The Mountain's Call

She did the best she could. The Master and the rider listened without comment. Once she had put it in words, it sounded weak and foolish.

“That’s all I can remember,” she said at the end of it. “It’s the water, isn’t it? It gives dreams.”

“You recognize the water?” Master Nikos asked.

“We all do,” she said. “It tastes the way the Mountain feels.”

“Feels?” the Master echoed her.

Her cheeks had gone hot. “I know I’m not saying it well. Words don’t seem to fit. I can’t—”

“No,” said the Master. “You can’t.” He glanced at Kerrec. “This one broke through faster than any I’ve seen. Even you took somewhat longer.”

Kerrec astounded her with a smile that made him look remarkably human. Of course it was not aimed at her. “I was still floundering when Petra kicked me into the wall and knocked some sense into my head.”

“Broke your arm, too, as I recall,” the Master said.

“Oh, no,” said Kerrec. “That was pure stupidity. I tripped over my own feet and snapped my wrist.” He rubbed it, flexing the hand as if it still remembered pain, and shook his head. “I was a terrible combination—both clever and arrogant. Petra dealt with me as I deserved.”

“They will do that,” said Master Nikos. “So, what of this one?”

Kerrec froze into his grim and familiar self again. “This is the one the Lady chose.”

Master Nikos’ brows went up. “Ah, so. Well then. We won’t waste time with any more of the lesser testing. Is any of the others fit to partner him?”

Kerrec frowned in thought. “Not really, no. There is one, but he needs every one of the minor tests. Unless…”

“Yes?” the Master prompted when he did not go on.

“Unless we ask the Lady.”

“You know what they think of all our testing.”

Kerrec almost broke into another smile. “Humans are idiots. That’s a given. Will you ask her or shall I?”

“I’ll ask,” the Master said. “You go.”

Kerrec bowed. He barely glanced at Valeria. “Come,” he said.

Chapter Nine

Valeria was glad to be out of the Master’s study, but in the hallway she stopped short. Kerrec was nearly to the stair before he realized that she was not trotting obediently behind him. He halted and turned.

“Listen,” she said. “Do what he said. Don’t waste time. I’ve failed. Just let me go. I’ll slip out quietly and not bother anyone.”

Kerrec seemed honestly surprised. “What makes you think you’ve failed?”

“Haven’t I? I was woolgathering when I was supposed to be answering questions. Isn’t discipline paramount? Didn’t men die yesterday because they had none?”

Kerrec drew in a breath. He was probably praying for patience. “Come with me,” he said. “This isn’t a thing to be shouted down hallways.”

She could hardly argue with that. He turned again, and she followed him down the stair. The courtyard was occupied by a group of riders on white stallions, but they were absorbed in their exercises.

Kerrec stopped under the colonnade. Over his shoulder she could see the horses transcribing patterns that seemed random but struck her with a deep resonance. Every dance, even the most casual, was keyed to the rhythm of the world.

She had to tear herself away from the pattern and focus on Kerrec. Even he was different. He was brimming with magic. It gleamed along his edges and coiled in his eyes.

He was a master of the art. His discipline was impeccable. His mastery…

“It’s beautiful,” she said.

She had not meant to say it aloud. She braced for his reprimand, but he barely even frowned. “There is no greater beauty,” he said, “and you can see it. Do you really believe you’ve failed?”

“You pulled me out of the testing,” she said.

“Because you were done with it.” He fixed her with a steady silver stare. “You passed. You saw through to the pattern. The rest will be plagued with simplicity until they either do the same or fail. You have no need for that. There is one thing we must still determine, and one last test which you’ll share with the rest of the Called. Otherwise there’s nothing to discover.”

She bit her lip. There was another thing, but he knew it already. If he was not going to mention it, then she certainly was not about to.

“What—” she said. She brought her voice under control. “What do you need to determine?”

“One thing,” he said. “Come.”

Valeria stood under the gallery in the Hall of the Dance. The bay Lady was with her. A groom had brought the mare after Kerrec left Valeria there with a simple order: “Stand and watch.”

The Lady was neither saddled nor bridled. She was there as Valeria was, to watch. She was also standing guard, though against what, she did not see fit to tell Valeria.

As endless as that day had seemed, it was still short of noon. The morning exercises went on in the hall as they did in the riding courts. Somewhat to Valeria’s surprise, the horses in the hall when she came were not the oldest and most powerful of the stallions but the young ones, still dark or dappled, who were just learning the ways of the Dance.

They worked in fours and eights. Sometimes there were a dozen in the hall, more often eight. While Valeria stood beside the Lady, watching and wondering what she was supposed to see, four left and four came in. Kerrec rode one of them.

Kerrec was even more beautiful on horseback than she remembered. Here in the heart of his magic, he had no need to hide what he was. He could show himself for a master.

On foot he was infuriating. She could not decide whether to hate him or simply despise him. As she stood in the hall, she decided that she was in love.

The others rode well, and it was lovely to watch them. Kerrec was perceptibly better.

Out of nowhere in particular, Valeria remembered one of the questions that Kerrec had asked shortly before she stopped listening. “What are the levels of mastery within the school?”

She could see the tablet in front of her and the stylus digging into the wax, writing the answers.

First, mastery of animals. That was the simplest, and came in childhood. The Called were always masters of beasts, although few of the order of Beastmasters were actually Called. When the Called came to the school, if they passed the testing, they learned the first of the arts, the art of riding horses.

Second, mastery of men. Through the power of the stallions they learned to rule and guide. They could be princes and kings if their law allowed it, but the stallions cared nothing for such things. Men who cared too much were released from the school. Hunger for power had no place on the Mountain.

Third, mastery of the elements. Earth and air, fire and water, yielded to them as beasts and men had. The stallions were like a burning glass, concentrating their power. They were great mages, those riders who rose so high.

Fourth and highest, mastery of time and the Dance. Few riders ever reached this eminence. Master Nikos was one. Kerrec was another. These, in union with the stallions, could walk in the past and foresee the future. Tradition had it that once in a great while, in the cusp of destiny, one of them could shift the tides of time and make them run according to his will.