said, it'll be Midsummer at the earliest.'
Kethry sighed. 'If I were an Adept, I could get us both there in an hour.'
'But not the horses. And how would we explain ourselves? We'd make a lot more stir than we should if we did that.'
'And stir is not what we want.'
'Right.' Tarma stood with a sigh, and stretched, then came back to her chair and flung herself down into it. 'I seem to recall one contact we might well want to make. The Captain didn't talk about her past much, but she did mention somebody a time or two. The Court Archivist -- ' Her brows knitted in thought. 'Javreck? Jervase? No -- Jadrek, that's it. Jadrek. Seems like his father used to keep Idra and her older brother in tales; paid attention to them when nobody else had time for them. Jadrek was evidently a little copy of him. She'd mention him when something happened to bring one of those tales to her mind. And more important -- ' Tarma pointed a long finger at Kethry. ' -- she also never failed to preface those recollections by calling him 'the only completely honest man in the Court, just as his father was.' '
'That sounds promising.'
'If he's still there. Seems to me she said something about him being at odds with her father and her younger brother when he took over the Archivist position. He did that pretty young, since he was younger than Idra or her brother, and she left the Court before she was twenty. She also said something about his being crippled, which could cut down on the amount he sees.'
'Yes and no,' Kethry replied, more than grateful for Tarma's remarkable memory. 'People who are overlooked often see more that way. Need I tell you that I'm glad you have a mind like a trap?'
'What, shut?' Tarma jibed. 'Now you know I've got a Singer's memory; if I'd forgotten one verse of any of the most obscure ballads, I'd have been laughed out of camp. Keth, you're worrying yourself, I can tell. You're wasting energy.'
'I know, I know -- '
'Take it one week at a time. Worry about getting us through the passes safely. I'll get you the ava-lanche map tomorrow; see what you can scry out with it. And speaking of snow, do you still want to hear that business about the Snow Demon?'
'Well ... yes!' she replied, surprised. 'But I hardly thought you'd be in the mood for it now.'
'I'm just taking some of my own prescribed medicine.' Tarma grinned crookedly, and went to fetch the battered little hand-drum she used on those rare occasions when she chanted -- you couldn't call it singing anymore -- one of the Shin'a'in history-songs. 'Trying to remember all fifty-two verses will keep me from fretting into a sweat. And hoping,' she looked down at her black sleeve, the black of vengeance-taking, 'that this outfit doesn't turn out to be an omen.'
Five
'Jai'vetha! Kele, kele, kele!'
Tarma wheeled Ironheart about on the mare's heels in a piece of horsemanship that drew a spattering of impromptu applause from those watching, and chivied the last of the tired horses into the corral assigned to them by the master of the Petras stock market. She controlled them with voice only -- not hand, nor whip. She didn't even call for any encouraging nips at their heels from Warrl, another fact which impressed the spectators no end.
They were already impressed by the horses. They were not the kind of beasts that the inhabitants of Petras were used to seeing. These were Shin'a'in purebreds, and the only reason any of them had been passed over by the Sunhawks was that they were mostly saddlebreds, not trailbreds. The Shin'a'in horses bred for trail work were a little rougher looking, and a bit hardier than the saddlebreds. In the main. There were always exceptions, like Tarma's beloved Kessira, but the Shin'a'in kept the exceptions for their own use and further breeding -- as Kessira was being bred, pampered queen mare of the Tale'sedrin herds.
No, these horses were not what the inhabitants of Petras were used to seeing in their beast-market. Their heads, broad in the forehead, small in the muzzle, and with large, doe-soft eyes were carried high and proudly on their long, elegant necks; pride showed in every line of them, despite their weariness. Their bodies were compact and muscular, the hindquarters being a trifle higher than these people were accustomed to. Their legs were well- muscled and slim; they were no longer shaggy with winter growth as they had been when the trek started. Now their coats were silky despite the dust -- and their manes and tails, the pride of a Shin'a'in mount, were flowing in the wind like many-colored waterfalls. And they moved like dancers, like birds on the wind, like music made visible.
In short, they were beautiful.
'Good enough to suit a king, eh, she'enedra?' Tarma asked in her own tongue, feeling rather proud of her charges.
'I should think -- ' Kethry began, when one of the onlookers, a man possessed of more than a little wealth, by
