Andre Norton - Gryphon's Eyrie

“I like well your people, Obred,” I said frankly, reflecting inwardly that never had I felt so at ease in the presence of so many of my own kind before.

“And I, too,” echoed Joisan. “In all our long travels, seldom have we been so welcomed.”

“A small return, surely, for the saving of Briata. Lero and Vala brought mare and foals in some hours ago, having started with the dawn. Already the fillies are running, trying to play with each other. A fine pair they’ll be to train!”

“And Briata?” I asked.

“Standing by with great forbearance, especially when both decide they are hungry at the same moment. You should see her expression.”

We laughed.

After crossing the camp, Obred gestured at the horses grazing to our right. “The herd of the Chosen.” Two young boys rode, acting as herd-guards.

Several minutes farther on was another, smaller, herd. “The Unchosen. I had the youngsters cull out the yearlings and two-year-olds, as well as the breeding mares dose to foaling. Now you must see which of our trained mounts shall Choose you, to be yours for the journey.”

I looked at the score or so animals, all of different colors, but bearing clearly the Kioga stamp of breeding—small heads; strong, short backs; sloping croups; and deep chests. “How do I Choose?”

“You do not. The horse will Choose you. Can you whistle?”

“Yes.”

“Then do so. The first animal to come toward you will mean you have been Chosen by that one.”

Thinking back to my scouting days with the army, I put my fingers to my lips, trilling the early morning call of a hedge-grouse—our signal for re-forming after a dawn reconnaissance.

Several animals looked up, but only one took several steps in my direction. Nor did she turn away as I approached to lay hand upon her shoulder, but stood quiet, flicking her ears far forward, regarding me with calm interest.

A good-sized mare, fifteen and a half hands, I judged, her coat a dark bay dotted about the flanks and haunches with white spots near the size of my palm. A wide strip of (lie same color traced her forehead, and her two forelegs bore stockings to the knee.

“Easy, easy,” I said, gentling her as Obred and Joisan joined us. “I gather I have been Chosen?”

“Aye. She is one of Jonka’s breeding and training, is Nekia. Her name means ‘night-eyes’ in our tongue. She is keen-eyed at all times, but unusually so in the dark.”

I stroked the mare’s strong, arched neck. “Well, Nekia, shall we company together?”

She bobbed her head down, seemingly in acquiescence, then nudged me so strongly that I staggered, chuckling. I have seldom seen such impatience!”

Obred smiled broadly beneath his mustache. “A good beginning, Lord. Will you mount?”

“But I have no saddle, no bridle for control—

“Our horses are trained to the knee and weight, Kerovan. Many times I’ve ridden the whole day with my reins lying loose on my mount’s neck, and never had to pick them up.”

Cautiously I placed my hands testingly on Nekia’s neck and back, then, when she remained quiet, vaulted up. It felt exceedingly strange to ride with no visible control, and when the mare moved out at the squeeze of my calf muscles, I needs must steady myself for a moment. But she slowed obediently when I tightened my knees, shifting my weight backward. By the time we reached the camp again I was marveling anew at the Kioga skill in training horses.

Still, it was with some relief that I found a light saddle and braided hackamore in Jonka’s arms as she came forward to bid us farewell. While I made fast girths and adjusted stirrups, the remainder of the scouting party gathered. Looking around, I counted five other men, including Obred, four youths, and seven girls of varying ages. (Used to the keep-sheltered women of High Hallack, who were generally allowed only the gentlest of palfreys for mounts, I eyed these last with some surprise, only to realize before many minutes were past that they numbered among the boldest and best riders.)

Some of the party led extra mounts carrying light packs. “For hunting,” Obred explained at my question. “On our return, we will stop to hunt if the sign is good, and we can be certain of reaching camp with fresh game.”

His remark and the amount of supplies allotted each member made me realize this was no one- or two-day reconnoiter. This party was setting out for a journey of many days.

I glanced at Joisan as I guessed this, wishing mightily that I was not going. Last night had gone far toward healing the rift between us caused by my recent uneasiness, now I wanted to be with her… her only—

Still, as she had reminded me, I was bound by my word—and that I could break for no cause as small as merely my own wish. As the party exchanged final greetings, I leaned from my seat on Nekia to look straightly at my lady.

I would I could stay with you, Joisan… you know haw much …

I know , she assured me, her mindsharing a quick, warm touch. I will miss you… but there is much for me to learn here, and Jonka has been so kind …

Taking her hand in both of mine, I touched my lips to it Inn-fly, then turned Nekia quickly away, not looking back—tor I feared greatly that otherwise my resolve would weaken.

Our riding was south, angling slightly to the east. The plains continued to roll, unbroken, save for brief clumps of trees clustering along stream or riverbanks.

When I questioned him as to our possible goal, Obred told me they searched for higher grazing lands. He explained that their animals were mountain-bred from generations back and fared best in pastures with greater elevation. “Putting a mountain under a horse’s hooves breeds better muscle and wind,” he commented, rising in his stirrups to scan the flat horizon ahead. “To the west lies a great desert, with naught but sand, scrub, and death to fill it. We hope that farther to the east we may find hills.”

We camped that night near a stream. Tired from the day’s riding, I lay down in my blankets, pillowing my head on Nekia’s inane, as she also stretched out, as did the rest of the Kioga and their mounts. The mare’s body was warm, her presence comforting under the star spread and the harsh glare of the full moon—but my thoughts sped to Joisan. I missed her with an intensity that surprised me. Never since our true marriage had we been separated, save when the demands of her healcraft had intervened . . which was not the same, I discovered, as being leagues apart. I wondered if she thought of me… and so wondering, finally slept.

Twenty days’ riding brought our small band to the bank of a great river, so wide we could not hope to ford it without boats or rafts. Obred turned again to the east, hoping to find a narrower stretch where we might swim our mounts across.

I found myself riding that morning beside a youth hardly more than a boy, sprouting as yet only a downy growth on his dark face. (In this company of bearded countenances, my habit of shaving each morning brought me some strange glances—several times I had been mistaken at a distance for one of the boys.)

“Fair rising, Lord Kerovan.” He glanced at me diffidently.

“Fair rising to you,” I made answer, unable to remember his name—if indeed I had ever known it.

“I am Guret, sir.”

I gave him a warrior’s salute, bringing a flush of pleasure beneath that faint shadow of beard. “Thank you, m’lord—but I am no warrior yet. I am still practicing for the Festival of Change.”

“Festival?”

“Aye, more than a month from now. All those who have been Chosen”—he affectionately slapped the neck of the fine chestnut stallion he rode—“must show their skill as hunters and herd-protectors. Then we will be accorded a voice in the Council.”