A cheer rose from the men attending the kindias, followed by some good-natured joking.
Hoddack looked Bardon in the eye. “Now you see that this race is in earnest.”
“I admit you’ve confused me, Master Hoddack. I thought you didn’t like to part with your money, and this race was to save you the fee you owe me for breaking the five kindias.”
“I’m a businessman. I go by what’s fair, and sometimes, I have to make others operate under the same code. I got no way of telling whether you and that girl are charlatans or not.” He slapped Bardon on the shoulder as if he had not just cast aspersions on the squire’s character. “Now, last night, I got to thinking that when the countryside hears about this race and the circumstances that brought it about, they’ll be clamoring for one of my stock. Prices’ll go up.” He frowned. “And if your kindias fall way behind, throw their riders, and take off for the wild, then I only have to pay the winner a thousand grood, saving the fifteen hundred more I’d have to give to you.”
“And if one of the kindias we broke wins?”
“Well, then, I’m out a lotta coins, but my reputation is not only safe but doubled, maybe even tripled. Your kindias break down, they’ll say how shrewd I am not to let you cheat me. Your kindias prove out, then I’m a shrewd dealer with the best stock in the country.” Hoddack grinned and went off to speak to one of the other men.
N’Rae came back to Bardon’s side as soon as the owner moved off. “The kindias are excited. The ones who have raced before can hardly wait. They want the people to quit fooling around and get them out to the starting line.”
“How about the ones you broke yesterday?”
“I didn’t break them. I told you, that’s an absurd term.”
“The kindias you introduced to the barn, then. How are they doing? Nervous? Scared by all this hubbub?”
“They were at first, but I explained to them what’s happening, and now they’re eager to run.”
“Hoddack has given me permission to ride. Which one of our kindias would be a good mount?”
“You’re asking me?”
“Of course! You would know.”
N’Rae’s mouth hung open for a second. She snapped it shut, then pointed to a pale kindia with a dark mane and dark stripes on his legs. “The men call that one Ten because he has ten stripes on his legs. The other animals admire him and consider him their leader.”
“Then I shall ride Ten.”
Ilex explained the route twice.
“I want you to win this race, boy,” the old farm worker said. “It’s been a long time since I rode in one, and it would feel mighty good to be backing the winner. And I’m backing you. Remember the turn at the giant monarch tree leads to a sudden decline. It’ll be like sliding down the hill on the kindia’s rump.”
Bardon nodded as he continued to stroke Ten with his bare hands, giving the animal a chance to become familiar with the new rider.
“And remember,” continued Ilex, “the starting rope takes about two seconds to hit the ground. Don’t spur your mount until you count to two. You’d be surprised how many races are lost with the kindia’s front feet tangled in the rope. You better hope the kindias on either side of you have smart riders too.”
N’Rae stood at Ten’s head and seemed to be lost in an exchange of ideas. Bardon’s mouth quirked at the corner as his kindia nodded as if replying to something the young emerlindian said.
A trumpet blast from the main house signaled for the men to bring their mounts to the starting line. A forty-foot rope stretched from the porch of the big house to the large barn. A crowd continued to gather from the town and neighboring farms.
Bardon looked over the throng. Hoddack’s going to get the publicity he wants. As he walked with Ten, he watched the men around him leading their kindias up the hill. These animals certainly don’t act like horses do before a race. They’re plodding toward the starting line as if they were going to nothing more than another stable. Yet N’Rae says that each one is excited.
At the top of the hill, they stood with the kindias as Hoddack gave a speech about riding fair and a brief description of the route.
Now I’m glad Ilex told me which trails to take. Hoddack’s description doesn’t amount to much.
A magistrate from the town ordered the riders to make ready. They climbed into the saddles. Bardon, without thinking, vaulted onto Ten’s back as if mounting his dragon. He heard the stir among the onlookers and deliberately focused on getting Ten to a place along the rope.
Two burly marione men untied the starting line and held it taut. The magistrate called for silence. The crowd hushed.
