The Complete Horse Mistress Collection, page 68
Limdya looked horrified, her face going beet red. “Oh, please don’t, Carivel! I’d never be able to look him in the eye again.”
“Fine, I’ll just tell him it was one of the apprentices—I won’t say who,” I promised. “Sorry, Limdya… it’s just too funny to pass up. I’ve been on him about his horsemanship skills for ages now.”
“Fine, all right then,” she said, the humor of the situation clearly overcoming her embarrassment. After a moment, her face grew thoughtful. “Do you ever stop and think about how much everything is changing?”
“Yes,” Favian and I said, practically in unison.
“Pretty much every single day,” I added.
“Sometimes I don’t feel like I can keep up with it all,” said Limdya.
I was saved from having to come up with something comforting or profound by Favian, who I still maintained was going to make a damned good priest once he got a bit older.
“High Priest Senovo says that sometimes all you can do is take one step at a time. Keep moving forward, and let the things you can’t control take care of themselves.”
“Wise words,” I said, “though not always the easiest advice to follow.”
“Yeah,” Limdya agreed quietly. I wondered if she was thinking of her mother, murdered by Alyrion soldiers, or perhaps of Draebard’s future.
I pushed away from the table and stood up. “I’ll leave you to your discussion now. Sorry to have intruded, both of you. Just know that no matter how busy I am, you can always come to me for help if you need it. That goes for you, too, Favian. Understood?”
“Yes, Horse Mistress,” Limdya said, while Favian smiled faintly and nodded.
“I’ll try to get out to the pens soon,” he promised. “Right now I’m helping Father’s neighbors take care of Frella.”
I frowned. “Did Renthro join one of the groups traveling to other villages?” I asked, surprised that I hadn’t heard about it, if so.
Favian nodded. “He was born in Teth, and he still has family there. It’s too bad it’s winter—I imagine they would have loved to meet Frella, but taking her would have been too dangerous. He went with two other people on a big loop through several villages to the west.”
“It was good of him to volunteer,” I said. “When is he due back?”
Favian looked suddenly uncomfortable, and it was Limdya who answered. “They were due two days ago. But they probably just stopped somewhere to wait out the snow and sleet,” she added quickly.
“I’m sure he’s fine,” Favian said, sounding anything but. “He’ll be back soon. Maybe tomorrow.”
“No doubt you’re right,” I said, keeping my voice calm and full of certainty. “Well, have a pleasant evening, you two. Remember, come to me if you need anything.”
They both nodded, and I took my leave, dropping the dirty dishes off in the kitchen and giving them a quick scrub. The conditions outside were even more unpleasant than they had been when I’d gone out with Andoc earlier. The sleet had been joined by flakes of dry snow, swirling along the roads and through the gaps between buildings. I huddled against the stiff wind, wishing I’d thought to bring along a winter cloak, and hurried toward Andoc’s hut.
Despite my extended conversation with Favian and Limdya, I’d still arrived before Andoc—not surprising, given how fond most of the elders seemed to be of their own voices. I let myself in and went about lighting a fire in the hearth, relieved when the crackling flames began to beat back the cold and dark. After warming myself in front of the merry blaze for a few minutes, I stripped off my outer layers and lit a couple of candles so I could see the leatherwork I’d brought along properly.
I’d always had a deft hand for braiding the fine leather thongs used to make whips and bridles, so it was relaxing to curl up on the floor with my back braced against the bed, a heavy fur draped over my shoulders while I unpicked the torn section of the decorative headstall and set about repairing it.
Even so, my mind wandered against my will, returning continually to my worries. Was Senovo all right? Was he cold? Had he found other wolves, and would he be safe with them?
If they accepted him as part of the pack, would he want to come back afterward?
I shook my head to dislodge that unwelcome thought. Months ago, I had confronted Senovo about his aversion to shifting. Eventually, he had admitted his fear that the wolf would somehow take over, swallowing his humanity and making him disappear as a person. I had argued passionately that he was the wolf, and that by fighting the change, he was fighting himself.
