Wild Magic Page 6

  “I hope she beat you as a child,” Onua grumbled.

  The day passed quickly. Numair and Onua told stories about the people they knew at the palace. The man even juggled for her, a most unmagelike feat. By the time they made camp, she felt she had known him for years.

  Building their fire, she ran into trouble. No matter what she did with flint and steel, the wood was too damp to catch. At last she coaxed it into a tiny flame and held her breath.

  “How does it go?” he asked over her shoulder, and the flame went out.

  “Gods bless it!” she snapped.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “Oh, they must’ve had rain here yesterday. Everything’s damp.”

  “Sit back.”

  She did as she was told, and the tinder burst into flame. She had to put large sticks of wood on it fast, before the fire used up the tinder. “But you didn’t point, or make circles, or chant anything—”

  He shrugged. “Some people need those things. I don’t.”

  She gasped at his arrogance. “Well, excuse me for breathing!”

  His laugh was full throated and made her grin. “What—did they have to enact fire-making rituals before anything would burn, where you came from?”

  Her spirits dropped. “Things burned easy back home,” she said flatly. “Real easy.” She’d been having a good time while her family lay in the ground. Grabbing the shovel, she went to dig the latrine.

  Teeth dug into the mage’s elbow, making him yelp. He looked down at his attacker, Cloud. “Stop that, or I’ll light a fire under your tail.” The mare squeezed a little harder and released his arm.

  “It was going so well.” Onua was grooming the ponies. “She laughed.”

  Numair rubbed his elbow. He’d gotten off lightly—Cloud had only barely nicked the skin. “She’ll laugh again.”

  Daine kept to herself, and the adults left her alone, talking quietly. When cleanup was done, they did the sitting thing. It was as Tahoi had shown her: with eyes closed and legs crossed they sat, hands on their knees, breathing as if they were asleep. In fact, Daine went to sleep watching them.

  That night it came to her that Ma and Grandda probably wouldn’t mind if she had fun now and then. They’d been partial to fun, making berry strings or playing catch with the bread dough. In her packs were two of the dancing puppets Grandda had made for her birthdays: the horse and one that looked just like Ma. The others had been ruined, but she had saved these.

  She got up in the morning with caution and sent the raccoon and the marten who had spent that night with her on their way. She hated apologies, but if Onua and Numair were angry, she would make some.

  Luck was on her side. Their grouchiness seemed to be normal morning grouchiness; all they wanted to do was drink their tea, eat their food, and get moving. Daine let it go at that. If they weren’t angry about how she’d behaved, why remind them?

  They made good progress that day. Once supper and cleanup were done, Numair stretched. “Let’s go, Onua. You won’t improve without practice.”

  Daine knew what came next. “What’s the sitting thing?” They looked at her blankly. “You know—what you’re going to do now.”

  “Meditation,” Numair said. “It clears the mind, and rests it. If you have the Gift, meditation helps your discipline.” His eyes were thoughtful as they rested on her. “Would you like to learn?”

  “I don’t have the Gift.” Was he going to start on that?

  He shrugged. “It’s not only for the Gifted. I told you, it rests the mind. It helps you get a—a grip on the way you think.”

  “It helps you decide what you want,” Onua added. “And how to get it.”

  Daine scuffed her foot in the dust. “Is it hard?”

  Both of them smiled. “You won’t know till you try,” Numair pointed out.

  Daine shrugged and sat as they did, tailor-style. “Now what?”

  “Hands on your knees. Sit straight. Close your eyes. Let the thoughts empty out. For tonight, that’s enough. Just let your thoughts go.”

  Daine heard Tahoi sigh. Now he had no one to play with.

  The next morning they weren’t far from their camp when riders overtook them on the road: Alanna and the men of the King’s Own. Daine was startled to see that the Lioness, so friendly before, was now pale with fury. Darkmoon was as angry as his mistress. He pranced and fidgeted until Daine went to his head. He calmed slowly under her hands.

  “He’s gone,” the knight told them. “From the looks of it, he fled the minute he knew you were safe. Curse him! Those dungeons of his—”

  “I know,” whispered Numair. He looked suddenly tired.

