true?'
'Truer than many that are taken for pure fact. Gervase was a White Winds adept, because the mage that gifted him was White Winds -- and it was a good day for the order when he made that gift. Gervase, being a reptile, and being a Pelagir changeling as well, lived three times the span of a normal sorcerer, and we are notoriously long-lived. He became the High Adept of the order, and managed to guide it into the place it holds today.'
'Total obscurity,' Tarma taunted.
'Oh, no -- protective obscurity. Those who need us know how to find us. Those we'd rather couldn't find us can't believe anyone who holds the power a White Winds Adept holds would ever be found ankledeep in mud and manure, tending his own onions. Let other mages waste their time in politics and sorcerer's duels for the sake of proving that one of them is better -- or at least more devious -- than the other. We save our resources for those who are in need of them. There's this, too -- we can sleep sound of nights, knowing nobody is likely to conjure an adder into one of our sleeping rolls.'
'Always provided he could ever find the place where you've laid that sleeping roll,' Tarma laughed. 'All right, you've convinced me.'
'When we find your people -- '
'Hmm?'
'Well, then what?'
'I'll have to go before a Council of the Elders of three Clans, and present myself. They'll give me back the Clan banner, and -- ' Tarma stopped, nonplussed.
'And -- ' Kethry prompted.
'I don't know; I hadn't thought about it. Liha'irden has been taking care of the herds; they'll get first choice of yearlings for their help. But -- I don't know, she'enedra; the herds of an entire Clan are an awful lot for just two women to tend. My teacher told me I should turn mercenary... and I'm not sure now that he meant it to be temporary.'
'That is how we've been living.'
'I suppose we could let Liha'irden continue as caretakers, at least until we're ready to settle down, but -- I don't want to leave yet.'
'I don't blame you,' Kethry teased, 'After all, you just got here!'
'Well, look -- if we're going to really try and become mercenaries, and not just play at it to get enough money to live on, we're both going to have to get battlesteeds -- and you are going to have to learn how to manage one.'
Kethry paled. 'A battlesteed?' she faltered. 'Me? I've never ridden anything livelier than a pony!'
'I don't want you at my side in a fight on anything less than a Shin'a'in-bred and trained battlesteed,' Tarma said in a tone that brooked no argument.
Kethry swallowed, and bit her lip a little.
Tarma grinned suddenly. 'Don't go lathering yourself, she'enedra, we may decide to stay here, after all, and you can confine yourself to ponies and mules or your own two feet if that's what you want.'
'That prospect,' Kethry replied, 'sounds more attractive every time you mention battlesteeds!'
* * *
Kethry had no idea how she did it, but Tarma led them straight into the Liha'irden camp without a single false turning.
'Practice,' she shrugged, when Kethry finally asked, 'I know it looks all the same to you, but I know every copse and spring and hill of this end of the Plains. The Clans are nomadic, but we each have territories; Liha'irden's was next to Tale'sedrin's. I expected with two Clans' worth of herds they would be camped by one of the springs that divided the two, and pasturing in both territories. When the Hawkbrother told me which spring, I knew I was right.'
Tarma in her costume of Kal'enedral created quite a stir -- but Kethry was a wonder, especially to the children. When they first approached the camp, Tarma signaled a sentry who had then ridden in ahead of them. As they got nearer, more and more adolescents and older children came out on their saddlebeasts, forming a polite but intensely curious escort. When they entered the camp itself, the youngest came running out to see the visitors, voluble and quite audible in their surprise at the sight of Kethry.
