Wind Rider's Oath

snow in summer when she and Garlahna arrived almost twenty minutes late for her shift in the kitchen. The excuse that Lanitha had kept her longer than anticipated had done remarkably little to placate the head cook's ire, and neither had the fact that Leeana had effectively no kitchen skills at all. It wasn't exactly Leeana's fault, but she hadn't felt like explaining that she hadn't acquired those skills because her parents had employed others to perform those menial tasks. Partly because she'd had a shrewd suspicion that the cook would not have responded well to the suggestion that her own skills were 'menial' ones. But even more because Leeana had agreed that it was time she acquired them.

That willingness to dig right in-enthusiastically, however ineptly-had turned the trick. She'd wondered if perhaps part of the cook's prickliness had resulted from an expectation that someone who'd been so nobly born would have dismissed her assigned duties as beneath her. It had seemed as if some of the other war maids assigned to Leeana's work crew had cherished some of the same suspicions, but if they had, their reservations had thawed quickly as her willingness sank in. She'd been restricted by her ignorance to more or less unskilled labor, but most of her fellow workers had paused in passing at least once to drop some little hint or encouragement upon her.

That had helped, but by the time supper was finished, the tables were cleared and scrubbed, the pots and pans and dishes were washed, and the cooking utensils had been laid out in preparation for the breakfast crews, she'd been literally stumbling with exhaustion.

She'd thought her ride from Balthar to Kalatha had been exhausting, and no doubt it had been. But the fatigue she'd felt then, even after that first hideous, sleepless night in the rain, was as nothing compared to what she felt now. She knew with absolute certainty that she had never been this tired in her entire life.

She staggered out of the mess hall towards the dormitory, then shambled to a halt as she realized someone was standing in front of her. It took her a moment or two to focus, then she straightened her aching back as she recognized Mayor Yalith by the light of the lanterns above the mess hall entrance.

'I won't keep you long, Leeana,' the mayor said. She smiled, and her voice was gently compassionate and understanding. 'I know all you really want to do at this moment is to go fall on your nose and stay there for as long as we'll let you. It may be cold comfort, but just about every war maid has been where you are right now, and most of us survived the experience.

'I just wanted to tell you three things before you go collapse.

'First, I feel confident that you're convinced you were an absolute and utter failure when Erlis and Ravlahn examined you today. Well, you weren't.' Leeana blinked in fatigue-foggy disbelief, and Yalith smiled again. 'Oh, I won't say you thrilled them with your incredible prowess. But given your complete lack of training, you actually performed quite well. And both Erlis and Ravlahn feel you have considerable native ability, which they confidently expect to be able to nurture.

'Second, Lanitha was very impressed by both your native intelligence and the education you've already received. There are several places where you can probably still use a little polishing, but for the most part, you're already as well qualified-from the perspective of your knowledge, at least-to teach as any of our present teachers. Do try not to let that go to your head, dear,' the mayor added with a small chuckle.

'And, third,' she said after a moment, in a noticeably different voice, 'something happened yesterday which, to the best of my knowledge, has never happened before. Baron Tellian-' even now she did not permit herself the words 'your father,' and Leeana's eyes fell as she felt a pang of pain '- left something for you.'

Leeana looked back up into the mayor's face.

'He left you the title to your horse, Leeana,' Yalith said quietly.

Leeana blinked, unable to understand for a moment, but then her heart leapt and incredulous joy blossomed across her exhausted face.

'It's a princely gift,' the mayor continued. 'To be perfectly honest, I was tempted to refuse it, because no one else in Kalatha has ever so much as ridden a horse half, or even a quarter, as good as that one, much less owned one. There's an enormous amount of room for potential resentment in the gift he chose to bestow upon you, Leeana. I want you to be aware of that. But I didn't refuse it in the end for two reasons. First, and I'd like to think most important, was the fact that I had no legal right to refuse it in someone else's name, and I wasn't prepared to violate the law. But, second, was the fact that Dame Kaeritha argued very strongly on your behalf. It speaks well of anyone that a champion of Tomanak should speak so forcefully on her behalf, and I think I've seen enough of Dame Kaeritha by now to know that however much she might like you, she would never have argued your case so vehemently if she hadn't believed you truly deserved it.'

'Oh, thank you-thank you, Mayor Yalith!' Leeana whispered, tears spangling her vision.

'I didn't do anything,' Yalith replied. 'And don't think that this won't make problems of its own for you, even if-as I don't expect for a moment-you should be so fortunate as to find that no one else in Kalatha resents your good luck. Baron Tellian left sufficient funds, also as a gift for you, to pay for your horse's feed for at least several months. He did not-at Dame Kaeritha's urging, I might add-leave funds to pay its stable fees. You will have to come up with some way to cover those expenses yourself.'

Leeana looked at her, and Yalith shrugged.

'Dame Kaeritha was there when I worried aloud about possible resentment. She said, and I think she was right, that if you have to work harder and longer than anyone else in Kalatha to keep him, it should go a long way towards defusing the inevitable resentment. And I imagine it will also make you appreciate the Baron's gift even more.'

She paused, her gaze level as she looked into Leeana's face.

'Do you understand all of that, Leeana?'

'Yes, Mayor Yalith. I understand,' the exhausted young woman replied, jade-green eyes still glistening with tears of joy.

'I believe you do,' the mayor said, and nodded in dismissal. She turned away herself, then paused and looked back over her shoulder.

'You know,' she observed, 'I'm not sure that it's one I'd like to have received myself, but you could look upon Dame Kaeritha's insistence that you earn your horse's stabling fees as a rather profound sort of compliment, Leeana.'

Leeana blinked at her, and Yalith chuckled.

'Of course it is! She wouldn't have wanted you to have the horse in the first place if she hadn't felt you deserved it . . . and she obviously has immense faith in you. She must! If she didn't, she never would have wished that much extra exhaustion off on you.'

She smiled.

'Goodnight, Leeana. Get some sleep . . . you'll need it.'

Chapter Twenty-Five

It was a strange fog.

It hung like a heavy, motionless curtain over the shallow valley between two isolated hills, frozen in place, yet with an odd, internal swirling movement. Although the spring night was cool, the fog was chill as ice and thick as death, and it ignored the stiff breeze that whispered across the endless miles of grass, as if no mere wind could touch it.

There was no moon, and jewellike stars glittered and gleamed in a velvet sky clearer than crystal. Yet for all their beauty, their light seemed to sink into the fog, absorbed and deadened . . . devoured.

The night sounds of the Wind Plain-the sighing song of wind, the counterpointing songs and hums of insects, the distant noise of a small stream chuckling to itself in the dark, the shrill squeaks of bats, and the occasional cry of some nocturnal bird-flowed over the grasslands. But all stopped short at the edge of the fog. None penetrated it, or crossed the unnatural barrier it erected.

Then new sounds added themselves. Not loud ones. Hoofs thudding into the soft earth made little more noise than the creak of saddle leather, or the jingle of a bridle. A single rider came cantering out of the night, straight