Then Gaios was frantically ducking the heavy silver ewer she flung at his head, and when he and three others rode out to rope their quarry, his hair, shirt and trousers were still wet and sticky with the wine that ewer had contained, and his ears still rang with his mistress’ screams and curses. As the four men came near to the farthest pasture, that one most favored by the king stallion, Gaios shuddered involuntarily at | their proximity to the Forest Bridge where so many of his friends were struck down by that hideous axe of the young • son of the Morguhn, and the arrows and dripping swords of the other Kindred. And once more he breathed silent thanks to his god that, since his mount had thrown a shoe while they pursued Lord Bili along the forest road, he had not been called upon to take part in the subsequent battle-actually, subsequent debacle, he was sufficiently honest to admit to himself, since those three Kindred nobles had easily beat more than seven times their number to a virtual standstill even before the arrival of the rescue party.
The big old warhorse raised his large, shapely head at their approach, then trotted out to meet them, weaving a way among his grazing mares, while a number of his frisky get gamboled around him. His keen ears had registered the un-forgotten sound of clashing arms from the faraway hall, and he had been expecting the mindcall of his brother, Hari, at any moment. Now came four of his loved brother’s servants, two bearing strung bows. So strong was his anticipatory shudder that he almost stumbled; it would be good to fight again.
“Greet the Sun, Lord Red Death,” Gaios mindspoke.
The stallion halted a few yards from the riders, his head nodding. “Greet the Sun, Gaios, two-leg of my brother. There has been fighting at the hall.” It was a statement, not a question.
Successful lying in mindspeak is difficult and requires long practice. Gaios lacked that practice and knew it. “Yessss,” he agreed, trying to becloud his motives and intentions long enough to get a couple of ropes on this potentially dangerous animal.
Toeing his mount closer to Red Death, he added, “Unexpected events have occurred at the hall, Lord Red Death. Your brother would have you there, near to him.”
“Then why has my brother not mindcalled me, two-leg?” demanded the horse.
Gaios squirmed in his saddle, wishing that Ohros would hurry and signal that he was in position to cast his rope, ere the stallion became suspicious.
But Red Death was already suspicious. He had never liked Gaios, had tolerated him only to please his brother, and he trusted no two-leg whose mind he could not reach, like these other three two-legs. Nor was he so dense as not to be fully aware that Gaios and another were slyly moving within range of the rawhide ropes coiled on their pommels. Nor had his alert eyes missed the fact that the right hands of the other two were hovering near their arrowcases. Also, there was the stink of fear on these two-legs.
Snorting, he mindcalled the danger signal to the small herd behind him and did not need to look to see them abruptly break off their tranquil grazing, bunch together while mares summoned their ranging progeny, and lope off out of bowshot even as a couple of younger stallions moved forward to add their teeth and hooves in combating the danger, whatever it was.
Observing the oncoming pair of almost mature stallions, heads held low and ears laid back, menace in every line of their bodies, Gaios’ partner panicked and cast his rope too soon. The king stallion saw the loop snaking through the air and danced lightly aside, tossing his head on his scarred, muscular neck. The outer edge of the rope struck his crest, slithered down to his withers. At its hateful touch, he screamed his battlecry, half-reared and pivoted in the direction of the two-leg who had so insulted him.
Frantically, Ohros was reining his mare about as soon aa he saw his rope fail to snare, alternately sputtering prayers and screaming at Danos and Roopos to arrow Red Death.