N’Rae came through the gateway as if she had been hurled by some mighty force. She landed at his feet, gasping for air. The basket tumbled from her arms, and the minneken rolled out of the open flap.
She squeaked furiously. With his ears still affected by the passage, Bardon couldn’t make out her words. He carefully scooped her up and handed her to N’Rae.
Tears ran down the young woman’s face. She gulped and looked up at the squire. “Mistress Seeno says she doesn’t know why we make such a fuss about going through. She’s also disgruntled that I dropped her and her basket.”
“It’s her size. She isn’t affected the way we are.”
Granny Kye stepped into the room, breathing a little heavily. To the squire’s eye, the emerlindian did not appear to be much affected by her journey through the gateway. Upon seeing Bardon’s startled face, she smiled.
“One must relax and trust. You know in your head that the gateway will carry you from one place to another. If you trust in your heart, the journey is easier.”
Bardon nodded, a sharp jerk of his head. He knew a half-dozen principles from the Tomes of Wulder that said the same thing, more or less. He also knew he was better at quoting the principles than living them.
N’Rae busied herself, gathering the loose items that had spilled from Jue Seeno’s basket. Bardon picked up a tiny cushion that had bounced across the floor and landed by his toe. He crouched beside the young emerlindian as he handed it to her and glanced inside the minneken’s traveling quarters.
The wickerwork bed, chairs, and tables remained in place. Upon closer inspection, Bardon saw that lashings secured the furniture to the floor and walls of the small room. Only those things not tied down had scattered over the coarse wooden planks of the tavern storeroom. Jue Seeno ran into her little abode. Her muffled squeaks still sounded like tart protests.
The door opened behind them, and a man with a heavy canvas apron over his clothing started as he saw those inside. N’Rae put herself between the basket and the newcomer, successfully blocking his view.
“Granny Kye,” he said. “I wasn’t expecting you, was I?” He wiped his hands on a towel as he spoke. “You’d think I’d be used to all this coming and going after five years, but I’m not.”
The old emerlindian came forward and smiled at the short marione tavern keeper. “We won’t be with you long, Master Onit.”
“Shall I prepare you a meal?”
“We had breakfast a while ago, but thank you.”
“Um, are you planning to stay in my storage room for long? I have workers coming, and I was just going to hide the gateway.”
“A few minutes,” she answered, and he bowed out of the room.
Granny Kye immediately turned to Bardon. “I fear we have encountered our first problem, Squire Bardon.”
He stood from where he had finished helping N’Rae pass tiny hats in to the minneken. He lifted an eyebrow, waiting to be informed.
“N’Rae and I,” Granny began, “and, of course, Jue Seeno have no funds. Perhaps you have money with which to purchase our meals, lodging, and transportation.”
Bardon shifted his jaw to the side and back again. “I have a little. I didn’t expect to need much currency in a mountain cabin.” He rubbed his hand over his chin. “I’ll go out and make some inquiries. Does this place have a parlor where you women will be comfortable?”
“No, but the inn across the street does. We will wait for you there.”
Bardon pulled a leather pouch from a pocket in the lining of his tunic. “Here are some coins. If I don’t return by noonmeal, you may need it.”
Bardon walked through the streets of midtown Norst, sizing up the people and the nature of the city. He made a swift survey of the races represented in the market around him. The mixture of populace contained tumanhofers, mariones, and o’rants, typical of most cities in the south-western regions of Amara. He saw no small kimens nor any huge urohms. This didn’t surprise him. The smallest and largest of the seven high races tended to keep to themselves. He saw two doneels, obviously businessmen by their dress. But no emerlindians walked along the market district.
I wonder how amazed these people would be if they knew of their two visitors. The presence of emerlindians among the other six high races has steadily declined for over a hundred years. And what a clamor would arise if they discovered Jue Seeno!
He glanced around at those on the street once more. This crowd is representative of the statistics Professor Gledupkonstepper liked to quote in class. “Only three of the high races populate the majority of Amara’s average cities.”
