air, headed away from the city. ‘It’s easier than it was coming all the way here. The roads were muddy, you know – with the spring floods.’
‘Ever been to Cría before?’
Daine shook her head. ‘Never saw a village bigger than Snowsdale, till yesterday.’ She sighed. ‘How can folk live like that, all mashed together?’
Onua shrugged. ‘City people. They’re different, is all. They look down their noses if you didn’t grow up penned in.’ Getting to her feet, she stretched. ‘Unless something goes wrong, we’ll make Wishing Hollow by dark – we’ll camp there. We’re making wonderful time, thanks to you.’
Daine looked at her, baffled. ‘Me?’
‘This is the fastest I’ve got clear of the fair in six years of trade. That’s your doing. You must have the Gift – though I never heard of it being put to such a use.’
Daine laughed. ‘Oh, please! I’ve a knack with animals, but no Gift. Ma—’ She stopped, then made herself go on. ‘She tried to teach me, but I never learned. I can’t even start a fire, and Gifted babies manage that. She was so disappointed. Wanted me to follow her path, I s’pose.’
Onua touched the girl’s hair. ‘Your mother will be proud no matter what path you take, Daine. I don’t know you well, but anyone can see that.’
Daine smiled at her. ‘Thanks.’
They sat quietly for a few moments, until Onua remembered something. ‘I saw you draw that bow of yours, but I don’t know what kind of shot you are.’
Daine shrugged. ‘I’m good.’
‘Mind giving me a demonstration?’
Daine got up and took her longbow from her pack. ‘Name your target.’ The wood was warm from the sun and bent willingly for the string. She drew it a couple of times back to her ear, loosening her muscles.
Looking around, Onua spotted a fence that would serve. It lay well within the range of such a powerful bow, but it wasn’t so close that Daine would feel insulted. Walking out to it, she fixed her handkerchief to a post with her belt knife and returned. ‘How about three arrows?’
‘Fair enough.’ Daine had already fitted one arrow to the string, and her quiver was on her back. Carefully she set her feet, and gently she brought the string back as she focused on her target. The arrow, when she loosed, flew straight and true. Two more followed it.
Onua gasped. All three arrows clustered neatly at the centre of her handkerchief. Their heads were buried so deeply she had to cut them loose.
‘I take it this is something else you have a “knack” for,’ she said when Daine came to help.
‘Grandda thought so.’ The girl shrugged. ‘It worked out for the best. His bones got to hurting him so bad he couldn’t even string a bow, so I brought in all our game.’
The yellow stallion screamed a challenge to a passing draught horse and reared, pawing the air. ‘Odd’s bobs!’ Daine yelled, exasperated. ‘Can’t a person take her eye off you for a moment without you acting up?’ She ran to the stallion’s head and dragged him back down to all fours, holding him until the draught horse walked calmly past.
Onua came up to them, smiling. ‘Time to get back to work.’
Well before dark, Onua led them out of sight of the road and into a grassy hollow sheltered by trees. It was plain other travellers stopped here: the fire pit was lined with stones, and a lean-to kept stacks of firewood dry.
‘Toss you to give the ponies a going-over,’ Onua suggested. ‘For ticks, stones, whatever. Winner gets to dig the latrine trench and catch fish.’
Daine considered. ‘I druther check the ponies.’
Onua grinned. ‘Wonderful – I feel like a bit of fishing just now.’
Smiling, Daine went to work. It made no sense to give the ponies a thorough grooming while they were on the road, but she got rid of the worst tangles and checked the animals’ hooves. The strawberry’s ear mites had to be treated again, and Cloud and Tahoi had picked up ticks in forays off the road.
The girl was finished when Onua returned with two fat trout. ‘Think this’ll feed us?’ the K’mir asked, holding them up.
‘More than. I’m so tired I couldn’t eat but a mouthful.’ Daine saw that Onua’s hair was wet and her face pink from scrubbing. ‘It’s safe to wash?’
‘If you make it fast.’
‘It’s too cold to be slow.’ She hesitated. ‘Need my help with supper?’
Onua waved her away. ‘Tahoi’ll keep watch for you.’
The water was very cold. Daine scrubbed quickly and jumped out, feeling deep respect for Onua’s courage. Supper – fish and a pot of spiced white cereal grains Onua called ‘rice’ – was hot and filling. They ate without talking, but the silence was a comfortable one.
After the meal, Daine washed up. The fire was banked; their beds lay on the ground, ready for slumber, when she finished. She got into hers with a sigh. It was warm, and the heavy pad underneath eased the day’s aches. As she watched, Onua got several pouches out and tied them to her belt.
‘I told you I had the Gift, right? Well, I’m going to place the wards now. Last call for the latrine.’
Daine yawned. ‘I’m set, thanks.’ She watched as Onua drew a circle around the camp, ponies and all, first in salt, then in water. Soft chanting came from the woman as she walked the circle a third time, calling on magic powers to guard its contents. Red fire spilled from her hand to follow the circle and complete it.
‘Ma did that,’ Daine commented sleepily when Onua finished. ‘She wasn’t very good with it, though.’ It was easier to speak of her mother when she was so tired. ‘Maybe she’d be alive now if she’d’a been better.’
‘Or not,’ Onua said, sliding between her blankets. ‘There’s always somebody with stronger magic. Lots of raiders have their own witch or mage. That’s why every Rider group has at least one member with the Gift.’
‘Tell me about the Riders. I only know they take girls. Aren’t they like the regular soldiers?’
‘Not exactly. The fancy name is “irregulars”. Tortall has a bad time with bandits, and the army’s too big and too slow. Bandits hit and run. To fight ’em you need to move the same way. The queen, Thayet, she started the Riders seven years back. The groups run six or eight Riders each, male and female, mounted on ponies. Right now there are six groups, posted all over Tortall. They live off the land, protecting the small villages from raiders.’
‘Who runs it?’
‘Queen Thayet is commander in chief. Her guard, Buri, handles day-to-day affairs, so she has the title “Commander”. A black man, Sarge, comes just under them. The King’s Champion you heard of, Alanna, she helps out.’ Onua looked over and saw that the girl was fast asleep. Smiling, she pulled up her covers and closed her own eyes.
The badger crawled in with Daine soon after that. Although he was big, he didn’t wake her: she was used to nighttime visitors. Without waking, she caressed the animal’s head. He sighed gratefully and slept too, his muzzle pressed into her palm.
She did notice him when she woke later and was careful as she sat up.
‘I tell ye, I saw ’em. Two strings of ponies—gold on the hoof down in Tortall.’ The speaker’s voice was rough and country bred.
Reaching for the crossbow beside her, Daine saw that Onua and Tahoi were also awake. The dog’s hackles were up, his teeth bared in a snarl, but he made no sound. Seeing her, the K’mir put a finger to her lips. Daine nodded, easing the bow onto her lap. Inside her bed her guest shifted nervously, quieting only when she rested a hand on