Free Voices by Ursula K. Le Guin Page A

moved politely to the left.
    “What a beauty you are,” I said to the horse, for he was. I patted his neck. “Brandy?”
    “Branty,” Orrec said, coming back to us with an air of dignified defeat that you could see went right to Sosta’s heart.
    “Ohhh,” she said to Orrec, and then trying to cover it up, “oh, can I, can I get you a…” but she couldn’t think of anything to get him.
    “He’s a good old fellow,” Orrec said, taking up Branty’s reins. He made as if to mount, but Gudit said, “Hold on, wait a minute, have to look to the cinch here,” getting between him and the horse and throwing the stirrup up over the saddle.
    Orrec gave up, and stood as patiently as the horse.
    “Have you had him a long time?” I asked, trying to make conversation and feeling as foolish as Sosta.
    “He’s well over twenty. Time he had a rest from travelling. And Star as well.” He smiled a little sadly. “We left the Uplands together—Branty and me, Star and Gry. And Coaly. Our dog. A good dog. Gry trained her.”
    That got Gudit started off on the followhounds that used to live at Galvamand and he was still talking about them when Gry reappeared. She wore breeches and a rough tunic. Men in Ansul wear their hair long, tied back, so she had merely combed out her braid and put on a worn black velvet cap. She had somehow darkened or roughened her chin. She had become a fellow of twenty-five or so, quick-eyed, shy, and sullen. “So, are we ready?” she said, and her soft, burry voice had changed, too, becoming hoarse.
    Sosta was staring at her, rapt. “Who are you?” she asked.
    Gry rolled her eyes and said, “Chy the lion tamer. So, Orrec?”
    He gazed at her, shrugged, laughed a little, and swung up onto the horse. “Come on, then!” he said and set right off, not looking back. She and the lion followed behind him. She looked back at me as they passed through the gate, and winked.
    “But where did he come from?” Sosta asked.
    “Merciful Ennu go with them, that nest of murderous rats and snakes they’re going to,” Gudit said hollowly, shuffling into the stable.
    I went in to look after the gods and the ancestors and find out what Ista needed from the market.

♦ 6 ♦
    G udit told me that a messenger had come that morning from the Council House, which the Alds called the Palace of the Gand, to say Orrec Caspro was to wait upon the Gand before midday. Not saying please or why or anything, of course. So they went, and so we waited. It was late enough when they came back that I’d had plenty of time to worry. I was out sitting on the edge of the dry basin of the Oracle Fountain in front of the house when I saw them coming along our street from the south, Orrec afoot leading the horse, Chy the lion tamer beside him, and the lion padding along behind with a bored expression. I ran to meet them. “It went well, it went well,” Orrec said, and Chy said, “Well enough.”
    Gudit was at the stableyard gate to take Branty—having horses in the stable was such joy to him he wouldn’t let anybody else look after them for a moment—and Chy said to me, “Come up with us.” In the Master’s room, though she hadn’t yet changed her clothes or washed her face, she became Gry again. I asked if they were hungry, but they said no, the Gand had given them food and drink. “Did they let you under the roof?” I asked. “Did they let Shetar in?” I didn’t want to be curious about anything the Alds did, but I was. Nobody I knew had ever been inside the Council House or the barracks or seen how the Gand and the Alds lived there, for all of Council Hill was always guarded and swarming with soldiers.
    “Tell Memer about it while I get out of these clothes,” Gry said, and Orrec told me, making a tale of it; he couldn’t help it.
    The Alds had set up tents as well as barracks, tents of the fashion they use travelling in their deserts. The tent in Council Square was high and very large, as large as a big house,