'This lad has a lot to unlearn,' Tarma explained, as Jodi and Beaker replaced Lord Kemoc's two men -- and Warrl rose up out of the shadows beside the stable to approach the horse from the front. Never having seen a kyree, the horse started and tried to shy, all of its attention on the possible threat and none of it on Jodi or Beaker. As Warrl slowly stalked toward the horse, it backed up willingly, and before the gelding knew what was happening, it was between Graceless and Hopeless. Quicker than thought, Jodi and Beaker buckled the gelding into the harness and Beaker took up the reins as Jodi stood aside.
Warrl turned and loped away, out of sight, and the gelding woke to its situation. Predictably, it immediately tried to kick and rear.
Graceless and Hopeless didn't nip and didn't kick -- instead, they leaned. They were heavier than the gelding and a half a hand taller, and as they leaned toward each other, the gelding was held immobile between them. They remained that way until he stopped fighting, then they shifted their weight again, freeing him.
He seemed very surprised and unsure of what to do; Jodi clucked to the two mares, and they moved forward a few steps, bringing the gelding perforce with them. Now he resumed his bad behavior -- and they leaned into him again. A little harder this time, squeezing a bit of breath out of him.
Jodi took the three into the yard and put them through the same paces as before, while Beaker watched. The Valdemarans didn't watch, they stared, with their mouths dropping open.
Tarma took the opportunity to get Lord Kemoc aside. 'What's the hardest case you have?' she asked.
'A gelding that stood at stud for a while, and thinks he's still whole,' Kemoc replied, mopping his brow with a cloth.
'Bring him out,' she told him, and went to get Hellsbane and Ironheart.
The chestnut gelding in question needed four men on him; squealing and sweating, he fought every inch of the way.
'Turn him loose in that yard,' she said, pointing to a smaller, ring-shaped exercise yard. The men looked at her as if she was crazy herself, but did as she asked.
The gelding entered the yard kicking and bucking, and soon had rid himself of every bit of harness except his halter. That was fine with Tarma; she didn't want anything getting in the way. She let him run and buck in circles for a while to wear himself out; when he finally stopped, so drenched with sweat he looked black, she whistled softly to the two warsteeds, and calmly walked into the yard while the stablehands hissed in surprise.
As she had half expected, the gelding charged her; it was a sham charge -- though if she'd turned to run, he'd have chased her right out of the yard. Instead, she stood her ground with the warsteeds on either side of her, and he stopped short, snorting with surprise.
'Now, my lad,' she said calmly to him, 'you've been allowed to get away with a lot of bad habits, and we're going to civilize you.'
He snorted and danced at the sound of an unfamiliar voice, arrogance in every line of him. You can't tame me! his attitude said, as plain as if he could speak. I'm a Stud! I'm a King! I can do anything I want!
Then his attention turned to the warsteeds, and his nostrils flared, taking in their scent. They weren't in season, but that wouldn't matter to a gelding who thought he was still potent. His ears came up, and he arched his neck. Mares! said his body language. Girls of my dreams! Don't I impress you? Aren't I wonderful? I'm a Stud! Come over here, and I'll show you just how Studly I am!
Ironheart yawned, Hellsbane snorted in contempt. Both looked to Tarma.
'He needs taming, ladies,' she told them in Shin-'a'in. 'Go give him his lessons.'
Ironheart shook her head and ambled forward, with Hellsbane half a length behind. Both of them were a full two hands taller than this would-be stud, and correspondingly heavier, but what mattered to the gelding was that they were mares.
He curveted toward Ironheart, dancing sideways, quite clearly intending to mount. But he kept an eye on her teeth, just in case she took a notion to bite him. Much to his shock, she neither bit nor allowed him to mount her; instead, she sidestepped, neatly maneuvering out of his way.
More determined now, he pursued her, which was exactly what she wanted. After a few feints, she had him positioned right where she wanted him -- between herself and Hellsbane.
At that moment, Hellsbane closed in before he could move out of the way, sandwiching him between the two warsteeds as neatly as if he'd been harnessed there.
