So Kero smiled at the town, and at the brightly-colored tents springing up at the edge of the town like so many odd-colored mushrooms. Her cousins had arrived on schedule, and had been surprised and delighted to see her Company back so soon.
Eldan had commented on it last—She resolutely shoved the false memory away, along with the memory of his sitting in this very window, with moonlight shining down on him instead of sunlight.
Rest. That’s what I need. And distraction. The cousins can take care of that. As soon as they get things settled, we’ll have a chance to talk, she thought. I need to replace Hellsbane soon. Kero’s current mount was actually the second “Hellsbane” she’d ridden; following Tarma’s example, she’d simply kept the same name for the new mount; it was less confusing for her and her horse. She’s too good not to send back to breed, and there should be a mare from Number One’s foaling ready for me by now. I’m glad they have the training of her; I don’t have time to school my own horses anymore.
That thought sent her to the east window, looking down on the arenas and the stables, where she checked up on the current batch of new recruits.
She was just in time to see a rangy gelding with a lot of Plains’ pony in him blunder into a barrel at full gallop. He managed to pull himself up, but the impact sent his rider somersaulting over his left shoulder as he stumbled. Kero caught her breath—even the best rider can take a bad fall—but the recruit kept right on rolling, in a perfectly controlled tumble, and jumped to his feet.
She let out the breath she’d been holding. The gelding didn’t bolt; he stayed obediently where he’d stopped; the rider planted hands on hips and read him a description of his parentage that didn’t once mention ponies.
Kero chuckled, as the gelding lowered ears, then head, in a gesture of submission and conciliation; horses were generally not the brightest of beasts, but this one was evidently smart enough to figure out he’d done something wrong.
The recruit finished his recitation, limped up to his horse’s side, and remounted. He called something to one of the other recruits, backing the gelding up and evidently checking his action for signs of injury, before finishing the rest of the course. The Skybolts simply did not accept recruits that couldn’t ride well—which saved them a great deal of trouble when starry-eyed shepherds’ daughters and plowboys showed up at the gate. They generally took one look at what the recruits were doing, blanched, and went back to their sheep, their plows or to another Company—unless, of course, it so happened that besides tending sheep, they were superb riders.
Most recruits brought at least one mount with them, but their beasts generally weren’t up to Skybolt standards. The gelding just completing the course was an exception. He was tough, strong, and smart, and he would probably be accepted, but for those with beasts that weren’t, there was a simple solution.
Every Skybolt, without exception, received a Shin’a’in-bred saddle-beast, hand-picked by the cousins. That included the recruits. But Shin’a’in-bred horses were not cheap—they amounted to half a year’s pay for a recruit. That meant that for the first six months a recruit was in the Skybolts, he only got half shares—and once in the field and getting battle-pay, got only three-fourths of it for the remaining six months. Every would-be recruit knew this before he or she signed on—which tended to weed out the ones who thought being with the Skybolts meant glamour and easy money. Already this year, four would-be fighters had choked on the idea that they weren’t going to get full pay and gone to find a Company with less exacting standards.
Kero noted with approval that the fellow who’d been spilled also had a Shin’a’in remount on the side. As soon as his gelding had completed the course, he switched to the other horse, leading the gelding down to the farrier’s end of the stables to be checked over. From what she could see of him, she thought he might be from Ruvan—which meant the gelding might be a Shin’a’in cross with a Plains’ pony. That was a good outcrossing, excellent for working the herds of half-wild cattle down there. And from the way the rider held himself, he might be one of those mounted herdsman. Which meant he could use a bow.
If he can shoot as well as he can ride, and use a sword with the care he takes with his beasts, he’ll do. He obviously had not objected to paying what seemed to the untutored to be an outlandish amount for a horse when he already had a good one.
In point of fact, every veteran had two horses, and often took an entire string on campaign. Veterans knew there was never a problem with paying for remounts—not when there were bonuses to be had, like the bonus Daren had paid the horse-archers, and the cash from permissible looting.
There was a lot of looting when the Prophet went down, she thought suddenly. Some of it good stuff, from the Prophet and her priests, and from that shrine, I had the stuff I knew about checked, but the troops may have traded with Daren’s people, and who knows what they got. Besides, religious magic isn’t always like secular magic. I’d better tell everybody to bring their booty in before trading it, and I’ll have Quenten and the shaman check trade-goods for curses.
Intensive training and the very best mounts and equipment were what made the Skybolts in demand. Horse-units were expensive to maintain; most standing armies didn’t bother. That meant that there was always work for them—and very little competition.
Two-blades had taken the long view, and Kero continued his philosophy; given the access to excellent horses, it was worth the time, mounts, and training it took to keep the Skybolts’ corner on their little piece of the war-market. Not everyone could manage that long view—even the Sunhawks had gone back to being a Company of foot after Idra’s death, with only the scouts and other specialists going mounted.
That sent Kero back to the north window, and she strained her eyes to estimate the number of horses the cousins had brought up with them this year. They were out in temporary corrals, ten to an enclosure, sorted as to age and sex. She grinned a little; this was going to be a very profitable Fair. They’d told her that they had managed to talk Liha’irden into making Kero their outside agent, pointing out their high profits, and the security of trading here in Bolthaven. Here, under Kero’s eye, not only would they need only enough Clansmen to see the horses safely to the Fair, if anyone so much as cheated them of a copper, the Skybolts would descend as a group to enforce the fair-trade laws. And Kero always, always sent a squad back with them, to see them safely to the Plains with their trade-goods and their profits.
She moved automatically to the west window—that many horses needed a lot of fodder....
But the hay and grain wagons were rolling in, too, right on schedule—not like last year, when they’d been late, and every recruit in the fortress had taken his turn out mowing grass for the hungry horses.
I don’t think there’s a single Clansman that really enjoys the conventional horse-fairs. They worry about security for their horses when they arrive, they’re constantly on guard and frequently harassed on the way there. And none of them have ever forgotten what happened to Tale’sedrin. They’re at a disadvantage in bargaining, and there’s no one out here willing to protect their interests.