Oathblood

Right, girl. Remember your lessons. The filly's saying, 'I don't want to run in a circle, I'd like to stop. Can't we eat together and be herdmates?' Don't wait for a second invitation.

Jadrie coiled up the rope and let the filly slow and stop, then walked toward her. The filly started to take a single nervous step away, but before she could, Jadrie looked away from her, then turned away, making chirruping sounds.

Good, good. You're doing everything just right. Keep her soothed, look at her, but not directly. Invite her into your herd.

The filly stepped tentatively toward the little girl, then stopped again. Once again, Jadrie faced her, then turned away, looking back at the filly briefly over her shoulder out of the corner of her eye. This time the filly approached further, one slow step at a time, until she stopped, not quite coming as far as Jadrie's shoulder.

'Good girl!' Jadrie crooned. 'That's right, pretty girl! Come on, then-'

Still murmuring, Jadrie walked slowly away. After a moment of hesitation, the filly followed.

Tarma grinned. Jadrie was going to be the envy of her siblings this summer; there was no doubt that she'd mastered all of Tarma's coaching in horse-talk. The Shin'a'in didn't break horses, they spoke to them, working with their own body language and instincts to convince them that their would-be riders weren't two-legged, horse-eating predators, but were potential partners. With nothing more than hands, mind, voice, a blanket, and a soft rope, any Shin'a'in over the age of ten could have even the wildest horse carrying him willingly in less time than it took to bake a loaf of bread. And since Kethry's children -- or, more properly, those who chose the life -- were to become Shin'a'in in everything but looks, they were going to have to learn horse-talking.

Unless she changed her mind drastically when she grew older, Jadrie would be the first of the renewed Clan of Tale'sedrin. Right now, Jadrie wanted nothing more than to live her life on the Plains; in fact, this last year she'd spent her first autumn fostered with a family of Clan Liha'irden before returning to Kethry's Keep with the first snow, and had gloried in every moment. This little test only proved that she had everything in her to prove to the satisfaction of even the sternest of Clan Chiefs and Shamans that she had the true spirit of a Shin'a'in.

In short order, Jadrie's filly had accepted the rope around her neck, then the blanket on her back, then Jadrie herself on the filly's back with nothing to 'control' her but a crude halter made of the rope. As the little girl trotted the filly gleefully around the ring, blonde tail bouncing with the movement of the horse, Tarma turned her attention to the servant.

The man was watching Jadrie with his mouth hanging open and his eyes wide with shock. Tarma snapped her fingers at him to break him out of his trance. 'Well?' she said, a little impatient. 'What was so important that you had to come down here to interrupt a lesson?'

He stared at Tarma and gulped. 'What sorta witchcraft be that?' he asked.

'None whatsoever,' she countered. 'It's nothing more complicated than paying attention.' But she really didn't expect the man to believe her, and it was clear that he didn't. The servants that had come with this place were a mixed bag of good and bad, and the bad tended to be ignorant, superstitious, and foolish rather than of ill-intent. Jadrek was gradually replacing the bad ones, but it was slow going. 'So?' she repeated. 'What sent you down here?'

'There's a man t'see you, m'lady,' the fellow said diffidently. 'From King Stefarisen. He's with Lady Kethry.'

From Stef? Huh. She made a shooing motion with her hand. 'Well, get back up to the house and tell them I'll be there as quickly as I can.'

She pointedly turned her attention back to Jadrie; the servant waited a moment longer, but when it was obvious that she wasn't going to say anything more, he took himself and his message out.

Tarma sighed; the fellow was one of the ones due for replacement, and obviously Jadrek hadn't found anyone with his skills and good common sense. It took a certain sturdiness of character combined with a stolid acceptance of anything that came along to work out as a servant at the Keep. As a consequence, they always seemed to be a little shorthanded.

Can't really blame people for getting spooked around here, Tarma reminded herself. If it isn't the barbarian, raw-meat-eating Shin'a'in leading her pack of male and female hooligans in mock wars, it's Lady Kethry's mage-students blowing up storms or setting things afire or conjuring up weird beasts out of the Pelagirs. And if it isn't either of those things, it's Lady Kethry's own brood wreaking some hellishness or other!

There'd be more mischief, that was sure, now that Jadrie had her very own, grown-up horse. The others would be all over themselves coming up with some prank to counter her new-won glory. Tarma expected to hear tales of woe from the village any day now, of sheep turned interesting colors, or puppies trained to herd chickens, or some strange contrivance powered by a kidnapped and irritated billy goat positioned at the well, a contraption designed to bring up water with no effort. And whatever it was that had happened would all be well-intentioned, meant to help, but the end result would be to scare the whey out of the long-suffering villagers.

Eventually, she supposed, they'd get used to it. But the youngsters had only been at this 'helpful' stage for a couple of years, and it would probably take a couple more before that happened.

Jadrie, at least, would be well-occupied for the spring, and the first day of summer would be the signal for