Fiddler Fair (anthology)

Until Bakro roused her from her stupor with his own insistent thought.

I have found the mind-sick weed, drabarni, and something else as well. She still felt dazed and confused. What she replied, raising her head from her knees. And found herself looking into a pair of large, golden eyes.

Kevin had expected that the Horseclan folk would find them, eventually. What he had not expected was that they would be kind to him and his family.

He had a moment of dazed recognition of what and who it was that was approaching them across the waving grass. He pushed himself away from the pony, prepared to die defending his loved ones—

And fell over on his face in a dead faint.

When he woke again he was lying on something soft, staring up at blue sky, and there were two attentive striplings carefully binding up his head. When they saw he was awake, one of them frowned in concentration, and a Horseclan warrior strolled up in the next moment.

“You’re damn lucky we found you,” he said, speaking slowly so that Kevin could understand him. He spoke Merikan, but with an odd accent, the words slurring and blurring together. “Your mate was about t’ fall on her nose, and your little one had heat-sick. Not to mention the shape you were in.”

Kevin started to open his mouth, but the man shook his head. “Don’t bother; what the pony didn’t tell us, your mate did.” His face darkened with ­anger. “I knew Dirtmen were rotten—but this! Only one thing she didn’t know—there were two of ours with the traders—”

The nightmare confrontation with Howard popped into Kevin’s mind, and he felt himself blanch, fearing that this friendly barbarian would slit his throat the moment he knew the truth.

But the moment the memory surfaced, the man went absolutely rigid; then leapt to his feet, shouting. The camp boiled up like a nest of angry wasps—Kevin tried to rise as his two attendants sprang to their feet.

Only to pass into oblivion again.

Chali stared into the eyes of the great cat, mesmerized.

My brother is within those walls, the cat said to her, And I am hurt. You must help us. True, the cat was hurt; a long cut along one shoulder, more on her flanks.

Chali felt anger stirring within her at the cat’s imperious tone. Why should I help you? she replied. Your quarrel is nothing to me!

The cat licked her injured shoulder a moment, then caught her gaze again. We have the same enemy, she said shortly.

Chali pondered that for a moment. And the ­enemy of my enemy—is my friend?

The cat looked at her with approval. That, she said, purring despite the pain of her wounds, is wisdom.

Daiv had just about decided that the mind-call he’d caught had been a hallucination born of pain, when the stranger touched him again.

He snatched at the tentatively proffered thought-thread with near-desperation. Who are you? he gasped. Please—

 Gently, brother— came a weaker mind-voice, joining the first. And that was one he knew!

Brighttooth!

The same. Her voice strengthened now, and carried an odd other-flavor with it, as if the first was somehow supporting her. How is it with you?

He steadied himself, willing his heart to stop pounding. Not good. They’ve put chains on my arms and legs; my right arm’s broken, I think—where are you? Who’s with you?

A friend. Two friends. We are going to try and free you. No-Voice says that she is picking up the thoughts of those Dirteaters regarding you, and they are not pleasant.

He shuddered. He’d had a taste of those thoughts himself, and he rather thought he’d prefer being sent to the Wind.

We are going to free you, my brother, Brighttooth continued. I cannot tell you how, for certain—but it will be soon; probably tonight. Be ready.

It was well past dark. Chali, aided by Bakro, reached for the mind of Yula, the cleverest mare of the Rom herd. Within a few moments she had a good idea of the general lay of things inside the stockaded village, at least within the mare’s line-of-sight—and she knew exactly where the Horseclans boy was being kept. They’d put him in an unused grain pit a few feet from the corral where the horses had been put. Yula told Chali that they had all been staying very docile, hoping to put their captors off their guard. Well done! Chali applauded. Now, are you ready for freedom? More than ready, came the reply. Do we free the boy as well? There was a definite overtone to the mare’s mind-voice that hinted at rebellion if Chali answered in the ­negative.

Soft heart for hurt colts, hmm, elder sister? Na, we free him. How is your gate fastened? Contempt was plain. One single loop of rawhide!Fools! It is not even a challenqe!

Then here is the plan. . . .

About an hour after full dark, when the nervous guards had begun settling down, the mare ambled up to the villager who’d been set to guard the grain pit.

“Hey old girl,” he said, surprised at the pale shape looming up out of the darkness, like a ghost in the moonlight. “How in hell did you get. . . . ”