Chapter 72

The young Yorak maidens were in the tent, busily packing. Zaya was rolling a rug up as she heard the rumbling sound of distant thunder and the ground began to vibrate. She rushed into the open when the rumbling became a roar and the vibrations grew into a quake. She raced into a group of older women with packhorses, all staring to the south. A herd of wild horses chased toward them. Zaya screamed “Stampede” and ran. The women around her and the younger ones who followed her out of the tent heeded her warning and fled. Jabbit, Evanis, and the Alsani stood even a bit farther to the south but they didn’t flee.

A hundred yards before the herd of wild horses reached the three, the big brown lead stallion slowed down and the herd stopped. Leaving the herd behind, the stallion trotted a hundred feet closer. After a few last dancing steps, he reared up, loudly neighed, and finally stood still as well.

“How many horses are there?” Evanis asked.

“Seven-hundred-fifty-three horses and one mule,” Jabbit answered.

“Can I choose any one of them?” Evanis asked but her eyes were fixed on the large brown stallion.

“These are Thaki,” Aishen Mashuren remarked. “The lead stallion of a herd of Thaki can’t be broken in.”

Evanis pried her eyes away from the stallion and looked at Jabbit. “Can I choose any one of them?” she repeated her question.

“You can choose any of the horses,” Jabbit answered.

“Good,” Evanis approved. “I want the stal--”

“But not the mule,” he finished his sentence.

Evanis frowned. “Why would I want to ride a mule?”

“I didn’t think you’d want the mule,” Jabbit replied. “The stallion is beautiful.”

“The stallion is beautiful?” Evanis inquired and her features further darkened. “I’m predictably shallow and vain. Is that what you’re trying to tell me?”

“No,” Jabbit answered and looked into her blazing green eyes. “Beautiful and untamable – I’ve made the same choice.”

Evanis kept up her angry glare a moment longer but then she turned away from Jabbit and strode toward the stallion. The stallion made a few skittish backward steps as she approached but then he snuffled, shook his black mane and stood still. She stopped a few feet in front of him and he closed the distance. She held out her hand. The big stallion lowered his head and nudged her palm with his muzzle. She petted the bridge of his nose. Then she grasped his long black mane and vaulted onto the stallion’s back.

As Evanis rode back she noticed she wasn’t the only one. The women who had fled were returning as well, some of them already once again busy with packing. Zaya stood with Jabbit and Aishen Mashuren. Evanis halted close in front of them.

Zaya looked up at Evanis. “That’s the most beautiful horse I’ve ever seen,” she said with awe shining in her eyes.

“Yes, he’s gorgeous,” Evanis said, petting the stallion’s neck.

“He’s absolutely perfect,” Zaya gushed. “Even the horses of the Great Dobhan aren’t close to his beauty and grace.”

“Yes,” Aishen Mashuren agreed but her voice was strained. “Everyone will see it. A Thaki stallion ridden by a woman.”

Evanis smirked. “And he’s so docile I can ride him without bridle and saddle.”

“Even though you can, it doesn’t mean you should,” Aishen Mashuren dryly commented.

Evanis’ smile grew even wider. “You think your men will be jealous?”

Zaya stepped close to Evanis’ side and looked up at her. “Your legs are bare,” she softly remarked.

Evanis frowned. “So what?”

Zaya answered even lower. “I also know you don’t wear anything beneath your tunic.”

Evanis bit her lower lip and chewed on it while her frown deepened.

“You’ll ride yourself sore,” Zaya continued whispering. “The men ride at the head of the column but all their belongings are kept with the women. Come with me and we’ll find you a saddle or at least a horse rug ... and maybe some riding pants.”

Evanis nodded. “Hop on,” she said and held her hand out to Zaya.

Zaya’s eyes widened. “I can’t ride with you,” she gasped.

“Why not?” Evanis asked and her smirk was back. “Don’t you wear anything beneath your dress?”

Zaya blushed and lowered her eyes. “No, it’s not that. You know women are not allowed to ride.”

“But you want to, don’t you?” Evanis asked.

Zaya looked over her shoulder at the Alsani. Aishen Mashuren’s face was a mask with lips pinched into a thin line and cold, dark eyes. Her entire posture was rigidly still – the slight shaking of her head barely notable.

Zaya looked at Jabbit. His expression seemed placid until she looked into his light-gray eyes. Those eyes were alive and shining brightly. The longer she stared, the brighter they shone. She stared until the world was nothing but a shadow and the only light was his eyes.

Zaya blinked, turned away and looked up. Evanis was smiling at her and she still held out her hand.

“Yes,” she said and took the offered hand. Then she jumped onto the stallion and wrapped her arms around Evanis’ waist.

Evanis spurred the stallion with her heels and they rode off. Only a moment later a large group of riders emerged in the west. The peacefully grazing herd of wild horses immediately took flight. Chased by the riders, the herd fled to the south, where they had come from, but a sole animal departed from the herd. None of the riders cared for the lone buckskin mule and it calmly trotted toward Jabbit, Aishen Mashuren, and the busy women, now dismantling the big tent.

“Please don’t tell me the mule is for you,” Aishen Mashuren said as the mule came to a halt in front of them.

“Are you afraid it will look bad if I ride a lowly mule while Eva rides a mighty stallion?” Jabbit asked.

“Yes, it will greatly demean you in the eyes of the Yorak,” Aishen Mashuren pressed out through clenched teeth.

