Northlight (17 page)

With a snort and a grunt of effort, with Etch pulling and pushing and shouting encouragement, the mare heaved herself to her feet. Immediately, the filly began struggling again. Terricel let her go. He expected her to be able to stand because he'd been told that newborn horses could, but it was still miraculous to see her, a squarish body on impossibly thin legs, shivering and quavering toward her mother.

She was a pretty thing, black except for four perfectly matched white socks. The mare dipped her head and sniffed as if to make sure this was indeed her offspring. The filly, her balance precarious at best, staggered but stayed on her feet.

Etch chuckled. “The best thing for both of them is a good nurse,” he said, and proceeded to position the filly facing the mare's udder. A few moments later the newborn was gulping greedily.

“That's not milk, you understand, not yet,” Etch told Terricel as he brought in a pitchfork and began shoving the soiled straw into a pile near the door. “It's colostrum. But when the foal sucks, it makes the mare's womb clamp down, do you see, and then she bleeds less.”

“That was a close call, wasn't it?”

Etch leaned heavily on the pitchfork. “Damned right it was. She lost the last one, before the bastard who owns this place brought her here. He's got no business breeding her and I told him so, but would he listen to me? If it weren't for her suffering for it, I'd make him clean up here himself.”

“He'll breed her again because you got her through this time.”

“Damned fool'll keep doing it until I lose her.” Etch's voice cracked a little. “There's nothing I can do about that now. Come on up to the house for a wash and a drink.”

Terricel carried his pack and cloak up to the stairs and across the wood-plank porch. The house was cold and stale-smelling after the stable.

Etch raised the lights in the kitchen and stripped off his shirt. Throwing it in the sink, he ran a damp sponge over his arms and body. Without his upper clothing, his skin was pale and smooth, unlike his tanned face and forearms. “I'll be up with that mare for what's left of the night,” he said as he pulled on fresh, rumpled clothing. He took a bottle and two chipped mugs from a shelf and began rattling pans around in the kitchen.

Terricel remembered the last time he sat in this kitchen. “What's this you're concocting for me? More horse tonic?”

“Better than that last round of ale the other night. I swear the barkeep added bittersalt to keep his customers thirsty.” Etch shoved a mug at Terricel. “You did fine with the mare.”

Terricel took a big gulp of the coffee. It was cold and laced with brandy. “Right now what I need is help, not compliments.”

Etch reversed the other chair, straddled it, and took a swig from his own mug. “What kind of help?”

“A horse, for one thing, a decent horse. There's nobody else I'd trust to buy one from. And trail gear. I have — I have to find someone, and I've only been out of the city a few times in my whole life.”

“You gonna tell me about it?”

Terricel stared back at Etch. What did he know about the man, really? That he made a fine drinking partner, that he could fight, that he loved horses and wouldn't let one die through someone else's stupidity if he could save her, that he'd lost a family he loved. He debated asking Etch to come with him, partly because he wanted the solid comfort of his new friend, partly because Etch had said more than once how he hated his life in the city.

“My sister,” he said slowly. “She's a Ranger out on Kratera Ridge and she's missing. One of her — another Ranger came to my family for help, but the only thing — the only one is me. I've got to find this other Ranger before she leaves at dawn.”

“You don't start with the easy ones, do you?”

“If it were easy, I wouldn't be here.”

Etch ran one hand over his face, wrinkling the weathered skin. “This Ranger, the one who came for help, would be it a woman with yellow eyes who carries a long-knife and rides a Borderbred gray?”

“You know Kardith?”

“Kardith... So that's her name. I'd hate to have the kind of trouble she can't handle on her own.” The stableman grinned again, his eyes twinkling. “I can tell you where to catch up with her, all right. But first, let's get you a horse and gear. You
can
ride, I hope?”

Terricel let out his breath. “Some. The rest,” he added wryly, “I'll have to learn as I go.”

After checking on the speckled mare, who was resting quietly, Etch led out a big sorrel gelding, tied him crosswise in the center aisle of the barn and began brushing him, sending billows of straw-flecked dust into the air. The gelding, unimpressed with these proceedings, lipped a few stray oats from the floor and lifted each saucer-shaped foot in turn for Etch to pick clean. To Terricel he looked like just another horse, tall and ugly with his floppy ears and down-curved nose.

