“And we still,” the king said, “have a procession to ride. But we will see each horse unsaddled and examined.”
Under the king’s saddlecloth, Dorrin saw a brown lump, thumb-sized, just where the king’s weight would break it. With the king’s permission, she lifted it away by magery, and then ran her hand over the stallion’s satiny back. “It is unbroken; it can have done no harm, and there is no irritation to indicate he did anything else.”
All the Marrakai mounts had the same, but only two other horses, both Marrakai-bred.
By then Duke Marrakai had awakened, complaining of nausea and a severe pain in his head; the palace physicians insisted he must be carried in and put to bed.
“You must ride with us, Dorrin,” the king said.
“I have no proper mount—these horses are all—” Fancy and useless were the terms that came to mind, that she must not use.
“Take my father’s,” Kirgan Marrakai said. “He would offer it, if he were here.”
“I need my boots,” Dorrin said, as she looked down at her torn stocking. But someone had already run to the palace, and before she could get to the doors, the tiring maids were there with her boots, her silver spurs, and the proper cape.
She rode out the gate near the head of the procession, side by side with Duke Mahieran and behind the prince, through streets strewn with flowers and good-luck charms, to the cheers of the crowd.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Many people have contributed to the rebirth of the Paksenarrion universe, and this book in particular, and it’s impossible to thank all of them separately, though they deserve it. David Watson and others in the fencing group helped especially by working through various fight scenes as well as with research. David Stevens, director of the St. David’s Parish Choirs, has deepened my understanding of fiction through his comments on musical structure, besides saving my sanity after a bad day at the computer by insisting that I pay attention to a different form of creativity. George Cardozo solved a plot problem for me; Carol Cardozo contributed several good suggestions. Ellen McLean, my first outside reader for the original Paks books, continues to be a perceptive and supportive (but also critical) reader. Husband Richard and son Michael continue to tolerate (and even enjoy) the chaos that surrounds a writer in full spate, bringing me chocolate and learning to cook their own dinners.
Even with this help, however, this book and those to come would not exist without the support of the Paksenarrion fan base, who kept asking for more, my agent, Joshua Bilmes, and the support of my first editor, Betsy Mitchell, who bought and then edited Sheepfarmer’s Daughter for Baen, and is now back with me in this storyuniverse.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Former Marine ELIZABETH MOON is the author of many novels, including Victory Conditions, Command Decision, Engaging the Enemy, Marque and Reprisal, Trading in Danger, the Nebula Award winner The Speed of Dark, and Remnant Population, a Hugo Award finalist. After earning a degree in history from Rice University, Moon went on to obtain a degree in biology from the University of Texas, Austin. She lives in Florence, Texas.
Oath of Fealty is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2010 by Elizabeth Moon
All rights reserved.
Published in the United States by Del Rey, an imprint of The Random House Publishing Group, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.
DEL REY is a registered trademark and the Del Rey colophon is a trademark of Random House, Inc.
eISBN: 978-0-345-51899-6
www.delreybooks.com
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