  “I don’t understand,” Onua protested. “You searched?”

  “We did.” Alanna rubbed her neck. “His servants claimed Stormwings came, with a box, like a sedan chair. They flew off with him in it.”

  “Then they can be talked to,” Numair said. “They’re intelligent.”

  “Sure they are,” Daine said. “They talked to Onua and me in the marsh.”

  “She’s right,” the K’mir told them. “And they searched for Numair in patterns after they lost him.”

  The Lioness sighed. “Lovely. More fun. All right—we have to see the king. Come along as soon as you can now. Be sure to ward your camp at night!”

  “We’ll do fine,” Numair told her. “See you at the palace.”

  The knight and Hakim nodded, and within a few moments the company was galloping out of sight.

  Four mornings later Onua and her companions topped a rise, and Daine thought her eyes would fall from her head. Before them a river halved a valley that cupped a walled city and more houses than she could count. At the heart of the valley three bridges linked the northern and southern banks, and roads entered the city from every angle. In the west, the city broke through its wall to climb a long slope dotted with estates and temples.

  Above everything stood a huge castle shielded by high walls. Its towers, flying bright-colored flags, shone in the early sun. A small dome placed among them glowed silver like a giant pearl. Black dots like ants climbed a broad, white-paved road from the city below, to scatter before the walls and stream in through several gates.

  “That’s the palace,” Numair said. “Home of the most unusual royal couple in all history and their peculiar court.”

  “I don’t think ‘unusual’ and ‘peculiar’ are the right words,” protested Onua, and Tahoi barked agreement.

  “Do you live there?” Daine asked the man.

  He shook his head. “I live south, along the coast. They have rooms for me here, though.” He looked at Onua. “Press on?” She nodded.

  Their road took them around the city until they reached a bridge over a deep moat. Here the palace wall was only ten feet high; the gate was a simple affair of wood and iron. Inside lay a small town, its air scented with molten copper, pine, cows, and baking. All this, Numair said, supported the palace. Daine shook her head in awe.

  Guards in maroon and beige waved them across the bridge. Inside the gate, Numair pointed at the palace. “I go that way—I need to report in.”

  Tears stung Daine’s eyes. You knew he’d leave sometime, she scolded herself. This is it. Don’t be a baby. He’s got important things to do!

  A big hand patted her shoulder. “Just for now,” the man said quietly. “I’ll see you again soon.”

  Onua grinned when he kissed her cheek. “You just can’t wait to lay hands on your books again. I know that look in your eye.”

  “She does too,” Numair admitted. “Take care of our Daine.” He waved and headed toward the palace, hands in his pockets.

  “Come on,” Onua told her. “It’s this way.”

  Following her out of the gate’s inner yard, Daine saw more wonders. Around them soared the levels of the palace, with wings and turrets in many styles telling of additions over time. She saw more glass in a look than she’d seen in her life. Her nose smelled flowers, both plain and exotic; her ea
rs were filled with creaking wagons, shouting people, and the clang of metal.

  Onua led them downhill. Chief among the buildings they passed were large stables, rich with horse smells. Daine would have stopped there, but Onua walked on. Before them lay meadows dotted with grazing animals. Behind the herds were masses of trees—the Royal Forest, said the K’mir.

  The road ended at the meadows, where two long, wooden buildings had been built. One was a stable, a neat and quiet one. The other, connected to the stable by a covered walk, was a two-story barracks. Before it was a tall pole, a flag at its tip. As if showing the banner off, the wind lifted it up with a pop. A red horse reared on a gold brown field.

  “The Queen’s Riders,” said Onua. “Home, or at least as much of one as I need. Let’s put the ponies in the meadow, and then we’ll talk.”

  FOUR

  THE QUEEN’S RIDERS

  Unloading the packs, they shooed the ponies into the meadow, and Daine followed Onua into the barracks. Climbing stairs, Onua led them through a door painted a bright red. Inside was a big room with two rows of beds, six in each row.

