"The prince likes dogs?"
"You really aren't from anywhere, are you? The prince is almost a dog himself.
You never saw anyone so miserable as him in the reception-hall-he looks so much like a dog about to have a bath you expect to see his ears droop. But then you see him out charging over the landscape with his dogs, or in the kennels covered with puppies-and puppy dung-and you wouldn't know him from the under-shoveller.
Normal people mind getting dog dung on them. I think actually the king and queen wish sometimes that he liked someone other than anyone with a nice dog."
"You know him?" Lissar said, fascinated.
"Nah. I mean, no more than anybody does. I'm kind of one of the under-shovellers in the barn, but horse dung isn't so bad. Bringing post-horses back is a big promotion for me. I've only been here a few months myself. But Ossin is always outdoors except when his parents nail his feet to the floor to do the receiving with 'em. You'll see him too-the price of the king's meal is that you go present yourself to him and ask for work. Sometimes he has some to give you. Usually it's just a formality. Redthorn got to me first--or I found the stables first. You know, the prince's dogs look a lot like yours except they're short-haired.
"So are you lot ready to be off yet?" she addressed her horses. The bridles were looped together in pairs; she twitched one leading rein up and offered it to Lissar.
"Do you know anything about horses?" she said.
I don't know, Lissar wanted to answer; but the supple leather strap felt familiar in her hand, and the great dark eye turned toward her looked familiar as well, as was the warm smell in her nostrils. She raised her other hand to stroke one flat cheek, and then an inquisitive nose as the far horse presented himself for introductions. "A little," she said.
"Not much to this, so long as you're not one of those who're automatically frightened of something bigger'n they are," said the woman. "Follow along behind me; keep close. I'll have an eye back for you. Shout if you get stuck behind a wagon-not that I'll hear you," and she grinned again. "You can't get too lost-stay on the main road, it ends at the Gold House's doors, and then you follow the horse droppings to the barn. That's not true. Redthorn will sweep up himself if there's no one else, but Jed's really missed. If you get to the Gold House doors the horses will take you the rest of the way; they'll be thinking of dinner. That one's Tessa, and the pushy one is Blackear. Oh," she said in an obvious afterthought, "my name's Lilac.
What's yours?" There was a longish pause. "Call me Deerskin. She's Ash."
Blackear had a slight tendency to walk on her heels, but in general the horses were a lot less upset by the city bustle than she was. It was midmorning by the time they passed the city gates, and the traffic was so heavy that they were sometimes jostled by the simple press of too many bodies in too little space. The horses bore it patiently, though. Blackear shook his head up and down and flattened his nostrils and looked fierce; but Lissar found her breath coming hard and her heart beating too fast.
Ash stuck to her so closely it was as if they were tied together; the big dog had often to take a quick leap forward to avoid being stepped on by one horse or another-once directly between Lissar's legs, which was almost a disaster, since she was too tall to fit through. But the horses stopped, and Tessa watched mildly and Blackear interestedly while the two smaller creatures sorted themselves out; and then they had to hurry to avoid being swept too far away from Lilac and her charges, going steadily before them.
Lissar realized eventually that, far from being unduly crowded, most of the other people on the road were giving her and Lilac extra berth; in recognition, she assumed, of the king's horses. She was wryly grateful, and stayed as well between Tessa and Blackear as possible; if they were accustomed to it, let them take the bumps and blunders.
They stopped twice to water the horses and let them rest; once at an inn, where an ostler came out with hay and grain and a girl with a plate of sandwiches. "You're not Jed," she said, accusingly, to Lissar.
"Give that girl a medal," said Lilac. "Jed's got a broken ankle. It'll heal; what about your brain? If she knows which end of a bridle to hang onto, why do you care?" The girl blushed angrily, and disappeared inside. "Jed's already got a girl-friend," said Lilac cheerfully.
Lissar ate three sandwiches and fed two to Ash. Lilac wandered away presently in what looked like an aimless fashion, but a second plate of sandwiches-this one brought by a young boy-appeared shortly after. Lissar ate another one, and fed two more to Ash.
Afternoon was drawing toward evening, and Lissar's head was spinning with exhaustion and noise and strangeness and smells and crowding by the time she woke up enough to stop before she ran into the hindquarters of Lilac's pair. Tessa and Blackear had prudently halted a step or two before, and it was the drag against her shoulders that awoke her to her surroundings. They were halted at another gate, where a doorkeeper flicked a glance at Lissar and at Ash, tried to suppress his obviously lively curiosity, smiled, and nodded them through.
"You look worse than I feel," said Lilac a few minutes later. They had brought their horses to their stalls, unhooked the leadlines, and let them loose. Lissar was in the stall with Tessa, trying to decide which of the many buckles on the headstall she needed to unfasten to get it off without merely taking it to bits. Two, she saw, as Lilac did it. It was hard to focus her eyes, and she couldn't stand still without leaning against something. "D'you want to skip supper? You can talk to Redthorn in the morning, and eat breakfast twice."
Lissar nodded dumbly. Lilac led her up what felt like several thousand stairs to a little room with ... all she saw was the mattress. She didn't care where it was. She lay down on it and was asleep before Ash was finished curling up next to her and propping her chin on her side.
EIGHTEEN
THERE WAS A WINDOW, BECAUSE SHE AWOKE IN DAYLIGHT. ASH
had her neck cramped at an impossible angle and was snoring vigorously. Lissar staggered upright and leaned out the window. It was still early; she could tell by the light and the taste of the air-and the silence. She' was in a small bare corner of a long attic-looking room full of boxes and dusty, more mysterious shapes. She looked around for a moment, let her eyes linger on the snoring Ash, and then left quietly, closing the door behind her. In the unlikely event of Ash's waking up voluntarily, she didn't want her wandering around; she didn't know what the rules of this new place were. She'd come back in a little while to let her outdoors.
She met a young man at the foot of the stairs (which were still long, even going down them after a night's sleep) who stared at her blankly for a moment. His face cleared, and he said, "You must be Deerskin. I'll show you where the women's washroom is. Breakfast's in an hour. You want to clean some stalls?" he said hopefully; but his gaze rested on the white deerskin dress and his expression said, I doubt it.
She washed, let Ash out, and cleaned two stalls before breaklast, Testor having demonstrated one first. "It's not like it takes skill. You heave the dung out with your pitchfork"-he did so-"leaving as much of the bedding behind as possible. Then you sort of poke around"-he did so-"looking for a wet spot. Then," he said, each word punctuated by stab-and-lift, "you fluff everything dry." He cleaned six stalls to her two.