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He shook himself, then looked back at the hradani. No, he told himself, at Prince Bahzell.
“I crave your pardon once again, Milord Champion,” he said, and this time his voice sounded closer to normal in his own ears. “Alfar’s right. I ought to at least read Lord Swordspi
“I’d not be calling it rude,” Bahzell replied. He smiled slowly. “I’d not be calling it exactly the warmest welcome I’ve ever had, but it’s not after being the coldest, either. Not by a long road, Milord.”
“It’s good of you to say so.” Edinghas felt himself returning Bahzell’s smile. Then he gave himself another little shake. “With your permission, Prince Bahzell, I’ll ask Alfar to escort you to the manor house. He can get you and your men settled in there while I repair my error and read what Lord Swordspi
“Aye, I’d not say that was so very bad an idea,” the hradani agreed.
“Thank you.” Genuine gratefulness for the other’s attitude touched Edinghas’ tone, and he returned his gaze to Alfar. “Please take Prince Bahzell and his men up to the house,” he said. “Tell Lady Sofalla that they’ll be our guests for at least the next few days.”
Alfar nodded, but Edinghas’ attention had already returned to Bahzell. The hradani gazed back at him for a moment, his face almost expressionless. But then he bowed, very slightly, and Edinghas saw the understanding in his eyes. The lord warden’s decision against sending even a single armsman along with Alfar, even as only a courteous “escort,” on the trip to his family’s private home was the strongest possible way for him to express his trust.
“It’s grateful we are,” Bahzell rumbled, and turned to follow Alfar towards the fortified manor house that was the closest Warm Springs had to a proper keep.
Lady Sofalla Bardiche was a sturdy, attractively plain woman whose chestnut hair was well stranded with silver. Instead of the gown a more higher ranked Sothoii noblewoman might have worn, she wore serviceable (although subtly feminine) trousers under a long, brightly embroidered tunic. The embroidery was a bit finer and more fanciful than a prosperous farmer’s wife might have boasted, but it certainly wasn’t the silks and satins, pearls and semiprecious gems of a great noble house. She also had a brisk, no-nonsense ma
“Well,” she said after Alfar had completed his hasty explanation, “I can’t say I ever expected to be entertaining hradani, Prince Bahzell. Or not, at least, on this side of the manor wall!” She smiled as she said it, and he smiled back. “But if Lord Edinghas wants you put up in guest quarters, that’s good enough for me. I’m afraid you’ll find things a bit less fine here at Warm Springs than at Balthar, though!”
“Milady,” Bahzell replied, “we’re after being hradani. A roof as doesn’t leak more than a few bucketfuls each night will be doing us well enough.”
“Oh, I think we can manage a little better than that,” she assured him, and turned to the small gaggle of housemaids huddled behind her and gazing apprehensively at the hradani whose stature dwarfed the manor house’s entry hall.
“Stop gawking like ni
Lord Edinghas’ armsmen still looked less than delighted with the situation when Alfar escorted Bahzell back to the stable an hour and a half later, but at least the most overt hostility seemed to have eased. Bahzell didn’t know exactly what Sir Jahlahan had included in his letter, or how Edinghas had explained the situation to his wary retainers, but it seemed to have taken. Bahzell wasn’t surprised—not after watching Lady Sofalla deal with the household staff. If her husband possessed even half her strength of personality, it would take a braver man than Bahzell to argue with him!
The reflection made Bahzell chuckle as he and Alfar crossed to where Edinghas stood in one of the stable doors.
“Again, welcome, Milord Champion,” the lord warden said, and this time extended his right hand. Bahzell clasped forearms with him, and Edinghas produced a much more natural smile.
“I won’t apologize again for my first greeting,” he said. “I’ve read Lord Swordspi
“There’s naught to forgive,” Bahzell replied with a shrug. “That’s not to be saying we’d not all have been happier to’ve been being greeted with open arms and glad hosa
He smiled, and Edinghas smiled back. Then the lord warden’s expression sobered.
“Sir Jahlahan wrote that you’d see it that way, Milord. And I’m glad. But I’d also be happier if there’d never been need for a champion of Tomanak to come to Warm Springs. And especially not for a reason like this.”
“Aye, I’ll not disagree with you there,” Bahzell said somberly.
“Well, I suppose we should get to it, then,” Edinghas sighed. “I warn you, Milord, I’ve no idea how they’ll react when they meet you. We’ve still no idea what happened to them out there, but whatever it was, it’s marked them more than just physically.” His jaw tightened. “I’ve never seen coursers frightened, Milord. Not before this. But now—”
He sighed again and turned to lead the way into the stable.
Warm Springs’ stables had been built to a much larger scale than those of most manors because of the holding’s long association with the Warm Springs coursers. The main stable was a high, airy structure, with huge, open-fronted stalls that were well kept and spotlessly clean. And, in spite of everything, Bahzell was unprepared for what he found inside it.
He’d asked Brandark to remain outside, with the other members of the Order. The last thing they needed was to overwhelm the injured coursers with the presence of so many hradani. He knew that, but no amount of logic could keep him from feeling alone and isolated among so many humans, none of whom knew him, and all of whom were his people’s hereditary enemies.
He faced that thought, and then put it firmly behind him. He couldn’t afford it now, he told himself, and turned his attention to the coursers he’d come to see.
Despite his people’s name and reputation, he’d had quite a bit of experience with horses. He’d actually ridden (if not particularly well, and only for fairly brief periods) on several occasions, and the Horse Stealers’ traditional enmity with the Sothoii more or less required them to be familiar with cavalry and its capabilities. No Horse Stealer was ever going to be a cavalryman himself, given his people’s sheer size, so most of his personal experience had been with draft animals, but like any Horse Stealer, he had an expert eye when it came to evaluating quality horseflesh.
For all of that, he had never come within a mile of any courser until he encountered Baron Tellian and Dathgar and Hathan and Gayrhalan in the Gullet. To a large extent, that was because his father had outlawed raids on the Wind Plain less than five years after Bahzell had earned his warrior’s braid. To an even larger extent, though, it had been because it was more than any hradani’s life was worth to come within what any courser stallion might consider threatening range of his herd … which equated to coming within the stallion’s line of sight. The reservations Gayrhalan continued to nourish where Bahzell was concerned even now only underscored the wisdom of remaining safely out of reach of any courser’s battleaxe jaws and piledriver hoofs.