Kerowyn's Ride

Ah, I’m getting soft in my old age.

As often as she pulled this trick, the mare still balked when it came to going through the hidden entrance. Tarma pulled off the scarf that had held her hair out of her eyes all day, and blindfolded the mare with it.

And walked into the side of the cliff, leading the docile horse.

This trick wouldn’t work for just anyone, of course; only those Keth had keyed into the spell. For anyone else, that granite cliff-face wasn’t illusion, it was real, and solid enough to climb. Tarma still hadn’t made up her mind about it, and like the mare, she didn’t much enjoy passing through it. She kept thinking that one day something was going to go wrong, and she’d get stuck halfway through.

Three steps through absolute darkness, then she and her mare emerged into the tunnel that led to the Tower’s stables. The tunnel, the stable, and the “door” were the only extravagances Keth permitted herself in the way of magic. The tunnel and stable had been carved from the living rock by magic, and were illuminated by permanent witch-lights. The rock walls of the tunnel were planed and polished until the granite shone like marble, and the yellow globes of witch-lights brightened just ahead of her and dimmed after she had passed. “Austere, but attractive,” was what Warrl had called it. It gave Tarma a case of claustrophobia.

Her footsteps and the mare’s echoed up and down the tunnel, announcing their arrival. Oddly enough, the Tower—which everyone seemed to think Keth had magicked into place—had already been here when they’d first had their schools at what was now the Keep. Besides the obvious way in, there’d been an escape route down through the cellars. That was what Keth had enlarged into the stables and tunnel, and had concealed with her magic.

The end of the tunnel was considerably brighter than the tunnel itself; Tarma blinked a little when she led the mare out into the stable proper. As Warrl had advised, Kethry was already at work; she’d already saddled her mount and loaded it with packs of medicinal gear. Kethry was no fool; she’d changed into one of her old traveling outfits; knee-length hooded robe and breeches, both of soft, but sturdy beige wool. Now the sorceress had gotten her gray warsteed to kneel so that she could mount the mare’s saddle. While Tarma might still be able to mount unaided, these days Keth couldn’t, and made no pretenses about the fact.

Poor Keth. She moves so gracefully no one ever guesses how much her bones ache.

:We are not what we were, mind-mate,: Warrl acknowledged ruefully. He had flung himself down beside the cool stone wall where he lay panting after his run. Now that he was in the light, he was even more impressive; not even a wolfhound or the grasscats of the Dhorisha Plains could best him for size. He could—and had—snapped a man’s leg in half with those formidable jaws.

“Your timing couldn’t have been better, she’enedra,“ the sorceress said, as her mare heaved herself to her feet. “I saw you were almost home when I checked this morning, then when I sensed the trouble in the valley, I checked on you first, and caught your little conversation with Kerowyn.” She checked all the fastenings on the packs as she spoke, making sure nothing was going to come loose. “I’m going to the Keep to see what I can do—”

“Don’t worry, I just came down here to tell you I’ll be playing guardian to the girl,” Tarma interrupted. “You didn’t have to ask.”

“She isn’t as helpless as you might think,” Kethry said, knotting her long silver hair up on the back of her head and pinning it there securely. She turned her emerald eyes on her partner, and Tarma for once could not read them.

“So?” She raised an eyebrow.

“I—Need woke for her.”

Silence. Four daughters, a host of granddaughters and fosterlings—not to mention all the students—not one of which woke even a spark from that piece of tin. Dear and most precious gods. For once the damned thing picked a good time to poke its nose in!

If a sword has a nose.

Tarma took a deep breath, quite well aware that her oathbound sister was waiting for some kind of reaction. “She’s neither fighter nor mage. So what’s it going to do for her?”

Kethry wheeled her mare and got her head pointed toward the tunnel. “Whatever it has to. Protect her from magic, make her fight like a hellcat. Probably more than that, things I didn’t know it could do. All I do know for certain is that with the lives of not one, but two young women depending on it, Need is going to stretch to its limits.”

Tarma considered that for a moment. “In that case, I’d better get on my way. And young Lordan isn’t getting any better for you standing there.”

When Kethry didn’t move, Tarma frowned. “There’s something you’re not telling me.”

The sorceress grimaced. “I think Rathgar was betrayed. I told Kero that whoever hired the mage and the