THE STALLION’S POWERFUL HINDQUARTERS launched us forward, and we were at a full gallop in three strides. His speed was like nothing I had ever experienced. The wind whipped my face, threatening to take my breath away as I let out an excited whoop and crouched forward, close to his neck.
It was like flying. I urged him faster, and he stretched out, his ears flat back against his head, breath coming in rhythmic snorts as his pounding hooves ate up the road. I was going to feel the strain in my back and thighs tomorrow. I’d never ridden a horse with such a large, rolling stride before. I vowed to do so as often as possible from now on.
I risked a quick glance behind us, where Senovo was a rapidly diminishing speck in the distance. A laugh bubbled up in my chest. Volya had been a fool to cut off ties with the Mereni. How much could Draebard’s warriors accomplish with horses like these? If the gods smiled on me and I was allowed back into the village as Horse Mistress, I would make it my life’s work to make sure that we got more of them.
We galloped until my eyes were blurred with tears from the wind and sweat was lathering Nietre’s neck beneath the reins. When he began to slow of his own accord, I straightened in the saddle and eased him back to a rocking lope. The stallion blew softly with each stride. After another couple of minutes, I relaxed my seat and breathed out, long and deep. The horse melted down to a walk, and I stroked his steaming neck.
“Better now?” I asked, thinking that even if he wasn’t, I most certainly was. With an animal like this, wandering the wildlands as an outcast suddenly didn’t sound quite so bad.
I let him amble on down the road on a loose rein, his breathing slowing by degrees as the sweat dried on his coat. It was a good quarter of an hour before the sound of steady hoof beats approaching behind us heralded Senovo’s reappearance. Nietre flicked his ears back and tried to crane his neck around to look, but he was too exhausted to do more than snort a weak challenge at Kekenu as the two horses approached... just as I had planned. For his part, Kekenu ignored the stallion completely, though the gray mare tossed her head flirtatiously as Senovo reined her in.
“Don’t let your mare get too close,” I warned him. “I do believe she’s a bit smitten.”
“I’m no expert,” Senovo said, slightly out of breath from his own brisk ride, “but that appears to be one exceptionally fast horse.”
“It does appear so,” I agreed with a grin.
“You’re glowing,” Senovo accused.
“Special kind of crazy, remember?” I said, and made a concerted attempt to control my glee. “Sorry. Giving a horseman a new horse is like giving a toddler a new toy.”
“Between the horses and the acolytes, it appears the Mereni bring far more to the table than we originally hoped.”
I nodded in complete agreement. “It was short-sighted of Volya to alienate them, especially on the strength of his own bruised pride.”
“It was,” he agreed. “Though it may not be politic to say so directly, once we return.”
I sighed, my momentary elation dulling. “I doubt I’ll be able to get any further on Volya’s bad side than I already am. But don’t worry—I’m not planning on engaging in debates with the man. I’d be happy not to engage with him at all, though that’s probably unrealistic.”
“Probably so,” Senovo agreed, not without sympathy.
* * *
We traveled on through the day, the gray clouds dripping a slow drizzle onto us for a couple of hours before giving way to patchy, late-spring sunshine. Nietre was obviously tired after his initial, exuberant gallop—not surprising for a horse that had been confined to a small pen for much of his adult life. I could not fault his spirit, though. He never balked or fussed, just trudged along with his head level with his knees.
The green valleys of the Mereni lands changed gradually to rockier, elevated plateaus, and I judged we were in roughly the same area where we’d camped overnight on the way here a few days ago. It was here that I’d first seen for myself the true depth and shape of the bond between Andoc and Senovo. Where I’d first dared to dream—as we’d passed around a skin of strong wine—of having something like that for myself.
I stood up in my stirrups, pointing at a familiar rock formation. “Look! Isn’t that our campsite?”
Senovo peered into the deepening dusk. “I think it might be,” he agreed. “I’m sorry to say that I wasn’t paying all that much attention that night.”