“On the count of three, these men will drop the rope. Let this be an honest race, honoring the fair city of Norst. One.”
Bardon leaned over Ten’s neck.
“Two.”
He squeezed his knees against the saddle.
“Three.”
The rope fell. Bardon counted to two and dug in his heels.
On either side of him, racers plunged forward. He vaguely recognized a kindia several mounts down rearing up instead of charging forward. Whoops and hollers covered the clamor of hoofbeats on the dry road. But the racers soon left the uproar behind.
The first stretch of the race followed a meandering road through the foothills. At various points along the way, small knots of people stood waiting for the racers to pass. They cheered, waved their hats, and jumped up and down. Bardon held second place and hoped to stay there. The rider in front of him certainly knew the racecourse. He never hesitated at a turn. Bardon followed, planning to urge Ten to pass the leader on the last stretch.
They rounded a bend and nearly ran into a farm cart. Ten sidestepped the wagon and kept going.
Now, here’s a big difference. Greer and I would have been hundreds of feet or more above that obstacle. But Ten seems to know what he’s doing. Bardon chortled. That makes one of us. I don’t have to win this race. We and the other kindias N’Rae tamed just need to make a good showing.
He looked over his shoulder. So far, so good. Our kindias are in the front half of the pack.
They turned into a rocky canyon. No more pastures lined the way. The kindia took to the pathway like a mountain goat being chased by a high-country cat.
As Ten climbed behind the lead kindia, Bardon bounced in the saddle. Several times the kindia jumped from one large, flat boulder to the next. With each landing, Bardon felt like his teeth would be jarred out of his mouth and his bones would crack.
Riding Greer is a breeze compared to this. Where’s the soothing stroke of his strong wings? Where’s the smooth glide and steady pace?
Ten scrambled down into a gully, following the kindia in front of him. Bardon no longer consciously directed his mount but rather let the beast decide how best to keep on the narrow pass.
Leaning almost flat on the animal’s neck, Bardon spoke words of encouragement. “You’re a good kindia, Ten. You’re beating all the rest with no help from me.”
They left the jumble of rocks and entered a forested area. The trail narrowed and twisted back on itself, zigzagging up the steep mountain. Several times Bardon looked over the edge and saw the heads of riders below him.
Ten didn’t appear to mind the height. Bardon, on the other hand, who usually soared among the clouds when traveling, began to feel dizzy whenever he looked over the edge. To keep nausea at bay, he stared between Ten’s two long ears.
They crested Old Man Peak above the timberline. Here the wide path allowed the riders to juggle their positions. Another kindia and rider passed Bardon and Ten. Ten snorted, and Bardon laughed out loud.
“It’s all right, boy. We’ll barrel past those two when we get on the homestretch.”
The weathered rock didn’t offer much for the kindia’s hooves to grip. They mostly slid down to the tree line.
This is rough. And Ilex said it got a little steep after the giant monarch tree.
The older man’s words came back to him
. “After that, boy, just hold on for all you’re worth and petition Wulder to keep your saddle intact. There’s no pride or style in riding down that mountain. You just lie back against the high cantle and hold on! You might even want to close your eyes. Ten will know which way to go, and you couldn’t turn him anyways. Blessed thing is, it don’t last long. Maybe twenty seconds of going straight down. After that, Ten will prance through the crumpled pile of boulders at the bottom and then along the dry creek bed. Kind of sandy there. Then the rest is easy.”
They raced through the thickening forest along a switchback path. Loose rocks fell on the first riders as the riders behind plunged along the trail above.
Down below, Bardon saw a huge tree with the distinctive upswept branches of a monarch. Beyond that it looked like one section of the mountain had fallen away, leaving a bare escarpment.
Bardon clenched his jaw and did exactly as Ilex had instructed him.
Wulder, protect me and this beast. Protect the men and animals before and after me. And keep this saddle in one piece and on Ten’s back.
