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“Aye, I can be seeing that,” Bahzell murmured. “Yet I’m not so very sure as how any other coursers, as weren’t here and didn’t see, will be accepting that Gayrfressa could be feeling such for a hradani like me. And, truth to tell, there’s those among my folk as would find it even more u
“I don’t think you need to worry about how the other coursers are likely to react,” Kelthys reassured him. “They communicate with one another in ways I don’t think anyone, including the wind riders, has ever truly understood.” He shook his head. “Trust me, Prince Bahzell. If Gayrfressa is prepared to feel about you as you’ve described, then any other courser she ever meets will understand why. That’s not to say they’ll all agree with her, you understand, but I doubt very much that any of them will ever question her feelings or fault her for them.”
“Well, to be speaking the truth,” Bahzell said after a moment, “that’s after being the least of my concerns just this very moment. You see, it’s in my mind as how she’s not going to be so very willing to be being left behind.”
“Excuse me, Prince Bahzell, but are you saying that you and Gayrfressa are still linked somehow?”
“I’d not be calling it ’linked,’ “ Bahzell replied. “Yet it might be as how it’s after being something in that direction.” He tapped his forehead with an index finger. “It’s not so much as if I’m after ’hearing’ her, or as if we’re after living inside one another’s minds still. And yet, there’s not the least tiniest question in my mind as how I know what it is she’s after thinking. Or, come to that, where she’s after being.”
Kelthys’ eyes widened suddenly, and he laid the bridle aside for the first time since Bahzell had entered the stable. The hradani’s eyes narrowed as he saw the human’s expression, but he said nothing, only waited.
“Milord Champion,” Kelthys said after several seconds, obviously choosing his words even more carefully than before, “is Gayrfressa the only courser whose location you know?”
“Ah?” Bahzell gave him a look which combined surprise and disbelief at being asked such a ridiculous question. But then he frowned and closed his eyes, cocking his head as if he were listening to a distant sound. He stayed that way for several seconds, and then his expression went blank and his eyes popped back open.
“She isn’t, is she?” Kelthys murmured, watching him very intently.
“No,” Bahzell said. He waved a hand in the general direction of the paddock to the south of the stable, completely invisible from where the two of them sat. “It’s the entire herd I can be feeling,” he said. “All of them—from Gayrfressa to the youngest foal.”
“Tomanak!“ Kelthys whispered. He stared at Bahzell for what seemed like forever, then shook himself vigorously. “I don’t understand it, Prince Bahzell,” he said. “Perhaps it’s because you’re a champion of Tomanak. But whatever the reason, it sounds to me as if you’ve somehow acquired a form of the courser herd sense.”
“That’s after being ridiculous!”
“Oh, I agree—I definitely agree! And if you think it sounds ridiculous to you, wait until Walasfro hears about it! But, tell me—can you sense any of the other coursers? Or only the Warm Springs survivors?”
“Only Gayrfressa and her family,” Bahzell replied. But then he shook his head. “No, that’s not after being exactly right. There is one other courser as I can sense. That big, roan fellow with the black mane and tail.”
“Only him?” Kelthys frowned in surprise. “None of the others?”
“Naught but him,” Bahzell confirmed, and then he smiled slowly. “And now I think on it, I’m thinking as how I might be knowing why. I’d not realized it until this very moment, but now it’s plain as the nose on Brandark’s face! He’s after being her brother, Sir Kelthys.”
“Her brother?” Kelthys blinked at the hradani.
“Aye, he’d a mate among the Bear River mares, but he was after losing her to an accident these three years back.”
“And how do you know all that, Milord?” Kelthys asked in fascination.
“As to that, I don’t really know. But I’m thinking as how he might be after telling us himself in not so very long .”
“He might wh—?” Kelthys began, then cut himself off as the light from the stable entrance was abruptly obstructed. He looked up, and his face lost all expression as he recognized the huge stallion pacing slowly into the stable. It was the Bear River roan.
“Aye, so he might “ Bahzell continued quietly, his own eyes locked to the oncoming courser, “for unless I’m after missing my guess, he’s after having just discovered as how he can be sensing me, too.”
The roan might very well have been the largest courser Kelthys had seen in his entire life. The stallion had to stand over twenty-four hands—more than eight feet tall at the shoulder—and he carried his majestic head almost eleven feet above the stable floor. He towered over Bahzell, well over two tons of majesty and power, managing to do what no other creature ever had and reduce the hradani to merely mortal stature. It seemed as if the very earth should tremble when he trod upon it, and his presence seemed to fill not simply the stable, but the world.
He stood there, magnificent in the remnant of his winter coat, and his huge eyes—amber-gold, not brown—were fixed upon Bahzell.
Bahzell stood, slowly, as if he were being drawn to his feet by another hand, not rising of his own volition. He stood less than five feet from the courser, and then, even more slowly than he’d stood, he stepped forward.
The courser stood motionless for a second, possibly two. And then he lowered his head, and his impossibly soft nose touched the hradani’s broad chest. The nostrils flared, the amber-gold eyes slipped shut, and the stallion blew heavily. Bahzell’s hands rose, as if they belonged to someone else. They stroked up the stallion’s muzzle, gently, gently. They found the ears—the ears that pricked sharply forward, as if listening for the sound of the hradani’s heart—and caressed them with a delicacy that seemed impossible for such powerful, sword-callused fingers.
Kelthys stared, unable to believe even now, despite everything that had happened, that he was seeing what he saw. A thousand years of history said this moment could not occur, and he held his breath, waiting to see if a thousand years were wrong.
“His name,” Bahzell half-whispered, “is Walsharno.”
A thousand years, it seemed, were wrong.
Sir Kelthys Lancebearer leaned against a paddock fence, Walasfro standing beside him like a warm, black wall, and watched the Wind Plain’s newest wind rider trying not to fall off of his courser.
Walasfro observed in resigned tones.
“Tell me something I didn’t already know, Twinkle Hoofs,” Kelthys replied mildly, then winced as Bahzell almost lost his seat. The hradani looked ridiculous perched on top of what was probably the only “horse” in the world that could make him look like a child on his first pony. Of course, the fact that Bahzell’s riding style could best be summed up in two words—”very bad”—probably helped create that image.
Walasfro predicted glumly.
“Nonsense!” Kelthys said bracingly. “Hradani are tougher than that. Besides, he’ll probably fall off before Walsharno hits a trot.”
Walasfro said reprovingly. he added as Bahzell grabbed at the saddle horn and Brandark and Gharnal burst into loud guffaws. The Bloody Sword, and every member of the Order of Tomanak who’d accompanied Bahzell to Warm Springs, sat along the top rail of the paddock, watching Bahzell and Walsharno “get acquainted.” From Bahzell’s expression, he would have been far happier without the audience.