"Stand," she told Ironheart. The battlemare obediently locked her legs in position; it would take an earthquake to move her now. Tarma unslung the sword from her back and looped the baldric over the pommel of the saddle. "Guard," she ordered. That blade was a sweet one, and had been dearly paid for in her own blood; she didn't intend to lose it. Ironheart would see that she didn't.
"You'd better tell your friend to stay clear of 'Heart or he'll lose a hand," she called to Kethry, then dismounted and vaulted over the fence into the stockade to water her other charges. That bit of bravado cost, too, but it was worth a bit of strain to put on a proper show. Tarma meant to leave these folks with their mouths gaping -- for that meant that the highborns would hear of them that much sooner.
:You're going to hurt in the morning,: Warrl observed. Thus far, the crowd's attention had been so taken up with the horses that they hadn't paid much heed to him. He'd stayed in the shadow of Ironheart, who was so tall that he didn't stand out as the monster he truly was.
And -- she couldn't tell, but he might well be exercising a bit of his own magic to look more like an ordinary herd dog. He'd hinted that he could do just that on the way here. Which was no bad idea.
Tarma felt the strain of the muscles she'd used, and privately agreed with his critical remark about hurting. For every scar she bore on her hide, there was twice the scar tissue under it, where it didn't show -- but it certainly made itself felt. Particularly when she started showing off.
But they were drawing a bigger crowd by the moment; the onlookers murmured as the loose horses crowded around her, shoving their heads under her hands for a scratch, or lipping playfully at her hair. She laughed at them, pushed them out of the way, and got to the pump. As she began to fill the trough, they pushed in to get at the water, and she rebuked them with a single sharp "Nest" They shied and danced a bit, then behaved themselves.
Tarma had been doing some serious training with them on the trail -- knowing that once they were in Rethwellan she would have to be able to command them by voice, for if they spooked, she, Kethry, and Warrl would not be enough to keep them under control. Her ability to keep them in une seemed to impress their audience no end. She decided to go all out to impress them.
She picked out one of the herd mares she'd been working with far more than the others, and called her. The chestnut mare pricked her ears, and came to the summons eagerly -- she knew what this meant; first a trick from her, and then a treat was in store. Tarma ordered the others out of her way, then raised her hand high over her head. The mare stepped out away from her about fifteen paces, then as Tarma began to turn, followed her turn as if she was being lunged.
Except there was no lunging-rein on her.
At a command from Tarma she picked up to a trot, then a canter; after traveling all day, Tarma was not going to ask her to gallop. At a third command she stopped dead in her tracks. At the fourth, she reared --
The fifth command was "Come -- " and meant a piece of dried apple and a good scratch behind the ears. She obeyed that one with eager promptitude.
The spectators, now thick on the fence, applauded, The horses flickered their ears nervously, but when nothing came of the noise, went back to watching Tarma, hoping for treats themselves.
Tarma was pleased -- more than pleased. Everything was going according to the plan they'd mapped out. "Patience, children," she told the rest. "Dinner should be here soon."
Their ears flickered forward nearly as one at that welcome word, and they continued to watch her with expectation in their soft, sweet eyes.
And within moments, the beast-market attendants did appear, with the hay and sweet-feed Tarma had tofd Kethry to order -- and more than that --
She saw carrots poking out of more than one pocket. Hmm. This was gratifying, if it was evidence of the fact that the attendants were taken with the looks of the string -- but it could also be an attempt on the part of some other horsebreeder to poison her stock.
:I'm checking, mindmate.: the voice in her head told her.
"Keth, tell the younglings over there to hold absolutely still. I think they just want to treat the children, but Warrl's going to check for drugging, just in case."
Kethry called out the warning, and the attendants froze; the whole crowd froze when they saw Warrl's great gray body moving toward them. Now they could see just how huge he was -- his shoulder came nearly to Tarma's waist -- and how much like a wolf he looked. Tarma took advantage of the situation to vault the fence again, and begin relieving the attendants of their burdens. Warrl sniffed the feed over, then checked the youngsters themselves and the treats they'd brought.
:They're fine, mindmate,: Warrl told her, cheerfully. :And about ready to soil themselves if I sneeze.:
Tarma laughed, and patted the one next to her on the head as she took his bale of hay away from him. "They're all right, Keth. Urn -- tell them to wait until I've finished, then they can give the children their treats so long as they stay out of the corral. I don't want anybody in there; they get spooked, and it'll take half a day to calm them down again. And tell them we won't need any nightwatchers, that Warrl will be guarding them when I'm not here -- that should prevent anybody even thinking about drugging them."
Warrl sprang over the fence with a single, graceful leap. The horses, of course, were so used to his presence that they totally ignored him, being far more interested in their dinner. With a fence between themselves and Warrl, the attendants calmed down a bit.
Tarma completed her task, and (with an inward wince) vaulted the fence a third time, to return to where Ironheart still stood, statue-firm.
"Rest," she said, and the battlemare unlocked her legs, and reached around to nuzzle at her rider's arm. The others were getting fed; she wanted her dinner.
"Hungry, Jel'ewdra'?" Tarma murmured, letting her have the handful of sweet-feed she'd brought with her. "Patience, we'll be at the inn soon enough."
She cast a glance over at Kethry's companion.
His eyes were taking up half of his head.
"Warrl, would you mind staying -- "
:If you send me a nice haunch of pig as soon as you get there.:
"And a half-dozen marrowbones already cracked; you deserve it." She swung up into her saddle, and turned to Kethry, who was smiling broadly enough to split her face in two. "So much for the barbarian dog and pony show, she'enedra" she said, stifling a chuckle. "Tell these nice people they can go home, and let's find our inn, shall we?"
* * *
"So how barbarian do you want me to look?" Tarma asked her partner, as they strolled down the creaking wooden stairs of the inn to the dimly lit common room. "And what kind? The aloof desert princeling, the snarling beast-thing, what?"
"Better stick with the aloof desert princeling; we don't want these people afraid to have you near the Court," Kethry chuckled. Tarma was plainly enjoying herself, willing to act any part to the hilt. "Brood -- that always looks impressive, and you've certainly got the face for it."