with their war chests depleted, we'll take to raiding their coasts and plundering their towns at our leisure. Won't we, boy?'
Another slap on the rump, another burst of laughter: Weasel.
'You two take the other horses back. Put them in the palace stable.'
'Not in your personal stable, sir?'
'Don't be absurd. All these animals are the property of His Majesty. Now, do as I tell you. I'll take this one to the palace myself.'
'Yes, sir.'
The first two left. The one remaining stroked his neck lovingly.
'Yes, you'll stay in the royal stables, but you're mine. I'll ride you down the main street of Mykos. You'll have new armor, burnished like the sun, and a new war mantle. No dragging chariots for you, my fine fellow. I'll be sitting on you when we watch them lop off old Anthaemion's head.'
He was led away.
Yeah, right. You don't know it, pal, but you are going to get yours. Tonight.
The stables smelled bad but he didn't mind so much. The hay was good, what little there was of it. At midday, oats was served. It was tasty. But as the day wore on, the stable hands seemed to slack off. They missed the evening feed altogether. They were falling-down drunk by then.
There was much jubilation in the city. Voices were raised in triumphant shouts. He heard singing, much singing, heard crowds move about. He saw women run by; then, men running after them with hungry smiles on their faces.
Night fell, and the celebration went on. The citadel rang with laughter and song. A thousand lamps blazed up on the acropolis, where choruses sang hymns of thanks to the gods. Elsewhere there was feasting and drinking. Much drinking. Bonfires lit up the night.
There was a bay roan filly at the other end of the stable. She smelled good to him and he wanted to get to know her. But there was work to do. Later. Later that night. Besides, he must remember who he was and what he was.
The dead of night arrived. The city was quiet. Voices had stilled and the fires were embers now and all the lamps had gone out on the acropolis.
A dog barked, far away. A wind had come up, sounding over the unmanned walls of the citadel. Most of the lookouts had drunk themselves into a stupor. Most of the city's soldiery were sprawled in their wives' or lovers' beds, or in the stables, or in the gutter.
It was time to remember that he was not what he seemed to be, though it was a very difficult thing to accept. It seemed that he had always been like this. This was a natural state of being for him. There were no concerns, there was no worrying. It was easy to be this way. He rather liked it.
But he knew, he knew. He was not a horse. He was a man. And it was time to stop being a horse. To do that, he had only to want to be a man again.
Did he want to be a man again? Yes. So…
Now.
He was down on his hands and knees in the stall, naked. The floor reeked of dung.
'Yuck.'
He got up, bent to gather straw, and cleaned himself. Then he looked about. No one. Nothing was stirring. He wondered where Telamon was, and if his magical transformation had reversed yet.
He moved cautiously out of the stall, unlatching the gate carefully. He looked up and down the mews. It was dark and he heard not a sound.
He walked from stall to stall, searching for white stallions. He saw horses, but none white.
He came to a seemingly empty stall and looked in.
His servant Strephon rose from a crouch out of the darkness.
'It is I, master.'
'Where's Telamon?'
'I saw him. He is looking for you.'
'Go find him, bring him here.'
'Yes, master.'
Strephon walked off into the darkness of the stable. Very soon he returned with two men. Trent smiled at Telamon and his servant Ion.
Trent asked, 'Where are the other two?'
'Still in their stalls, waiting.'
'Send Ion to get them. They've reverted, haven't they?'
'Yes. I think we all reverted on schedule. You are a brilliant sorcerer, my friend. I really, truly was a horse. I saw the world as a horse sees it. It was… strange. Yet absolutely marvelous.'
Trent nodding, smiling. 'It is an amazing experience. You get the idea that it might be better to be an animal rather than a human.'
'Yes. Remarkable. Go, Ion. Fetch the others.' Ion stole away into the gloom.
'What now?' Telamon said. 'Can we find weapons?'
'Easily, though we mustn't be seen by anyone who is still awake. I saw enough passed-out troopers out in the mews to accommodate us all. We strip them and take their weapons. And then move down the hill, quietly, quickly, and take the north tower. From the sound of things out there, I'd be surprised if we found one sober Troadean.'
'I also heard a lot of commotion earlier. Drunken revelry.'
'After two years of hard siege, for it suddenly to be lifted would give one cause to celebrate.'
'Indeed,' Telamon said.
'But we have to move silently and quickly. Not everyone is unconscious, surely, and there might be one or two guards who take their jobs seriously.'
'Understood. Here are the others. They know what to do.
'Okay.' Trent counted. 'All six accounted for. We pair up and go out and forage, then report back here when we have weapons. Clothes are optional. We don't really need them to do our work. If the man you're rolling shows any sign of coming to, kill him quickly and silently. Understood?'
'Understood.'
'Above all, make no noise.'
'Also understood.'
'Telamon, you take Ion. I'll take Strephon. You and you are a team. Okay, is everybody ready?'
Nods.
'Right,' Trent said. 'Telly, you first. I'll wait sixty beats of the heart before I send the next team out. Okay, go!'
Ion and Telamon left.
'Strangest thing, I was beginning to feel like Mr. Ed, there, for a while.'
'Master?'
'Never mind.'
The streets were dark and quiet. The wind had grown gusty, its dull roar making it all the more easy to make their way through the city with complete stealth. Following twisted streets, they came down from the acropolis with its grand palace and its temples, into the city proper.
Silence ruled. Windows were dark. Not even an alley cat made an appearance to mark their passing until they got to the poorer sections of town. They heard voices and dispersed into the shadows.
Two drunken soldiers were escorting a drunken woman between them. The three weaved down the street and negotiated the next corner.
Trent watched them. The woman shrieked once, far off. Whether a belly laugh or a cry of dismay, he couldn't tell. It became quiet again. Trent signaled Telamon, and the commando team resumed their mission.
Troas was small, no more than five hundred yards in circumference. A legend even in its own time, it was nonetheless little more than a fortress. They reached the north circuit of the outer wall in short order.
Trent surveyed the battlement from the shadows. Nothing seemed to be stirring above. If lookouts had been
