Oath of Fealty (42 page)

“With only humans attending Council regularly, they would naturally lean towards those colors. Everyone knows grays are temperamental … perhaps you have to be an elf to understand them …”

“The first horse I ever owned was a gray,” Kieri said. “A Marrakai-bred, and one of the best I ever rode. Banner is of the same breeding.”

“Sir King, you are half-elven. Perhaps it was that—”

“Perhaps. But let’s look at these—” Kieri waved at the stalls. It was not the moment to point out that the Royal Guard of Tsaia chose grays for their ceremonial mounts because they looked good with the Tsaian royal colors.

“We have an indoor school,” the man said. “If you would prefer, there is a royal box …”

“Indoor school?” Kieri had never heard of such a thing.

“The elves built it,” Sier Halveric said, with just the faintest edge to his voice. “Their horses are … flighty … or so our stable personnel insist.”

“I’ll just walk along the stalls first,” Kieri said, hoping to stop that in its tracks. “Come on, Aliam, Estil, let us see some horses.”

The Master of Horse moved up just off his right shoulder. “Sir King, this first row begins with the horse you rode from Tsaia—”

“Banner, yes.” The horse put its head out. Kieri rubbed its face, glancing in to note the clean, well-laid straw, the wrapped legs, the horse’s shining, satiny coat. Whatever the stable help thought of grays, they had treated Banner well. “You like it here, Banner, eh?” The horse tucked its nose and he chuckled.

“The rest of this row are what we consider traveling mounts worthy of nobility: horses you might ride about the kingdom as you visit the steadings. The former king had not ridden for years, and his favorites had, in the meantime, aged to the point where I questioned their endurance for long travel. I chose to retire them, and seek younger animals, but if you wish to see them, I will take you to their pasturage.”

Kieri wondered what to make of that. He had always chosen his own horses, after that first one, often buying Marrakai-bred, as with Banner. He wondered how someone else’s choices would suit him. “How many horses would you think I need for such travels?” he asked.

“I’m not sure,” Ganeth said. “I was not Master of Horse to the king before the former king; I do not know how such decisions were made.”

Kieri had to admit he had not seen such a collection of near-perfect horseflesh anywhere, not even in the royal stables in Vérella. Under the covered arcade, a row of bay and chestnut heads looked out over stall doors. Two, three, five … ten? He stopped counting. Who needed so many horses? Kieri walked along slowly, letting each sniff his hand, and casting a practiced eye over their conformation.

“You’ll want to see them in action,” Ganeth said.

“Indeed yes. And then try them out.”

Ganeth smiled widely for the first time.

“But where are the grays?”

The smile disappeared. “They’re in this row … through here …”

Backing on the first, this row of stalls held grays and two blue roans, all looking out of their stalls like the bays and chestnuts … but these wore headstalls and were all tied to a ring just outside the stalls. “Why?” Kieri asked.

“The grooms feel safer,” Ganeth said.

“The horses don’t,” Kieri said, looking at the row of fretful heads tossing this way and that, jerking the halter ropes. “Easy,” he said, approaching the first. The horse pinned its ears.

“He nips,” Ganeth murmured.

“He won’t nip Kieri,” Estil said.

Kieri appreciated the sentiment, but he wasn’t sure. “Easy,” he said again, with the same tone he’d used on horses and injured soldiers for years. He reached for the tie; the horse reached for his arm. Kieri bared his teeth and grunted; the horse in the stall wrinkled its nostrils tightly and pointed its muzzle away from him while he untied the line from the ring, and reached up to unfasten the halter. The instant it felt the halter loosen, the horse whipped around and kicked the stall door. The other grays jerked at their ties.

“You see how it is, sire,” Ganeth said. “They must be tied, for the grooms’ safety.”

“How long have they stood tied like this?” Kieri asked. “Today, I mean?” He did his best to keep his voice level. The horse in the stall had its nose in a water bucket, the swallows running up the underside of its gullet visibly.

“Since the stalls were mucked—they were all taken to water at dawn bell, and walked in the row while their stalls were cleaned and relaid.”

Kieri glanced in. The gray pinned one ear and lifted a hind hoof. “Oh, settle down,” Kieri said; the ear swung forward and the gray went on drinking. The stall was bedded just like the others; the horse bore no lumps or marks of misuse, other than being tied for hours in one position. To the others he said, “I’m going to untie them; their movement won’t be true in the school if they’ve been standing tied that long.”

Ganeth bowed, and excused himself to have the horses saddled for presentation in the school. Soon the sixteen bays and chestnuts, plus
Banner, lined up in the school for Kieri’s inspection. Every one showed the sound, useful conformation needed for a travel mount; all were up to his weight. They had a different look than the Marrakai-bred horses he’d ridden most, the head a little longer. He remembered that from his time at Falk’s Hall. “These are all excellent,” he said to the horsemaster. “Where did you find them?”

“Many are gifts from your nobles’ breeding,” the horsemaster said. “The grays mostly from your elven relatives. Will you see them in action now?”

“Yes,” Kieri said. “But from the saddle. I’ll ride Banner to warm myself up before I try them. Aliam, I’ll depend on your eyes on the ground for anything I miss.”

“The usual criteria?” Aliam asked.

“Yes … you know my horses and my style of riding; you know what suits me as well as I do, I daresay.”

The grooms saddled Banner with Kieri’s own saddle, the fox-head insignia still on the skirts, but now with a saddlecloth in green and gold, with the royal insignia embroidered on it. He wondered what had happened to the familiar maroon and white cloth.