Two kindias and their riders still led the way in front of Bardon and Ten. They rounded the monarch and disappeared. Bardon followed and closed his eyes. Not out of fear, but because dust and gravel flew into the air from the other animals’ feet. He wondered if Ten had closed his eyes as well.
He heard a rider shout behind him, and a torrent of loose rock pelted them. Something whapped them from behind. Ten pitched forward and rolled. Bardon fell from the saddle and tumbled beside the kindia. They stopped at a broad ledge littered with crumbled shale and granite gravel.
Bardon sat up and shook his head. Ten stood prancing, as if to say, “Come on.” The two riders who’d been ahead of them were down, as well as two more who must have been directly behind. The men staggered to their feet, brushed the dust from their faces, and ran to jump in the saddles. Bardon left the lower ridge in second place.
At the bottom, they zigged and zagged and hopped through the pile of rocks that had tumbled from the mountain. Bardon sighed his relief when they hit the riverbed, then realized how hard Ten worked to gallop across the soft, dry sand. Even though trees lining the way provided shade, sweat soaked Bardon’s clothing, and lather flecked Ten’s coat. A kindia Bardon had not noticed managed to pass them.
When they climbed the embankment, the road they had raced down on the way out reappeared. The last leg of the race stretched before them.
“Well, Ten,” Bardon shouted behind the animal’s head. “Do you want to come in third or first?”
Ten extended his long neck. The muscles in his powerful shoulders moved in an accelerated rhythm under Bardon’s knees. They passed the second rider and came up on the right side of the leader.
A multitude of people lined the roadway. Their roar assaulted Bardon’s ears. The colors of clothing and waving pennants blurred in his side vision as he set his eyes on the red ribbon stretched across the finish line.
He leaned forward, shifting his weight to his lower legs. Crouching over the saddle instead of sitting in it, he finally found the rhythm that kept his bones from absorbing all the pounding. The distance between him and the leader of the race narrowed. He heard both animals gasping, and he felt Ten surge ahead. The second kindia pulled ahead and then fell back. The ribbon trailed from Ten’s ample chest as they crossed the finish line.
The contestants slowed and circled back to the front porch of the big house, cooling the animals. More riders came in, late but finishing. All six of the kindias Bardon and N’Rae had worked with completed the race.
The crowd pushed in on the circle of first runners. Bardon searched the faces until he spotted N’Rae with Granny Kye beside her. The mass of people made it impossible for them to come together. People jumped and cheered, laughed and pounded each other on the back.
The only one who didn’t look happy stood on the porch. Hoddack scowled at the people on his property. His eyes met Bardon’s, and the young squire saw trouble brewing.
10
CHOICES
Swinging his leg over the kindia’s neck, Bardon dismounted.
“I’ll take him,” said Ilex, removing the reins from the squire’s hand. “I’ve got a fine bed of hay, a bin of bossel, and clear water waiting for him in the barn. This boy is going to have a rubdown, too, and I’m going to sing him the songs my pa sang to me.”
Ilex patted Ten on the neck, reached up to scratch behind the animal’s ears, and led him off, chuckling to himself. Bardon watched as they pushed through the crowd, and the old farm worker greeted those eager to heap praises on the winner.
Bardon eased between mingling farmers and townspeople, edging his way to the porch. Hoddack pointed his finger at one of the revelers, a neatly dressed young marione with a thick thatch of slicked-down, golden hair. Hoddack hooked his finger in a “Come” gesture and pointed to the front door. Then the kindia breeder turned abruptly, signaling with a wave of his hand for Bardon to follow. He marched into his house without looking back to see if his silent commands were obeyed.
Now what?
Bardon’s boots thumped the wooden steps as he climbed to the porch. He met the summoned young man at the top of the steps. The marione’s jaw angled just like Master Hoddack’s, and he had the same deep-set eyes and large, straight nose.
