Polgara quietly put Errand down and looked at her father. “It’s serious, then?”
“I don’t know, Pol,” he said, “and I don’t like it when things are going on that I don’t know about. If you’ve finished with what you came here to do, I think we’d better get back. As soon as we can get Barak on his feet, we’ll have him take us to Camaar. We can pick up horses there. I need to talk with Beldin -see ifhe knows anything about this Zandramas thing.”
“We’ll be ready whenever you want to leave, father,” she assured him.
Later that same morning Errand went to the stables to say good-bye to the frolicsome young horse. He was a bit sad to be leaving so soon. He was genuinely fond of Garion and Ce’Nedra. The young King of Riva was in many ways like a brother to Errand, and Ce’Nedra was delightful -when she was not going out of her way to be difficult. Most of all, however, he was going to miss the horse. Errand did not think of the horse as a beast of burden. They were both young and shared a wholehearted enthusiasm for each other’s company.
The boy stood in the center of the exercise yard with the long-legged animal frisking about him in the bright morning sunlight. Then he caught a movement out of the corner of his eye, turned, and saw Durnik and Garion approaching.
“Good morning, Errand,” the Rivan King said.
“Belgarion.”
“You and the horse seem to be enjoying yourselves.”
“We’re friends,” Errand said. “We like to be together.”
Garion looked almost sadly at the chestnut-hued animal. The horse came to him and curiously nuzzled at his clothing. Garion rubbed the pointed ears and ran his hand down the smooth, glossy forehead. Then he sighed. “Would you like to have him for your very own?” he asked Errand.
“You don’t own friends, Belgarion.”
“You’re right,” Garion agreed, “but would you like it if he went back to the Vale with you?”
“But he likes you, too.”
“I can always come and visit,” the Rivan King said. “There isn’t really much room for him to run here, and I’m always so busy that I don’t have the time to spend with him the way I should. I think it would be best for him if he went with you. What do you think?”
Errand considered that, trying to think only of the well being of the young animal and not of his own personal preferences. He looked at Garion and saw how much this generous offer had cost his friend. When he finally answered, his voice was quiet and very serious. “I think you’re right, Belgarion. The Valewould be better for him. He wouldn’t have to be penned up there.”
“You’ll have to train him,” Garion said. “He’s never been ridden.”
“He and I can work on that,” Errand assured him.
“He’ll go with you, then,” Garion decided.
“Thank you,” Errand said simply.
“You’re welcome, Errand.”
“And done!”
Errand could hear the voice as clearly as if it had spoken in his own mind.
“What?”
Garion’s silent reply was startled.
“Excellently done, Garion. I want these two to be together. They have things to do that need the both of them.”
Then the voice was gone.
CHAPTER SIX
“The best way to begin is to lay a tunic or a coat across his back,” Hettar said in his quiet voice. The tall Algar wore his usual black leather and he stood with Errand in the pasture lying to the west of Poledra’s cottage. “Be sure that it’s something that has your scent on it. You want him to get used to your smell and the idea that it’s all right if something that smells like you is on his back.”
“He already knows what I smell like, doesn’t he?” Errand asked.
“This is just a little different,” Hettar told him. “You have to go at these things slowly. You don’t want to frighten him. If he’s frightened, he’ll try to throw you off his back.”
“We’re friends,” Errand tried to explain. “He knows I won’t do anything to hurt him, so why should he try to do something to hurt me?”
Hettar shook his head and looked out over the rolling grassland. “Just do it the way I explained, Errand,” he said patiently. “Believe me, I know what I’m talking about.”
“If you really want me to,” Errand replied, “but I think it’s an awful waste of time.”
“Trust me.”
Errand obediently laid one of his old tunics across the horse’s back several times while the horse looked at him curiously, quite obviously wondering what he was doing. Errand wished that he could make Hettar understand. They had already wasted a good part of the morning on the hawkfaced Algar warrior’s cautious approach to horse training.
If they had just got right on with it, Errand knew that he and the horse could be galloping together across the free open expanse of hills and valleys stretched out before them.
“Is that enough?” Errand asked after he had put the tunic on the horse’s back several times. “Can I get on him now?”
Hettar sighed. “It looks as if you’re going to have to learn the hard way.” he said. “Go ahead and climb on, if you want. Try to find a soft place to land when he throws you off, though.”
“He wouldn’t do that,” Errand replied confidently. He put his hand on the chestnut’s neck and gently led him over to where a white boulder stuck up out of the turf.
“Don’t you think you ought to bridle him first?” Hettar asked him. “At least that gives you something to hang on to.”
“I don’t think so,” Errand replied. “I don’t believe he’d like that bridle.”
“It’s up to you,” Hettar said. “Do it any way you like. Just try not to break anything when you fall.”
“Oh, I don’t think I’ll fall.”
“Tell me, do you know what the word ‘wager’ means?”
Errand laughed and climbed up on the boulder. “Well,” he said, “here we go.” He threw his leg over the horse’s back.
The colt flinched slightly and stood trembling.
“It’s all right,” Errand assured him in a calm voice.
The horse turned and looked at him with soft astonishment in his large, liquid eyes.
“You’d better hang on,” Hettar warned, but his eyes had an oddly puzzled look, and his voice was not quite as certain as the words.
“He’s fine.” Errand flexed his legs, not actually even bringing his heels in contact with the chestnut’s flanks. The horse took a tentative step forward and then looked back enquiringly.
“That’s the idea,” Errand encouraged him.
The horse took several more steps, then stopped to look back over his shoulder again.
“Good,” Errand said, patting his neck. “Very, very good.” The horse pranced about enthusiastically.
“Watch out!” Hettar said sharply.
Errand leaned forward and pointed toward a grassy knoll several hundred yards off to the southwest. “Let’s go up there,” he said into the sharply upstanding ear.
The horse gave a sort of delighted shudder, bunched himself, and ran for the hilltop as hard as he could. When, moments later, they crested the knoll, he slowed and pranced about proudly.
” All right,” Errand said, laughing with sheer delight. “Now, why don’t we go to that tree way over there on that other hillside?”
“It was unnatural,” Hettar said moodily that evening as they all sat at the table in Poledra’s cottage, bathed in the golden firelight.
“They seem to be doing all right,” Durnik said mildly.
“But he’s doing everything wrong,” Hettar protested. “That horse should have gone absolutely wild when Errand just got on him like that without any warning. And you don’t tell a horse where you want him to go. You have to steer him. That’s what the reins are for.”
“Errand’s an unusual boy,” Belgarath told him, “and the horse is an unusual horse. As long as they get along and understand each other, what difference does it make?”
“It’s unnatural,” Hettar said again with a baffled look. “I kept waiting for the horse to panic, but his mind stayed absolutely calm. I know what a horse is thinking, and about the only thing that colt was feeling when Errand got on his back was curiosity.Curiosity! He didn’t do or think anything the way he should.” He shook his head darkly, and his long black scalplock swung back and forth as if in emphasis. “It’s unnatural,” he growled as if that were the only word he could think of to sum up the situation.
“I think you’ve already said that several times, Hettar,” Polgara told him. “Why don’t we just drop the subject since it seems to bother you so much and you can tell me about Adara’s baby instead.”
An expression of fatuous pleasure came over Hettar’s fierce, hawk-like face. “He’s a boy.” he said with the overwhelming pride of a new father.