The horse bobbed his head and allowed me to touch him.
The boy took the horse’s lead. “What did I say? Now he’ll carry you nicely if you keep that up. Remember his name and all. He likes grass better than oats, but maybe you don’t remember nothing about grass to talk to him about.” He held Zigget’s-Firebreather’s-head while I mounted.
“What about grass?”
“How it’s green and soft and grows tall to blow in the wind. How it tickles his legs when he runs and tastes so sweet, especially in the spring when there’s still snow about, but there’s little patches of new green peeking out of it. That’s the best, but he hasn’t seen it in so long.”
The horse grew quieter under the boy’s hand and voice.
“You’d best get up behind me,” I said.
“I couldn’t ride with you.”
“I didn’t kill you.”
“True enough.” He scrambled up behind me. One would think the horse had scooped him up and set him there, he did it so easily.
It was a long ride back. We took it slow, and the boy told me more about the horse and how to get him to do what I wanted.
“How do you know so much about horses?”
“Don’t know. Just always had a feel for it, so my gran said.”
“Your grandmother? Where is she?”
“Dead now. I don’t like to talk about her.”
“Why do you speak Leiran?”
“Leiran?”
“Surely you realize that the language you speak is not the language spoken here. It’s not even from this world. Did you think I wouldn’t notice?”
“I’m not supposed to say nothing. I’m not supposed to talk to you or even to open my mouth, because I’m too stupid to learn the proper words. Couldn’t you just pretend I didn’t say nothing?”
“The work camp where you were born-were there many that spoke Leiran there?”
“I don’t want to get nobody in trouble.”
“They won’t. Not from me. I just thought it had been so long since those like you came to Ce Uroth that no one could possibly remember their old language. Do you know about the other world? Do other Drudges remember that, too?”
“I know about it. Not many others.”
“That’s astonishing. I’ve only been here a few months, and I hardly remember anything.”
“There’s those that wanted me to remember. Maybe no one wants you to remember nothing.”
We rode in silence for a long time. When we approached the ring of campfires surrounding Zhev’Na, I told the boy to get off the horse. “You’ll walk the rest of the way,” I said. “And I would advise you not to expect any favors for doing me this service. If you’ve half a dram of intelligence, you’ll spit at me whenever you see me.”
“I’m always in the stable.”
I rode away without saying anything more.
When I got back to the Gray House, Darzid was waiting for me. He was dressed all in black, as usual, and was sprawled out on my couch like a giant spider. I ignored him and kicked the slaves that slept on the floor of my bathing room. “Hot water,” I said. “Plenty of it.”
I peeled off my riding clothes and stepped into the bath. I was freezing. Darzid appeared in the doorway and dismissed the slaves. “Where have you been, young Lord?”
“Riding in the desert. You know where I was.”
“We were concerned about you. The healing seemed to upset you.”
“I didn’t like it. You’re right, of course, about it being a good use of a slave. I can see that, but I didn’t like it. It left a bad taste in my mouth, and it hurt when Mellador cut me. So I decided I’d go tame that demon horse so it wouldn’t happen again. I don’t like being thrown about and bruised. I thought it would make me better, harder, to do something about it.”
“Of course. A good thought. And did it work?”
“I think things will go much better tomorrow.”
He smiled and fingered his beard. The smile did not extend to his eyes, however. If I looked close enough, would I see his gold mask and ruby eyes?
“Why did you shut us out?”
I had thought about that a good deal on the way back. “I was tired. The three of you never leave me alone. Sometimes I just can’t learn any more. I think you forget I’m only ten.”
“Eleven. Your birthday passed months ago.”
“Oh.” I had lost track. There had always been a great celebration at Comigor. Food baskets for the tenants and a round of ale for the Guard. A party with Papa and Mama’s friends…
“And so?” said Darzid, a trace of impatience in his voice.
“It gets to where my head’s about to burst with everything. Sometimes I just need to be left alone.” I didn’t like them knowing everything I was thinking or doing or who I was talking to.
“Don’t make it too much of a habit. We are your friends and allies, and we have a great deal to teach you. Your anointing is only months away.”
“And then I’ll be the Heir of D’Arnath?”
“That’s only part of it.”
“What else, then?”
“On your twelfth birthday, the day you come of age…besides taking up the sword of D’Amath, you will take your rightful place alongside your friends and allies. No one in the universe will rival your power, for you are to become one of us-the Fourth Lord of Zhev’Na.”
CHAPTER 35
My riding lessons went much better after that night. No matter how hard Fengara worked us, Firebreather and I got through it. He would carry me through roaring walls of fire and choking dust storms; he would jump over fences and burning scrub and chasms that made my stomach churn. All I had to do was call him by name and talk to him about oats and grass, and his powerful muscles and strong heart would do anything I required of him.
Whenever I went to the stable, I would see the Leiran boy, hauling carts of hay, oiling harness, or shoveling out the stalls. I took no notice of him. It was better that way.
Fengara noticed the change. “You’ve made a great deal of progress these past weeks, young Lord. I’d come to think you hopeless. What made the difference?”
“Practice,” I said. “I just needed the practice and better teaching. You’ve done me good service, Fengara, and I thank you for it.”
On the next day, I had a new riding master. He was a squat, vicious man of few words, quite different from the sharp-tongued Fengara.
“Where’s Fengara?” I asked him.
“She was of no more use to you, my lord.”
“Is she dead?”
“I could not say. Have you been riding this animal for long?”
“Perhaps six weeks.”
“It seems attached to you.”
“No. Fengara was getting lazy. Not challenging us enough.”
That day I didn’t talk to Firebreather about grass or oats, nor did I call him anything but Zigget. I whipped him and spurred him hard. I fixed my thoughts on the horse and how vicious he was, while thinking of a question for the Lords at the same time. They didn’t answer. But as soon as I let go of my concentration and thought of the question, they were with me instantly as before. I practiced all day.
By sunset Firebreather was wild-eyed and frothing at his mouth in terror.
“I want a different horse tomorrow,” I said to the head groom. “This one is impossible.” The new riding master nodded in approval.
That night as I left the stables, a voice called after me from the shadows by the mule shed. “Why’d you do it? Why’d you treat him like that after all he did for you these past weeks? You made him scared again.”
“It would do everyone good to be scared of me. Don’t forget it.”
The Leiran boy watched, hard-eyed, as I crossed the stableyard.