True Heart (5 page)

Heart stared.

“That's him in the chair,” Anna whispered. “The new lord. He's sick all the time, people say.”

“Why is he here?” Heart whispered.

“I don't know,” Anna answered. Then she took a quick breath. “Lord Dunraven!”

Anna disappeared into her stall. Heart heard the sound of a stable rake a second later.

Heart's breathing quickened.

It
was
Lord Dunraven, walking beside the odd, high chair.

There were five or six other men too.

Heart narrowed her eyes. Four of them were carrying the chair. Long poles rested on their shoulders.

Lord Dunraven walked to one side, talking with another man.

Their tunics looked like silk.

Heart could see the flash of silver buttons.

The men carrying the chair wore rougher cloth.

The hurried sounds of currycombing, raking, and leather polishing spread through the huge barn as the pages noticed the lords coming.

Heart slipped back into her stall.

She tried to think.

It would look odd to have Moonsilver in his armor inside the stable—but she could hardly take it off now.

She glanced over the stall planks.

Young Lord Irmaedith looked weary and ill.

Heart glanced at Kip. “Be quiet. Not a sound.”

Then she looked at Avamir. The mare was standing tall, her head lifted to watch.

“It's the new lord,” Heart whispered. “He's just a sickly boy.”

The strange chair moved steadily up the stable aisle.

Heart could hear the carriers murmuring.

As they got closer she understood; it was a rhyme, recited to time their steps.

Lord Dunraven's raspy voice cut through the noise. “How many horses does he want to see?”

No one answered him.

Avamir shook her mane. The tiny Gypsy bells jingled.

Heart's pulse hammered at her wrists and temples.

“Shhhh,” she whispered to Avamir.

The mare shook her mane again.

Heart saw the boy's eyes open wider.

He sat up straighter, turning his head. He was looking for the source of the jingling.

The bracelet on Heart's wrist tightened.

Frantic, she leaned close to Avamir. “Be still.”

Heart glanced back.

The boy had slumped in the chair again.

Heart let out a long breath. They would just walk past, she told herself.

They'd turn the corner and head back up the next aisle. It was a big stable. There were a hundred horses or more. The boy wouldn't notice the unicorns.

Then Avamir walked closer to the gate.

Heart pushed at her shoulder.

“Avamir!” Heart pleaded in a whisper.

Dunraven's deep, rasping voice was getting louder. He was talking about the cold nights, complaining about the small hearth fires in the castle.

Avamir pushed her head out over the stall door.

She shook her mane again.

The bells tinkled.

“Stop there,” the boy lord said in a high, quivery voice. “That white mare.”

Heart gripped the rake, leaning on it, her pulse thundering in her ears.

CHAPTER EIGHT

T
he boy bent forward in his chair and reached out to touch Avamir's forehead. Heart saw him trace her scar, his hand gentle, his eyes sad.

On the other side of the carriers, Lord Dunraven continued talking. “There's still far too many,” he was saying. “The fewer books the better.”

Heart glanced at the boy lord. His skin was the color of eggshells. He was patting Avamir, staring at Moonsilver in delight.

“I've ordered more burnings,” the man talking to Lord Dunraven said clearly.

Heart looked up.

The boy turned. “Burnings?”

Lord Dunraven cleared his throat. “Books. It's time to get rid of the old legends once and for all.”

The boy looked troubled. “My father loved books,” he said politely. “So do I.”

“You'd like them less if you could ride and hunt,” the man next to Lord Dunraven said.

“That isn't true,” the boy said.

The man frowned. “Your father was a fool to coddle you.”

Heart saw the boy's eyes flood with tears. “Uncle Stevenar, please don't insult him now.”

The man laughed gently. “I know you're sad that he died. I am too. But he was weak. I intend to be strong.”

“I am the new lord,” the boy said quietly. “Not you, Uncle.”

The man laughed again, less gently. “Worry tires you. I will handle all these things.”

Heart saw the anger in the boy's eyes. But he slumped back in his chair and took a slow breath.

“Are you finished patting horses?” Lord Dunraven asked. He walked around the front of the chair.

Heart heard Anna gasp in the next stall, but Lord
Dunraven hadn't noticed her at all. He spit and glanced back at his companion. “Have you seen this style? It makes the horse look like a unicorn,”

Heart froze, terrified.

