Before he knew it, Khollo was asleep and snoring peacefully.
When he woke, it was to gray morning light filtering through the one small window his room possessed. Khollo stirred sleepily, then realized the significance of the light and leapt out of bed, throwing the blankets aside. His bare feet hit the cold stone floor and he shivered.
I slept through the night! He realized immediately. Damn these comfortable beds! This never would have happened if I was still in the barracks or even in the smithy.
Still grumbling to himself about oversleeping, Khollo rummaged in the drawers for clean clothes. He had just finished dressing when Janis entered, after the most perfunctory of knocks.
“The rest of the West Bank has been notified,” he announced by way of greeting.
“And is there mass panic?”
Janis laughed. “Not yet. I don’t think it’s really sunk in yet. Give it time.” To Khollo’s ears, it sounded as though Janis very much wanted mass panic.
I suppose it would mean people are taking things seriously, Khollo reflected. Maybe that’s what he’s after.
“What’s on the training schedule this morning?” Khollo asked, pulling on his boots.
“Horsemanship,” Janis replied promptly. “Ondus will be working with you today. I tend to have an unsettling effect on horses, Gray Wind excepted of course.”
Gray Wind, Khollo knew, was the name of Janis’ horse, a massive, ill-tempered gray stallion. Khollo sensed that the only reason Janis did not unsettle Gray Wind was because the horse was too sturdy and mean to be unsettled or even remotely bothered by anything.
“He’s already at the stables,” Janis continued, “Trying to find a suitable mount for you. Not much selection though. Have you ridden before?”
Khollo shrugged. “Only a little. If we’d stayed at the Academy, I would have started riding this year.”
Janis nodded. “Yes, I suppose you would have. Personally, I’m glad we’re away from the Academy and all its rules and protocols.” He said protocols as though it were a disgusting word. Which, to his mind, it probably was.
“What will you be doing?” Khollo wondered aloud, glancing curiously at his master.
“Assessing how much damage that idiot Wilkes did in my absence,” Janis growled. “I found out yesterday that he’s shifted the roles of all the guardsmen and moved servants and staff around the keep to places they’re not suited to.”
“Why the blazes would he do that?” Khollo muttered.
“Ignorance,” Janis replied as he headed for the door. “Stupidity. Incompetence.”
“They all mean the same thing,” Khollo pointed out.
“Take your pick then,” Janis replied. “Meet me in the council chamber for lunch. Bring Ondus too. No sense in being bothered by idiotic questions about the vertaga while we’re trying to eat.”
Khollo gave Janis a good head start, then started off down the stairs to find Ondus. He skipped breakfast, reasoning that he was late enough as it was, and hurried through a light snowfall to the stables.
The stables were warm, but not warm enough, in Khollo’s opinion. A musty smell pervaded everything, a combination of horses and leather and hay and muck. A central aisle ran straight through the middle, all the way back to a wall on which hung all manner of riding equipment that Khollo could not name or understand, only recognize. There were ten individual stalls, five each side of the aisle, each containing a horse. First in line was Gray Wind, easily recognized by his size, his rolling eyes, and his tendency to stamp and snort aggressively. Khollo gave him as wide a berth as the aisle would permit.
Moving further into the stables, Khollo noticed that one horse was already saddled, the one next to Gray Wind. This one was a roan, its glossy coat well brushed. While the roan did not have Gray Wind’s temper, it was nearly as large. The soft, brown eyes surveyed Khollo curiously. The young warrior stepped forward and caressed the muzzle gently.
“Who do you belong to, huh?” he whispered. “What’s your name?”
The roan gave a gentle snort and nudged Khollo’s hand for another rub. Khollo obliged, grinning.
“Her name’s Fanne,” a voice said behind Khollo.
Khollo spun around, dropping to a crouch instinctively, but there was no one there. Then he noticed the horse across the aisle appeared to have six legs, two of them human. A moment later, Ondus stepped out from behind the horse, a chestnut that was much smaller than Gray Wind and Fanne. In fact, Gray Wind might have made two of the sturdy little beast.
“Is Fanne yours?” Khollo asked curiously.
Ondus’ expression softened. “Aye,” he said, crossing to Fanne’s stall and opening the gate, rubbing her muscled neck. “A fine horse. Smart, fast, and tough. Saved my life against those vertaga I reckon.” His expression clouded for a moment. Then, he turned away.
“Right, you need your own horse if you’re going to be of any use as a scout. Can’t send you out on foot. It’d take too long, and you’d never make it back like as not.”
Khollo looked around the stable. “I don’t know anything about horses,” he admitted.
“Never learned to ride?”
“I can ride,” Khollo said quickly. “A little. But I don’t know how to saddle them or clean ‘em or anything.”
“Well, you’ll just have to learn on the job,” Ondus decided. “Fortunately, Arle here is pretty forgiving.” He slapped the chestnut affectionately.
“Arle?” Khollo asked. The name was a little exotic for his tastes.
“It’s from the old language of the South, what used to be the Orell Kingdom,” Ondus explained. “Lot of people around here are descended from them. Good horsemen they were. Took a long time for the Sthan to bring them down.”
Khollo moved towards Arle tentatively. Arle stood rock-steady, watching him with intelligent eyes. Khollo stroked the horse’s muzzle gently and Arle flicked her tail, then nudged Khollo’s hand in reply.
“See, no problem!” Ondus observed. “She likes
