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why—there were no horses to hear. The stall doors stood wide open; what beasts the brigands hadn’t stolen had doubtless been driven off. Witless things that horses were, they were undoubtedly scattered to the four winds, running until they foundered.
    So much for sending someone for help, she thought bleakly. Not even the guests are going to be able to send their own people back, not until some time tomorrow at the earliest.
    Someone had planned this very well indeed.
    With one small exception.
    Kero hurried to one stall that would have been empty even if one of the guests hadn’t brought a high-bred palfrey to install there. Though this was the stall reserved for Kero’s riding beast, her Shin-a‘in-bred mare spent most of her time in the pastures from the time the last of the winter’s snow cleared off until the first of it appeared. Kero generally kept Verenna’s tack hung over the side of the stall; it didn’t take up much room, since she had never permitted anything other than Shin’a‘in tack on the young mare’s back. The one thing Rathgar was an expert on was horses, and he’d taught his children himself. Kero tended and trained Verenna with her own hands unless there was an urgent need for her to be otherwise occupied.
    The tack was still there; blanket, a saddle with lightweight stirrups that was hardly heavier than the blanket, bitless bridle and reins. She gathered it all up, slipped the hackamore over her arm, and took her back way out of the stables, out into the pasture.
    Some of the horses had either jumped the fence or been driven out here—she saw them in the moonlight, dark shapes milling around at the end of the pasture, whinnying their distress. Catching them was going to be impossible until they’d tired themselves out.
    Pray Verenna hasn’t gotten caught up in their panic, she thought, biting her lip. If she has—
    Best not to think about it. Kero pursed her lips and whistled shrilly, three times.
    And very nearly jumped out of her skin as something warm and soft shoved her in the small of the back.
    Gods!
    She managed to kill the scream trying to tear its way up out of her throat before she frightened the mare, but she did drop all the tack, startling the young horse so that she shied a little and danced away, nervously. Kero, for her part, just stood and shook for a moment. A very long moment, in fact, so long that Verenna got over her startlement and picked her way cautiously back toward her rider before Kero had entirely recovered.
    The horse nuzzled her anxiously, and Kero found the steadiness to reach for Verenna and scratch her ears while she regained the last of her own composure. Finally she was able to take the hackamore off her own arm and slip it over Verenna’s nose without her hands shaking so much that she’d be unable to get the band over the mare’s ears.
    Saddling Verenna was a matter of moments. The mare stood on command, quietly, as she’d been taught, while Kero slung the saddle and blanket over her back and fastened the girth. Chest and rump bands were next, as Kero fumbled the buckles a little in the dark, then Kero snugged the girth tight against her barrel. Verenna snorted a little, but was being remarkably well-behaved under the circumstances.
    Which is just as well, Kero admitted, as she put her foot in the stirrup and pulled herself up onto Verenna’s back. I’m not sure what I’d do if she decided to get out of hand.
    She rode the mare up to the fence, then leaned over and grabbed the latch on the gate. The pasture gate could be opened from horseback, and Verenna remained quiet, though a little jumpy, throughout the entire maneuver. At least I don’t have the others crowding up around this end, waiting for a chance to bolt. Verenna was a very light-footed beast, and hardly made more noise than a goat as she pivoted in place so that Kero could pull the gate shut and latch it