She put a finger to her lips and glanced back at Ischade's darkened windows. "I think he's too busy knowing the vampire woman, if you get my meaning," she answered, matching his lighthearted tone. "Are you doing anything tonight? How about a date?"
Zip swung his legs back and forth absent-mindedly, much as she had done earlier at the wharf. The similarity struck her as odd.
He rubbed his chin, a barely visible shadow against the starlit night. "It has been rather dull. Nothing I'd like more," he said in his most affected Rankene. "You're so easy to follow."
"When I want to be," she acknowledged. "I figured you couldn't keep your eyes off me." She stared upward, craning her neck, guessing what was going through his mind as he rose to stand in the notch. She admired his daring, if not his sense, as he balanced above her.
"A date, you say?"
She stroked the Tros again. "How about a ride?" She put on a big grin. Zip wore the shadows like a cloak, but she was limned in Sabellia's light. She knew he could see her smile. "You can help me with my prank on Tempus Thales. Make up your mind, though." She cast another glance over her shoulder at the darkened estate. It occurred to her to wonder why all the racket had roused no one. She didn't particularly care to wait around to find out-not on Zip's account. "This isn't a very good neighborhood, I'm told, and a lady has to guard her reputation."
"You expect me to ride behind you?" His voice was incredulous. "After what I just saw?"
Chenaya leaned forward, scratched the horse between'its ears. "It's all right," she assured. "We're good friends now, aren't we, horsie?" The Tros didn't contradict her.
Zip hesitated. She wondered if he had ever ridden before, or if he was daunted by the fact it was Tempus's horse he was being invited to help steal? In either case, she couldn't wait around for Zip to find his balls. Dismas had assured her that Tempus was inside Ischade's house. At this very moment he might be struggling into his breeches, reaching for his sword....
She blew Zip a kiss. "Sorry, lover," she called. "It's yes or no and no time to think about it-that's the way it is with me." She gathered the reins in both hands. "But how about tomorrow night?" She nudged the Tros with her heels and clicked her tongue. The horse raced through Shambles Cross and turned onto Farmer's Run before Zip could say another word.
Though Lowan Vigeles's properties extended all the way to the Red Foal River, the major portion of the estate was ringed by a massive, fortified wall. Along the southern rampart, with gates of their own, stood the stables. It was through this gate that Chenaya rode. Dismas held it open, hailed her, then leaped frantically clear before the Tr6s trampled him into the dirt.
Chenaya jerked on the reins with all her might. The war-horse's hooves tore up chunks of earth. It reared, nearly throwing her again, then stopped, completely still, trembling.
She blew an exhausted breath, swung one leg over the Tros's neck, and slid to the ground. Dismas, Gestus, Walegrin, and Rashan hurried to her side.
"Damn beast nearly gave it to me!" Dismas mutterred, brushing dust from his sleeves, looking as if he'd eat the Tr6s if given time to build a fire.
Chenaya pushed the hair back from her eyes. Her golden mane was a tangled mess; sweat and dirt streaked her cheeks. She wiped her face with the back of her hand and passed the reins to Gestus. "Put him in the pen with Lowan's mare. Hurry! She's in heat, and this one's got enough krrf in him to incite the lusts of an army." She swatted the Tros's rump as the gladiator led him away. "Rashan, I want you to invoke Savan-kala's blessing on this union. The mare must conceive. I want a strong foal from her."
The priest's eyebrows shot up. "You want me to bless copulating horses?"
"You're a priest, aren't you, the Eye of Savankala?" She embraced him and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. Rashan had lived at Land's End while he oversaw the building of her private temple on the shore of the Red Foal. They had shared many late night discussions, and he had taught her much.
"Very well," he agreed, rolling his eyes. "But we must speak this night before we part." He turned to follow Gestus, but continued talking over his shoulder. "I've had another dream. You must hear the message. It was the voice of the Thunderer himself."
She watched him go, saying nothing. But his words disturbed her. His walk and bearing were those of a warrior, not a priest, and his body was developed as befitted a Rankan. Yet a priest he was, and first among Savankala's hierophants. Yet, lately, Rashan had been having dreams, messages from the god, he claimed, visions that foretold Chenaya's future and her destiny. All through the winter they'd argued the meaning of his dreams. Not messages at all, she'd tried to convince him. Just the wishful thinking of an old man who saw his nation decaying around him.
She clung to that argument now as he disappeared inside the stables with Gestus and the Tros. There could be no truth to his dreams. She was not the Daughter of the Sun. That was only a name, an appellation pinned on her by arena spectators and fellow gladiators. Nothing more.
There was movement on her right side. She had forgotten her other guest.
"Lady," Walegrin said uneasily. "It's the middle of the night. Your man said it was of the direst importance that you speak with me, that I come dressed thus out of uniform. Because you are Lord Molin's niece I hastened, but the morning-"
She cut him off with a curt gesture. "If you came only because of Uncle Molin, Commander, then you may leave again." She looked him straight in the eye, not at all intimidated by his towering height. "If you came, though, to enhance your own career or to do good service to your prince, then stay and hear me out."
His eyes grew wide in the moonlight, but she turned her back on him and spoke to Dismas. "There's a sectarius of red wine on a peg in the stables. Bring it."
A sudden din from the stables interrupted her. They all looked toward the building. There came a crashing and cracking of wood, the challenging cry of the Tros horse, the lamentation of the mare. There was cursing from Gestus, and Rashan's shouted prayers soared over the whole.
"Bring the wine," she repeated, touching Dismas's arm in comradely fashion. "There's parchment and ink there as well. Bring them along, too."
She turned back to Walegrin when they were alone. "You command the garrison in this garbage pit," she said, folding her arms over her chest, regarding him evenly. "And the closest thing to a police force in Sanctuary is your men. I'm not going to hold it against you that you've been keeping company with that scheming uncle of mine. We all seek advancement by the fastest means, after all."
"If your uncle schemes," Walegrin broke in defensively, "he does so on Sanctuary's behalf."
Chenaya threw back her head and smiled scornfully. "Molin Torchholder does nothing except in his own behalf. But I didn't call you here to argue my uncle's lack of virtue. As you pointed out, it's late." She rubbed her backside. "And I've had a rough night."
Walegrin folded his arms, unconsciously imitating Chenaya's aggressive stance. He looked down at her. "Then what did you call me here for?"
"You're the police," she said over the noise from the stables. "What's the biggest problem you've got in the city right now?"
He scratched his chin and considered. "Right now?" He pursed his lips, put on an expression of intense seriousness. "I'd say it's finding the thief who stole Tempus's horse before he takes the town apart."
She stared disdainfully at him, gave him her back, and headed after her friends. "Go back to your bunk. Commander. I picked the wrong man. I'll take care of Kadakithis myself as I've always done."