Bardon slowed, allowing the young man to go first. Hoddack’s son? First Hoddack looks as though he has swallowed a drummerbug, then he calls for his son to join us. I hope this isn’t going to be unpleasant. He shook his head as he tried to determine the type of person the son could be. He doesn’t look as contrary as the father. In fact, he looks rather soft, as though he isn’t used to laboring beside the farm workers.
The son held his shoulders straight, but they weren’t as broad as his father’s. He wore tailored clothing without one grubby mark on him. Instead of commonplace boots, he wore shiny brown shoes of tooled leather.
He looks as though he enjoys his father’s success but doesn’t help with the business of running this kindia farm. But then, all this is supposition. “Judgment passed before facts are known judges the judger.” Principle sixty-eight.
Inside, the refined décor of the home surprised Bardon. Hoddack had disappeared, but the young man led the squire into a side room. An older woman sat in the dim light on a brocade-covered settee.
“Mother, may we disturb you for a moment?”
She lifted her chin and smiled toward the voice. “Of course, Holt.”
He took her extended hand and raised it to bestow a kiss.
Her other hand came up to briefly caress his cheek. “I suspect you’ve brought one of the riders to meet me. Perhaps, the winner?”
Bardon stepped forward with the assurance of years in Sir Dar’s court. He bent over her hand and brushed it with his lips.
“I beg your pardon, Dame Hoddack, for coming into your presence in such a state. I must smell like the kindia I rode. A fine animal, but not one that should be brought into a lady’s parlor.”
The genteel woman wrinkled her nose delicately and chortled. “And with my sight gone, my sense of smell is most keen. But I am glad Holt brought you to meet me. Are you the same young man who tamed the kindia in such an unusual manner?”
“Not exactly.” Bardon looked over to Holt, who nodded his approval of telling the story to his mother. “I spent the first day convincing Mig to accept a working relationship, using the common procedure. My friend, N’Rae, has a gift for dealing with animals. She tamed five in less time than I took with one.”
“The lovely emerlindian girl?”
“Yes.” He hesitated. “Excuse me, Dame Hoddack, but how do you know of her?”
She straightened the lace shawl draped over her shoulders.
“I have many visitors, and most of the servants are aware that I enjoy knowing what goes on beyond the walls of this house.” She’d answered almost immediately, but Bardon detected a slight shuttering of her open friendliness. “I’m glad Holt brought y
ou in. I am very interested in this N’Rae.”
“It is my turn to beg your pardon, Mother. Father will be waiting for us in his study.”
She reached for him, and he gave her his arm, which she patted. The pleased smile on her face transformed a weary expression to one of loveliness. “Yes, go, dear. See what he wants.” She turned slightly toward Bardon, and the mask of the grand lady slipped back in place. “Good luck to you, young man.”
“Thank you, Dame Hoddack.” Squire Bardon followed Holt to another room on the ground floor.
Hoddack sat behind a large desk cluttered with papers. A sack of coins spilled across the top. Seven neat stacks of five shiny gold pieces, each large coin worth one hundred grood, lined up across the front edge of the desk. A thick, dark purple rug muffled their footsteps, but the kindia breeder’s shaggy head jerked up as they entered.
“Took your time.”
“We went to see Mother.”
Hoddack grunted and waved an impatient hand, urging them closer. “Have a seat, Squire Bardon. I have an additional proposition for you.”
Holt took a chair, lounging with a look of disinterest on his handsome face. His fingers played with the fringe sewn into the armrest. His foot silently jiggled.
Bardon remained standing. “My companions and I are on a journey. We’ve delayed long enough.”
“This won’t take much of your time, and what I have to offer might make your trip less taxing.”
Bardon wanted nothing more than to collect his earnings and leave the crotchety old kindia breeder to stew over whether he’d been shrewd in their interchange. Or, whether he appeared a shrewd businessman in the eyes of the populace. Bone-weary and uncomfortable in his sweaty, dirty clothing, the squire wanted a bath, a meal, and to begin arranging for the transport of his companions down the river to Ianna. He sat on the leather chair next to Holt and waited to see what the farmer had in mind.