Terricel, combing out the horse's mane on Etch's instructions, asked why he'd picked this one for him.

“To begin with, he's old enough to have sense and young enough to have stamina. He's trail-smart, so pay attention if he gets real nervy or doesn't want to go somewhere. His instincts are a hell of a lot better than yours. He's also a little lazy, which is good because he won't work any harder than he has to. He'll take good care of you as long as you let him.”

Terricel stroked the silky muzzle as Etch selected a saddle and padded blanket and explained how to put them on the horse properly. “What's his name?”

“Harth's sweet tits, boy, I gave up naming horses years ago. Call him whatever you like.”

Pink light tinted the eastern sky as Terricel led his new acquisition into the yard. The travel pack was securely tied behind the saddle, along with a sleeping roll and other trail supplies that Etch had sold him. There was a compact cook kit, bandages and water disinfectant, a lightweight tarp, even a small supply of grain for the horse.

“Thanks for all your help,” Terricel said. As long as Etch had been managing things, his spirits had lifted, his confidence strengthened. Now the morning seemed unexpectedly cold, even with his wool-lined cloak. “I wish you were coming with me.”

Etch ducked his head, his eyes hidden. He took a breath and let it out as a sigh. He patted the gelding's shoulder and said, a little awkwardly, “You may be feeling pretty puny right now, but what you've set yourself to do, that's not a puny thing. You want one last piece of advice, here it is. You let that thing take hold of you. Let it run you instead of the other way around.”

He handed Terricel the loop of reins, thick braided leather. Terricel slipped one foot through a stirrup and boosted himself up. The next moment he was sitting on the gelding's back, looking down at a stretch of glossy red-brown shoulder and neatly combed mane. One curved ear pricked back toward him. The sky seemed nearer, brighter and darker at the same time.

“I'd better get out of here or Kardith will be long gone.”

“Ranger or no, nobody gets out of Laureal City at dawn. Besides, there's only one road north.” Etch slapped the gelding's rump. “Harth bless you, lad.”

The gelding stepped out of the yard at a brisk pace. Terricel swiveled in the saddle as far as he dared for a last look at the stableman. He held on to the pommel with one hand and waved with the other. “Thanks again...”

But Etch, his head tucked as if against a pelting storm, had already started back toward the barn.

Terricel pulled the sorrel gelding to a halt at the crossroads. Behind him, the broad dirt road led back to the city. The sun had not yet cleared the ridge of hills along the eastern horizon, and the night's chill clung like a lingering mist. He drew the wool-lined cloak more tightly around his shoulders and pulled the hood over his head.

Tantalizing odors arose from the shack that stood, flanked by a few worn benches, to one side of the crossroads. A man in a knitted cap leaned over the counter, hawking sweet buns and coffee. Several people had already stopped to sample his wares, cupping their hands around the steaming mugs. One such customer was a man in a cloak of military red-and-bronze, who politely asked Terricel his destination and warned him against going too far north. Although he did not say so explicitly, the man hinted that a boy as young and inexperienced as Terricel couldn't get far on his own.

Beyond the shack, the road split into two narrower branches, heading northeast and due east through rolling farmland. Most of the traffic at this hour was inward bound, elk-drawn carts heaped with fruits and vegetables, hay and grain, tanned hides, woolens and other trade goods, some of them from as far away as Darmaforge.

Kardith couldn't have come this far already, could she?

As the sky grew brighter with every passing moment, Terricel tried to ignore the feeling he'd made a terrible mistake. He didn't want to think what he'd do if she never showed up.

He was truly on his own now, with a good chance of facing trouble way over his head. Out there, there would be no Etch to save him from his own folly. He shivered, remembering the brawl at The Elk Pass. He could easily have been maimed or killed. At the time, he'd had no idea what he was getting himself into. Nor did he now, but he'd better learn fast.

Terricel recognized Kardith's short, coppery hair and Ranger's vest under her riding cloak, even before her features became clear. Now he understood why Etch had commented on her horse. It was a small, delicately built mare with a coat like pewter-flecked silver. Instead of the usual bridle and metal bit, she wore a halter with a heavy noseband, the reins swinging loose on her neck.

