her instruments 02 - rose point (3 page)

“You... you set me up for that one, didn’t you.” Sascha held up his hands, grinning. “No, wait. You’re about to say ‘you set yourself up. I just helped show you the way.’”

“Something like that,” Hirianthial allowed, amused. Against his neck, through the hair dangle the crew had made him, he could feel the laughter of Sascha’s twin, and beneath it Sascha’s own memories of fixing the
Earthrise’s
Well drive, impressions woven into the knotted strand by a very normal magic. For as much as he’d allowed them to know him... they knew him very well indeed.

“You really feel like our token exotic alien?” Sascha asked after a moment, his voice low.

Hirianthial glanced at him, at the spotted fur on the mostly humanoid face, and the eyes that could be merry and serious by turns. “Do you really feel like our token Harat-Shariin hedonist?”

Sascha was silent, toiling alongside him in the heat. Then he smiled. “Can’t help that. I
am
a Harat-Shariin hedonist.”

“Sometimes,” Hirianthial said.

“Sometimes,” Sascha said.

As they approached the top of the hill, Hirianthial added, “Thank you.”

“For...?”

“For not assuming I pulled any of that out of your mind.”

Sascha snorted. “Is she getting to you, still?”

He considered his words. “She asked me to stay, but she’s avoided me ever since. I must imagine the incident still distresses her.”

“Maybe,” Sascha said. “She doesn’t know how to let a thing go, good or bad. That’s one of her endearing qualities.” He grinned. “But no. Unlike Reese, I don’t care if you go rooting through my thoughts. But if you don’t like what you see there, that’s your problem, not mine.” He stopped alongside Saul, “So how far—oh.”

Over the hill was a pasture, and in the pasture were horses.

Hirianthial had grown up with horses. For centuries, in fact, he had overseen the breeding of horses, had fretted over the crossing of lines, had made expensive and delicate arrangements for stud duties with other Houses who were also jealous of the health and bloodlines of their dwindling herds. On his world, one could walk or ride, either astride or in a horse-drawn carriage: there was no other form of transportation.

But it had not been planned so. They’d brought horses with them from Earth for pleasure, not for need; there had only been a few, not the numbers necessary for a healthy genepool. Not all the most careful husbandry in the worlds had been able to save their animals from the inevitable byproducts of inbreeding. The resulting beasts were all very similar, of delicate health, and had muddy and disappointing conformation. And most of them were some shade of brown.

In all his life, and he had lived almost seven hundred years of it, Hirianthial had never seen creatures as magnificent as the ones grazing on the incongruously lush grass in the field beneath them: dappled gray and sleek black, gorgeous bays with their dark socks, chestnuts so bright a red they shone like fire beneath Kerayle’s brassy sun. They were all, to the last individual, beautiful.

Sascha and Saul were both staring at him. The latter was grinning. “Ah… a man who understands a horse.”

Sascha, more uncertain, asked, “Are you all right?”

“Very much so,” Hirianthial said. “Can we come closer?”

Saul grinned. “Even better… would you like to ride? If you’re interested. I could take you to see our prize.”

“Something finer than this?” Hirianthial said, brows lifting.

“Oh yes.”

“Count me out!” Sascha exclaimed. “I’m not getting on one of those things. They look smart enough to pitch me off.”

The Hinichi laughed. “If you recognize that, you have all the instincts of a budding horseman—“

“—no,” Sascha said firmly. “I will stand at the fence and watch.”

“They might come over and nibble you,” Saul said, grinning.

“As long as they don’t bite—wait, how big are their mouths?” Sascha flicked his ears back. “Are you serious about the nibbling? You’re teasing, aren’t you.”

“A little,” Saul said, slapping him on the shoulder. “Come on. I’ll introduce you to the Lead Mare.”

“They have titles,” Sascha muttered.

“They have names too,” the wolfine said. “Like people.”

Hirianthial hid his grin and followed.

“You have a laboratory,” Reese said, staring down into the facility from the metal catwalk.

Behind her the Kesh laughed. “Did you think we used magic to make the horses, Captain?”

Reese folded her arms over her ribbed vest and tried not to scowl. At least he’d addressed her correctly. “No, of course not. It’s just that... you have all of a dozen buildings—”

“More like thirty,” he said mildly.

