Free Retribution (Drakenfeld 2) by Mark Charan Newton

ingenuity on display in such a confined space was like nothing I had seen throughout Vispasia. And the stench of urine being used in the process was equally as staggering . . .
    I was beginning to recognize just how important animals were to the Kotonese, not just in what was sold. Subtle symbols were rendered on many of the signs around. Then there was the raised stag on the nation’s flag, the statues of horses and the creatures in stone reliefs on major buildings.
    This idea was strengthened further when we arrived at the sumptuously decked-out stables, which were good enough for humans to inhabit let alone animals. A large pale stone quadrangle was framed with wooden chambers for horses, all of which looked out onto a wide cobbled courtyard. The site was huge, full of nooks and crannies, workshops and filled with the noise of industry. Everything here was clean and in good order; there was plenty of food and water for the animals, and a good number of workers to hand.
    ‘Everything about the place looks good,’ Leana said. ‘Manthwe and Kinder will be happy while we remain.’
    ‘Not too comfortable for them?’ I asked wryly, but there was no smile in response.
    ‘Comfort is good for animals,’ she replied. ‘But not for you. An animal will remain strong with a bed of straw. You go soft.’
    I caught the gaze of a well-built farrier, who had cropped blond hair and bright-green eyes. After brief introductions he offered to take care of our mares for the duration of our time in the city. I started the conversation in Kotonese, but he continued it in gruff Detratan.
    His name was Sojun and he came across as a kind-hearted man, not one for long sentences and small talk, but judging by how he was with the animals, our horses would be well looked after and they would not mind the lack of conversation.
    There was an air of patience about him; he was someone who took pleasure from his job. Very quickly it became apparent that he cared more about the animals than humans; he was more natural with them than us. More skilled. If the animal themes I noticed earlier were anything to go by, it was possible that many people in Kuvash were the same.
    We discussed rates as he rubbed the nose of another handsome mare. His suggestion was more than reasonable, and I told him so.
    ‘Outside of the military stations,’ he grunted, ‘you can find several smaller stables, scattered about the city. We must remain competitive with them. It is not ideal, because they cut corners, but we have deals with the tanneries.’
    ‘For the horses?’ I tried my best not to look startled.
    ‘No,’ he muttered, shaking his head. ‘For their piss.’
    With that he took the reins of Manthwe, since we would still be using Kinder to carry the bishop’s body up to the royal palace before dropping her off later. I began to lead her away when another three horses cantered by, with only the one rider on the foremost animal.
    Dressed in military uniform was a young woman with a broad face and black hair that stretched down to her waist. I smiled to myself as she exchanged a lingering glance with Sojun, with startling blue eyes, and wondered at the relationship – if any – between them.
    It reminded me of my brief moments with Titiana, in Tryum, and suddenly I couldn’t summon the emotions to continue happily with my expression.
    I wondered why army personnel would be here in a civilian stables – it was a sign of growing military activity elsewhere, but perhaps I was being overly suspicious. I asked Sojun.
    ‘You like your questions,’ he replied.
    ‘Merely curious,’ I added. ‘I’m trying to build up a picture of this place. I’m a stranger in a strange city.’
    Sojun’s gaze followed the girl as she rode across the cobbles to the other side of the courtyard. ‘She trains the queen’s horses, and helps others from time to time.’
    ‘What do your soldiers do here usually? What trouble do you get?’
    ‘Some tribes have never accepted