The economic situation for the township seemed stable. Open doors with people going in and out indicated that the businesses he passed were thriving. Small donkeys pulled carts over the cobblestone, creating a background beat to the musical quality of the conversations. Friendly greetings, cheerful hawking of wares, and shoppers’ chatter as they moved from one store to the next wiped the frown from Bardon’s face. Optimism pushed aside his pragmatic temperament.
The question is, How can I find work for a day or two so that I can fill our purse with enough coins to get this quest underway? That comet is not going to wait for me to gather funds.
He stopped and read the names of all the shops on a bustling corner. Grocer, Dressmaker, Music, Barber, Books, Furniture. Not one thing I could lend my hand to and earn a significant amount of money. I shall have to look further.
He strolled down one street, looking for a busier tavern than the one that held the gateway. The Rafters filled the bill. He crossed the threshold and scanned the crowd for a likely looking group of men. He headed for a half-dozen workers eating a hearty meal. They must have been up early and labored hard to be downing such a large quantity of food at midmorning.
Ordering a tall mug of Korskan tea from a passing maidservant, Bardon sat down at the long plank table where the men ate.
“I’m looking for work,” he announced.
The men nodded their heads and continued to chew.
“I’m squire to a doneel in Wittoom and find I need some traveling funds.”
They nodded again. Bardon waited.
One of the marione men took a draft of his ale, wiped his bearded mouth on his sleeve, and looked at the stranger.
“Corduff is hiring mine workers. Good pay if you live.”
“Naw, don’t send him there,” said a red-headed o’rant. “Gallatennodken is looking for a scholar to translate a parchment brought in by one of his treasure seekers. Said it was in some ancient doneel language. Maybe he can help there.”
A tumanhofer lifted his head from the soup bowl he held to his lips. “Heard he found a linguist two days ago.”
Except for slurping and smacking of lips, the crew at the table fell silent. The maid delivered Bardon’s drink, and he gave her a coin. The cold tea tasted good, having a citrus tang that cut the otherwise sweet brew.
“There’s Hoddack,” said the red-headed o’rant.
The other men remained silent.
“Hoddack’s looking for someone to break six young kindias. Their training time is running out.”
The tumanhofer removed his face from his soup bowl again. “Tell him what happened to the last breaker. Only fair.”
The o’rant snorted. “Got stepped on is all. The job is to stay on until the animal is biddable. The breaker didn’t do his job.”
Bardon’s fingers, encircling the glass mug, tightened as he looked deep into the tawny brown liquid. He’d ridden kindias as part of his training. Taller and wider than horses, the beasts could travel at incredible speeds through rugged terrain. Their backs sloped down from their muscled necks and powerful shoulders. This slant encouraged gravity to pull riders off their backs. Kindias would not carry any burden other than one passenger on a specially designed light saddle. But the ride was incredible. Bone-jostling at tremendous speeds. As dangerous as flying, without the pleasures.
An unbroken kindia would spin and buck and even ro
ll to remove the pest on its back. The most common way to tame one just required stamina and agility. Six to twelve uninterrupted hours in the saddle, and the breaker usually broke the kindia to accept a rider.
Bardon had never done it, never witnessed it, but he’d read about the process. His eyebrows rose as he heard the words form on his lips.
“Where do I find Hoddack?”
7
BREAKING A KINDIA
When he saw the six unbroken kindias, Bardon thought first of his dragon friend.
I am so grateful Greer isn’t around to add his insightful thoughts on the folly of this endeavor. If I can avoid his ever finding out, my peace of mind will be preserved. Otherwise, I’ll never hear the end of it.
The kindias grazed in a large field surrounded by a ten-foot-high, wooden slatted fence.
Hoddack looked first at the young squire, then at his valuable animals. “Five hundred grood for each one you break. I don’t pay for fixing you up or the time you spend out of work if you’re injured.”
Bardon nodded.
“When can you start? They’re going to be two-year-olds in three weeks. If you know anything at all about kindias, you know if you don’t break ’em by two, you might as well turn ’em loose.”
