on the other, and a path leading back to the main route between Anfeald and Siccawei. Jess emerged first, in her characteristic Baltimore Orioles baseball cap—Mark had given her a new one for Christmas—her scarf flapping loosely and her winter coat unfastened almost to the waist, an indication of the exertion of the ride. Dayna didn't recognize the woman behind her, and as she slid from the window sill she craned her neck to keep a view of the yard, waiting for Carey or Jaime . . .
But there was no one else.
Dayna ran to the door, grabbing a jacket from the hook there—way too big, so not her jacket, but who cared. Hadn't they taken her seriously? They'd sent only Jess and this woman Dayna didn't know.
And then she was out the door, getting a good look at Jess's face—tired from the run, grim from what she'd seen along the way . . . from whatever had gone on in Anfeald before she even left. They'd taken Dayna seriously, all right—or no one would be here at all.
Jess met her in the middle of the yard, her horse's winter coat curly wet but cool enough from the final walk in so it no longer steamed. "He needs a cooling blanket," Jess said. "Do you have someone in the barn?"
Dayna hesitated, looking at the second rider. Her horse was still steaming, and although she was flushed and tired from the run, she lacked the haunted expression underlying Jess's exotic features. Whoever she was, she didn't have a personal stake. She didn't even look like she fully understood the situation. She sat her horse awaiting some signal from Jess, her clothes beautifully made and imbued with scintillating magical color, her face a dark cinnamon-tinted tone with features that made Dayna think of Asian and African-American blood—her leftover Earth thinking coming to the fore again—and the most astonishing hair springing from behind her exquisitely knitted ear and scarf wrap.
"This is Suliya," Jess said. "New with Carey. The others couldn't come, but no one takes this route alone for now."
"No one ought to take it at all after this," Dayna said, grasping at her normal composure again. Sardonic.
Maybe not what someone else would strive for, but Dayna found it a comfortable place. "We do have some people working the barn—Siccawei sent us a couple of horses and someone to organize the place, but we're not nearly up to speed for what we'll need."
"It's a small hold," Suliya observed.
"Yeah," Dayna said, giving her a second look. "A small hold that just became the center of Camolen's biggest magical goof-up since the Barrenlands blew up three hundred years ago, and with limited dispatch service available to anyone while we try to deal with the mess. Believe me, we're going to need all the couriers we can get."
Jess swung down from the horse, straightening the snug, leather-seated quilted riding pants she wore.
Suliya, bedecked in similar but sleeker, tailored pants, took the hint and dismounted as well; Jess pulled her saddlebags from the horse and the smaller courier's bags from atop them, and handed over the reins to her mount as she collected Suliya's bags.
"You might want to take a look in the barn yourself," Dayna said, only just now realizing it. Jess gave her a why expression, eyebrows raised. Dayna shrugged, pulling the oversized borrowed coat more tightly around herself as the wind picked up slightly. "Trent's palomino," she said. "He survived whatever happened there."
"Not hurt?" Jess asked, arranging the saddlebags over her shoulders and taking in Dayna's confirming gesture; in another moment she glanced at Suliya and led the way.
The barn showed all the signs of descending chaos—newly arrived feed stacked in the way, debris and gear and equipment boxes clogging the short aisle. Only one stall had an occupant.
"The others are working," Dayna said. "We don't know how many will actually be back for the night, or if we'll have enough stalls—or enough teams fit to work tomorrow. We're just a small, brand-new hold . .
But there was no one else.
Dayna ran to the door, grabbing a jacket from the hook there—way too big, so not her jacket, but who cared. Hadn't they taken her seriously? They'd sent only Jess and this woman Dayna didn't know.
And then she was out the door, getting a good look at Jess's face—tired from the run, grim from what she'd seen along the way . . . from whatever had gone on in Anfeald before she even left. They'd taken Dayna seriously, all right—or no one would be here at all.
Jess met her in the middle of the yard, her horse's winter coat curly wet but cool enough from the final walk in so it no longer steamed. "He needs a cooling blanket," Jess said. "Do you have someone in the barn?"
Dayna hesitated, looking at the second rider. Her horse was still steaming, and although she was flushed and tired from the run, she lacked the haunted expression underlying Jess's exotic features. Whoever she was, she didn't have a personal stake. She didn't even look like she fully understood the situation. She sat her horse awaiting some signal from Jess, her clothes beautifully made and imbued with scintillating magical color, her face a dark cinnamon-tinted tone with features that made Dayna think of Asian and African-American blood—her leftover Earth thinking coming to the fore again—and the most astonishing hair springing from behind her exquisitely knitted ear and scarf wrap.
"This is Suliya," Jess said. "New with Carey. The others couldn't come, but no one takes this route alone for now."
"No one ought to take it at all after this," Dayna said, grasping at her normal composure again. Sardonic.
Maybe not what someone else would strive for, but Dayna found it a comfortable place. "We do have some people working the barn—Siccawei sent us a couple of horses and someone to organize the place, but we're not nearly up to speed for what we'll need."
"It's a small hold," Suliya observed.
"Yeah," Dayna said, giving her a second look. "A small hold that just became the center of Camolen's biggest magical goof-up since the Barrenlands blew up three hundred years ago, and with limited dispatch service available to anyone while we try to deal with the mess. Believe me, we're going to need all the couriers we can get."
Jess swung down from the horse, straightening the snug, leather-seated quilted riding pants she wore.
Suliya, bedecked in similar but sleeker, tailored pants, took the hint and dismounted as well; Jess pulled her saddlebags from the horse and the smaller courier's bags from atop them, and handed over the reins to her mount as she collected Suliya's bags.
"You might want to take a look in the barn yourself," Dayna said, only just now realizing it. Jess gave her a why expression, eyebrows raised. Dayna shrugged, pulling the oversized borrowed coat more tightly around herself as the wind picked up slightly. "Trent's palomino," she said. "He survived whatever happened there."
"Not hurt?" Jess asked, arranging the saddlebags over her shoulders and taking in Dayna's confirming gesture; in another moment she glanced at Suliya and led the way.
The barn showed all the signs of descending chaos—newly arrived feed stacked in the way, debris and gear and equipment boxes clogging the short aisle. Only one stall had an occupant.
"The others are working," Dayna said. "We don't know how many will actually be back for the night, or if we'll have enough stalls—or enough teams fit to work tomorrow. We're just a small, brand-new hold . .
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