Free Year of the Unicorn by Andre Norton Page B

mouse-thing would flee the strike of a hunting owl. But that very fear worked within me to build ramparts for defence.
     
    "My lady." Herrel's hand still held mine in a warm, sustaining grip. "I would make known to you this my fellow Rider. He is Halse, the Strongarmed."
     
    "My lord," I strove valiantly to play well my role, "friends and comrades of yours are high in my sight and regard-" The words were formal but perhaps that was not wrong.
     
    Halse's eyes glowed not green but red. And his smile was like a whip laid upon bare skin for those who could see.
     
    "A fair lady indeed, Herrel. Luck has played you good wisher this time. And what think you, my lady, of luck's efforts?"
     
    "Luck, my lord? I do not know what you mean. But by the Flame," thus did I retreat upon the language of the Dales, "I have grasped great happiness this hour!"
     
    Now I had aimed whip lash, though I had not intended so. He continued to smile, but under that stretching skin and lip boiled emotion he kept in check-so much emotion that I began to wonder if more lay behind him exchange with Herrel than that explanation given me
     
    "May it continue, my lady." He bowed and stepped aside, going with no more farewell.
     
    "So be it." commented Herrel. "Now, I think, we face war. And for your own sake, Gillan, guard your tongue, your smiles, your frowns, your very thoughts! Never did Halse believe that he would be one to ride hence unaccompanied by a cloak-mate, and to have me succeed where he failed sets him double afire."
     
    He held out his hand again and I noted that those about us were also rising, their feasting done.
     
    "It is time to go?"
     
    "Yes. Come-" He set his arm about my waist and drew me with him, walking as all those other couples under the flowering trees and out of the bower, to a place where horses stood.
     
    A shaggy pony of the hills, sure footed and yet slow of pace, had carried me here. But these mounts were far different. They were strangely dappled of coat, grey and black so intermingled that unless they made some movement they were hidden in plain sight because of their melting into the winter landscape, for we had passed once more from spring to winter.
     
    Tall were these horses of the Riders, thinner of body, longer of leg than any I had seen in the Dales. Their saddle cloths were furred and the saddles smaller, less cumbersome. All suggested a need for speed. Some wore packs, though I noted that, just as we had left behind all that had been in the tents, so also we appeared to aban-. don that which had refreshed us in the bridal valley.
     
    Herrel brought me to one of the mounts and it swung its head about, surveying me as if it were no mere beast, but carried intelligence akin to mine in its narrow head.
     
    "This is Rathkas, and she will serve you well." Herrel told me.
     
    Still the mare looked upon me in that measuring fashion. I stepped forward and laid hand upon her shoulder. She shivered throughout her body, then throwing up her head she whinnied. Around the other horses looked at me.
     
    Herrel moved quickly, laying his hand above mine on the mare's neck. She dropped her head and looked no more at me, while the others also lost interest. But I saw Herrel's lips were tight set, and once again his eyes held the wrestler's watchfulness.
     
    "Guard." he made a whisper of that word as he aided me to the saddle. And he glanced over his shoulder, but it would seem that none of those near us had marked that small happening. Thus we rode from our wedding. Though I did not feel that I was truly bride, nor Herrel groom. It was plain that such doubts were not shared elsewhere in that company. So once again I was set apart from those whose life I was destined to share. This was no amble of a pony in the hills, this was a swift, tireless covering of ground at a pace I had not thought possible for any four-footed creature. Though none of the mounts showed any signs of distress at hold-ing to it as time passed.