  Taking a key from her belt-purse, the K’mir unlocked a room near the door to reveal a single bed, several chests, a desk, and a shelf of books. With a sigh, she dropped her packs on the floor and motioned for Daine to do the same. “I’m not here often, but I’m always glad to see it.” She opened the shutters and flopped onto the bed. “Pull up a chair.” Daine obeyed.

  The woman smiled at her. “As to your future. I’d like you to stay with me—you’re the best assistant I’ve ever had. If you don’t want that, you have other opportunities. Alanna would give you work, here or at Pirate’s Swoop. Numair could do the same. Both of them say they’ll mention you to the king.”

  Daine shook her head. The road was one thing; people might forget their station in life there. Here they’d go on with their real lives. Exalted persons like Alanna would not bother their heads over a homeless Gallan. Surrounded by wealth and magic, Numair would have better things to think of.

  Onua drew a leather bag out of her purse and gave it to Daine. “There’s your pay, and the bonus. You can sleep here till you decide what you want.”

  “Don’t be silly,” Daine informed her. “I’ll work for you.”

  Onua’s face lit, and she grinned. “Don’t you want to know the terms?”

  Daine had opened the bag and was gaping at the contents: a handful of silver coins and two gold ones. “Did you overpay me?” she accused.

  Onua laughed. “You earned every penny, girl-child.” She ticked points off on her fingers. “You fought Stormwings and spider-monsters. You found Numair and nursed him. That’s besides what I said I’d pay you for. No, don’t argue. Listen. The job’s two coppers a day, plus room and board and bonuses for unusual duty. You help me with the trainees—selecting mounts, handling ’em, grooming ’em, and so on. They get two, so they have a spare ready all the time. But you know these ponies—if one’s a handful for most people, think what two are like!”

  Daine giggled. “I feel sorry for your trainees.”

  “Don’t. They learn—or they wash out. You and I take care of the rest of the herd. In a few weeks we all go to the field training camp, and we make sure the recruits don’t abuse their ponies. You have lots of free time. Socially, you’re as good as a trainee—better, ’cause you’re trusted to know what to do with a horse, and they aren’t. Don’t let them order you around. Most of the bad apples will go home crying after a week or so, anyway.” Onua grinned. “What d’you think?”

  Her head spun. Take today as it is, she thought, making herself calm down. Tomorrow I’ll deal with tomorrow. “I’ll stay.” They shook hands.

  “You’re back!” Two people came in. One was a short K’mir, her face broader, less friendly, than Onua’s, her eyes black instead of gray green. The other was a big man, taller even than Numair and powerfully built. His skin was dark brown; his close-cut hair looked like black wire. Pink, shiny skin like old scars wrapped around his wrists.

  Onua hugged the visitors. “Daine, this is Buriram Tourakom—Buri, the commander of the Riders. And this is Sarge.” To the adults she said, “Daine is my assistant. She’s young, but she’s worth her weight in gold.”

  Blushing, Daine looked at the floor. “Onua!”

  “She isn’t free with praise,” Buri told her. A smile lit her face and made her less forbidding. “If Onua says good things about you, then they’re true. Welcome.” She offered a hand for Daine to shake, and Sarge did the same. Daine was relieved to find both had the palm calluses of those who worked, and worked hard. “Actually,” Buri told Onua, “we just saw Numair. Sounds like you had a rough time coming home.”

  “It wasn’t so bad,” Onua replied. “Pretty uneventful, in fact, after Numair reached us. How are things?”

  “Same-same.” Buri leaned against the wall. “The new class is ready. We’ll start after lunch. There’s the usual lot of soft-hands merchanters and farmers’ babies. A Player—George recommended him. He’s pretty solid, though he’s tall for ponyback. We may have to give him a horse.”

  “We lost two from the Third Rider Group, one from the Fifth,” Sarge added. Sitting on the floor, he still came up to Daine’s waist. “Half of the First Rider Group is on the casualty list, but nothing permanent.”

  Plainly these people had a lot to catch up on. Daine got up. “Excuse me,” she said. “Onua, I’m going to look at the herd.”

  Her friend smiled. “Don’t stray far.”

  “It’s good to meet you, Daine,” Sarge told her. “We’ll get acquainted later. It’s just—”

  Daine smiled and waved good-bye. She was a little envious of Onua, with her home and friends, but she forced that envy down. For certain she didn’t want Onua to be alone in the world as she was.