I remembered how shattered he’d been at the time—exhausted after the recent attack and mass funeral in Draebard, sick with grief over Rhystel and the other slain priests. I remembered how shattered we’d both been. But whereas I was only fighting grief, he was also fighting the wolf inside him. I looked closer at him in the gray evening light. Even now, his green-gold eyes were sunken and red-rimmed. His shoulders, slumped under the weight of the worry he was carrying.
I should have been watching more closely today.
“I think it’s the same place,” I told him. “Regardless, it’s a good spot to stop for the night.”
Senovo nodded, and dismounted. I followed suit and found a sturdy scrub tree to tie the stallion. The other horses could graze through the night, wearing hobbles, but I would have to hand-graze Nietre for a couple of hours this evening, and again in the morning unless I wanted him trying to fight with Kekenu and breed the gray mare while we slept.
“I’ll tend to the horses if you’ll get a fire going with your magic powder,” I said.
We each took care of our various responsibilities, and when I plonked my saddle on the ground near the merrily blazing little fire and sat down against it, Senovo handed me some dried meat and fruit from the saddlebags, along with a water skin.
“My apologies—I didn’t think to buy any wine,” he said.
I took the rations and settled back. “I guess that’s why you keep Andoc around, eh?” I teased. “He is good with the wine.”
“One of the reasons, certainly.”
Studying Senovo surreptitiously, I decided that I really didn’t like what I saw. “Don’t take this the wrong way,” I said, my tone tentative, “but you really look terrible. Are you going to be able to keep control tonight?”
Senovo shrugged a shoulder. “I don’t really have a choice.”
I sat forward, staring at him openly, and crossed my arms. “Well, yeah... you really kind of do.”
“Don’t mince words, please, Carivel,” he said, sounding tired.
“You do have a choice. You could wait until you can’t hang on a moment longer and change form in agony, fighting it every step of the way, or you could just fucking change, out here where it’s only you and me and the crickets. The wolf can go for a nice stroll with me for a couple of hours and hunt rabbits, or mice, or whatever wolves do, while I let Nietre graze. Then we can both curl up by the fire and get some decent sleep.”
Senovo opened his mouth to argue, and I cut him off. “The wolf isn’t going to hurt me, Senovo. If the wolf wanted to hurt me, it would’ve done so when I was dragging it around by the scruff of the neck to try and keep it from charging into the point of a javelin at the temple in Meren the other night.”
“What about the horses?” Senovo asked, almost defiantly. Almost as if he was desperate to prove to me how dangerous his inner animal was.
“I don’t consider you a stupid man,” I replied, unable to keep a faint tone of irritation from creeping into my voice. “I’m going to assume that means the wolf isn’t stupid either. It might have a chance with a newborn foal or a sick, lame animal, but no lone wolf is going to try taking down a healthy, adult horse. Kekenu and the gray mare would kick you in the teeth if you tried anything. Nietre would probably pound you into a greasy little puddle with bits of fur sticking out of it. We’re in the middle of nowhere, Senovo. There’s no one here for you to hurt.”
“You don’t understand,” the priest said weakly.
“No, I don’t!” I shot back. “So please, explain it to me. You’re going to change eventually, either way. We both know that! What’s so much worse about changing voluntarily?”
“It’s a form of weakness!” Senovo retorted. “The wolf preys on weakness.”
I set aside the uneaten food and crawled over to kneel in front of him, taking his hands in mine. He looked up in surprise, only to quickly look away again.
“It’s not, you know,” I said, purposely gentling my voice. “It’s control. Somewhere along the way, you got it into your head that ‘control’ means hanging on until you can’t any more. That would have been like me trying to keep Nietre at a slow walk this morning when he wanted to run, and fighting with him until he finally bolted or bucked me off out of frustration. How is that control?”
I dipped my head, trying to catch his eye again. He met my gaze reluctantly. “You saw what I did instead,” I told him.
“You let him run,” Senovo said softly.
“No, I told him to run,” I clarified. “In fact, I told him to keep going for a couple of minutes even after he was tired, because I’m the one in charge of the partnership. But I knew he needed to run, and since I’m the leader, it’s my responsibility to make sure he has what he needs. That’s what leaders do, Senovo. Otherwise, why would this horse ever trust me enough to want to follow me?”
