and more peaceable-looking. Their ears went back and forth, listening constantly; it was pleasant to watch that.
We went along some blocks without speaking. It was interesting to look down the canals, to see the bridges, the facades and windows of buildings from this height, and people walking along, the way people on horseback see them, looking down on them. I found it made me feel superior.
"The lion is—back there—in the wagon?" I asked at last.
"Halflion," she said.
"From the Asudar desert!" When she said the word "halflion," I remembered it and the picture from the
Great History.
"Right," she said, with a glance at me. "That's probably why it spooked the mare. She knew what it was."
"But you aren't an Ald," I said, suddenly fearing she was, even though she was dark-skinned and dark-eyed and couldn't be.
"I'm from the Uplands."
"In the far north!" I said, and then could have bitten my tongue in half.
She glanced at me sidelong and I waited for her to accuse me of reading books. But that was not what she had noticed.
"You aren't a boy," she said. "Oh, I am stupid."
"No, I dress like a boy, because..." I stopped.
She nodded, meaning no need to explain.
"So how did you learn to handle horses?" she asked.
"I didn't. I never touched a horse before."
She whistled. She had a little, sweet whistle, like a small bird. "Well, then you have the knack, or the luck!"
Her smile was so pleasant I wanted to tell her that it was the luck, that Lero and Luck himself, the deaf god, were giving me a holy day, but I was afraid of saying too much.
"I thought you'd be able to take me to a good stable for these two, you see. I thought you were a stableboy. You were as quick and cool as any old hostler I ever saw."
"Well, the horse just came at me."
"It came to you," she said.
We clip-clop-rattled on for another block.
"We have a stable," I said.
She laughed. "Aha!"
"I'd have to ask."
"Of course."
"There aren't any horses in it. Or feed, or anything. Not since—not for years. It's clean, though. There's some straw. For the cats." Every time I opened my mouth I talked too much. I clenched my teeth.
"You're very kind. If it isn't convenient, never mind. We can find a place. The fact is, the Gand has offered us the use of his stables. But I'd rather not be beholden to the Gand." And she shot me a glance.
I liked her. I'd liked her from the moment I saw her standing beside her lion. I liked the way she talked and what she said and everything about her.
You must not refuse the blessing.
I said, "My name is Decalo Galva's daughter Memer of Galvamand."
She said, "My name is Gry Barre of Roddmant."
Having introduced ourselves we got shy, and went on to Galva Street in silence. "That's the house," I said.
She said in a tone of awe, "It is a beautiful house."
Galvamand is very large and noble, with it's wide courts and stone arches and high windows, but it's half ruined too, so it touched me that somebody come from far away, who had seen many houses, saw it's beauty.
"It's the House of the Oracle," I said. "The Waylord's house."
At that, the horses stopped short.
Gry looked at me blankly for a moment. "Galva—the Waylord.—Hey, wake up there!" The horses walked patiently on. "This is a day of the greatly unexpected," she said.
"This is a day of Lero," I said. We were at the street gate. I slid down off the seat to touch the Sill Stone. I led Gry in, past the dry basin of the Oracle Fountain in the great front court, and around the side of the house to the arched gates of the stable courtyard.
Gudit came out of the stable scowling. "What by all the ghosts of your stupid ancestors do you think I'm going to do for oats?" he shouted. He came up and began to unhitch the red horse.
"Wait, wait," I said. "I have to talk to the Waylord."
"Talk away, the beasts can have a drink while you talk, can't they? Here, let be, lady. I'll see to it."
Gry let him unhitch the horses and lead them over to the trough. She watched
We went along some blocks without speaking. It was interesting to look down the canals, to see the bridges, the facades and windows of buildings from this height, and people walking along, the way people on horseback see them, looking down on them. I found it made me feel superior.
"The lion is—back there—in the wagon?" I asked at last.
"Halflion," she said.
"From the Asudar desert!" When she said the word "halflion," I remembered it and the picture from the
Great History.
"Right," she said, with a glance at me. "That's probably why it spooked the mare. She knew what it was."
"But you aren't an Ald," I said, suddenly fearing she was, even though she was dark-skinned and dark-eyed and couldn't be.
"I'm from the Uplands."
"In the far north!" I said, and then could have bitten my tongue in half.
She glanced at me sidelong and I waited for her to accuse me of reading books. But that was not what she had noticed.
"You aren't a boy," she said. "Oh, I am stupid."
"No, I dress like a boy, because..." I stopped.
She nodded, meaning no need to explain.
"So how did you learn to handle horses?" she asked.
"I didn't. I never touched a horse before."
She whistled. She had a little, sweet whistle, like a small bird. "Well, then you have the knack, or the luck!"
Her smile was so pleasant I wanted to tell her that it was the luck, that Lero and Luck himself, the deaf god, were giving me a holy day, but I was afraid of saying too much.
"I thought you'd be able to take me to a good stable for these two, you see. I thought you were a stableboy. You were as quick and cool as any old hostler I ever saw."
"Well, the horse just came at me."
"It came to you," she said.
We clip-clop-rattled on for another block.
"We have a stable," I said.
She laughed. "Aha!"
"I'd have to ask."
"Of course."
"There aren't any horses in it. Or feed, or anything. Not since—not for years. It's clean, though. There's some straw. For the cats." Every time I opened my mouth I talked too much. I clenched my teeth.
"You're very kind. If it isn't convenient, never mind. We can find a place. The fact is, the Gand has offered us the use of his stables. But I'd rather not be beholden to the Gand." And she shot me a glance.
I liked her. I'd liked her from the moment I saw her standing beside her lion. I liked the way she talked and what she said and everything about her.
You must not refuse the blessing.
I said, "My name is Decalo Galva's daughter Memer of Galvamand."
She said, "My name is Gry Barre of Roddmant."
Having introduced ourselves we got shy, and went on to Galva Street in silence. "That's the house," I said.
She said in a tone of awe, "It is a beautiful house."
Galvamand is very large and noble, with it's wide courts and stone arches and high windows, but it's half ruined too, so it touched me that somebody come from far away, who had seen many houses, saw it's beauty.
"It's the House of the Oracle," I said. "The Waylord's house."
At that, the horses stopped short.
Gry looked at me blankly for a moment. "Galva—the Waylord.—Hey, wake up there!" The horses walked patiently on. "This is a day of the greatly unexpected," she said.
"This is a day of Lero," I said. We were at the street gate. I slid down off the seat to touch the Sill Stone. I led Gry in, past the dry basin of the Oracle Fountain in the great front court, and around the side of the house to the arched gates of the stable courtyard.
Gudit came out of the stable scowling. "What by all the ghosts of your stupid ancestors do you think I'm going to do for oats?" he shouted. He came up and began to unhitch the red horse.
"Wait, wait," I said. "I have to talk to the Waylord."
"Talk away, the beasts can have a drink while you talk, can't they? Here, let be, lady. I'll see to it."
Gry let him unhitch the horses and lead them over to the trough. She watched
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