What do you think of this place? she thought to him. Do you think they'd suit here?
:I think they'd fit in like a hand into a well-made glove,: Warrl replied. :Lord Kemoc's people are well-fed and content with their overlord, and no one here seems to stand too much upon rank and class.: There was amusement in his next thoughts. :I did overhear some of the stablehands though-they think Jodi and Beaker had it "easy" today. Tomorrow they'll get the older geldings, the difficult cases, and the ungelded males. They don't think horse-talking is going to work.:
Well, they're right, but we have more than one trick up our sleeves, don't we? she replied, just as amused as Warrl.
The next day proved the truth of what Warrl had heard. After Tarma reassured the foals that today would be just like yesterday, and Jodi and Beaker coaxed the young geldings into their harness and plows, the first of the "hard cases" was brought out, rearing and kicking. It took two men to hold him, one on either side, and even then he wasn't what Tarma would have considered to be "under control."
Jodi took one look, and turned around and went into the stable, but before Lord Kemoc's men could do more than begin to chuckle at her "cowardice," she had returned, with Graceless and Hopeless in a very special triple harness.
"This lad has a lot to unlearn," Tarma explained, as Jodi and Beaker replaced Lord Kemoc's two men -- and Warrl rose up out of the shadows beside the stable to approach the horse from the front. Never having seen a kyree, the horse started and tried to shy, all of its attention on the possible threat and none of it on Jodi or Beaker. As Warrl slowly stalked toward the horse, it backed up willingly, and before the gelding knew what was happening, it was between Graceless and Hopeless. Quicker than thought, Jodi and Beaker buckled the gelding into the harness and Beaker took up the reins as Jodi stood aside.
Warrl turned and loped away, out of sight, and the gelding woke to its situation. Predictably, it immediately tried to kick and rear.
Graceless and Hopeless didn't nip and didn't kick -- instead, they leaned. They were heavier than the gelding and a half a hand taller, and as they leaned toward each other, the gelding was held immobile between them. They remained that way until he stopped fighting, then they shifted their weight again, freeing him.
He seemed very surprised and unsure of what to do; Jodi clucked to the two mares, and they moved forward a few steps, bringing the gelding perforce with them. Now he resumed his bad behavior -- and they leaned into him again. A little harder this time, squeezing a bit of breath out of him.
Jodi took the three into the yard and put them through the same paces as before, while Beaker watched. The Valdemarans didn't watch, they stared, with their mouths dropping open.
Tarma took the opportunity to get Lord Kemoc aside. "What's the hardest case you have?" she asked.
"A gelding that stood at stud for a while, and thinks he's still whole," Kemoc replied, mopping his brow with a cloth.
"Bring him out," she told him, and went to get Hellsbane and Ironheart.
The chestnut gelding in question needed four men on him; squealing and sweating, he fought every inch of the way.
Bad, or just angry and confused? I can't tell. There was always a percentage of horses in an inbred line like this that were just -- crazed. The only way to tell for certain would be to work him with Hellsbane and Ironheart.
"Turn him loose in that yard," she said, pointing to a smaller, ring-shaped exercise yard. The men looked at her as if she was crazy herself, but did as she asked.
The gelding entered the yard kicking and bucking, and soon had rid himself of every bit of harness except his halter. That was fine with Tarma; she didn't want anything getting in the way. She let him run and buck in circles for a while to wear himself out; when he finally stopped, so drenched with sweat he looked black, she whistled softly to the two warsteeds, and calmly walked into the yard while the stablehands hissed in surprise.
As she had half expected, the gelding charged her; it was a sham charge -- though if she'd turned to run, he'd have chased her right out of the yard. Instead, she stood her ground with the warsteeds on either side of her, and he stopped short, snorting with surprise.
"Now, my lad," she said calmly to him, "you've been allowed to get away with a lot of bad habits, and we're going to civilize you."
He snorted and danced at the sound of an unfamiliar voice, arrogance in every line of him. You can't tame me! his attitude said, as plain as if he could speak. I'm a Stud! I'm a King! I can do anything I want!
Then his attention turned to the warsteeds, and his nostrils flared, taking in their scent. They weren't in season, but that wouldn't matter to a gelding who thought he was still potent. His ears came up, and he arched his neck. Mares! said his body language. Girls of my dreams! Don't I impress you? Aren't I wonderful? I'm a Stud! Come over here, and I'll show you just how Studly I am!
Ironheart yawned, Hellsbane snorted in contempt. Both looked to Tarma.
"He needs taming, ladies," she told them in Shin-'a'in. "Go give him his lessons."
Ironheart shook her head and ambled forward, with Hellsbane half a length behind. Both of them were a full two hands taller than this would-be stud, and correspondingly heavier, but what mattered to the gelding was that they were mares.
He curveted toward Ironheart, dancing sideways, quite clearly intending to mount. But he kept an eye on her teeth, just in case she took a notion to bite him. Much to his shock, she neither bit nor allowed him to mount her; instead, she sidestepped, neatly maneuvering out of his way.
More determined now, he pursued her, which was exactly what she wanted. After a few feints, she had him positioned right where she wanted him -- between herself and Hellsbane.
At that moment, Hellsbane closed in before he could move out of the way, sandwiching him between the two warsteeds as neatly as if he'd been harnessed there.
Graceless and Hopeless could not have maneuvered a loose horse like this, but warsteed mares were quite used to handling herd-studs this way when they got out of hand. This was the way they kept their would-be mates in line when they weren't in season or didn't particularly care for their hopeful mate. This was just as well, given the training that warsteeds had in combat. If they hadn't been able to handle unwanted mates in a nonviolent manner, there would be serious damage done every spring.
This was what Graceless and Hopeless had been trained to do with a harnessed horse. They themselves were of Shin'a'in breeding, but from a small herd dedicated to producing working farm horses, a herd carefully preserved as one of the warsteed foundation lines. When problems showed up in a warsteed breeding herd, the stallion was put to one of these mares, and the resulting offspring bred back into the warsteed herd. They weren't as intelligent as the warsteeds, and certainly not as surefooted and quick, but by keeping this herd of foundation-stock intact, the Shin'a'in prevented some of the problems that came with heavy inbreeding.
When the gelding found himself wedged between the mares, he was astonished. How did this happen? said his ears and head. What's going on here? I'm a Stud! And he tried to struggle loose.