“It’s not much of a town,” Reese continued, ignoring him. “So finding a state of the art genetics facility in the middle of it is a bit of a surprise.”

“It’s what we do,” the Kesh said, stepping up beside her. Beneath them a handful of people were working. They were mostly human, but she could see at least one Pelted: an Aera, from the length of the ears. Reese frowned. The Aera were nomads by inclination and finding one in a town was strange. Maybe the Aera had chosen the colony life because it was a little like wandering, to be so far from everything. “We are bringing something back to life here, Captain Eddings. Something that was left for dead—” He paused, shook his head. “No. Something that was neglected. Discarded until it came to ruin, but it was only sleeping until we returned for it. And we shall be proper stewards to it now. Do you see?” He rested his hands on the rail. “Some things are left in the past, and should be. Others are left behind, and should be retrieved.”

“And... you’ve decided that horses needed retrieval,” Reese said, wondering why the conversation was making her uneasy. She had come to distrust passion, maybe. “I guess horses are harmless enough.” When he glanced at her, she said, “It’s not like you’re... I don’t know. Cloning ancient megalomaniacal human warlords or something.”

He snorted. “You have an active imagination, captain.”

“Or a paranoid disposition,” Reese muttered. She watched the activity below them. “You don’t seem to have many people.”

“Many of them are with the horses.”

Something in the way he said that... she glanced at him. “You’ve got so many already?”

“We do,” he said. “Come, let us continue the tour.”

Definitely something going on there, she thought, and followed him. “So, these horses... I’m guessing you ride them, since you talked about saddles and bridles.”

“Of course.”

“Is that where your missing people are?” she asked.

He turned. “They’re not
missing
.”

Holding up her hands, Reese said, “I wasn’t implying anything! Just... this doesn’t seem a big staff for an operation this size. You know. Repopulating the universe’s horse… ah…population.”

“You seem skeptical,” he said. “Not much of an animal-lover, captain?”

“I live on a ship,” Reese answered. “Fur clogs ducts. I have enough trouble with the crew shedding without adding things that aren’t smart enough to help me do maintenance.”

“Ah,” he said. “Well, you’ll have noticed the heat? Most of us sleep through it. We run on reduced numbers during the afternoon.”

“Right,” Reese said. “So, you were saying about textiles?”

“Ah! Yes.”

Reese followed him down the stairs, but she glanced one more time at the lab as they left it. Far be it from her to criticize any person’s lifelong dream—God knew her own family had—but she was trying to imagine a planetary preserve for a single species. Strange motivation. “I guess you like to ride,” she said, more to herself than to him.

“Captain Eddings,” the Kesh said. “There is no freedom like the freedom on the back of a horse.”

“So, alet,” Saul said. “Does it feel good to be back?”

Hirianthial glanced at the wolfine, smiling a little. “Is it so obvious?”

“To me? Absolutely.” Saul chuckled. “You don’t ride like an amateur. And as little as I know about Eldritch, I still know something. You’re probably older than my great-grandparents. For all I know, you’ve been riding horses longer than I’ve been alive.”

Hirianthial looked up at a sky brittle with glare and broad over the rumpled hills. He’d left his homeworld, gone through the Alliance’s medical schools, practiced as a healer, left off that practice to become his Queen’s spy and was now tagging along with a merchant captain, and though all of that had been barely a fraction of his life it was still longer than Saul had been alive. He said, “It would perhaps be more accurate to say it’s been that long since I’ve ridden.”

Saul’s ears flicked back. His chuckle this time was a touch huskier, and his aura fluttered with shadows: rue, perhaps, like a murder of crows passing overhead. “Well. Then you’re long past due.”

Hirianthial looked between the mare’s ears, drew in the familiar smell of leather and horse sweat, the unfamiliar perfume of alien flowers dried on the stem by the pitiless heat. “On that count, you are entirely correct, alet. May I say though—”

“Yes?” Saul looked over at him.

“I have never ridden an animal of this quality,” Hirianthial said. “And I am honored to do so.” He glanced at the Hinichi. “You will not sell?”

Saul said nothing, riding alongside with his face lifted to the sun and his eyes narrowed nearly to slits. After a moment, he said, “Right now, we’re not selling. As far as any askers are concerned. But the right buyer...” He glanced at Hirianthial. “You don’t want a riding animal. For pleasure.”

