Tarma grinned. Jadrie was going to be the envy of her siblings this summer; there was no doubt that she'd mastered all of Tarma's coaching in horse-talk. The Shin'a'in didn't break horses, they spoke to them, working with their own body language and instincts to convince them that their would-be riders weren't two-legged, horse-eating predators, but were potential partners. With nothing more than hands, mind, voice, a blanket, and a soft rope, any Shin'a'in over the age of ten could have even the wildest horse carrying him willingly in less time than it took to bake a loaf of bread. And since Kethry's children -- or, more properly, those who chose the life -- were to become Shin'a'in in everything but looks, they were going to have to learn horse-talking.
Unless she changed her mind drastically when she grew older, Jadrie would be the first of the renewed Clan of Tale'sedrin. Right now, Jadrie wanted nothing more than to live her life on the Plains; in fact, this last year she'd spent her first autumn fostered with a family of Clan Liha'irden before returning to Kethry's Keep with the first snow, and had gloried in every moment. This little test only proved that she had everything in her to prove to the satisfaction of even the sternest of Clan Chiefs and Shamans that she had the true spirit of a Shin'a'in.
In short order, Jadrie's filly had accepted the rope around her neck, then the blanket on her back, then Jadrie herself on the filly's back with nothing to "control" her but a crude halter made of the rope. As the little girl trotted the filly gleefully around the ring, blonde tail bouncing with the movement of the horse, Tarma turned her attention to the servant.
The man was watching Jadrie with his mouth hanging open and his eyes wide with shock. Tarma snapped her fingers at him to break him out of his trance. "Well?" she said, a little impatient. "What was so important that you had to come down here to interrupt a lesson?"
He stared at Tarma and gulped. "What sorta witchcraft be that?" he asked.
"None whatsoever," she countered. "It's nothing more complicated than paying attention." But she really didn't expect the man to believe her, and it was clear that he didn't. The servants that had come with this place were a mixed bag of good and bad, and the bad tended to be ignorant, superstitious, and foolish rather than of ill-intent. Jadrek was gradually replacing the bad ones, but it was slow going. "So?" she repeated. "What sent you down here?"
"There's a man t'see you, m'lady," the fellow said diffidently. "From King Stefarisen. He's with Lady Kethry."
From Stef? Huh. She made a shooing motion with her hand. "Well, get back up to the house and tell them I'll be there as quickly as I can."
She pointedly turned her attention back to Jadrie; the servant waited a moment longer, but when it was obvious that she wasn't going to say anything more, he took himself and his message out.
Tarma sighed; the fellow was one of the ones due for replacement, and obviously Jadrek hadn't found anyone with his skills and good common sense. It took a certain sturdiness of character combined with a stolid acceptance of anything that came along to work out as a servant at the Keep. As a consequence, they always seemed to be a little shorthanded.
Can't really blame people for getting spooked around here, Tarma reminded herself. If it isn't the barbarian, raw-meat-eating Shin'a'in leading her pack of male and female hooligans in mock wars, it's Lady Kethry's mage-students blowing up storms or setting things afire or conjuring up weird beasts out of the Pelagirs. And if it isn't either of those things, it's Lady Kethry's own brood wreaking some hellishness or other!
There'd be more mischief, that was sure, now that Jadrie had her very own, grown-up horse. The others would be all over themselves coming up with some prank to counter her new-won glory. Tarma expected to hear tales of woe from the village any day now, of sheep turned interesting colors, or puppies trained to herd chickens, or some strange contrivance powered by a kidnapped and irritated billy goat positioned at the well, a contraption designed to bring up water with no effort. And whatever it was that had happened would all be well-intentioned, meant to help, but the end result would be to scare the whey out of the long-suffering villagers.
Eventually, she supposed, they'd get used to it. But the youngsters had only been at this "helpful" stage for a couple of years, and it would probably take a couple more before that happened.
Jadrie, at least, would be well-occupied for the spring, and the first day of summer would be the signal for the annual trek to the Plains, which would at least get the children away from the village for the all-important summer growing season. The Liha'ir-den found the little ones' pranks amusing, sometimes even hilarious, and were not at all taken aback by them.
They'd howl with laughter at sheep with pre-dyed wool. And it wouldn't matter what mad color the pranksters painted the woolies, there's not a color in the rainbow that my people don't like.
:feh. I know,: said a voice in her head. :You'd think that after a few centuries they'd have developed a little taste.:
Tarma disdained to reply to Warrl's jibe; she had more important things to concentrate on. Jadrie had begun guiding her mare through more complicated moves than simply trotting in a circle, and she wanted to pay close attention to the behavior of both horse and rider.
But there were no problems, none at all. The filly moved well and willingly, head and ears up, tail flagged, and although Jadrie still wore her look of intense concentration, it was overlaid with an expression of intense joy. Tarma knew exactly how she felt; she'd felt that way herself when she'd tamed Kessira. Probably every Shin'a'in child felt that way after taming a horse for the first time -- it was a little like magic, and altogether thrilling to have something that large accept you and work with you on its own terms.
Finally Jadrie brought her horse to a neat halt, a few paces away from Tarma, and looked expectantly at her teacher. Tarma gave her a grin of approval, and the smile Jadrie flashed back at her lit up her face.
"Good job, kitten," Tarma approved. "Now, go cement your friendship with a little sweet-feed. You've worked her enough for today, and tomorrow, if the weather's good, we'll move outside."
Jadrie nodded, her tail of blonde hair bobbing with enthusiasm, and slid down off the filly's back with great care to avoid startling her. With a hand on the horse's shoulder, she led her new prize off to the stable, where the filly's good behavior would be rewarded by something the grass-fed beast had never yet tasted -- a sweet treat of treacled grain. Then she'd be rubbed down with a soft cloth, although she hadn't been worked up enough to break a sweat -- it was the contact that mattered. Jadrie had groomed enough beasts by now to know all the "good spots," and she'd be sure to scratch every one.
"And what do you two think?" she asked the other two spectators, who had remained respectfully silent until now.
Tiny, ice-blonde Jodi, formerly one of Tarma's scouts in the Sunhawks, clasped her hand to her forehead woefully. "Eh now, lady, ye'll be purtin' me an' Beaker out of business here if ye keep trainin' up more horse-talkers!" She imitated Kyra's back-county accent perfectly, Tarma noted with amusement.
Her business partner and mate Beaker, also a former Sunhawk, nodded glumly. He would have been utterly forgettable except for his impressive jut of a nose -- and the fact that one of his special messenger-birds, a creature about the size of a crow, with a black body and green head, sat on his shoulder. Tarma laughed at both of their long faces. She'd taught both of them the Shin'a'in ways with horses when they'd come to her asking if she needed instructors at her new school. She hadn't, not yet anyway, but she'd asked them if they had any interest in another trade.