BLACK Horses for the KING ANNE MCCAFFREY. Part two

Part Two

The Road to Deva

THE THIRD AND FINAL VOYAGE WAS THE best and the worst.

The best because Lord Artos put me in charge of the horses on one ship-Bwlch was on the other. I was both proud of the honor and fearful of failure.

The worst because we caught the brunt of a fierce autumnal gale for the first two days. Somehow we, and the horses, survived, though all of us were bruised and exhausted. The horses were barely able to drink water when it was offered them. With tattered sails, our two ships limped up the mist-covered Exe to the wharf.

These crossings to collect the precious stallions and mares had taken us well into the tenth month, and into the misty and often chill weather of the season. So we weren’t surprised by the fog.

Some keen-eyed watcher must have spotted us despite the weather and sent word, because we had barely secured the ships to the bollards when Bericus came charging off of the mist-shrouded dock on my Spadix. His long legs stuck straight out in front of the pony so they would not trail on the ground. Spadix snorted and came to a stop just as the last deck plank was removed.

“Thought you might like to see your old friend, Gal-wyn,” Bericus called cheerfully, planting his legs on the ground and all but walking straight off the pony. “Besides”-and his grin was full of mischief-“old Canyd won’t let any of the Libyans be ridden yet.”

“Who’s Canyd?” I asked.

Bericus grinned. “He knows all the ails and aches a horse can have and how to cure them.”

This latest shipment of Libyan horses, heads hanging down with exhaustion, were not as troublesome coming out of the ship as they had been going in. Of course, Bwlch, Bericus, and I were by now experienced in such transfers, so this one was accomplished speedily. And the men Prince Cador had promised arrived. Each hostler took charge of a weary animal, some of whom were barely able to put one shaky foot in front of the other now they were back on solid ground.

Reins hitched to a nearby bollard, Spadix gave little encouraging nickers. Whatever he said to the poor creatures, they seemed to prick their ears a bit and whuffle softly, as if reassured by both his presence and his comments.

Finally, all the horses were safely ashore and Bericus checked each of them.

“Their legs have stocked up with fluid,” he said, not in the least perturbed. “But some rest and liniments of old Canyd Bawn’s making will soon set them right.” He clasped my shoulder. “You did well, lad. Very well indeed.”

His words were salve to the effects of sleepless nights and long watches.

“And I did not?” Bwlch asked in mock outrage.

“I expect it of you, Bwlch,” Bericus said, with a grin to take the sting out of his words. “Now let’s get these poor creatures to the pasture before they fall down on the hard wharf stones.”

I moved to take up the lead rope of one of the mares, but Bericus’s big hand on my arm stopped me. He turned me and gave me a little push toward Spadix. “You ride, lad. You’re as liable to fall as one of the horses. You’ll get your land legs back soon, never fear.”

I must admit that I was relieved to be able to ride. The road, ascending steeply from the harbor and disappearing into the swirling mist, looked more than my wobbly legs could handle. I scrambled astride Spadix with considerable relief and took the lead rope of one of the tottery mares.

By the time we reached the top of the steep hill, where we crossed the eastbound military road, the mist had dispersed and the day was bright and clear. The harbor seemed completely resident in another land.

Sighting his field companions, Spadix whickered loudly, announcing the new arrivals. They answered by charging up to the fence to see who was approaching. Horses are curious herd animals and like to do things together. Once again, I was taken with a surge of pride to be part of Comes Artos’s great dream.

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