Lyra rushed ahead to the second gatehouse. Mabix looked at Falima. "She can stay here if she wants."
Collins considered. He liked the idea of her only needing to escape one wall should he fail at his mission. "That's up to her," he said casually. "She's due to change shortly and should be quite capable of making the decision by herself." He removed the rope halter and placed it in the pack, debating whether or not to remove the whole thing and carry it himself. Not wishing to burden himself when Falima remained clearly untroubled by it, he left it in place.
"So what's the news from Epronville?"
"From-?" Collins stopped himself from saying "where?" "-Epronville?" He laughed to cover his mistake. "Never much happening there." He could have kicked himself. He felt trapped by the easiest, most casual and obvious question in the universe, one he had even anticipated. Larger concerns and the need for haste had made him forget the problem he had initially raised. Now, his ignorance undid him, leaving him unable to even fabricate a credible answer. He had little idea of the size of Barakhai, let alone its various towns and cities, could not guess how intimately they intertwined, and what might serve as news. In some cultures, information about who had married whom or which babies had survived the winter was welcome knowledge as far as a man could travel. "At least compared with here."
Uncertain whether his last comment had helped or only dug him deeper, he switched to a different tactic. "No matter what I say, Marlys will contradict me." Those were the first words since he arrived at the castle that rang surprisingly true. "I'm always wrong."
Mabix chuckled. "Sounds like you two are married."
"Marlys and me?" Collins was as struck by the next words that escaped his mouth as Mabix was amused by them. "What a horrible thought."
Now Mabix laughed openly. "Often that which a man protests the most will or should come to pass." He winked, and Collins was again struck by the similarity of that gesture to his own culture. "At least according to women."
Lyra returned, the gatehouse doors now open ahead. "What was that?"
Mabix shook his head. "Nothing you need to hear."
Lyra sighed, speaking in a tone that implied confidentiality, though Mabix could surely hear her. "Something between men, no doubt. I'm tired of that."
For the first time, it occurred to Collins that he ought to see as many female guards as male since, presumably, the horses gave birth to as many fillies as colts. He made a mental note to ask Falima about it later, though he managed to devise a possible answer from his own experience. Likely, the women spent more of their human time house- and child-keeping. Or, perhaps, the women did more of the routine guard chores that did not involve the possibility of direct combat. The less industrial and enlightened a society, in general, the less it could afford to emancipate its women without endangering its survival.
Lyra led them through the second gatehouse and into the courtyard that surrounded the castle. Here, he saw less grass, though a few horses did graze around the scattered buildings. Gardens took up most of the space, paths winding between them. A vast variety of vegetables flourished in crooked rows, and Collins saw none of the tended panoramas of flowers he expected from his visits to the arboretum. Each and every patch grew edibles of some type, from herbs to roots, fruit trees to vines. He did find some attractive blue flowers, but these grew in a planned line, obviously the source of some delectable seed. Perhaps vilegro. Collins remembered the name of the plant Falima had turned into a sweet treat called gahiri. Here, too, buildings cropped out from the wall, kennels, guardhouses, and stables in remarkable abundance.
All of that flashed across Collins' sight in the instants before his attention became riveted upon the castle. Like some massive university, it stood grandly, towering over its walls and gardens. Sun rays skipped across its surface, igniting glimmering lines of quartz and mica. The four square towers at the corners stood like sentinels, their tops crenellated with antlike figures of guards pacing atop them. A stone-cut stairway led into the open door.
Falima clomped through the gatehouse to pull up beside Collins. While he studied the structure, she grazed with an aloofness indicative of indifference.
Mabix spoke, "Magnificent, isn't it?"
Only then, sound returned to Collins' world, and he heard the background noises of giggling children, conversation, and animal sounds of a myriad types. In response, he only nodded.
Lyra drew up. "So, what's the news from Epronville?"
"Fine," Collins murmured, still staring.
Mabix laughed. "You'll get more from her when she switches, I'd warrant. This one seems due for some sleep." He jerked a thumb toward Collins, which finally seized his attention.
"Sleep's fine." Collins yawned broadly, remembering Zylas' advice. "But I'd rather some food. I switch soon, too, and I'd like to grab a bite of something substantial before I'm committed to grass."
Mabix and Lyra nodded vigorously. "I'm with you on that one," the woman muttered. He had clearly struck a chord.
"That's where the dogs have the advantage." Lyra headed toward one of the barracks. "Though I don't know many who'd admit it so freely."
Collins supported the confession for the purposes of creating camaraderie with those who believed themselves his peers. "Right now, I'm so hungry I could eat a…" He doubted the spell would translate as "horse," but he dared not take that chance. "… tree."
Mabix completed what was, apparently, a common saying, "… two shrubs, three beehives, and a garden."
"That, too," Collins added, to his companions' amusement. He found himself liking them and hoped his theft would not reflect badly on them or cost them their jobs.
The man inclined his head toward one of the buildings. Reminded of their purpose, he and Lyra started walking. Collins and Falima followed.
They stopped in front of one of the guardhouses, animals noting their passage with curious looks. Collins felt like he had entered a dim, creepy house where the eyes of pictures seemed to fix on anyone who passed. "Bring your pack," Mabix said. "I'll show you to your quarters." Without waiting for Collins to obey, he shoved open the door and entered. "Hope you two don't mind sharing."
Collins tried to sound matter-of-fact. "Not at all." He supposed it made sense to part-time animals that they house men and women in the same barracks, even the same rooms. He wondered how many accidental marriages and out-of-wedlock births this created in buildings at least half full of stallions. He undid all the clasps, clips, and ties with Lyra's assistance, shouldered the pack, and trotted after Mabix.
The door opened onto a common room strewn with clothes, bits of food, and half-finished games of chess and dice. Crude, mismatched furniture, mostly constructed from crates and barrels, interrupted the vast chaos. If not for the lanterns instead of overhead lights and the lack of a television, it could have passed for the recreation room of most men's dormitories. Smaller doors led off in several directions. Crossing the room, Mabix knocked on one of the doors before opening it.
Through the portal, Collins saw a square, windowless room the size of a large bathroom. Three rolled up pallets leaned in one corner, a pile of chamber pots in the other. A chair crafted from a quarter-cut barrel stood pushed against a wall. A cushion affixed to a circular piece of wood lay on the floor beside it, apparently the seat.