  Leaving the barracks, she climbed the fence into the horse meadow. The animals she and Onua had brought hung back. Strange ponies, who had never met anyone like her, crowded around. Heads were thrust under her hands. Colors passed before her eyes: cream, dun, roan, chestnut, gray, odd-colors. She saw stars, blazes and masks, stockings and the spine-long stripe called a list; mares, geldings, stallions. All were the shaggy-coated mountain breed.

  Now the ponies who knew her mixed with the strangers, bragging that she was their herdmaster. Daine giggled as they butted her with their heads and flicked her with their tails. There was no need to be envious of Onua, not with friends like these.

  Time passed—she wasn’t sure how much. When a great bell chimed, she jumped.

  “It’s the noon bell.” Daine hadn’t seen the woman on the fence. “Lunchtime.” She smiled. “Or will you just graze with the herd?” Her voice was low and clear.

  Daine grinned and disentangled herself from her friends. Nearing the stranger, she had a good look at her and stopped. The woman was dressed simply in breeches and a shirt, but she turned them into the richest garments ever worn. Masses of coal black hair had been woven into a braid and coiled around her head. She had green hazel eyes set beneath level brows, ivory skin, and a full, red mouth. Her proudly arched nose was strong for classic beauty, but it fit her. Her only ornaments were a diamond on her gold marriage band and diamonds on her earlobes, but she didn’t need any more decoration. She was the most beautiful female Daine had seen, lovelier even than Ma.

  The woman had said something. Daine wiped her hands nervously on her skirts and went to the fence. “I’m sorry, mum—I didn’t hear.”

  “You look like Chavi West-wind.” She mistook Daine’s surprise and explained, “Chavi is known for horse magic. She’s a goddess, where I come from, one of the four—”

  “Horse Lords. Onua told me. Bian North-wind, Shai South-wind, Vau East-wind, and Chavi. But they’re K’miri gods. Excuse my saying so, but you don’t look K’miri.”

  The woman fingered the arch of her nose. “There’s bad blood in my family. I’m half K’mir, anyway. You’re a friend of Onua’s?”

  “I
work for her.”

  The hazel eyes sharpened. “You’re Daine.” With a smile she explained, “Word travels fast here. You’ll get used to it.” She offered a small, delicate hand. Shaking it, Daine found calluses on the soft palm and smiled with relief. For a moment she’d been afraid she was talking to some kind of noble. She had never met a noble, apart from the Lioness, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to. What would she say to one?

  “Let’s go eat,” the woman told her. “I’m starving—you must be too.”

  Daine climbed the fence. “I think the whole city knows my name,” she grumbled as they set off toward the barracks. “Did you tell me yours?”

  “No. It’s Thayet.”

  “The queen?”

  “Only when I can’t avoid it,” said Thayet of Tortall. “Please don’t get all formal on me now. We were having such a nice talk.”

  Daine scowled. “Odd’s bobs, this is a strange place! Knights who say call ’em by their first name and wizards that light tinder and queens that run around dressed like real people—”

  Thayet laughed. “No wonder Alanna and Numair like you. You have a very unusual way of looking at things!”

  Daine blushed. “I’m sorry. I’m just so—confused, here.”

  “That’s normal,” the queen assured her. “I felt the same, once.” They entered the barracks. “Some lunch will make you feel better.” She steered Daine through a door and into chaos. This room was filled with long wooden tables and benches. A third of them were occupied by men and women in their late teens and early twenties, who created enough noise to fill the place.

  Daine copied Thayet as the queen picked up a wooden tray and went to the servers at the back of the room. These people confirmed the woman’s identity: each bobbed respectfully and called her “Majesty” as they put bread, cheese, bowls of stew, fruit, and mugs of cider on her tray and Daine’s.

  “Thayet, there you are!” Buri came up as they left the servers. “We’ve been looking for you. Onua says she and Daine here met up with Stormwings, and some kind of spiders with human heads—” Talking, she led the queen to a table at the head of the room, where Onua and Sarge waited.