I swallowed a bitter laugh. Really, if we somehow managed to lose Senovo now, I had only myself to blame. I was the one who had convinced him to accept—and even embrace—his gift.
Andoc entered the hut as I was finishing up the final splices on the repaired bridle. He limped over to the hearth and held out his hands to warm them, with his walking stick tucked under one arm.
“Hey,” I greeted. “How did the meeting go?”
His face was strained, but he tried to smile. “Long. As usual. And, as usual, there’s not much news, but what there is, is bad.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” I tucked the end of the final thong under the braid and set the headstall aside. “I talked to Favian when I went back to the temple to get my bag. He and Limdya were chatting about horses. I think they’re forging a friendship.”
Andoc’s expression fell at the mention of Senovo’s acolyte.
“He mentioned that his father had gone with one of the delegations traveling west of here,” I continued. “I gather they’re overdue to return.”
“Yes,” Andoc said.
“It’s probably just the weather,” I offered. “The snow has really been piling up these last few days. Maybe they decided to wait it out.”
“Maybe. I should have tried to talk Renthro out of it,” Andoc said. “He has a little girl to look after.”
“It was his decision,” I told him seriously. “You didn’t ask him to do it, much less force him to do it.”
Andoc blew out a long breath and came over to sit on the bed. I leaned against his good leg, resting my head on his thigh. “I asked everyone in the village to do it,” he said.
“You asked them to volunteer. You gave them a choice. They know as well as you do that without alliances among the northern tribes, we stand no chance against the Empire.”
Andoc leaned forward, an elbow resting on his knee. He rubbed his hand over his face as if trying to remove cobwebs. “Even so.”
“Even so, nothing,” I said. “There’s no easy way to put this, but they’ll be dead if Alyrion soldiers overrun the village. We all will be—dead, or enslaved. Even little Frella.”
He flinched at the words, still hiding his face behind his hand. “Gods, Carivel, how did I ever end up in this position? What if I can’t protect them?”
I wished suddenly, desperately, for Senovo’s presence. But Senovo wasn’t here. He was pursuing his own rather desperate bid to help save us. It was left to me to give Andoc the support he so badly needed. I took a deep breath. Let it out. Looked up at him.
“Then you will die knowing that you did the very best you could, and if the gods are just, we will meet again in the next life. I have faith in you, Andoc. Draebard has faith in you. Not because we think you are infallible, but because we know you will give your all.”
Andoc was quiet for a long moment. “I don’t deserve you,” he said eventually. “You, or Senovo. Come here, caradi.”
I allowed him to guide me up onto the bed and into his arms. He held me tightly to his chest, and I lay there in silence, half on top of him, for quite some time.
“Senovo will be back in the morning,” I said, hoping that if I sounded sure enough, it would be true. “And Renthro’s group will return soon.”
Andoc said nothing, but continued to hold me close through the night.
As it happened, Senovo did not return in the morning. However, when Renthro’s group returned at mid-day—one member short—there was a wolf trotting along beside them.
Chapter 3: A Son’s Loss
I WAS HAVING a quick lunch at the cookhouse when the cry went up outside on the green. I hurried out, and the initial rush of relief at seeing Senovo—apparently unharmed—gave way to a sinking feeling as people excitedly milled around the horses. Two horses, not three. Neither one of which was carrying Renthro.
I stopped a girl who had wandered up, presumably eager to see what all the fuss was about.
“Go to the temple,” I told her. “Find Novice Eiridan or Novice Feldes and tell them that something has happened to Renthro. Have them bring along a set of robes for the High Priest.”
The girl nodded, wide-eyed, and ran off, the hood of her fur parka flopping down around her shoulders as she bounded through the snow. It was a bit warmer today, but I was still wearing a cloak, for which I was thankful. I unfastened the clasp and swept it off, shivering a bit as the winter air nipped at me.
