Swords of the Horseclans by Adams Robert

“Naturally, the ‘entertainment’ had been going on about us from the end of the last course. We drank a bit more wine, and Lord Alexandros chatted with some of the spectators, but when they brought out the trained animals, he indicated his desire to leave and we did so, being unable to locate our hostess.”

“I cannot imagine where Lady loanna could have been,” remarked Mara sarcastically. “She’s like the Confederation Army—open to any man between fifteen and forty. I don’t know why Gabos hasn’t beaten her to death long since. An occasional affair when a woman’s husband is on a long campaign is one thing, but she’s put so many horns on poor old Gabos’ head that I fail to see … but it’s none of my business.

“Well, what did our guest today, Fil?”

“Over to the barrack-yards again, Your Grace. This time, though, he had to offer gold to get bouts from any, save old Rahn and me; soon, I may have to start assigning men to fight him. Another thing—he wants someone to teach him to ride a horse. He says they have no horses in the Sea Isles.”

Lord Djeree Pahtuhr was a horseclansman. Though he hardly looked his age, he had ‘been born on the high plains, thousands of miles to the west, on the very year that the tribe commenced its twenty-years-long migration, which had ended in the conquest of Kehnooryos Ehlahs. He had fought in every battle of the conquest and in many thereafter. Now, most of his hair was gone and precious few strands of red adorned what little remained, but his eyes still sparkled clear and blue as a mountain lake. Nor had sixty years bent his back, stooped his shoulders, or weakened him. Though short and slight like most of his race, he stood straight as a spearshaft and, though his clasp of greeting was gentle, Lord Alexandros could sense the formidable strength in the old man’s hand.

Horseclansmen, the Sea Lord discovered, were as blunt and informal as were his own people. Truly revering only their Undying God and two Godesses—Milo, Mara, and Aldora—they considered all others—kings, nobles, even their own chieftains—as mere men and treated them as such.

“You tell Mara that I’ll be right glad to teach the young feller to ride,” Pahtuhr told Lieutenant Feeleepos. “Though it ain’t much teachin’ to ridin’, mostly, it’s fallin’ off ’til you get the hang of how to stay on.” He turned to Alexandros, looking him over critically.

“Can you mindspeak?” He asked it suddenly and silently.

“Yes.” Alexandros answered just as silently.

“You sure can, an’ strong, too; not too many of you Ehleenee got that much power—them what can mind-speak, a-tall. That’s good, what with that an’ your build, I’ll have you finished in no time.”

High-Lord Milo’s breeding farm lay some miles north­west of the capital, so Djeree had a pair of huge, white mules harnessed to an old-fashioned war cart. When the slave-driver was in place, he and AlexanoVros mounted, whereupon the slave lashed the mules to a fast trot, able to maintain such speed in the city only because he drove the Military Highway, just inside the city walls. Lord Djeree was apparently well known and popular with the soldiery, for many an arm was raised as they passed and many a ribald greeting shouted.

They never even paused at the west gate and the sparse traffic scurried from their precipitate progress. Then the driver put the team into a ragged gallop and the heavy, springless vehicle jounced and clattered. The slave seemed to know every boulder and pothole in the seldom-used road, and at least one wheel seemed to make violent contact with each imperfection.

But Alexandros adapted, guessing that the relaxed, ex­pressionless old man was putting him to some test. Fac­ing forward and taking a firm grip of the brass side rail, the Sea Lord put into play the muscular harmony and sense of balance that had kept him erect on the steering deck of many a storm-lashed bireme . . . but he still felt that his every tooth was being jarred from his jaws.

Lord Djeree’s hand on the driver’s arm ended the hell-ride at the first milestone. The mules were reined up to a smooth trot and the slave adeptly avoided the rougher areas of the roadway.

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