Kerowyn's Ride

the window this morning had told her all she needed to know about the weather—today was going to be a typical late-fall day for these parts; cold, wet, and miserable. Even though there were no clouds overhead, Kero had seen them on the horizon, the kind of flat, gray clouds that meant an all-day drizzle. So she’d dressed for it; a waterproof canvas poncho over lambswool shirt, and heavy sweater, sheepskin vest, and wool hose and breeches, and her thickest stockings inside her boots. Daren had dressed for the cold, but not an all-day chill in wet weather; he was wearing mostly leather, which looked very good on him and would keep him warm at first, but would do nothing for him once it was soaked. His only concession to possible drizzle was a wool cloak, a bright russet that would stand out in the gray-brown woods like a rose in a cabbage patch. And which was going to get caught on every twig and thorn unless he was very careful. Kero’s gray poncho wouldn’t; it was belted tight to her body at the waist, and thorns wouldn’t catch so easily on the tightly-woven, oiled canvas. Kero hid a smirk with some difficulty.

Tarma glanced at her in a way that Kero couldn’t read, but said nothing. Daren just took in the peasant-style clothing, and gave her an amused and superior little smile.

Kero had been toying with the notion of warning him about the oncoming rain, but that smile made up her mind for her. If he’s too stupid to read the weather, and too cocksure to ask advice when he sees someone dressed for weather he didn’t expect, he can suffer, she thought with angry anticipation. And I can’t wait to see him shivering and chafing in that fancy wet leather.

“I told you yesterday that this was going to be another ‘hound and rabbit’ game following Warrl,” Tarma said, interrupting her thoughts. “I didn’t tell you that it would be under different rules.”

Kero stiffened, and dropped her thoughts of revenge. She noted that Daren lost his little smile, and fixed his eyes on Tarma as if he was trying to read her mind.

“This is going to be a ‘hostile territory’ game,” the Shin’a’in continued. “Rule one: you’re in enemy territory, behind their lines, following a spy. Assume that anything you do or say may give you away to the enemy. Rule two: leave no traces yourselves; assume the enemy may have someone trailing you. Rule three: this is a real scouting mission, which means you are not working alone. Rule four: both of you come back, or you both lose the game.”

At “rule three” Kero realized what Tarma was pulling on them. At “rule four,” Daren figured it out. The glare of outrage he gave her was only matched by the exasperation she dealt him in return.

She can’t—l’m going to be saddled with this overbearing fool all day long? And if I don’t keep him from falling on his face, I’m going to lose the game? She wanted to tell her teacher exactly what she thought of the idea, and only one thing kept her quiet. The sure and certain knowledge that Tarma was testing her, as she had been tested at the crossroads. Only this time the test was not for courage, but for good sense, and the ability to take orders.

Such considerations did not hamper Daren.

“You can’t mean that!” he said angrily. “I’ve had years of training, and you expect me to drag this little tagalong and take care of her—”

“I expect you to take the orders you’re given and follow them, young man,” Tarma replied evenly, with no display of emotion at all. “I expect you to keep your mouth shut about it. I have my orders from your father. You are to treat me as your commanding officer at all times, and I have your father’s full permission to do whatever I like with you. Be grateful this is all I’ve ordered you to do. How do you ever expect to give orders that will be obeyed if you never learn how to follow them yourself?”

Daren stared at her with his mouth hanging open for a moment, while Kero fumed. Tagalong, am I? Years of training, hmm? Then why can’t he even follow a rabbit track a furlong without losing it?

“I’ve given you your orders,” Tarma said, putting one finger under his chin and shutting his mouth for him. “Remember the rules.”

She turned on her heel, and went back up the staircase, leaving the two of them alone in the stable. Daren’s stormy expression did not encourage conversation, so Kero just shrugged and headed out into the valley.

Daren followed, overtaking her in the tunnel, so that when they emerged he was in the lead. Kero hung back, deliberately, so that he would have to wait for her. After all, under the rules, if he ran off without her, he’d lose.

I’m beginning to see some advantages here, she thought, as her anger cooled. Provided I can keep my own temper.

The clouds were already moving in; the sky was gray from horizon to horizon, or at least as much of it as Kero saw beyond the black interlacing of leafless trees. Daren waited impatiently for her beside the hidden stable door, and pointed at Warrl’s obvious clawmarks in the dust beside the path.

“He went that way,” the young man said, and plunged off into the underbrush, leaving a telltale thread from his cloak on the very first thornbush he passed.

Kero would have left it, except that she remembered the rules. Leave no traces. And since she was being graded on his moves as well as her own....

She sighed, and picked the russet thread out of the thorns before she passed on. She was still sucking a