was an enormous window made of tiny, hand-sized, diamond-shaped panes of glass. Glazing the windows had been Kethry’s addition; the previous occupants had either seen no need for glazed windows, or had been unable to produce them. Tonight Kero had noticed a full moon rising, and once she’d drawn her second bath, she blew out the candles to watch it and the stars. With all the incredible things those Builders were able to do, I can’t imagine why they wouldn’t have been able to make a little glass. I wonder if they were so powerful that they could actually keep the winter winds out of the Tower by magic?

  Moonlight filtered through the steam rising from her bath, and touched the surface of the water, turning it into a rippling mirror. She had to laugh at her fancies, then, for the answer was obvious to anyone but a romantic. Of course; glass breaks, and Grandmother said herself she had no idea how long the place stood empty. There are more than enough crows and robber-rats around here to steal every last shard. Blessed Agnira, some of Mother’s silliness must have rubbed off on me.

  She laughed aloud, and the water sloshed at the sides of the tub as she reached for the carafe of wine to pour herself a second serving. That was when she noticed that she was nowhere near as sore and stiff as she’d expected to be.

  I must be getting use to this, she thought with surprise. By the Trine—I was beginning to think I’d never stop aching! Funny, though—even when I was so sore I wanted to die, I still was enjoying myself....

  This afternoon had been the first time Tarma had actually given her a lesson in real swordwork. Admonishing her to “pretend I’m one of those logs,” the Shin’a’in had run her through some basic moves, then brought her up to speed on them. Before the afternoon was over, she had been performing simple strike-guard-strike patterns against Tarma at full force and full speed—and she thought her teacher seemed pleased. It had been even better than yesterday, when Tarma started her on tracking. Once Kero knew what to look for, it had been surprisingly easy to track the movements of a deer, a badger, and Warrl himself across a stretch of forest floor.

  Of course, none of them had been trying to hide their trails. Kero had a notion that if Warrl wanted to hide his traces, the only way anyone would be able to track him would be by magic.

  Most satisfying about today’s exercises had been that the skills she’d acquired had been all her own. The sword was hanging on the wall of her room, and Kero wasn’t going to take it down until she didn’t need its uncanny expert assistance—at least where fighting was concerned.

  Is that what I want to do? she asked herself suddenly. Is that what I want to learn? She pondered the question while the moon climbed higher in the window, and the square of silver light crept off the water and onto the floor, leaving her end of the bathing chamber in darkness. I suppose it makes sense, she thought with a certain unease. After all, it’s always been physical things that I’ve been best at. Riding, hunting, hawking—that knife-fighting I pried out of Dent. The only “proper” thing I was ever any good at was dancing....

  The one thing she’d been able to surprise Tarma with was her expertise with bow. And then she asked me why I hadn’t taken a bow with me when I went after the bandits. When I said that it just never occurred to me, I thought she was going to give up on me then and there. Kero sighed. It’s so hard to have to think of people as your enemies ... at least she isn’
t being as nasty as Dent was to Lordan.

  Dent had been absolutely merciless on his young pupil, never giving him second chances, cursing and sometimes striking him with the flat of a blade, driving him to exhaustion and beyond. And yet once practice was over, he was unfailingly courteous, a kindly man, who’d praise Lordan to his face for what he’d done right, remind him of what he’d done wrong, and then go on to tell Rathgar of Lordan’s progress with exactly the same words, praise with the criticism.

  He never treated me that way—but why does it feel as if he wasn’t doing me any favors by letting me get off lightly? She closed her eyes and sank a little lower into the hot water. Maybe—because half of what Tarma’s teaching me is undoing mistakes I learned to make? Well, at least I can see some progress. I get a little better each day, she shows me something new each day. And she’s giving me the same kind of talks afterward that Dent used to give Lordan.

  That felt good; warm and satisfying. There were no “buts” attached to Tarma’s compliments. When she said that Kero was doing something well, she meant it, with no qualifications.

  I just hope I’m not boring her too much. At least I’m patient. Lordan used to get so mad when he couldn’t do something right that he’d storm off the field and go duck his head in the horse trough. And she can’t say I’m not determined.

  The moon finally rose to a point where there was no light shining in the window at all. The bathing chamber was in complete darkness. And the wine was gone.

  I guess it’s time for bed, she decided. Before I fall asleep in the tub.

  She found the plug at the bottom of the bathtub with her toes, took the bit of chain attached to it between her big toe and the rest, and pulled. When Tarma had shown her the drain at the bottom of the tub, she’d been both amazed and amused—the tubs at home had to be bailed by hand, then tilted over on their sides to drain completely. She couldn’t imagine why no one had ever thought of something like this before.

  She stood up, slowly; a thick towel hung from a rod at the side of the tub; it gleamed softly in the darkness, and she reached for it, then stepped out onto the tiled floor. That was the only thing wrong with this chamber; the tile made the floor cold!

  Cold enough that she dried herself off quickly, and hung the towel back where it belonged. Tarma had given her one of those looks when she’d thrown it on the floor, and Kero had managed to deduce that there weren’t many servants in the Tower. Thereafter she’d put things away properly.

  She pulled on the old shirt she used to sleep in, and walked slowly and silently across the floor to her own room; Tarma wanted her to practice moving quietly whenever possible, so that doing so became habit rather than something she had to think about. Kero had decided on her own that learning to move quietly in the dark would be a very good idea, so she practiced a little every night.

