The Price Of Command

He leapt aside at the last possible moment; saw the flash of a tusk as it made a strike for him. Then he leapt back before it had a chance to change direction, jabbing down at the heart with his boar-spear, knocked off balance for a moment, as Faram ran in from the side a heartbeat later to plunge his own spear into the boar’s back.

It shrieked in pain and anger, and struggled forward, tearing up the soft earth in deep furrows with its cloven hooves. But the two of them had it pinned between them; another moment, and its legs collapsed from under it, and it died, as one spear or both found the heart.

He started to look up, a grin of congratulation spreading across his face, when a human scream rang across the clearing, cutting across the cheer started by the huntsmen.

Movement and a flash of red caught his eyes—One huntsman was down, his leg savaged, and standing above him, with her tushes dripping red, was a sow—a wild sow, as big as the boar they’d just brought down. My gods. It had a mate....

She squealed once, trampled the huntsman, and then whirled to face them all. And the first thing she saw was Faram. She squealed again with rage, and charged. Daren tugged futilely at his spear, but it was stuck fast in the boar, lodged as it was intended to do, and wouldn’t come free. Faram was on his knees, and struggling to get up, but it was obvious he was never going to get out of the way in time.

Suddenly, there was a blur of gray, flying between the King and the charging sow.

The pig screamed, and turned aside; whirled and charged this new target, her eye streaming blood. The gray warsteed pivoted on a single hoof, and lashed out with her hind feet, sending the sow flying through the air. Two flashes of metal followed it, and the sow hit the ground and lay there, thrashing, two of Kero’s lances sticking out of its sides.

The mare whirled again, but on seeing that the “enemy” was no longer a threat, snorted once and tossed her head. Kero dismounted, walked cautiously toward the convulsing beast with her knife in her hand, then dived in and slit the sow’s throat with one perfectly timed stroke.

The beast shuddered and died. Kero rose from the carcass, and wiped her knife carefully on the sow’s hide. Only then did she look over to where Daren and his brother were sprawled beside the body of the boar.

“Survival, my lord,” she said mildly, “has taught me to always leave a mobile scout to the rear.”

Then she walked over to her mare, and mounted, leaving the huntsmen to deal with the carcass.

Twenty

Kero sipped at her watered wine, turned to the woman at her said, and said, “Honestly, it was mostly Hellsbane. I’ve never hunted boar before, and I didn’t know what to expect. That was why I stayed mounted.”

Lady ’Delia nodded. “A good horse is worth twenty armsmen, or so it seems to me. I’ve never seen a horse quite as well trained as yours, though. She follows and obeys you more like a dog than a horse.”

“So I’ve noticed,” Kero told her, without elaborating. Let her wonder. She seems nice enough, but the less people know about warsteeds, the better off I’ll be. Whether people overestimate or underestimate Hellsbane, I win.

“She’s really the second horse of her line that I’ve had from the cousins,” she continued, which allowed Lady ’Delia to elaborate on her own horses’ lines, and ask which of the King’s Shin’a’in-bloods it would be best to breed her hunters to.

Kero answered with only half of her mind occupied by the conversation; the rest monitored the feast and the peoples’ reactions to her, a response as automatic as breathing. She couldn’t help but contrast the reaction of the Rethwellan Court to that of her brother’s. Despite the similarity of the circumstances—that she had personally rescued both Dierna and King Faram—in her brother’s home she had honor without admiration. Here she had both; an embarrassment of admiration, in fact. Some of the young ladies of the Court, those in the hero-worshipping early teens, had even taken to dressing like her. Predictably, Daren found this very funny.

But better that than fear; she was as much feared as admired by many of the Court. King Faram’s people had seen her in action and knew what she could do, now, where her brother’s people saw her successes as being mostly luck.

On the other hand, fear didn’t bother her as much as it used to. I guess I’ve gotten thicker- skinned. As long as the babies don’t run screaming from me, I think I can handle a little fear.

King Faram impressed her as much as she had evidently impressed him. I can see why Daren loves his brother, she thought, watching the relaxed and easy manner they had between them, sharing jokes or admiring a particularly toothsome lady. It would have been very easy for Faram to resent what I did for him, but there’s absolutely no sign of any such thing.

In fact, he had ordered the sow’s head prepared and served alongside the boar’s head, and presented to her with a full retelling of the story. The Court Bard was a good one; with very little warning he’d done the tale up with bangles and bells, making her sigh, and wonder if this song was going to make the rounds the way “Kerowyn’s Ride” had. He had promised her a boon when the song was over; right now she had no idea what she’d ask for, but something like that was worth taking time to think about.

The feast was a bit more than she was comfortable with, anyway. Her people ate well, but nothing like this.