“Then you need not worry,” Jabbit replied. “I never learned to ride.”

The Alsani’s strident poise faltered and she let out a long, loud groan. “All my life I thought I served Urlan Kotar. Yesterday I learned I was wrong and in truth I serve a god named Jabbit. However, at least one part of my former belief proves to be true – I serve the cruelest of gods.”

Jabbit smiled. “I’m glad to hear I’m not a total disappointment to your belief,” he said and then he walked away.

The buckskin mule followed him.

Nahseyra and Agon var Dosha were walking through the gardens of the White Citadel. The sky was clear and sunny but the flowers had lost most of their colorful splendor. Winter had come to Aloria.

“It’s cold,” Nahseyra said, pulling her thick woolen cloak a little tighter.

“That’s true,” Agon replied. “And just imagine, the winter has only begun. Soon, it will become much colder – so cold that the ponds and the brook, flowing through this garden, will freeze to ice.”

“Momma told me even the rain will freeze,” Nahseyra reported. “It’s called snow, she said, and everything will be covered with snow. It will look like someone dropped a white blanket over the lands. I don’t like the cold but I really want to see snow.”

“I fear you can’t have one without the other,” Agon said and smiled.

“Is that why it doesn’t snow in Ibanee?” Nahseyra asked. “Our winters aren’t cold enough?”

“Yes, I guess that’s the reason it doesn’t snow in Ibanee.”

“But why aren’t our winters cold enough?”

“When I was a little boy, about the same age as you are today, my grandma told me a story,” Agon answered. “A very long time ago, our winters were as cold as the winters in Aloria and it was snowing in Ibanee, too. One winter it was so cold and the snow lay so high no one could leave their house anymore. The people who still tried to leave their homes and dug through the snow, froze to death because it was so cold. The King of Ibanee at that time was Amonkunabi var Dosha, your many times over great-grandfather. Amonkunabi feared all the people of Ibanee would either freeze to death or starve in their homes long before the end of winter. In his desperation, he pleaded for help to Elayakanarras, the Goddess of the Seasons. The Goddess answered his plea but demanded a price for her help. The cold retreated and it never again snowed in Ibanee but since that day, every white foal born in Ibanee was sacrificed to Elayakanarras. So our winters are warmer, we don’t have snow, and no white horses.”

Nahseyra frowned.

“You think the price the King paid to save his people was too high?” Agon asked.

“I think my great-great-granddad Amonkunabi was as bad at haggling as me,” Nahseyra answered but then her face lit up. “But I practiced a lot and I’m much better now. I think when I ask God Jabbit for snow without the cold--”

“No, no, no,” Agon hastily interrupted. “The moral of the story wasn’t to get better at haggling.”

“No?” Nahseyra asked. “And what was the moral of the story?”

“When you ask a god for help, the price you have to pay will always be too high,” Agon answered, a severe expression on his face.

Nahseyra wrinkled her nose. “But the King saved all his people from dying.”

“Well, yes,” Agon conceded. “But think about all the cute little foals that have had to die since then!”

Nahseyra grinned. “You think those foals were as cute as my bunny and the dragon babies?”

Agon hung his head. “I had hoped that’s what you would think.”

“I knew it!” Nahseyra exclaimed, grinning even wider. “You tried to trick me.”

Agon raised his head again and returned her grin. “Yes, I tried but you are too smart for me.”

“I not only practiced haggling,” Nahseyra said, taking Agon’s hand and leading him further down the garden path. “I watched and listened to everything said and done around me. I learned a lot but I know I need to learn much more to become a good queen.”

“That gives me hope I still can be useful to you, my Queen.”

Nahseyra only giggled in response and when her giggling faded, they walked on in silence.

“Will you tell me now what I need to do to truly become the Queen of Ibanee?” Nahseyra asked a little while later as they crossed a copse of beeches, larches, and ash trees. “Yesterday you said you would.”

Agon took a deep breath but then he nodded. “Irja told me you want to burn the blockade ships with your dragons.”

Nahseyra lowered her eyes. “I don’t want to but Empress Sybil is my friend and ally.”

“Do you worry she holds you responsible for the Ibanee galleys blockading the Ewu?”

Nahseyra shook her head. “No, but she’ll know I’m just a little girl and my uncle is the true King of Ibanee.” She said and quietly continued, “I know no one really believes I’m the Queen. Uncle Hassunabi lied when he asked me to become the Queen. You all lied when you watched him put the crown on my head.”

They passed a group of Higan cherries and Agon admired their beauty but out of the corner of his eyes, he watched his daughter. Every trace of her happiness was gone.

“Yes, we lied,” Agon admitted. “We didn’t lie to hurt you; we did it to comply with the demands of an angry god. But that’s no excuse and you have every right to be angry with us.”

“I’m not angry because you lied to me, I’m angry because you lied to God Jabbit.”

Agon gaped at his daughter. “We have to live in exile and you seriously worry about the hurt feelings of God Jabbit?”

Nahseyra watched Agon’s dumbfounded expression. “You’re so funny, poppa. I don’t believe anything we do could ever truly hurt God Jabbit. I’m angry because you used me to betray him. You should’ve remembered how dangerous it is to betray a god.”

Agon stared a moment longer but then shook off his surprise. “You sound like your momma,” he remarked a little peevishly, “especially when you laugh about me.”