  Once past the doorway, she turned to light the candle she’d left on a shelf by the door. And when she turned back with it in her hand, she thought she’d jumped into a nightmare.

  Teeth that was all she saw at first; huge white fangs, gleaming in the candlelight. And eyes the size of walnuts, shining with an evil, green glow all their own.

  Seven

  She shrieked, jumped back into the wall behind her, and dropped the candle, all at the same time.

  The flame went out immediately, leaving her in the dark. She felt for the wall and edged along it toward the door, hoping to escape into the bathing chamber before whatever it was realized she was moving—and wondering what awful thing had happened that this thing had gotten past Tarma and her Grandmother.

  :Children,: snorted a voice from—somewhere. It seemed to come from everywhere at once. She froze.

  :Child, I am not the Snow Demon. I don’t eat babies. I just came here tonight to talk to you.: She didn’t move, and the voice took on a tone of exasperation. :Will you please light that candle again and go sit down?:

  “W-who are you?” she stammered. “Where are you?”

  :Right here.: Something cold and wet prodded her between her breasts, and she nearly screamed again. :It’s Warrl, you little ninny! You see me every day!:

  “Warrl?” She reached out—cautiously—and encountered a furry head at about chest level. It certainly felt like Warrl.

  :And while you’re at it, you can scratch my ears :

  It certainly sounded the way she’d imagined Warrl would talk. If Warrl could talk.

  “How are you—” she began. He interrupted her.

  :I’m Mindspeaking you,: he said, impatiently. :It’s exactly what you could do if you wanted to, and the other person had the Gift of Mindhearing.: She felt a brief movement of air and heard the faintest little ticking sound, a sound that might have been the clicking of claws on the floor. :Do light that candle and come to bed, there’s a good child.:

  She went to her knees and groped about on the floor until her left hand encountered the candle. Once lit, she stood up with it in her hand, and discovered that Warrl had resumed the position he’d been in when she first entered the room. Sprawled on her bed, taking up fully half of it.

  “Make yourself comfortable,” she said sarcastically, more than a little nettled now that her heart had started beating again.

  :Thank you, I have,: he replied with equal irony.

  She crossed the floor and put the candle into the sconce in the headboard, refusing to look at him the entire time. Only when she had climbed up into bed, and settled herself cross-legged on the blanket, did she finally meet his eyes.

  “So if you could talk all this time, why haven’t you?” she demanded.

  :There wasn’t any reason for you to know I could,: he replied calmly. :Now there is.:

  “And what, pray tell me, is that reason?”

  :I want to know why you have been concealing your Gift.:

  Her heart stopped again. She couldn’t pretend not to understand him; she had the feeling that if she tried to lie mind-to-mind she’d get caught. And she knew very well what he was asking, her mother’s books had called this ability to hear thoughts a “Gift.”

  So she temporized, trying to buy time to think. “I haven’t been hiding anything,” she countered. It was the truth; Kethry hadn’t asked her if she could hear thoughts, or given her any tests to see if she could.

  Meanwhile, her mind was running in little circles, like a mouse caught in the bottom of a jar. If Grandmother finds out about this, she’ll make me become a mage, and I don’t want to become a mage, I want to be like Tarma—

  The kyree laid his ears back and winced. :PLEASE!: he “shouted” at her, making her wince, but bringing that frantic little circle of thoughts to a halt.

  He sighed gustily. :Much better. Thank you. Child, I have no intention of betraying your secret to Kethry, if that is really what you want—but what you just did is precisely the reason why I wanted to speak with you.:

  “What did I do?” she whispered, head still ringing from his “shout.”

  His ears came back up. :Every time you feel safe and begin to concentrate on some complicated problem that involves your emotions, you do exactly what you just did. You think “out loud.“ Very loud, I might add, far louder than you know; I would imagine that one could hear you all the way to the next Keep if one was so minded.:

  “I do?” She shook her head; it didn’t seem possible.

  :You do,: he insisted. :Almost as loudly as I just “shouted”. And unlike my “shout,“ which was meant only for your mind, your thoughts are heard by anything receptive. You are fortunate that your grandmother is not Gifted with Mindspeaking, or your secret would be no such thing.: He flattened his ears, and looked pained; his brow wrinkled in a way that would have been funny under any other circumstances. :It is very discommoding. And uncomfortable. I won’t dispute your right to keeping your abilities to yourself, since they don’t involve mage-craft, but I must insist that you get training. Quickly. Before you cause an unfortunate incident.:

  Kero bit back her first reply, which was
that she had gotten training. Obviously what she had learned on her own wasn’t good enough.

  Not if someone like Warrl can hear me all the way to the Lythands’.

  “I can probably take care of it myself,” she said cautiously.

  He lifted his lip just a trifle, and snapped at the air in annoyance. She shrank back instinctively. His fangs were as long as her thumb, and very sharp. :Don’t you realize I wouldn’t be here if that were true? There is no way you can train yourself. And untrained—well, half-trained—you are in terrible danger. You are just very lucky that the mage you killed wasn’t strongly MindGifted. If he had been—well, you’d probably be serving his every whim right now. It is ridiculously easy to take over the mind of someone who is Gifted, but untrained; your barriers are weak, and you have no secondary defenses. Right now you are more vulnerable than someone with no Gift at all. And you display that fact to the universe every time you become distressed!:

  But that just led her right back to the same problem; she didn’t want Kethry to know about this. And who else was there that could train her?