Free Dark Horse by Mary H. Herbert

sarcastically.
    The man is cautious and has a need to be, the mare pointed out with mild reproof. He is to be trusted.
    "Trusted!" Gabria cried. "He would kil me if he ever found my secret. One mistake, one little slip of my disguise, and he will spear me as neatly as a jackal." She pulled her cloak closer and added, "Women are not permitted to be warriors among our people. But I must try to be one. Death is the only thing I can trust to receive from Athlone if I fail."
    It is too bad you feel that way. He would be a powerful ally.
    "You are the only al y I need. You, my sword, and the good wil of the gods."
    They remained by the river for a long time while Nara ate her fill of the rich grass and Gabria watched the meadowlarks dip above the grazing livestock. They both ignored the watching stal ion.
    But Gabria found that her peace had fled her. She could not relax or let her mind wander while the Hunnuli stal ion guarded her every move. She was not accustomed to such distrust or being treated with dislike. In all of her seventeen years, she had never felt so alone; for Gabran, her family, and her clan had always been with her. Nothing had prepared her for the endless confusion and emptiness that had dogged her steps since the day of the massacre. She was not a Khulinin and she never would be, but she wished someone would accept her with open arms. She wanted to be warm and comfortable and welcome, not pushed out in the shadows like a thieving beggar.
    The evening was growing cold when Gabria and the mare returned to the treld. Nara led the way to the healer's tent. Piers was gone when Gabria entered, yet she found another bowl of soup warming by the fire and her pack lying on the sleeping pallet. Everything in the bag had been cleaned and mended, and a new tunic of soft linen had been added. Sleepy again, Gabria finished the soup, curled up in her cloak, and sank into another motionless sleep.

    * * * * *
    Athlone came for Gabria at dawn, when the echoes of the morning horn were fading. Astride his towering stallion, he shouted at her to come, for her apprenticeship was about to begin. She barely had time to grab a warm bun from Piers's table, pin on her cloak, and dash out of the tent before the wer-tain was cantering off toward the meadows. Groggily, she clambered onto Nara's back and followed, her irritation wide awake.
    "Come on, boy, your duties start at sunrise," Athlone said when Gabria had finally caught up with him. "And don't let me catch you shirking."
    He led her to a practice field where several targets and makeshift figures were set up. "Before I can begin your training," he stated, sliding off his horse, "I need to know what you can do." His tone implied that he did not expect much. Then, his eyes hardened to stone. "Where are your sword and bow?"
    Gabria felt her stomach fall to her knees. The day had barely begun and already she had made a careless error. No warrior left his tent without his weapons; she had not even brought her dagger. "Wer-tain, I'm sorry," she gasped. "I do not have a bow and I . . . left my sword. . . in the tent."
    Athlone walked deliberately around the horses until he stood by Gabria's foot. The silence crackled.
    "You what?" he snarled with withering scorn. "If such carelessness is characteristic of your clan, it is little wonder they were wiped out."
    Gabria stiffened as if he had struck her. Her face went livid and her hand flew to her empty belt.
    Careful, Nara warned, sidling away. Keep still.
    "Return with your sword," Athlone ordered. "If you know what one looks like."
    Before Gabria could reply, Nara wheeled and cantered back to the treld. Once they were out of earshot, Gabria clenched her hands in the Hunnuli's black mane. "That dog!" she screamed.
    "Insufferable pig! He just insulted an entire clan and I can do nothing."
    They came to Piers's tent. Gabria stormed in and retrieved her short sword, the one she had taken from Gabran's hand.
    "Trust him, you said!" she raged as