"I see. Is your wife a Weaver, too?"
"No," Grinsa said flatly.
A small smile flickered on the man's face and then vanished. "I'd imagine that's been difficult for you both."
Grinsa regarded the man briefly, trying to determine if he was mocking their difficulties. But he saw no sign of this.
"Actually, it has been," he admitted. "But I think E'Menua has come to accept that Cresenne is my wife."
"Really?" O'Tal asked with obvious surprise. "One day you'll have to explain to me how you convinced him."
Grinsa grinned, deciding in that moment that he liked O'Tal. "You and E'Menua don't get along, do you?" he asked.
"E'Menua is a strong leader," O'Tal said immediately. "His sept has many Weavers." He glanced at Grinsa slyly. "More even than I knew."
"I'm not sure that answers my question."
"Do you like him?" O'Tal asked.
Grinsa hesitated, then gave a short laugh.
"Forget that I asked."
O'Tal smiled, but quickly grew serious again. "You've managed to win a measure of his trust, and you seem like a man who can take care of himself, so I won't presume to offer counsel where none is needed. But E'Menua is a hard man, and a clever one. Watch yourself."
"I have been," Grinsa said. "But I appreciate the warning."
A shout went up from some of the men who had ridden ahead. Both of them scanned the plain. After a moment, O'Tal pointed toward the southwest.
"There!" he said, sounding eager. "It's a small herd, but it will do."
Grinsa's first thought was that a large herd of rilda must have been a wonder to behold. There had to be at least a hundred of the animals in this "small herd." They had been grazing, but seeing the horsemen they had broken away. They looked like the antelope Grinsa had seen in the southern Forelands, but they were bigger, with sleek coats of short tan fur and white markings on their flanks and heads. Their eyes were large and dark, and many of the animals had short, pale antlers.
"What do we do?" Grinsa asked, his pulse quickening at the sight of the creatures.
O'Tal spurred his mount to a gallop. "We ride!" he called over his shoulder.
Grinsa followed, pleased to find that the horse he had bought in Yorl when he and Cresenne first arrived in the Southlands was able to keep pace with the stallions of the Fal'Borna. He was suddenly conscious of the spear he still carried in his right hand, and of the sweat on his palm.
As swift as the Fal'Borna were, the rilda were faster. They appeared to move as one, turning first one way and then the other in perfect unison, sunlight flashing on their silken flanks and then darkening again as they swerved once more.
"We can't catch them!" Grinsa shouted over the rush of wind in his ears. O’viral looked at him, grinning. "Watch!" he said.
Almost as soon as the young a'laq said this, a second group of riders appeared, as if out of nowhere. The rilda were forced to reverse course, so that abruptly they were headed straight for Grinsa and the other warriors.
Grinsa wasn't certain that his situation had improved much. He'd never killed an animal while on horseback, and he'd never seen a creature as fast as these rilda.
"Now what?" he called.
"The easiest way is from behind," O'Tal said. "Choose an animal, ride at it from an angle, and strike when you're close."
Right. Because it was certain to be just that easy.
The herd had turned again, angling away from Grinsa and the others while still being pursued by the second set of riders. As Grinsa watched, a young Fal'Borna did exactly what O'Tal had described. He charged at the herd, and at the last moment appeared to choose one rilda. Turning as that animal approached, he positioned himself just behind and to the left of it. Then, leaning to the right, he lifted his spear and threw it. His weapon struck the rilda in the back of the neck, just above its shoulders. The animal went down in a heap, and the warrior triumphantly raised a hand over his head.
A second Fal'Borna rider had already started his run at an animal. This one took a different approach, angling toward the herd from the front and forcing several of the rilda to peel away from the rest of the group. Dropping down low so that he hung from his saddle, this warrior threw his spear into the chest of one of the rilda. This animal fell immediately as well.
"That's how it's done," O'Tal called to him, still smiling.
"That's how it's done by a Fal'Borna," Grinsa said. "Couldn't I just use language of beasts?"
O'Tal's expression grew deadly serious. "Fal'Borna law forbids the use of magic against the rilda. Kebb forbids it."
Kebb: the god of beasts.
Grinsa nodded. "Forgive me. I meant it as a joke."
O'Tal smiled again. "Apology accepted. Now go! Hunt!"
Swallowing hard, Grinsa turned his mount so that he angled toward the herd as the first hunter had done. The rilda turned again, so that they were headed toward him, and he had to adjust his line. His horse was starting to labor-Grinsa couldn't remember ever riding this fast-and he knew he'd only have the one chance. There seemed to be rilda and horses and Fal'Borna all around him. It was as chaotic as any battle he could remember from his war with the renegade Weaver. But soon enough he had positioned himself just behind a doe. He raised himself up in his saddle, drew back his spear, and threw.
He saw the spear hit the animal, saw the rilda stumble, but then he was too far past. He tried to wheel his mount around, was nearly rammed by several rilda, and came dangerously close to falling out of his saddle. When at last he righted himself, he saw the animal he had struck. It was alive still, struggling to climb to its feet. The spear was embedded in its shoulder, and blood stained its golden brown coat.
Grinsa winced at the sight. "Damn!"
He started back toward the creature, but before he reached it, O'Tal rode up to it and halted. He looked down on the rilda for a moment. Then he hefted his spear and plunged it into the rilda's neck. The animal spasmed and was still.
"Thank you," Grinsa said, stopping beside the doe.
"You did well," O'Tal told him.
Grinsa laughed mirthlessly. "Right."
"For your first hunt? The first hunt you'd ever even seen? You did well."
Grinsa inclined his head, acknowledging the compliment. "Again, my thanks."
"It's too bad you chose a doe," O'Tal said. "Most Fal'Borna men would have chosen a buck for their first kill."
"Why?"
"The bucks have… certain delicacies that are given to a warrior at the feast after his first hunt."
Grinsa's laugh this time was sincere. "You should have told me earlier."
"You're right," O'Tal said. "I should have." He dismounted. "Come on. Let's get her back to camp."
With O'Tal's help, Grinsa lifted the rilda onto his horse in front of the saddle, and tied it in place. By the time they were done, most of the rilda herd had moved on. The Fal'Borna had killed nearly two dozen of the animals; they'd eat well this night.
As Grinsa was riding back to the camp, Q'Daer joined him. He carried a rilda as well, a large buck.
"I saw you hunt," the young Weaver said. "You did well for a Forelander."
"Thank you," Grinsa said, assuming that he had meant this as praise. "I'm sorry: I missed your kill."
Q'Daer waved off the apology. "It wasn't my first; it won't be my last." He paused. Then, "I noticed that you were riding with O'Tal."
Something in his tone told Grinsa that he'd erred. Too late, it occurred to him that he hadn't seen E'Menua on the hunt.
"Is that a problem?" he asked.
"Tell the a'laq you didn't know you were supposed to hunt with me. He'll understand that."
Grinsa nodded. But his mood, which had finally improved after several days of missing his family, began to darken again. He'd grown weary of having to worry about offending E'Menua at every turn.
"Thank you," he said, his voice low.
"E'Menua will expect you to ride to battle with him. He's your a'laq, and you're his Weaver."
I'm no one's Weaver, he wanted to say. Except Cresenne's. But he kept this to himself. "I know," he told the man. "I've pledged to fight beside E'Menua. That's what I'll do."