Shattered Dance

One last, powerful spasm cast the whole of it in the straw. The mare lay for a moment, breathing hard. Then she raised her head, peering along her body at the wet and glistening thing that had come out of her.

Her nostrils fluttered. The filly stretched out her nose. They touched.

Briana’s throat closed. Maybe it was foolish, but that first touch, that moment of tender recognition, never failed to melt her heart.

The Lady’s breath tickled her ear. She pressed her cheek to the broad, flat red-brown one and trailed fingers down the soft muzzle.

The Lady had foaled in her time, Briana knew without words. It was a great thing, a blessed thing. The gods were glad because of it.

But now Briana had to be empress. Her hour’s escape had stretched too long. The empire would hardly fall about her ears, but it did need her hand to steady it—especially now that she was about to be crowned.

The Lady offered her shoulder, then her back. It would be ungracious to refuse the gift. Briana caught a handful of mane and swung astride.

Bareback and bridleless, she rode out of the stable into the sudden glare of daylight.

The outer court was full of people and horses. Most of the horses were stocky and grey or white, and most of the riders were dressed in grey or brown. They rode with a particular grace and quiet elegance that persisted even after they had dismounted.

Briana laughed for joy. Two of the riders turned together. They were shoulder to shoulder, and they were almost exactly of a height. One smiled, warmth flooding into silver eyes. The other grinned as wide and white as a boy, but there was nothing male about her.

“Kerrec!” cried Briana. “Valeria!” She hardly remembered leaving the Lady’s back or leaping toward them until she found herself with arms wrapped around both of them, hugging them tight.

Her brother let her go first and held her at arm’s length, searching her face keenly.

She had last seen him broken and half mad, all but destroyed by hatred and pain. Now he was whole again. He was beautiful.

Not that she would say such a thing—he was vain enough already. She settled for a grin and a deceptively ordinary word. “You’re looking well,” she said.

“And you,” said Kerrec. “The burden of empire agrees with you.”

“Not always,” she said wryly. “I’m running away this morning.”

“It looks as if you were running back when we came in,” Valeria said.

As Briana nodded, Kerrec caught her glance and held it. “Have you found anything?”

“Nothing out of the ordinary,” Briana answered. “And you?”

“All’s quiet,” said Kerrec.

“They’re biding their time,” Valeria said.

“I’m sure they are,” said Briana. In due time she would find that troubling, but for the moment she let the joy of their coming overwhelm everything else.

The rest of the riders had hung back, but as she turned to face them, she met a circle of smiles and the occasional grin, with here and there an inclination of the head. Since riders never bowed to any mortal, that was as royal an obeisance as she was likely to get.

She bowed to them all as was proper and greeted the Master with deep respect. “Sir. You’ve come in good time.”

“So I gather,” Master Nikos said. “We go into seclusion in the morning, but tonight we’re still in the world. Perhaps, after all our day’s duties are done, we may dine together?”

“I’ll be honored,” Briana said.

“Tonight, then,” he said.

No other words were said, but as he withdrew to duties that she had no doubt were pressing, the rest of the riders scattered as well. Kerrec and Valeria stayed, but Briana could tell they were a little torn.

“Go on,” she said. “I’ll come back tonight.”

Valeria nodded and smiled, and embraced her quickly. Kerrec took more time about it, kissing her forehead before he let her go. “It’s good to be back,” he said.

Brianna’s eyes widened slightly. After all he had been through in or for Aurelia, that was remarkable.

It was wonderful. She kissed him back and sent him on his way.

The Lady was waiting, and so were her duties. This time Briana was glad to face them. The sooner she did that, the sooner she could come back to Riders’ Hall.

Chapter Twelve

Valeria should have been reassured. The city of Aurelia was warded with such strong magics that her head buzzed. Nothing short of a god could get through such protections—and whatever the barbarian priests were, gods they were not.

Now the white gods had brought the Mountain’s power to the city. The bay Lady had been there to welcome them, and she was stronger than all of them put together.

Everything that anyone could do had been done. The Dance would be safe. So would the empress.

And yet even in Riders’ Hall, with the stallions safe in the stable and the riders settled into their rooms, Valeria could not help feeling that they had all missed something. She could not begin to say what it was, but her mind kept reaching for some scrap of knowledge it could not quite find. Something, somewhere, was not as it should be.

She would mention it tonight when they were all together. Surely others had felt it, too. They were all mages of patterns here. If a pattern was out of place, one of them should be able to detect it.

In the meantime she had horses to help settle and Quintus to meet again and a new foal to marvel at. By the time that was done, her room was ready in the hall and she was ready to rest.

She was not sharing the room with Kerrec. Beginning in the morning, all the riders would go into seclusion to prepare for the Dance. Since she was not riding in it, like the rest of the lesser riders, she would sleep and eat and perform her duties outside the wards.

She took great pains to face the separation with disciplined calm. It was not even worth acknowledging the part of her that wanted to know why she could not ride the Dance, too. Could she not master all the stallions? Was she not a stronger mage than any of them?

She was all of that. She was also a rider-candidate who had not yet been tested for Fourth Rider’s rank. Last year the stallions had insisted that she ride in the Midsummer Dance, and Oda had come down off the Mountain to carry her. This year they were silent.

The Dance would proceed according to tradition—to the riders’ manifest relief. Likewise according to tradition, Valeria would care for the stallions, wait on the riders until they went into seclusion and, when the day of the Dance came, serve as groom and servant.

There was a kind of guilty contentment in it. For once she was an honest rider-candidate. After the Dance, before the Master went back to the Mountain, she would be tested. Then if she passed, there would be a new Fourth Rider in the world.

She went about her duties with as light a heart as she had had since she received Maurus’ message. She saw that all three of her stallions were comfortable in their stalls, looked in on Kerrec’s Petra and young Alea and paused by the mare’s stall to assure herself yet again that, yes, Sabata’s daughter looked exactly like him.

The sense of unease tried to come back when she left the stable and turned toward her room. She pushed it down. She needed to rest now—her whole body ached.

Her room was one of several along a nondescript corridor. It was tiny and ascetic, but it had a window that opened on one of the riding courts. The ranking riders had the floor above. This floor belonged to the lesser riders, most of whom, like Valeria, were taking advantage of the chance to rest after the long journey.

She lay on the bed, which was not as uncomfortable as it looked. Her insides felt strangely empty.

Grania was safe. No one not of the Mountain except Valeria’s family even knew she had a child.