Free Dark Horse by Mary H. Herbert Page B

had, and she had been happy and content. Before the massacre, Gabria would never have dreamed of pretending to be a boy, or joining a werod, or challenging a chieftain for weir-geld.
    However, her life was drastically different now, and she was forced to make some radical decisions.
    Gabria had chosen this plan of deception because she thought she had enough self-confidence and a great enough understanding of males to pull it off. Now, she was not so sure. There were too many details to constantly remember and so many ramifications she had no experience with. It was so confusing!
    Gabria was still deep in her musings when Nara came to her side and brushed the girl's cheek with a velvety nose. Are you going to sit in the dirt all day?

    Gabria shook her head, smiled, and stood up, her sword hanging limply in her hand. The girl knew it was too late to alter her course now. She could imagine some impending difficulties with her disguise, and there would be other problems she could not expect, but she would just have to handle the pitfal s as they came and hope for a great deal of good fortune. Gabria rubbed Nara's neck affectionately, and together they went in search of a midday meal.
    Later that afternoon, Athlone took Gabria to the saddler. The girl had to be completely outfitted with a shield, belt, 'boots, leather jerkin, helmet, and a quiver for arrows. The old craftsman promised to have the items finished within a few days and he gave Gabria a used, restrung bow he had no use for.
    Gabria also found an old, wide-brimmed hat in a pile of scraps the saddler had planned to throwaway. The old man laughingly gave it to her and threw in a leather thong to tie the hat down on her head. The girl pulled the brim down low over her eyes and tried to look casual as she leaned against a post and waited for Athlone.
    Athlone was still speaking to the saddler when a boy arrived and gave him a message from Savaric.
    The wer-tain quickly ended the conversation and, without a word to Gabria, hurried her to the clan hall.
    Savaric was waiting for them in the main room of the hall. He stood beside a tal perch, feeding tidbits to his falcon and talking to two of his warriors. The two men saluted as Athlone and Gabria approached, then the men quickly left the hal .
    "I'm glad you could come now," the chieftain told Gabria and Athlone as he moved to the dais. "I have just received word that a messenger has arrived. I would like you both to stay and listen."
    Gabria sat down on the stone rim of the fire pit and tried to be inconspicuous. She wondered if the news the messenger brought concerned her in some way. She had made no effort to hide her trail at Corin Treld, and it was possible that someone had realized there could have been a survivor and spread the word. Enough time had passed for the news to reach the farthest clans.
    "Gabran," Savaric said, jolting her out of her thoughts. "Remove your cloak and keep it out of sight."
    "Yes, Lord." She unpinned the red cloak, folded it into a cushion, and sat on it. She should have remembered it herself. Her anonymity would be lost if another clan learned of her presence with the Khulinin, and, without some cover to protect her until she was ready to challenge Medb, her life would not be worth a slave's wage.
    While she waited, the girl watched the chieftain and the wer-tain as they talked quietly. She marveled at the rapport that existed between the two men. Both men were strong individuals with very different personalities and yet their respect and love for each other was unmistakable. Many chieftains would have feared an intel igent, strong-wil ed son like Athlone when the question of clan control came into contention, but as far as Gabria knew, that question had never been raised between these two men. They worked together to rule the large and powerful Khulinin.
    In other circumstances, Gabria might have grown to like Athlone, as much as she liked the chief.
    Nara was right: the wer-tain would