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WITH FRIENDS LIKE THESE . ..
of silver partway through the long mane, and another in the black tail. Most mal wore only a lifepouch, and this one’s was strapped to its neck. But it also wore an incongruous, utterly absurd hat of green felt, with a long feather, protruding out and back.
With a start she realized she’d been staring . . . very undignified. She started toward it again. Now the head swung to watch her. She slowed and stopped involuntarily, somehow constrained from moving too close.
“This is ridiculous! she thought. It’s only a mere mal, and not even very big. Why, it’s even herbivorous!
Then whence this strange fluttering deep in her
tummy?
“You are Casperdan,” said the horse suddenly. The voice was exceptional, too: a mellow tenor that tended to rise on concluding syllables, only to break and drop like a whitecap on the sea before the next word.
She started to stammer a reply, angrily composed
herself.
“I am. I regret that I’m not familiar with your species, but I’ll accept whatever the standard horse-man greeting is.”
“I give no subservient greeting to any man,” replied the horse. It shifted a hoof on the floor, which here was deep foam.
A stranger and insolent to boot, thought Casperdan furiously. She would call Patch and the household guards and . . . Her anger dissolved in confusion and
uncertainty.
“How did you get past Row and Cuff?” Surely this harmless-looking, handless quadruped could not have overpowered the two lions. The horse smiled, showing
white incisors.
“Cats, fortunately, are more subject to reason than