Cloud's Rider

But he was in real sorry shape to survive now if the Evergreen riders told him go on, get away from their village—just another day, he’d be all right—

Something had stalked them here—he thought it had. But he couldn’t swear to it. It was so, so dangerous, imagination. A rider kept it in his pocket and only took it out on su

Ridley’s hand insisted and hurt his shoulder, shaking at him gently. “I want answers now, Fisher. Hear me?”

“Yeah.” He didn’t even remember exactly what information of all he held that Ridley had actually asked. “What was the question?”

“To what happened down at Tarmin.” Ridley’s mild voice grew angrier. “To who you are, where you came from, how the hellyou got up here in the first place, and how safe is your horse?”

That was the most dangerous accusation. Cloud’s safety. That question scared him. He shook his head, and even the pillow hurt the back of his skull. “Horse is fine. No problem with us.”

“Ask him what brought him up from the flatlands?” Callie asked, coming close to his bed. “What cause to be here in the first place? Was there a convoy down there?”

“Friend’s partner died up here. He came for her. I came—came for him. He was pretty shaken up.”

“Names,” Ridley said. “His. Hers.”

“Guil Stuart. Aby Dale.”

“Oh, damn,” Callie said with what seemed real sadness, and Ridley’s hand let up its vise grip on his arm. “Not Aby,” Callie said. “We just sawher.”

“Last convoy down. She was in the way. Just—” He didn’t want to go into all of it. Most of all he didn’t want to think about Tarmin tonight. There was too much white in his mind, and winter was such a dangerous time. Dreams turned real when the wind was howling like that outside, and the horses carried the worst imaginings. “Just—she died. They said—they said a rogue horse spooked the convoy. And Guil came up here to get it.”

“But it got Tarmin?”

“Up at the gates—just—people opened doors. I was in the woods looking for Guil, and I heard it go—and—I don’t want to tell this around the kid.”

“She’s asleep,” Ridley said. “Keep going. Horses aren’t hearing you. You just happened into Tarmin when a rogue happenedon the mountain. And where’s this other guy and why isn’t heup here?”

Rogue horse—was rare as legends and campfire stories. And they shouldn’tbelieve a pile of coincidences. But he couldn’t begin to tell them the co

“Gunshot. This guy—Harper—not from this mountain—he thought—thought, I guess, I mean, he’d seen a rogue once before, or he thought he had, and he wasn’t real right in his head. He really, really hated Stuart. The rogue wasn’t him, you know, it wasn’t Stuart, but everything just got tangled up in his head. I knew this guy was on his track, and Harper—Harper just—just went crazy. Tried to kill Guil.”

“Before the rogue got Tarmin,” Ridley said. “Is Guil this rogue? Is Harper?”

“Horse. Rogue horse.” Da

“You’re sure of that.”

“Yeah.”

There was a little easing of tension.

“You came in with a damn spooky feeling,” Ridley said.

“Yeah.”

“So what wasit?”

“Horse—followed us. Maybe five, six horses loose down there.”

“Followed you up the mountain. Through that?”

“Kids with me—nobody alive down there. None without horses. Can’t go down the mountain, snows down there… avalanches…”

“And?” Ridley asked. “Fisher? You’re not going to sleep until you talk. What happened with the rogue? What happened to that girl?”

“It was just—” <Fire on the window-glass. Horse walking the streets at night, in the falling snow. Tides of vermin rolling from under Cloud’s hooves.> He didn’t wantto lie. He didn’t dare tell the truth. “Just—when Tarmin went down—kids hid out. I rode in. Searched for survivors. Babies. Old people. There wasn’t anything. —I feltit go, understand me? I feltit go, I don’t want to remember it in this camp, I don’t want to remember it near the horses.”

“Damn,” Callie said.

“I’m all right. My horse is all right.”

“And those kids?”

He let his eyes shut, closing out the questions. They could hit him. They could toss him into the snow. He had to keep the lid on things until he could get his story straight. He didn’t need to pretend to drift toward sleep. His mind kept going out on him—and he didn’t trust them—didn’t trust them not to call a horse close to him—outside the wall.

“What about the rogue horse?” Callie came to stand over him. “How bad is this kid, Fisher? What happened?”

“Just—” He had ultimately to tell them all the truth. But not tonight. Not tonight. The girl was beyond the wall. The gates were shut. It was daylight. “Just—the kid was affected. Keep her inthe village. Don’t bring her near the horses. Had a hell of a time on the road. My horse is all right. Didn’t ever come near the rogue. Couldn’t think about Tarmin, though, I didn’t want to think about it all the way up. And the kids kept remembering it, spooking my horse. Didn’t help. Didn’t help at all.”

They had no more questions for a moment. He didn’t open his eyes to see, but he thought he’d answered everything.

“Je

“I’ll leave if you like. Give me a day or so.”

“Not saying that,” Ridley said.

Decent, goodpeople. He’d had all the way up here to imagine the godawful situations a lone junior could get into, including finding himself in some shelter alone with a bunch of guys older and rougher and maybe far crazier. Winter came down and bunched people up in shelters at the same time the horses were in rut, and memories and sex flew thick as falling leaves through present time.

You didn’t want to get in with a rough crowd, damn, you didn’t, and he hadn’t wanted to scare Carlo and Randy about that possibility. He’d held his own nerves together and was so, so relieved to find himself with a solid, sensible lot of people with an ordinary little girl—

But he’d never… never thought about a little kid exposed to the outspillings of his mind… he just… wasn’t safe…

<Blood on the snow. Rifle shot. Man lying dead.>

<Tara and Guil and Brio

“Here.” Callie came near, but it was Ridley’s voice, and a smell of vodka. He’d been out, or almost out. They’d had time to go and come back again, and Ridley nudged his hand with a glass. “Drink it.”

They’d done it to him before, and he’d hit his head on the fireplace. “Drunk won’t help.”

“Panic won’t either. Just calm down. An eight-year-old in the next room—we’re a little protective. You understand? There’s yellowflower in it. Drink it.”

Understood Ridley’d shoot him before they let him spook the camp, or hurt the kid or Callie.

They’d shoot him before they let him go off the mental edge, the way Spook’s rider had gone. Harper should have had somebody a long number of years ago, someone who’d hand him a glass of yellow and figuratively hold a gun to his head and say straighten out or I’ll blow your brains out.

Might have saved a lot of people.

Might have saved Harper himself.

He drank it. At least three fast mouthfuls.

“You think that horse followed you all the way?” Ridley asked. “Or where did you lose it?”

“Don’t think it came near the village. But it could be on the road.”

“Must have a real strong notion what it wants.”

“Yeah,” he said, and felt a rush of fear—what it wanted.