Senovo’s expression crumpled, and he leaned forward until his forehead was resting against our joined hands, hiding his face. I squeezed his fingers and disentangled long enough to draw him into an embrace.
“The wolf needs to get out and hunt rabbits for a few hours,” I whispered against his ear, as sure about this as I’d ever been about anything in my life. “Where is the harm in that?”
He shuddered against me and went still, barely even breathing. A few moments later, the body in my arms warped and changed, doubling over, a rough gray coat erupting under my hands. The wolf whined and wriggled in my grip, half knocking me over onto an elbow before licking enthusiastically at my neck and face. The sound I made as I struggled upright and fended him off was half-laugh, half-sob. I cradled the large head between my hands, finger curling into the ruff of longer fur framing the animal’s cheeks.
“Look at you,” I told him approvingly, pressing our foreheads together and closing my eyes. “Look how brave you are.”
The wolf panted and nudged me with his wet nose. When I straightened and released him, he yipped once and leapt away, leaving Senovo’s robes puddled on the ground next to me. He turned back and dropped his front end to the ground in a play-bow, tongue hanging out in the firelight.
“Gods, Senovo,” I told him, “Andoc would give his left eyetooth to see you like this.”
It was true. The wolf, like all animals, lived totally in the moment. Right now the night was pleasant and free of threats. Interesting smells wafted from the tufts of grass and enticing crags in the rocks, and all was right in his world. I envied him for a moment until I remembered my early morning gallop on Nietre—the way everything else had fallen away into unimportance. I blushed a little. Perhaps I was not so far removed from the wolf as I thought.
The shaggy creature yipped again, and flopped down on his belly to stare at me with golden eyes.
“All right, all right,” I said. “Let me get Nietre and we can go explore a bit.”
I had hobbled the other two horses earlier and let them out to graze on the other side of the rocks, with access to the small stream and a broken field of scrubby grass. Nietre, though, was watching the scene intently from where he was tied nearby. When I rose, he let loose an explosive snort, pawing at the tree trunk with one front foot.
“Yes, I know,” I said, and made sure to grab my stick and flag before I approached him. “It’s a bit much to ask of you on the strength of such short acquaintance. Just pretend he’s a really large dog, all right?” I turned back to the wolf. “And you—remember what I said about furry grease puddles, eh?”
The wolf continued to stare at me, tongue lolling as he panted.
I asked Nietre to yield a step or two away from me as I untied him, and made a point of keeping my body between him and the large predator. “Come on, both of you,” I called, and led the horse out into the deeper darkness away from the fire. The wolf leapt to his feet and trotted off to explore his surroundings. Before long, he was happily digging away at the underground burrow of some unfortunate small creature.
I led Nietre a little distance away to a patch of dry upland grass. He stared at the wolf for some considerable time before blowing out a breath and lowering his head to graze. We wandered slowly from tussock to tussock while the wolf amused himself chasing after smells and sticking his nose into whatever he could reach.
After a couple of pleasant hours, a soft whine came from a short distance behind me. Nietre’s head shot up, and I turned to find the wolf regarding us with shining eyes.
“Had enough already?” I asked, keeping my body language focused but relaxed, to reassure the stallion that I was aware of the wolf but did not consider him a threat.
The big predator whined again and crept forward on his belly, pausing to flop over on his side and hitch himself comically along with his hind legs. He rolled to and fro, scratching his flanks and back on the pebbled ground with obvious enjoyment. Nietre lowered his head and snorted loudly at the unusual performance, neck arched and ears pricked. I watched the two animals closely, intrigued by the interaction but unwilling to risk Senovo getting hurt. The stallion spooked in place, jumping slightly but not backing away as the wolf righted himself and continued forward on its belly, tail flopping rhythmically against the ground. He stopped about three arm-lengths away, looking up at both of us with a hopeful gaze.