Senovo had slipped off to the side, out of the way. The villagers were becoming more accustomed to seeing the big wolf from time to time, but many still gave him a wide berth. Now, though, his presence was largely ignored in favor of questioning the returning travelers about what had happened. Everyone was talking at once, and I couldn’t make out much of what was being said.
I crossed to the animal, who perked up and trotted over to meet me as soon as he noticed me. The wolf shook himself, and an instant later, Senovo straightened, naked and barefoot in the trampled snow. I steadied him and threw the heavy cloak over his shoulders.
“What happened?” I asked, once he seemed to have regained his equilibrium.
“I don’t know,” he replied. “I was on my way back to the village when I heard and smelled two familiar riders on the road. I could tell something was wrong. They were upset.”
The travelers were still surrounded by a small mob of worried townsfolk. Senovo straightened away from my grip on his shoulder and stepped forward.
“Make way,” he said in a voice that effortlessly cut through the excited chatter. “Let Ladira and Chanthi past. We must go to the meeting hall and speak with Andoc.”
The group quieted, and a couple of people steadied the horses so the two could dismount.
“Take the horses to the pens,” I called.
A moment later, Eiridan came hurrying across the green, scanning the crowd until he saw us. His gaze was worried, and he held a set of robes draped over one arm and a pair of boots in his hand.
“High Priest,” he greeted, handing the clothing to Senovo. “Horse Mistress. Novice Feldes will bring Favian along in a moment. What has happened?”
Senovo quickly donned the clothing while I told Eiridan what little we knew. “Renthro did not return with the rest of the group. We’re going to the meeting house to find Andoc and get the details of the story.”
The novice priest’s expression was grim. “I’ll stay here and direct Feldes and Favian to the meeting hall when they arrive.”
“Thank you, Eiridan,” Senovo said. “I fear our youngest brother may soon need our support more than ever.”
Eiridan closed his eyes for a moment as if in weariness. “All who grieve shall be comforted,” he quoted. “All the gods’ children will receive solace. Favian will have whatever help he needs, High Priest.”
Senovo clasped Eiridan’s shoulder briefly before throwing me a glance. “Come, Carivel. Let’s find some answers.”
Chanthi and Ladira were hovering nervously inside the door leading into the meeting house when we arrived.
“Don’t worry. Follow us,” Senovo said, indicating that they should come with us, down the hallway to the main room, where low voices could be heard in solemn conversation.
Inside, the elders were once again in discussion with Andoc, apparently oblivious to the recent excitement on the green. Several of them looked up in surprise when Senovo knocked on the frame of the door and cleared his throat.
Andoc smiled as Ladira and Chanthi appeared in the doorway. “Ah, you’re back! That’s good news.” I could see the moment he registered Renthro’s absence. His expression fell. “Where’s Renthro?”
Chanthi—a tall lad a few years younger than I was—looked away, his face twisting with strong emotion. Ladira, a middle-aged merchant with a thick gray beard, spoke for both of them, a faint tremor in his voice.
“Renthro is dead, Chief Andoc.”
I had suspected as much ever since the pair had arrived without him, but my stomach still churned upon hearing the stark confirmation of our worst fears.
Andoc’s expression closed, the mask of leader falling firmly into place. There was neither grief nor condemnation in his voice when he quietly asked, “What happened?”
Ladira shook his head, as if still trying to make sense of things. “The winds north of Teth were brutal, driving the snow and sleet into heavy drifts. We had talked about hunkering down and waiting it out. But Renthro was eager to get back to his daughter. He argued that we should keep going.”
Andoc nodded his understanding.
“The land is full of crags and broken hills in that area,” Ladira continued. “We were trying to be careful, but the visibility was poor. Renthro’s horse slipped and fell into a narrow crevasse. We think he must have been killed instantly.”
There was a sharp gasp from the doorway behind me, and I whirled, a sinking feeling in my chest. As I had feared, Favian stood frozen just outside the room, all of the blood draining from his face as I watched. A moment later, Novice Feldes came hurrying up as fast as his large bulk would allow.
