the darkness of mane and tail, that they could have been dragons hatched from the same shell. “They’re wonderful!” he exclaimed.
“They ought to be.” Chay folded his arms on the top fence rail and gazed dreamily at the foals. “Bloodlines from here to the start of the world and back again, by my best mares and your father’s old warhorse Pashta. If there’s royalty among horses, you’re looking at it. Pashta’s last are even finer than his first.”
“His last?” Pol glanced up at his uncle.
Chay nodded. “He died over the winter, very easily and full of his years—and his self-importance, too! Almost as if he knew how these six would turn out. By next Rialla they’ll be ready for you.”
“Me?” Pol was unable to believe his luck.
“Who else?” Chay squeezed his shoulder. “It’s Radzyn’s duty to keep its princes decently mounted, you know. All six are yours.”
The boy stared in awe at the foals, imagining them full-grown. He could see old Pashta’s siring in their depth of chest and the cant of their ears—his father’s beloved Pashta, ridden in a Rialla race to win his mother’s wedding emeralds. “Thank you, my lord,” Pol breathed. “Are they really to be mine?”
“Of course.”
“But I don’t need six horses just for myself. Would it—would you be angry if I gave the others as presents?”
“Who’d you have in mind?” Chay asked curiously.
“My father would like one of Pashta’s colts, wouldn’t he? And Mother would look wonderful riding one of the golden ones—she and Father could have those two, like a matched set.” He paused. “Would it be all right, my lord?”
“Perfectly all right. And no more of this ‘my lord’ business, unless you want me to start calling you ‘your grace!’ Well, now that that’s settled, would you like to see the mare you’ll be riding to Waes for me? I need steady hands and an understanding rider for her. And if you’ll do me the favor, you can exercise her out in the Desert this summer. Will you?”
Pol’s eyes shone. “ Will I!”
They spent the rest of the morning looking over various mares and geldings that would be taken to Waes for sale, including the horse that would be Pol’s for the summer. A pretty bay mare, she inspected Pol with large dark eyes for several moments before nudging him with her dainty nose in token of friendship. He was enchanted, as the horse had obviously intended him to be, and only his growing weariness kept him from trying her paces there and then.
After a casual midday meal in private at the keep, Tobin sent Pol off for a rest. Not even healthy young boys could weather a water crossing with aplomb when they were faradhi -born. Maarken disappeared soon after on his own pursuits, but Meath lingered behind.
“My lord, I have a favor to ask for reasons I cannot reveal to you. It has to do with Lady Andrade.”
Chay shrugged. “Reason enough—and favor granted.”
“Thank you, my lord. Will you lend me two guards for the journey to Goddess Keep?”
Tobin cocked her head to one side. “Maarken mentioned something about that. You need more than the protection of your rings? What are you carrying, Meath—information in your head or on your person?”
He shifted uncomfortably and apologized, “I’m sorry, my lady, but I can’t tell you.”
“Sunrunners!” Chay complained in a teasing voice. “And Sunrunner secrets! Certainly you may have your guards, Meath. I’ll order it this evening.”
“Many thanks, my lord. And now I have something I must tell you that is also a secret, and must be discussed in private.”
The princess’ eyebrows shot up, but she rose smoothly and suggested, “Perhaps a turn in the back gardens, by the cliff path?”
Meath said nothing until they were strolling the gravel pathway between plantings of herbs, the surf pounding far below. No one else was in this section of the gardens, and they would be able to see any intruders long before they were
“They ought to be.” Chay folded his arms on the top fence rail and gazed dreamily at the foals. “Bloodlines from here to the start of the world and back again, by my best mares and your father’s old warhorse Pashta. If there’s royalty among horses, you’re looking at it. Pashta’s last are even finer than his first.”
“His last?” Pol glanced up at his uncle.
Chay nodded. “He died over the winter, very easily and full of his years—and his self-importance, too! Almost as if he knew how these six would turn out. By next Rialla they’ll be ready for you.”
“Me?” Pol was unable to believe his luck.
“Who else?” Chay squeezed his shoulder. “It’s Radzyn’s duty to keep its princes decently mounted, you know. All six are yours.”
The boy stared in awe at the foals, imagining them full-grown. He could see old Pashta’s siring in their depth of chest and the cant of their ears—his father’s beloved Pashta, ridden in a Rialla race to win his mother’s wedding emeralds. “Thank you, my lord,” Pol breathed. “Are they really to be mine?”
“Of course.”
“But I don’t need six horses just for myself. Would it—would you be angry if I gave the others as presents?”
“Who’d you have in mind?” Chay asked curiously.
“My father would like one of Pashta’s colts, wouldn’t he? And Mother would look wonderful riding one of the golden ones—she and Father could have those two, like a matched set.” He paused. “Would it be all right, my lord?”
“Perfectly all right. And no more of this ‘my lord’ business, unless you want me to start calling you ‘your grace!’ Well, now that that’s settled, would you like to see the mare you’ll be riding to Waes for me? I need steady hands and an understanding rider for her. And if you’ll do me the favor, you can exercise her out in the Desert this summer. Will you?”
Pol’s eyes shone. “ Will I!”
They spent the rest of the morning looking over various mares and geldings that would be taken to Waes for sale, including the horse that would be Pol’s for the summer. A pretty bay mare, she inspected Pol with large dark eyes for several moments before nudging him with her dainty nose in token of friendship. He was enchanted, as the horse had obviously intended him to be, and only his growing weariness kept him from trying her paces there and then.
After a casual midday meal in private at the keep, Tobin sent Pol off for a rest. Not even healthy young boys could weather a water crossing with aplomb when they were faradhi -born. Maarken disappeared soon after on his own pursuits, but Meath lingered behind.
“My lord, I have a favor to ask for reasons I cannot reveal to you. It has to do with Lady Andrade.”
Chay shrugged. “Reason enough—and favor granted.”
“Thank you, my lord. Will you lend me two guards for the journey to Goddess Keep?”
Tobin cocked her head to one side. “Maarken mentioned something about that. You need more than the protection of your rings? What are you carrying, Meath—information in your head or on your person?”
He shifted uncomfortably and apologized, “I’m sorry, my lady, but I can’t tell you.”
“Sunrunners!” Chay complained in a teasing voice. “And Sunrunner secrets! Certainly you may have your guards, Meath. I’ll order it this evening.”
“Many thanks, my lord. And now I have something I must tell you that is also a secret, and must be discussed in private.”
The princess’ eyebrows shot up, but she rose smoothly and suggested, “Perhaps a turn in the back gardens, by the cliff path?”
Meath said nothing until they were strolling the gravel pathway between plantings of herbs, the surf pounding far below. No one else was in this section of the gardens, and they would be able to see any intruders long before they were
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