Oathbreaker

the cut of his gray and green clothing, interrupted her.

'What are these beauties?' he asked, in tones that bordered on veneration. 'Where on earth did they spring from? Valdemar? I'd heard Companions were magnificent, but I'd never heard of anyone other than Heralds owning them, and I'd never heard that Companions were anything but white'

'No, m'lord,' Kethry replied, as Tarma privately wondered what on earth a Companion could be. 'These are Shin'a'in purebred saddlemares and geldings from the Dhorisha Plains.'

'Shin'a'in!' The man stepped back a pace. 'Lord and Lady -- how did you ever get Shin'a'in to part with them? I'd have thought they'd have shown you their sword-edge rather than their horses.'

'Easily enough -- I'm blood-sister to the handler, there. I thought to bring a string up here and try our luck.'

'She's-Shin'a'in -- ?' The man gulped, and eased another footstep or two away, putting Kethry between himself and Tarma. Tarma wasn't certain whether to laugh or continue to look as if she didn't understand. The man acted like she was some kind of demon!

 'Oh yes,' Kethry answered, 'and Kal'enedral.' She must have noted his look of blank nonrecogni-tion, because she added, 'Swordsworn.'

He turned completely white. 'I -- hope --excuse me, lady, but I trust she's -- under control.'

'Warrior's Oath, she'enedra, what in Hell have they heard about us?' Tarma kept to her own tongue, as per the plan, and was keeping her face utterly still and impassive, but she knew Kethry could hear the suppressed laughter in her voice.

'Probably that you eat raw meat for breakfast and raw babies for dinner,' Kethry replied, and Tarma could see the struggle to keep her expression guileless in the laughter sparkling in her eyes.

'Pardon -- but -- what's she saying?' The man eyed Tarma as if he expected her to unsheathe her blade and behead him at any moment.

'That she noticed how much you admire the horses, and thanks you for the compliment of your attention.'

Tarma took care to nod graciously at him, and he relaxed visibly. She then turned her attention back to the horses. The corral seemed sizable enough to hold them comfortably; she'd been a little worried about that. Let's see -- pump or well for the watering trough? And where would it be-ah'. She spotted a pump, after a bit of looking. Good. One good thing about so-called civilization: pumps. Think maybe I might see if the Clans would agree to having a couple installed on the artesian wells....

'Stand,' she told Ironheart. The battlemare obediently locked her legs in position; it would take an earthquake to move her now. Tarma unslung the sword from her back and looped the baldric over the pommel of the saddle. 'Guard,' she ordered. That blade was a sweet one, and had been dearly paid for in her own blood; she didn't intend to lose it. Ironheart would see that she didn't.

'You'd better tell your friend to stay clear of 'Heart or he'll lose a hand,' she called to Kethry, then dismounted and vaulted over the fence into the stockade to water her other charges. That bit of bravado cost, too, but it was worth a bit of strain to put on a proper show. Tarma meant to leave these folks with their mouths gaping -- for that meant that the highborns would hear of them that much sooner.

:You're going to hurt in the morning,: Warrl observed. Thus far, the crowd's attention had been so taken up with the horses that they hadn't paid much heed to him. He'd stayed in the shadow of Ironheart, who was so tall that he didn't stand out as the monster he truly was.

And -- she couldn't tell, but he might well be exercising a bit of his own magic to look more like an ordinary herd dog. He'd hinted that he could do just that on the way here. Which was no bad idea.

Tarma felt the strain of the muscles she'd used, and privately agreed with his critical remark about hurting. For every scar she bore on her hide, there was twice the scar tissue under it, where it didn't show -- but it certainly made itself felt. Particularly when she started showing off.

But they were drawing a bigger crowd by the moment; the onlookers murmured as the loose horses crowded around her, shoving their heads under her hands for a scratch, or lipping playfully at her hair. She laughed at them, pushed them out of the way, and got to the pump. As she began to fill the trough, they pushed in to get at the water, and she rebuked them with a single sharp 'Nest' They shied and danced a bit, then behaved themselves.

Tarma had been doing some serious training with them on the trail -- knowing that once they were in Rethwellan she would have to be able to command them by voice, for if they spooked, she, Kethry, and Warrl would not be enough to keep them under control. Her ability to keep them in une seemed to impress their audience no end. She decided to go all out to impress them.

She picked out one of the herd mares she'd been working with far more than the others, and called her. The chestnut mare pricked her ears, and came to the summons eagerly -- she knew what this meant; first a trick from her, and then a treat was in store. Tarma ordered the others out of her way, then raised her hand high over her head. The mare stepped out away from her about fifteen paces, then as Tarma began to turn, followed her turn as