Kardith sat straight but relaxed in the saddle, her body moving as if it were an extension of the horse's. She stared at Terricel with a mixture of annoyance and puzzlement. The gray mare moved at same steady pace, taking the northeast road.

Terricel kicked his horse into a trot beside Kardith.

“What the hell do you think you're doing?” Kardith said.

“I told you I'd get help.”

“I didn't think you'd be crazy enough to mean yourself.”

“Who else is there?”

Each pounding stride of the gelding's trot jolted Terricel from his teeth to his heels. For a panic-filled moment he wondered how long he could keep this up before he either fell off or became one continuous bruise. With a concentrated effort, he was able to relax with the horse's gait and shift his weight deeper into the saddle. It took more than a few jarring minutes to catch the rhythm of it, but the gelding kept pace with the gray mare as if they were hitched together as a team.

Kardith turned her head to look at him. Her mouth was tight and narrow, her eyes the color of molten honey.

“I came for real help for Avi,” she said. “Help from somebody big enough to stand up to those war orders so we could search for her. Not to get saddled with some green kid off to play hero.”

The road wound through patchwork plots of vegetables, neatly planted rows edged with the bright orange pestifuge commonly called bug-weed. A few farmers finished loading their carts with the day's harvest, leeks, cabbages, red-roots and salad greens. Calling and waving to them, a barefoot boy ran alongside the road. Terricel grinned and lifted his hand in greeting.

“You knew what to expect, didn't you?” he said, turning back to Kardith. “You were pissed at Esme's answer but not surprised. You came last night because you had no other choice. Well, now you've got it — I mean, me.”

“Pretty speeches win no battles, boy,” Kardith said. “Assuming you don't break down and go running home before we even reach the Ridge, who's going to take care of you? You'd be eaten alive your first night out. Even if you could make it on your own, what makes you think you could find Avi? What gives you the right to go against the orders?”

“I'm her brother, that's what gives me the right! I don't have to answer to Montborne like you do. I'm free to go wherever I want.”

In answer, Kardith clucked to the gray mare, who quickened her pace and pulled ahead. Terricel urged the gelding forward. He started bouncing again with the faster, more jarring trot. He grabbed the pommel of the saddle to keep his balance. The gelding snorted and tossed his head, ears laid partway back. Terricel realized his fingers were clenched around the braided reins. He relaxed his grip and took a deep breath.

The vegetable plots turned to fields of golden-green barley, rippling in the morning breeze. The barley smelled sweet, like new-cut grass. The sun felt warm and reassuring on Terricel's shoulders.

“There's no one else, you said so yourself.” He pushed back the hood of his cloak. “You and your precious Rangers are so hamstrung by Montborne's orders, you can't risk a search.”

“You'd be worse than useless. You don't know a damned thing.”

“Then teach me what I need to know.”

“
Teach
you? Teach you ten years of woodscraft in two weeks? What kind of nitbrain are you?”

Terricel felt too angry and desperate to risk an answer. The situation had gone beyond reasoning. He clapped his heels to the gelding's sides. The horse lunged forward, past Kardith's gray mare.

A few minutes later, Terricel heard the clatter of hooves behind him and slowed the gelding to let Kardith catch up. He drew the first easy breath that day.

By the end of the first morning, they'd left the level farmland and begun to climb. Fields of grain gave way to orchards and then to rocky pasture. The undergrowth rustled with living things. A family of coneys flashed white-spotted rumps as they darted for shelter, and a pink-eyed lizard sunned itself across a slab of granite. An occasional raptor-bat wheeled silently overhead, riding the thermal currents.

When the hills became steep, Kardith slipped from her horse's back, tied her cloak behind the saddle, and walked alongside, one hand laced through the mare's mane. Terricel dismounted stiffly and did the same. Within a few minutes, he was sweating freely. He'd thought he was reasonably fit compared to his student friends, with all the walking he did in Laureal City, but nothing in his academic life had prepared him for this. Still, they were traveling about as fast as they would mounted, with considerably less strain on the horses.