Robert Adams - A Cat of Silvery Hue

And when she partook of that Communion Cup, she had known to the innermost fiber of her being that the blood of that pagan child truly had been transmuted into the authentic Blood of Christ, for she could feel that precious holiness spreading out from her vitals, permeating the whole of her being with its blessed goodness. Since that miraculous event, she had never missed any of the necessarily rare and clandestine repetitions; indeed, on one occasion when the blessed Skiros had lacked a Sacrifice, she had contributed little Ehlaina, her pretty blond love girl.

She had hoped to take both the Bastard and his retainer alive so that the personal priest, recently sent her by the Holy Skiros, might offer them as Sacrifice, and all true Christians in her hall, especially her three daughters, might be recipients of that all-encompassing holy goodness. Which was another reason why the defections of her girls had so maddened her. Nor had the defeat of her alternate plan improved her disposition.

Red Death, the blood-bay king stallion of Komees Hari’s herds, had been an object of her hatred since, upon the death of his predecessor—the redoubtable Boar Killer—her husband had bought him back from the barbarian princeling whose warhorse he had been. In the nearly ten years since this dumb, brute animal had been brought from the north, she had watched in sick hatred as the komees evinced more and ever more friendship and respect and, yes, even love for the huge beast. He lavished more devotion on that horse than ever he had on her or their daughters, yet had the temerity to brutally denounce the civilized pleasures she took with her succession of love girls as depraved and unnatural!

Still trembling with rage at the escape of the Bastard, she had called to her Gaios Morguhn—despite his name and un-Ehleen appearance, he was a good and dutiful son of the Holy Church—and ordered him to mindcall Red Death. It would do her heart good to see him, at least, butchered to the Glory of Christ

Knowing the dangers inherent in displeasing the Lady Hehrah, even when she chanced to be in a good mood, Gaios fidgeted uncomfortably and slowly shook his red-blond head. “My … my lady, the … the king stallion will … will only respond to the mindcall of … of Lord Hari.”

Then Gaios was frantically ducking the heavy silver ewer she flung at his head, and when he and three others rode out to rope their quarry, his hair, shirt and trousers were still wet and sticky with the wine that ewer had contained, and his ears still rang with his mistress’ screams and curses. As the four men came near to the farthest pasture, that one most favored by the king stallion, Gaios shuddered involuntarily at | their proximity to the Forest Bridge where so many of his friends were struck down by that hideous axe of the young son of the Morguhn, and the arrows and dripping swords of the other Kindred. And once more he breathed silent thanks to his god that, since his mount had thrown a shoe while they pursued Lord Bili along the forest road, he had not been called upon to take part in the subsequent battle-actually, subsequent debacle, he was sufficiently honest to admit to himself, since those three Kindred nobles had easily beat more than seven times their number to a virtual standstill even before the arrival of the rescue party.

The big old warhorse raised his large, shapely head at their approach, then trotted out to meet them, weaving a way among his grazing mares, while a number of his frisky get gamboled around him. His keen ears had registered the un-forgotten sound of clashing arms from the faraway hall, and he had been expecting the mindcall of his brother, Hari, at any moment. Now came four of his loved brother’s servants, two bearing strung bows. So strong was his anticipatory shudder that he almost stumbled; it would be good to fight again.

“Greet the Sun, Lord Red Death,” Gaios mindspoke.

The stallion halted a few yards from the riders, his head nodding. “Greet the Sun, Gaios, two-leg of my brother. There has been fighting at the hall.” It was a statement, not a question.

Successful lying in mindspeak is difficult and requires long practice. Gaios lacked that practice and knew it. “Yessss,” he agreed, trying to becloud his motives and intentions long enough to get a couple of ropes on this potentially dangerous animal.

Toeing his mount closer to Red Death, he added, “Unexpected events have occurred at the hall, Lord Red Death. Your brother would have you there, near to him.”

“Then why has my brother not mindcalled me, two-leg?” demanded the horse.

Gaios squirmed in his saddle, wishing that Ohros would hurry and signal that he was in position to cast his rope, ere the stallion became suspicious.

But Red Death was already suspicious. He had never liked Gaios, had tolerated him only to please his brother, and he trusted no two-leg whose mind he could not reach, like these other three two-legs. Nor was he so dense as not to be fully aware that Gaios and another were slyly moving within range of the rawhide ropes coiled on their pommels. Nor had his alert eyes missed the fact that the right hands of the other two were hovering near their arrowcases. Also, there was the stink of fear on these two-legs.

Snorting, he mindcalled the danger signal to the small herd behind him and did not need to look to see them abruptly break off their tranquil grazing, bunch together while mares summoned their ranging progeny, and lope off out of bowshot even as a couple of younger stallions moved forward to add their teeth and hooves in combating the danger, whatever it was.

Observing the oncoming pair of almost mature stallions, heads held low and ears laid back, menace in every line of their bodies, Gaios’ partner panicked and cast his rope too soon. The king stallion saw the loop snaking through the air and danced lightly aside, tossing his head on his scarred, muscular neck. The outer edge of the rope struck his crest, slithered down to his withers. At its hateful touch, he screamed his battlecry, half-reared and pivoted in the direction of the two-leg who had so insulted him.

Frantically, Ohros was reining his mare about as soon aa he saw his rope fail to snare, alternately sputtering prayers and screaming at Danos and Roopos to arrow Red Death.

As for Danos, he had indeed attempted to loose a war arrow at the fearsome horse, only to have his bowstring snap near th£ hornbow’s upper nock. Whereupon he had backed his mount, reined about and spurred toward the safety of the road, not being of a suicidal nature. From that road, he heard the shouts and shrieks of men and the furious screaming of the king stallion and his two sons, while he hurriedly fitted another bowstring. Then he waited, freshly strung bow held on thigh, arrow nocked.

But man shrieks ceased, as did the battlecries of the embattled horses. Then Gaios’ dun gelding came limping over the crest of the grassy knoll, his eyes rolling whitely, his off fore-quarter streaked with red blood from the great tooth gash in his withers. Of the two mares, Ohros’ and Roopos’ mounts, there was no sign, and Danes’ repeated shouts evoked no human answer, only the faraway challenge of a stallion.

As soon as he had firmly relatched the high gate and gathered up the trailing reins of the dun, he cased his bow and rode for the hall as fast as the battered gelding could travel.

So, for the Lady Hehrah, there had been nothing for it save to order that a child be seized from the nearby village. But all of her people seemed suitably impressed with their introduction into the Deeper Mysteries, and, from the moment she again partook of the Blood, she felt much relieved … almost at peace.

With the reclamation of Thoheeks Bill’s deserted capital city, Milo had had Aldora lead her five thousand cavalrymen there, partially because it was more centrally located than was Morguhn Hall, partially to remove the passionate and possessive woman from proximity to the convalescent Vahrohneeskos Ahndros—who, until his return to the Duchy of Morguhn, had been the dearly beloved lover of the High Lady Aldora Linszee Treeah-Pohtohmahs Pahpahs.