“I can’t help wondering how much of you crosses over,” I said, fascinated by the idea of dignified, reserved Senovo stretched out in front of me begging for ear scratches. I thought about the eunuch arching into Andoc’s touch in bed, and smiled.
Keeping a close eye on Nietre and with my stick and flag ready, just in case, I closed the distance between us and crouched down. The wolf immediately nosed into me with a whimper of pleasure as I reached out to rub at the shaggy head. He twisted his neck this way and that, positioning my fingernails where he wanted and closing his eyes in apparent bliss. Nietre stared with rapt attention, frozen in place for several moments. Then, he began to inch forward, one tiny step at a time, his neck stretched out to its utmost.
The wolf sneezed and looked up with wide eyes when the stallion’s breath wafted across his face from a few inches away. I watched carefully, poised to intervene as the black horse snorted softly through flared nostrils, ruffling the wolf’s fur once more. Nietre jerked back when the wolf reached out and licked at his muzzle, but returned seconds later to resume his tentative exploration.
“All right, you two, break it up,” I said, after a minute or two of this. I reached into my pocket, suddenly remembering the second piece of dried apple still buried there. I had to shove the wolf away as he tried to sniff at the treat, so I could feed it to Nietre instead. “Rude,” I chastened.
I stood up, spilling the furry creature off my lap. He huffed and shook himself, causing the stallion to scramble back a step. “Come on,” I said to them both. “Let’s get back to the camp.”
I allowed Nietre to drink his fill from the stream and tied him to the tree again to keep him out of trouble. After checking that the other horses were all right, I flopped down next to the fire and picked up the remains of my rations, tearing into them hungrily. The wolf trotted up and sniffed around the area, quickly locating Senovo’s own discarded dinner and gulping it down without ceremony.
“You’ve certainly got more of an appetite than human Senovo does,” I told him. “Maybe I should have had you bring me your rabbits so I could cook them first.” The animal canted his head, watching me intently. “I draw the line at cooking mice, though. Sorry.”
I looked at the night sky. The clouds were breaking up, patches of starlight visible overhead. I decided to take a chance on the rain being finished for now, and forego the tent. It was still warm and muggy, but I dragged the blankets from both of our bedrolls anyway and set them out by the fire. The wolf wandered over to sniff at my boots once I’d removed them, and watched as I arranged the blankets into a sort of rough nest.
Resting my head on the seat of my saddle for a pillow, I scooted around until I’d managed to find a relatively comfortable, rock-free spot to lie on. Once I’d settled, the wolf slunk over and pawed a few times at a corner of one of the blankets, dragging it partially free of my legs.
“Blanket thief,” I accused. Ignoring my words, he continued to scratch and nose at the rough woolen cloth until it was arranged just so. When it was finally to his satisfaction, he circled twice and curled up in the space in front of my stomach and thighs with a big sigh. Staring out into the darkness beyond the campsite, he rested his head on my hip—a warm and grounding weight.
I reached out and stroked the thick fur, listening to the gentle night sounds—insects, the occasional rustle as Nietre changed position by the tree where he was tied, our soft breathing. After a while, my hand grew heavy, sliding down to rest on the wolf’s lean, sinewy shoulders and staying there as my eyes slipped closed.
* * *
The sun was just rising over the horizon when I woke. Sometime during the night, the wolf had stretched out in front of me, and I now lay with one arm thrown carelessly over his torso. Roused, perhaps, by my own return to consciousness, the animal yawned and stretched luxuriously, muscles bunching and rippling under my touch.
I was shocked to have slept so soundly, given what awaited the two of us later today. I hoped that Senovo had found the wolf’s sleep as restful. Knowing we had to face the day, but not wanting to break the moment, I ran my hand over the thick fur with slow, even strokes.
“Senovo,” I said softly. “It’s time to come back now. Can you come back for me?”
The wolf whimpered. I shushed him, and continued to stroke my hand over his warm flank. A few moments later, the unnatural twisting, writhing change heralded Senovo’s reappearance in my arms. The eunuch froze, holding his breath, muscles trembling, and I resumed my rhythmic caress over the naked skin of his side and hip.