Kieri walked Banner around the riding hall, watching as the exercise riders mounted, noting which horses shifted or showed any sign of discomfort or tension. Most did not. They lined out behind him; he turned Banner to the center, and watched, saying nothing, but noting every detail of their movement. Walk, trot, canter: the riders were expert, the horses well schooled. It came down to minor points … the length of overstride at free walk, the cadence at trot, the steadiness.

“Aliam?” he said, swinging down from Banner as the horses lined up again.

“That one.” Aliam pointed. “I think he’s a little short-strided for someone of your build. A good horse, no doubt, but he’d suit your Captain Cracolnya better. Those four—” He pointed at them. “About perfect for you, I’d think.”

“I’ll start with the doubtful one,” Kieri said. “It’s only fair to give each a trial.” But after he mounted, he knew his eye and Aliam’s had been correct: the horse was better suited to another rider. On long rides, that short stride and quicker cadence would be tiresome for him.

He spent some minutes with each horse, assessing feet, legs, disposition,
and finally movement. “The four you chose I certainly want,” Kieri said finally. “Of the rest, I will reserve judgment until I’ve seen and tried out the grays.”

“But surely there are enough—”

“As you said, the elves prefer the other colors—and this realm is jointly ruled. I must have some grays other than Banner in my stable.”

The horses he had not dismissed were taken to one end of the hall, and a line of grays and blue roans entered, all saddled and ready for trial.

“You know horses sense tension and fear,” Kieri said to Ganeth. “Have you exercise riders who are not afraid of grays?”

“Some,” Ganeth said. He gestured, and three came forward, a woman and two men. “Arian is half-elven, a ranger come to assist during the coronation celebrations. The others, Kiel and Surn, have some elven blood.”

Arian grinned. “Not only that, Sir King: word spread that you might be seeking new King’s Squires, some with elven blood. Several of us found reason to come to your coronation.”

Kieri chuckled. “Word spreads fast. Well, Arian, I will decide when I’ve seen those who want to serve. For now—let’s see how you ride.”

The three mounted; Arian rode as if born in the saddle; her mount also looked to be a near-match for Banner in stride length. “What do you think, Aliam?” Kieri asked.

“She rides really well—oh, the horse. Definitely one for you. So is that one—” Aliam pointed at the third horse in the group. “The second one’s not as good, I think.”

In another half-glass, Kieri had found six grays that suited him. “Keep the others,” he said to Ganeth, “as mounts for my Squires. Arian’s right: I do intend to have more Squires and they must all have good mounts and reserves, for I intend to use some of them as couriers.”

“Very well, Sir King,” Ganeth said.

“And Arian, you can tell the others I will begin interviewing those who wish to serve as King’s Squires tomorrow. They should meet me in the salle at sunrise.”

“Thank you, Sir King.”

On the way back to the palace, Estil said, “Now, that’s a nice young woman.”

“I’m not marrying a child,” Kieri said. “She can’t be more than twenty-five at the most. Find me someone nearer my age, and still able to bear, since all anyone cares about is an heir.”

“It’s not all I care about,” Estil said. “I want you to be happy.”

“And in the meantime, I want to talk to Aliam—and you, of course—about the defense of the realm.”

A
liam listened to Kieri’s concerns with the same attention and intelligence he had always shown. “I’ve said the same to my brother for years,” he said. “But the Council’s so set against a standing army—though you’re wrong about the effectiveness of the forest rangers. And I would not want to march my formations into the face of the Royal Archers’ blackwood bows, either.”

“I know that Pargunese woman says she wants peace,” Kieri said, “but she doesn’t rule Pargun. Their king does, and after we killed his men in that battle in Verrakai country—and the border skirmishes we’ve had—I still think attack across the river is a possibility.”

“I agree,” Aliam said. “And I agree you need something more substantial up there, but how can you move rangers from the west while Tsaia’s still dealing with Verrakaien and Konhalts? How secure is that border?”

“Precisely why I wanted to talk to you,” Kieri said. “If you’re not taking troops to Aarenis, what about lending them—for a fee of course—to the Crown?”

“And insult the Royal Archers?”

“It’s not an insult,” Kieri said. “They don’t know our kind of fighting … I could send them north as well, to back up the rangers there. That might even give us reasonable coverage of the shore between the towns. Put a cohort or two in the rear, ready to respond in any direction—”

“It’s not a bad plan,” Aliam conceded. “But you won’t get the Council to agree.”

Kieri grinned. “I realized that, when I was talking to them before the coronation. But now … I’m not just someone they agreed might be, or could be, the king. Now I’m the crowned king, and under the Compact, they will all have to oppose me if they want to stop me.”

Aliam looked worried. “Kieri, I know you can do it—but—think what it looks like. You’re proposing to give me, an old friend, a contract—”

“Because there is no one else, Aliam. Surely you see that. I don’t want to bring in foreign troops, or I’d hire my old Company. You’re Lyonyan already. And you’re the only one here.”

“They are eating our reserves,” Estil said. “We haven’t had them all at our place in years—never, really, because after the Company got that big, Aliam wintered some of them in the South.”

“I can’t make a profit out of it,” Aliam said. Estil stirred but said nothing; he went on. “If I do it for cost alone—their board, their salaries—and if I do not command it myself, the Council may agree that it is fair. Otherwise I fear they might turn against you, Kieri, and you are the best—I think the only—hope this kingdom has.”

“It will be helpful to get them out of our storerooms, to be sure,” Estil said.

“Let me talk to the Council,” Kieri said. “From what you say, you should go back to your home, and I will move as gently as I can, and still get anything done. But you should hear something by the half turn. And if you choose to send troops south, instead—”

“No,” Aliam said. “I think not. I really don’t feel like another trek over the mountains and back.”

“Well, then. Let’s to more pleasant things—tell me about the family.”