Had his avarice been that blatant? But then, he had never imagined that Earth would have retained such genetic treasure. “I have perhaps bred horses myself in the past.”

“Stud fees—”

“I fear your studs would be wasted on our mares,” Hirianthial said.

“Ah.” Saul nodded. “I should have known... no one who lives as long as an Eldritch can afford to think in the short term, ah?”

Hirianthial said, “Alet—I do not think that anyone can afford to think in the short term. No matter their lifespan.”

“Truth.” Saul chuckled. “The Kesh might be open to negotiation. I’ll talk to him about it.”

“Thank you,” Hirianthial said, inclining his head.

“And now... come! Our greatest jewel likes the high ground!” With a cluck, Saul urged his mare up a trail, and Hirianthial followed. His neat-footed mare needed little direction; she read his intentions in a way none of the less intelligent animals he’d worked with at home could have duplicated. It was a unity close to pain, to feel so attuned to another creature: he could even sense her aura, something he’d never noticed at home. Was it that these horses were not so burdened by their genetic faults, and so their minds shone clearer?

“There!” Saul exclaimed with an exultant laugh. He rose in the saddle and whistled, his mount side-stepping under him.

Hirianthial drew alongside him, looking out over a small field, and there at its edge was a streak of white, running for the sheer joy of it, like the wind made manifest, poured into flesh.

“Kumiss!” Saul said. “Here he comes... in his own sweet time, of course. Just to make sure we know he’s coming because he wants to, not at our beck.”

And he was, slowing as he approached, calling to the mares, who whuffed their lack of interest.

“Oh, alet,” Hirianthial whispered. “A king among stallions, surely.”

“We think so,” Saul said, grinning.

“Is he gentled?”

The Hinich made a so-so gesture. “He came out of a vat like the rest of them, so he’s used to being handled. But he’s got a personality of his own. He doesn’t tolerate much.”

Hirianthial slid off his mare, handing the reins absently to Saul, and cautiously approached the jewel in the grass. Such a proud, clean head, with small ears. And the eyes: dark, pellucid and very definitely regarding him. His aura trailed off him like an extension of his bright mane: wild and smelling of high fields and sunlight.

The Eldritch was never sure at what point he began touching that sun-warmed skin, but he found his brow resting against the muscled neck and felt the nudge of a curious muzzle.

“Well, look at that,” Saul said, hushed. “He likes you.”

“And I am honored,” Hirianthial murmured, meaning it. And addressed himself to that aura, asking permission and receiving it he knew not how, but he pulled himself on the stallion’s back and whispered:
Run!

Could a horse laugh? Kumiss bolted and took him along, took him on purpose. Hirianthial bent close to his neck, white mane wrapped in white hands, and the wind stung water from his eyes and whipped his hair back from his temples. And for an endless breath, there was nothing for him but the feel of the barrel rising and falling between his legs, the drum of hoofbeats impossibly swift, and the banner of the aura that streamed into his and carried all his careworn memories away.

The stallion slowed to a trot and then a walk, strolling back to Saul with head high. He stopped to allow Hirianthial to dismount and nuzzled the Eldritch, lipping the edge of his tunic.

“I... have never seen anything, anything like that,” Saul breathed.

“He is a peerless individual,” Hirianthial agreed, setting his hand on the stallion’s withers and then letting it fall away. “Ah, Saul. What a gift—”

But the Hinichi wasn’t looking at him. Was in fact looking past him, and was still doing so when an arrow bit his thigh and his mare shied. The horse Hirianthial had been riding bolted down the trail, and Saul fought to keep his from following. Another arrow smacked the ground in front of his mare’s hooves and she reared; this time not all his frantic commands kept her from racing after her herdmate.

Hirianthial reached for a sword and discovered he didn’t have one anymore, felt a moment’s intense disorientation. A world where people were attacked with arrows was one where he had a sword and a duty to use it. He flung himself around as a group of riders pounded toward them. Eight... ten... twelve of them, armed. How could a colony this young have criminals already? He could have handled five or six of them on his own, but not double that number. If Saul could bring help....

He asked forgiveness for the insult and leaped onto Kumiss. The stallion spun and then fled... in the opposite direction.