“Everything is fine,” I said, pitching my voice low. “We’re fine, there’s no danger. Just breathe. It’s all right. Breathe now.”
The trapped breath exited Senovo’s lungs in a great whoosh, and he sucked in a gulp of air, and then another. I continued to speak to him softly and run my hand up and down his side, reading the gradual ebb of his panic in the ever-slowing thump of his heartbeat.
“Carivel?” he asked eventually, still frozen in place.
“That’s right, it’s me,” I said. “We’re camped between Meren and Draebard. Do you remember?”
There was a tiny hesitation.
“Yes, I... yes.”
“Are you in pain? Do you feel like you need to be sick?” I asked, remembering the two other times I had seen Senovo change back from the wolf.
“... no.”
“That’s good, isn’t it?” He shivered again, this time from the slight chill of the morning air, and I flipped the edge of my blanket over him. “Here, just stay put for a few minutes.”
I was already pressed up against him from shoulder to ankle, but I tugged him a bit tighter against me under the blanket and resumed running my hand over every part of him I could reach. We were silent for some time, watching the sun rise slowly over the rocks. Small tremors wracked Senovo’s body, growing farther apart and of shorter duration as I continued to hold him.
“How do you feel?” I asked, when he lay quiet against me at last.
He was still a bit slow to respond, as if he was lost inside his own head. “Strange,” he said.
“Good strange or bad strange?” I pressed.
“Just strange,” he replied. “That was...”
“Yes?”
“That was... the easiest transformation I’ve ever experienced.”
A wave of sadness washed over me for the man in my arms. Shaking and gasping, muscles frozen in fear for long minutes—and that was the easiest it had ever been for him. All I said, though, was, “I’m glad.”
He nodded, and stretched tentatively against me, unlocking stiff joints with a series of crackling pops. I followed suit, a huge yawn splitting my face.
“Are you all right on your own for a bit?” I asked. “You can stay here. Get a bit more rest while I take the stallion out to graze again.”
Senovo hummed an affirmative noise, so I crawled out from under the blanket and tucked it around him once I was free. I was still dressed except for my boots, so it was the work of a moment to pull them on. After relieving myself behind the rocks and splashing water from the stream onto my face and arms, I took Nietre out to graze for a while and check the other horses.
The stallion was a bit stiff after a long gallop followed by a full day of work and a night of inactivity. I decided to ride Kekenu today, judging that Nietre would be too sore and tired to pose much of a problem as the packhorse. I would just have to keep a close eye on him as I led him to make sure he stayed out of biting or striking range of Kekenu.
I returned after a little more than an hour and put the packsaddle on the stallion, aware that I was in danger at this point of dallying merely to put off our arrival in Draebard. By the time I led the other horses back to the campsite and saddled them, Senovo was up and dressed, looking steady enough, but still quiet.
We ate a bit of dried meat and washed it down with fresh water, but I could already feel my stomach growing queasy as I thought more about the day ahead. The two of us packed up the rest of the camp and headed out. My attention was taken up by Nietre for the first few leagues, as he danced and postured and tried to threaten poor Kekenu, only to run into my stick and flapping cloth flag with each attempt.
Eventually, he subsided, and the two horses trudged side-by-side, eyeing each other with matching sour expressions. Without the constant distraction of their fussing, my mind slid back to what we would find at the edge of the village—a strip of leather tied to a tree limb, but what color? Time seemed to drag, while paradoxically also passing too quickly. We rode straight through, stopping only to water the horses at convenient rivers and streams without dismounting. The terrain became more familiar as we descended from the uplands to the rolling hills and rain-soaked valleys of western Eburos. The rough trail flattened and widened out into a road, and before I was remotely ready for it, Senovo was pointing to a large tree with twisting, knobby branches, just becoming visible in the distance.
“Can you see it?” I asked, hating the breathless quality of my voice.
“Not yet,” he said.
We cantered forward, closing the last stretch separating us from answers. The breeze picked up, and something white flapped in a branch. I let out all of my breath at once.