The boy's uncle nodded. “It's used here, too.”

Lord Dunraven shook his head in disgust, then turned away. “The young lord should rest before the crowning.”

“I
am
very tired,” the boy said softly.

Heart felt so sorry for him.

He looked miserable.

And his uncle was unkind and a bully.

Heart knew what she should do. It was dangerous. But it would be wrong
not
to do it.

“Moonsilver!” Heart whispered. “Touch him.”

Avamir flicked her ears and turned to look at Heart.

“Tell Moonsilver to touch him,” Heart breathed.

The boy looked dazed and ill. His eyes were half closed.

“We wish to leave now,” Lord Dunraven said. The carriers stood straighter.

Avamir whickered softly.

Moonsilver lifted his head high.

One of the chair carriers began to count.

“One, two, three …”

They stepped forward on the count of four.

In that instant, Moonsilver reached out, his neck arched, lowering his horn.

Carefully, lightly as a moth wing, he touched the boy lord's lips.

Then he stepped backward, hanging his head as the chair moved off. Dunraven was talking again, walking close to the boy lord's uncle as they passed.

Heart saw the boy turn sharply and look back at her.

His eyes were wide.

His cheeks were flushed with pink.

Their eyes met for an instant.

Then the chair turned the corner and started up the next aisle.

CHAPTER NINE

W
ithin ten minutes the barn was noisy again.

The pages relaxed and began talking, settling in for the night.

Heart was very glad the boy would be well now.

It had been the right thing to do.

But it had been foolish, too, and dangerous.

Would he realize what had happened?

If he did, would he tell his uncle and Lord Dunraven?

Heart paced back and forth while the other pages raked up piles of clean straw for their beds and washed their faces in the water buckets.

It would be impossible to leave before morning.

Without the crowds to hide in, the guards would stop her the instant she left the barn.

Slowly, one by one, the voices in the stalls quieted.

The horses lay down, and Heart could hear them sleeping, a steady lullaby of hay-sweet breath.

Mice began to rustle in the grain boxes.

Then, after a long time, even they quieted and went to sleep.

Heart sat in a corner of the stall, waiting for morning. She was far too worried to sleep.

But after most of the night was gone, as the moon was rising, she began to wonder if things would be all right.

Wouldn't the boy have told someone by now if he was going to tell?

It was possible he had no idea what had happened.

He certainly had a healer trying to help him.

Probably he'd been given herbs.

Maybe the royal healers would think the herbs had finally cured him.

Heart sighed. She was so weary.

She lay down.

She closed her eyes and waited for her dreams to come.

“Pssst!”

Heart was instantly awake. “Anna? Is that you?”

“No,” came the whispered answer.

There was a shuffling sound as someone climbed over the gate and jumped lightly into the straw bedding.

Kip growled.

Avamir switched her tail.

Moonsilver was standing, dozing. He lifted his head calmly.

The visitor lit a candle. In the amber light Heart saw a merry-eyed boy whose once pale cheeks were now rosy.

“They made me go get crowned,” he said. “But after that I looked in my books. I know what happened.”

“Did something happen?” Heart asked carefully.

“I heard you talk to the mare,” the boy said. “Then she whinnied and then the stallion … touched me.” The boy bowed toward Avamir and
Moonsilver. “I came to thank you all.”

Heart was silent.

The boy looked at his own hand. He clenched his fist. “I feel strong! I've never felt strong.”

He looked over the candle flame at Heart. “Unicorns!” He breathed the word. “No one thinks they are real.”

Heart leaned toward him. “Don't tell anyone,” she pleaded. “All the lords will chase us. They will all want to …” She stopped, blushing, remembering who she was talking to.

“How may I repay you?” the new Lord Irmaedith asked.

“Are the Gypsies safe?” Heart whispered. “They had a fake unicorn once. It was part of the show. Lord Dunraven knew about it, and I—”

“I will protect them,” the boy lord interrupted. “May they do the rest of their shows?”

Heart nodded. “If they can leave safely afterward.”

He smiled and promised again, lifting the candle. “You think of your friends before yourself?”

Heart was silent.

The boy grinned at her, a flash of white teeth in the candlelight. “You are a true heart. Ask another favor.”

Heart looked into his eyes. “Promise they will be safe?”

He nodded. “You have my word.”