“Favian!” he said between puffing breaths. “I told you to wait for me!”
But it was too late. Senovo closed his eyes for an instant and took a centering breath. “We grieve with you, Little Brother. Tell us what you need right now.”
I wasn’t at all sure Favian even registered the words. He was still staring at Ladira, his face pale and gray-tinged. The merchant looked devastated.
“Where is he?” Favian asked in a quavering voice. “I need to see him!”
Ladira opened his mouth and hesitated. “I’m so sorry, Favian. We tried to get him out. We spent more than a day trying, but we couldn’t reach his body.”
Favian wavered as if he might collapse, but jerked free when Feldes moved to support him. A thin noise of pain emerged from his throat, tearing at my heart. Without a body, there could be no funeral. Renthro’s spirit would not rise on the smoke; his ashes would not feed the soil of the village.
The grief stricken acolyte raised a trembling hand, one finger outstretched, though it wasn’t clear if he was pointing at Andoc, Renthro’s surviving companions, or everyone in the room. “This is your fault! If it weren’t for you, my father would still be alive!” He stumbled and half-collapsed, catching himself against the heavy timber of the door frame. “Oh, gods. Frella. I… I have to…”
“Frella is fine right now. She is safe with your father’s neighbors,” Senovo said. “Come and sit down for a moment, and then we’ll go talk to them.” He moved forward to take Favian’s arm, but the boy knocked his hand away and staggered upright.
“Leave me alone!” he shouted, and fled the room.
Senovo sighed.
“He’ll go to his sister,” Feldes said.
“Yes,” Senovo agreed, his voice heavy with weariness, before addressing the room at large. “I’ll go after him. The rest of you still have much to discuss.”
“I’ll come with you,” I said quietly.
“Thank you,” Andoc said, his mask barely covering the dismay at having sent Renthro to his death. “Ladira, Chanthi, none of this was your fault. Please… as painful as it is, we should move on to the results of your discussions with the other villages…”
* * *
During the brief period of time while we were in the meeting house, the weak sun that had brightened the sky throughout the morning disappeared behind a new bank of slate gray clouds, perfectly reflecting my mood. Senovo and I trudged in silence along the slushy road, heading toward Renthro’s neighbors’ home.
I’d had a passing acquaintance with Favian’s father, and knew him as a hard-working widower who was passionately devoted to both his children and his adopted village. After his wife Favaela died giving birth to Frella, he could have moved back to Teth, where he had relatives to support him. But he had made a life in Draebard, and he chose to stay even though it left him essentially on his own with the heavy responsibility of two young children.
Favian was nearly a decade older than his baby sister. The boy had apprenticed himself to Horse Master Jorun at an unusually young age to free up more resources for the small family. Renthro had once confessed to me that he felt guilty for having left Favian so much to his own devices when Frella was a baby, but it was obvious that he had still been a loving and supportive father. Favian had adored him.
Money was tight, but Renthro managed to scrape together enough to pay his neighbors to watch Frella when he could not, rather than leaving her unattended or relying on charity. If only his sense of duty had not extended to volunteering for such a hazardous winter journey.
When Senovo and I reached the modest hut next door to Renthro’s near the edge of the settlement, we could hear young children crying within. We exchanged a look, and Senovo stepped up to knock on the door.
A plump, harried looking woman with brownish-gray hair escaping a messy bun opened it a moment later. “Oh, thank the gods!” she said immediately. “Have you come about Favian? He’s gone half-mad! He barged into the house and grabbed Frella, and he won’t talk to me or let me within an arm’s length of either of them!”
“Favian has had a serious shock,” I said, speaking over the clamor of frightened children. “He just learned that his father was killed in an accident while traveling.”
The woman went pale. “Oh, no. Not Renthro!” she said. “The poor boy!”
“May we come in, Bellea?” Senovo asked, breaking the woman out of her startled reverie.