Bardon nodded again and forced his voice past the lump in his throat. “Heard that.”
“Well, do you want the job or no?”
“Yes, I’ll start now.”
“Never done this before, have you?”
“No. I’ve ridden several, but never broken one.”
“Remember, I don’t provide care for you if you’re busted up.”
Bardon nodded.
“You want a drink or something? I don’t recommend eating. Likely make you sick.”
“I’m fine. Where’s the saddle?”
Hoddack pointed out a tall, brindled kindia as they walked to the barn. “That’s Mig. She’s the oldest, and the one that tossed my last breaker into the fence. Best start with her so the others know you mean business. I got other things to do. I’ll get one of the boys to sit on the fence to haul you out should you take a fall. You don’t get paid ’less you finish the job. Remember that.”
Hoddack sent an o’rant named Ilex down from the main barn. The man helped Bardon corner Mig and get the saddle on.
“All I’m going to do is sit on the fence and watch,” Ilex explained. “I thank you for the time off from real work.” The older man grinned, showing two teeth missing from a crooked row. “Hoddack’s a hard man, but he won’t let a man break alone down here. Someone needs to be on hand to pick up the pieces when the breaker comes off.”
“Nice of him.” Bardon stroked Mig’s neck. He had to reach up, since his head came to her shoulder. Seems to me the kindias in Wittoom were shorter.
Her muscles quivered beneath his hand.
Bardon lengthened his stroke. Her smooth coat felt silky beneath his fingers. “There, there, girl, this isn’t going to be so bad.”
She jumped away, and he brought her back with the reins.
Ilex scrambled up the fence, away from flying hooves. Once he settled on the top, broad plank of wood, he took out a stick and a whittling knife. “Don’t be surprised if some of the other boys wander down here whenever they got a minute. Hope you don’t mind watchers.”
Bardon thought of the few tournaments he had participated in. When you’re busy trying to keep from being killed, you don’t think much about who’s watching.
He just nodded to Ilex. The other animals in the field had moved away, as if to distance themselves from the upcoming battle between man and beast. If the stories were true, the others would do their best to overlook the captivity of their fellow herd member. Bardon sighed and turned his full concentration on the kindia at his side.
Still grasping the reins, he took hold of the saddle horn with his left hand. He moved back toward Mig’s head, stepped forward, and vaulted into the saddle, turning in midair to face forward. His legs landed with knees in the saddle hooks. If he’d missed the hooks or been slow to clench his leg muscles, he would have flown from the saddle as quickly as he’d found it.
Mig danced in a circle, bouncing on all four legs one minute and heaving her hind legs into the air the next. She bounded sideways and reared so that Bardon had to throw himself forward to keep from sliding off her back. She then spun in a crazy circle, switching directions so that Bardon’s head snapped.
The agility and stamina that would serve the beast well when she raced over countless miles of desolate territory kept her moving for more than two hours. Bardon clung to the saddle with his legs and eventually threw his arms around Mig’s neck to keep from being hurled to the ground. After a grueling campaign to rid herself of her rider, the beast stood still, flesh quivering, chest heaving, nostrils flared and blowing, but still.
Bardon knew better than to loosen his hold or try to get off. He had not won the battle yet. Instead, he crooned to the wild kindia, stroking her neck, and even scratching the top of her head right behind each ear. Fifteen minutes later, Mig kicked up her hind legs. When the nuisance on her back did not sail into the air, she commenced another round of gyrations designed to destroy the rider. The second wild dance lasted just over an hour.
A row of men lined the fence closest to the barn. After a brief interlude where she regained her breath, Mig lowered her head and charged them. They scrambled up to safety, but the maneuver had apparently given Mig an idea. She proceeded to try to scrape Bardon from her back by running into the fence at an angle.
Bardon’s body felt like scrambled eggs. Now Mig seemed intent on crushing him. First one leg and then the other took a beating against the wooden slats. Bardon held on.
