Again she saw sky straight ahead. Impact! Then grass. Impact! Sweat was blinding her. Her spine was rammed into her skull. Then into the saddle. Skull again. Trees coming up ahead again. She caught glimpses of eggshell palace domes against blue, green turf, pink blossom, white fence, black horse, white, blue, black pink white black-blue-white-green-blue-white . . .
Her legs were breaking with the strain of gripping. She was dead—nothing could survive this. How much longer . . . get it over with . . . back to bucking again . . .
The next few hours were all very exciting, but just when she had concluded for the hundredth time that she had lost, suddenly, inexplicably—shivering, dancing, foaming—Evil surrendered. He dropped to a trot. Feeling a great surge of triumph, Inos kicked him into a gallop. Again they rushed at the fence, but now she was in charge. Up they went. The top rail was higher than she was, but Evil seemed to grow wings and fly. Power!
He landed as gently as a falling petal. No wonder Azak did not want to share such a marvel! She circled him, flew him back into the paddock again, and cantered sedately over toward the onlookers, rejoicing at the steady leaden thud of the great hooves on the grass and the wilder beating of her own heart. Triumph! Now those hairy-faced boors knew that a woman could ride.
Now she would be one of the boys!
But there was no cheering. Spectators scrambled back, clearing a path all the way to Azak himself, who was standing with arms folded and red murder blazing in his eyes. Inos reined in, just as a thunderclap of reaction struck her. Suddenly she was shaking, soaked in sweat, fighting not to have hysterics. Any minute now she would bring up breakfast. She thought she had sprained a wrist and bruised every bone . . . But she had done it, damn it! Hadn’t she? She was one of the boys now, wasn’t she?
Evil was in no better shape-foam-flecked, white-eyed, every muscle jittering. Everyone else was cowering away in silence from the sultan’s fury.
“Flogged, you said!” Azak roared, so loud that Evil shuddered. ”Flogged? Any groom of mine who treated a horse like that would be buried alive!”
“Huh?” No praise? No congratulations?
“What do you plan to do with him now, wench? Oh, you stayed on! I admit you stayed on! But he’ll not be fit to use for days, or weeks. Look at him! Would you like to try ruining one of his brothers next? Or perhaps you’ll accept something you can handle?”
Inos slid unaided from the saddle, and it was a long way down. Her knees almost folded with the impact. She straightened and thrust the reins at a groom. With a great effort she straightened her chin and clasped her hands tightly behind her. Then she managed to look up into Azak’s glare.
“Something I can handle, please,” she said. “And then let’s get on with the hunt.”
6
Evening at last . . .
With her face politely frozen in a Kinvale-style smile of interest, Inos strolled along palatial avenues, mounted grandiose staircases, and crossed majestic parks. Despite the leisurely pace, she was straining every muscle and nerve in her efforts not to limp. Would she ever dare sit again? She moved within a worshipful company of at least a dozen princes. They gazed at her with wonder and admiration, this green-eyed, golden-haired woman who could ride a horse, fly a bird, shoot a creditable arrow, and who claimed to be queen in her own right. Arakkaran had never met such a marvel.
The marvel felt like a shipwreck. Her eyes burned with dust and sun, half the sand of the desert clung within her hair, and little more of this maltreatment would give her a complexion fit to smooth planks. But she had survived the day. She was one of the boys.
She had not obtained her confidential chat with Azak, so she could not claim total victory. However awestruck the rest of the royal princes, the sultan had ignored Inos ever since she relinquished Evil. Most of the time he had been barely visible in the distance, usually the far distance, leading suicidal charges over the rocky hills. So Inos could claim no victory, merely a draw that would let her fight again tomorrow. No hawking tomorrow; tomorrow the princes were going coursing. Revolting!
The aged and portly prince on her left was panting out an interminable tale about a dagger, a rockslide, and some unfortunate goat he had slaughtered long before she was born. A much younger one on her right was continually edging too close, fingers straying. Stars were appearing in the darkling sky.
Idly Inos swung her riding crop on her right and felt a gratifying impact. ”Incredible!” she murmured to the left as the narrator ran out of breath on the stairs. That was wrong! Fascinating! had been next on her list. She must keep them alphabetical, and not be so gauche as to repeat herself. Still . . . not long now. The procession took off along flat ground, and the goat killer picked up his tale again. Fingers moved in again.
At last the Gods were merciful, and she reached the entrance to her quarters. Guards sprang to attention, eyes wide at seeing such an escort. The door opened on an unobtrusive signal. Inos turned and smiled at all the princes.
“Your Royal Highnesses, my thanks! Till tomorrow?”
Fifteen or sixteen royal turbans swung forward in salaam. Inos bowed in turn, suppressing a whimper of agony. Then—divine mercy! She was inside and the great door thumped shut.
She leaned back against it as a tidal wave of questions broke over her. She was facing what seemed to be the entire female population of Zark, all jabbering excitedly, with Zana vainly trying to restore order. But of course these were merely the late Prince Harakaz’s women, all eager for news of the day’s miracle.
For a moment Inos felt a great surge of annoyance. She wanted a bath and a massage, perhaps some food, and then lots and lots of sleep. She did not want to recount her life story! Then her annoyance gave way to pity. And it was oddly flattering.
She raised a hand, and the babble died down to a few wails from bewildered babies. “Later?” she said. “Yes, I did go hunting with the princes. But later, please! After I’ve had a bath and changed, I’ll tell you all about it!” She smiled as sincerely as she could manage and tried not think about a long evening ahead.
With excited promises of hot water and food ringing over a renewed clamor, Inos limped off behind Zana in search of Kade. Their way led through a chain of rooms, and then outside, to a high balcony. Flocks of gaudy parrots soared by, screaming mockery. The sky was a canopy of cobalt suede hung over the Spring Sea, and a couple of earlybird stars shone above the everdancing palms. Down in the bay, the white sails of dhows and feluccas glided toward their roost like ghosts of owls.
Nibbling dates and holding a book at arm’s length in the fading light, Kade was reclining on a sumptuously overstuffed divan. A frosted carafe of some cold drink stood on a table beside her, and the very sight of it made Inos’s mouth ache.
Every joint screamed as she sank wearily—and very carefully—onto the cushions at her aunt’s side. She was suddenly aware that she had not thought about Father all day. Nor Andor.
Zana was already pouring something musical into a goblet. Kade disposed of the book and smiled with eyes like winter sky. “Had a good day, my dear?”
Inos made a guttural croaking noise and drank. Oh, glory! Ice! Cold lemonade! What sorcery was this? “Marvelous! And terrible. I feel like bread crumbs—dried out and mashed up. But I do think I made an impression, Aunt.”
“I’m sure you did.”
Zana tactfully floated away.
Gods give me strength, Inos thought. But she had certainly treated Kade rather cavalierly that morning.
“I’m sorry if I took you by surprise, Aunt. You know me—impetuous! It just seemed like a wonderful opportunity to, er, meet the local gentry”
“You always were good with birds, of course.”
Inos almost choked on her second draft of the miracle elixir. “You saw?”
Kade nodded. “Her Majesty showed me in the looking glass—just a few minutes, while you were riding out. Did you catch anything worthwhile?”
Inos’s hawk had reduced one unfortunate rock dove to blood and feathers, but that might not be what Kade meant. “Nothing of any importance.” About to mention that the chase would resume in the morning, Inos changed her mind. ”Patience is the mark of the successful hunter, Father always said.” She began tipping a third cool draft into her internal desert.