Four Horses For Tishtry by Chelsea Quinn Yarbro Page A

Atadillius was being absurdly cautious.
    Yet by midsummer she had had one trace snap on her while she was working with Shirdas, and had discovered that the leather had been deeply cut with a knife. And not long after, she had noticed that the spokes of her quadriga had been tampered with. She became more cautious.
    August was difficult, for the engulfing heat was worsened by hot, dry winds blowing in from Asia. Everyone in the arena turned surly, even her horses, and Tishtry, for the first time in her life,wanted to avoid performing with her team.
    “Tell Barantosz that you are ill,” Macon suggested as they sat in the cabin, both of them half dressed and sweating.
    “But I am not ill, and he has already been paid for my appearance. Hehates to give back money. Atadillius ... he thinks that it might be better if I perform because there are others who are going to refuse. That Boeotian bestiarii with the tigers has already said he cannot trust his cats in this heat.”She looked directly at Macon. “I could earn a lot, working these Games.”
    “And you could lose a lot too,” her older sister reminded her. “You are not so favored by the gods that you may fly in the face of fate.”
    “I will not do that,” Tishtry said with a weary smile. “I will do a shorter version of my tricks and it will be enough.”
    “If you’re sure,” Macon said doubtfully.
    “Well, I think I am,” she responded. “But there must be enough water for the horses when I am through, and I will need a long time to walk them cool, otherwise they could be harmed, and I draw the line at that.”
    Three other bestiarii withdrew from the Games during the hot winds, and as a result, Tishtry was one of the specialty entertainments. She created more excitement with her performance because there were few bestiarii, and she decided to take full advantage of this, introducing a new trick to her routine: she somersaulted across the backs of all four horses as they galloped, and having reached Shirdas’ back this way, she did a backflip that landed her on Dozeionce again. Thecrowd went wild for it, and theeditor of the Games awarded her a sweetening of fifty silver denarii.
    “You see,” she boasted to Macon that evening while they ate figs and chopped mutton, “I said it would be all right, and here we are, richer than ever before.”
    “The money is not the most important thing,” Macon warned her.
    “It might not be, but there is no other way to gain your freedom and the freedom of our family. Barantosz might bea fool, but he’s not so much of a fool that he’ll grant his slaves their freedom on a whim. He expects money for his writ of manumission.”
    “The family wouldn’t mind if you didn’t succeed,” Macon pointed out.
    “I would mind,” Tishtry said stubbornly, and despite her youth, there was no doubting her determination.
    “Then be wise, so that you can achieve your goal,” Macon said, then changed the subject. “Your tunica is getting worn. Would you like me to repair it?”
    “Can you do that?” Tishtry asked, genuinely surprised.
    “Well, leather is leather, and whether I’m making a saddle or repairing a tunica, there shouldn’t be much difference, should there? I could put a few more studs on the tunica while I’m at it.”
    “All right. I think I’d like a sunburst design. Could you do that?” She grinned at her older sister. “Something that catches the light.”
    “If that’s what you want,” Macon said, trying not to giggle. “A sunburst it will be.”
    * * *
    “There are two more Games scheduled between now and the end of October,” Atadillius told Tishtry when she camein from her morning practice. “You’ve been asked for both of them. One of those asking to be editor is a Roman. His name is Marius Balbo, and he will pay very well for your performance, so save your best tricks for him. Barantosz has said that you must do something very unusual.”
    “What about the handstand? I’ve only done