The contest lasted until dusk. Mig’s bouts of fury shortened in length, but never in ferocity. When at last she’d been calm for an hour, Bardon used the reins to direct her. She responded sluggishly at first and then caught on to the gentle pressure he used to guide her. He brought her up to the fence, and Ilex handed him a bottle of drink. He downed it gratefully, then rode the newly broken kindia around the circumference of the field. As they passed the rest of her herd, the kindias turned their backs and ignored the two, rider and mount.
Bardon again went to the fence by the barn, and Ilex passed him a sandwich.
Ilex looked grim. “You be sure to get your pay tonight. Hoddack might just be counting on you being too sore to come back for your money tomorrow. Then again, he may take a likin’ to you and treat you fair. Hard to tell with that man.”
Bardon bit into the sandwich. “Thanks for the warning.”
As he ate, he circled the field again on Mig. When he got back to Ilex, he asked, “What do we do with her now?”
Ilex grinned. “I’ll take over from here. I’ll bed her in the barn and treat her like royalty all night. She’ll get groomed and fed. I’ll do everything but rockaby her till morning. By dawn she’ll be convinced it was her idea to enter this life of luxury. Funny thing about kindias, once they is broke, there ain’t no better mount.”
Bardon shook his head. “I ride a dragon. Believe me, Greer is the best.”
Ilex led the way to the barn and opened the door. Bardon rode inside, and the worker closed the door behind him. He dismounted.
“Lead her in here.” Ilex opened a stall.
Bardon found his legs wobbled a bit, and he laughed at himself. Grinning at him, the worker took the reins and escorted Mig into her new home.
“You coming back tomorrow?” Ilex called from the stall.
“If I can walk,” answered Bardon.
“Go up to the main barn. There’s an office in the southwest corner. Hoddack will still be there. Get your money and go home. Soak in hot water, but don’t drown. Have somebody wake you up should you doze off. I’d like to see you tackle the other five.”
Bardon groaned as he turned and headed out the door. He looked through the twilight at the bigger barn.
Was that barn so far away when Hoddack brou
ght me down here? And I don’t remember there being a hill between the two barns. He put one foot in front of the other. And I don’t remember the hill being this steep. Oh, what a gift it would be to have Kale’s healing dragon, Gymn, right now.
Hoddack glared at him as he counted out the five hundred grood, but he also handed him a bottle of liniment. Bardon tucked the large gold coins into his pocket and carried the bottle on the long walk back to the inn. I wonder if the bonus of a bottle of liniment means Hoddack’s taken a “likin’” to me.
Lanterns of lightrock illuminated the darkened streets by the time Bardon entered the inn. He asked for his traveling companions, and the sturdy marione innkeeper ushered him to a private parlor.
“What happened to you?” N’Rae sprang to her feet and came to greet him. “You’re filthy.”
“And in pain,” added Granny Kye. “Innkeeper Nald, bring up a tub and hot water to the young man’s room. And a good, hot meal.”
“For you two ladies, as well, or just the young man?” asked the tumanhofer.
“I think we’re all ready to eat,” answered Granny Kye.
The innkeeper bowed. “I can have a meal here in a trice. The gentleman can eat while his bath is prepared.” Nald backed out of the room as he spoke, then closed the door.
N’Rae tugged at Bardon’s sleeve. “What have you been doing?”
“Breaking a kindia for a marione named Hoddack. I earned five hundred grood. There are five more of the beasts waiting. By the end of the week, we should have three thousand grood, enough to get us started.”
N’Rae frowned. “How did you break this kindia?”
“The usual way. I sat on her until she decided I wasn’t a danger to her.”
“How long did that take?”
“A little more than eight hours.”
A knock on the door announced dinner. N’Rae opened the door, and several servants brought in trays of food and drink. They laid the food out on the table and left. N’Rae brought out Jue Seeno’s basket and set up the minneken’s tiny table and chair so she could eat with them. Granny Kye prepared a medicinal tea for Bardon’s aches.