From the blankness of his gaze, Kethry knew he'd never even heard of Moumedealth, much less her House -- which, so far as she was concerned, was all to the good.
"A House of renown, indeed," he said, covering his ignorance. "Then, let me now tender my lord's words. I come from King Raschar himself." He paused, to allow Kethry to voice the expected murmurs of amazement and gratification. "He heard of your wondrous beasts, and wishes to have his Master of Horse view them himself -- more than view them, if what rumor says of them is even half the truth. And since you prove to be more than merely common merchants, he would like to tender you an invitation to extend your visit to Petras in his Court, that he may learn of you, and you of him."
"And you may end up in the bastard's bed, if he likes your looks," murmured Tarma from the darkness.
"Tell your lord that we are gratified -- and that we shall await his Master of Horse with eagerness, and will be more than pleased to take advantage of the hospitality of his Court."
More smooth nonsense was exchanged, and finally the man bowed himself out.
They waited, holding their breaths, until they were certain he was out of earshot -- then collapsed into each other's arms, helpless with stifled laughter.
"Goddess! 'Tale'sedrin of Tale'sedrin' indeed;That great booby didn't even know it was a clan name and not a title!" Tarma choked. "Isda w'tre-kotk! You know what my people say, don't you? 'Proud is the Clanchief. Prideful is the Clanchief of a two-member clan!'"
"Laid it on good and thick, didn't I?" Kethry replied, wiping tears out of her eyes. "Goddess bless, I didn't know I had that much manure in me!"
"Oh, you could have fertilized half a farm, 'my lady.' " Tarma gasped, imitating his obsequious bow. "Bright Star-Eyed! Here -- " she handed Kethry one of the goblets and poured it full of wine, then took a second for herself. "We'd better get ourselves under control if we're going to get from here to our room without giving the game away."
"You're right," Kethry said, taking a long sip, and exerting control to sober herself. "There's more at stake than just this little game."
"Hai' she'li. This is just the tail of the beastie. We're going to have to get into its lair to see if it's a grasscat or a treehare -- and if it's got Idra in its mouth."
"And I just realized something," Kethry told her, all thought of laughter gone. "We know the new King's name, but we don't know which of the brothers he is. And that could make a deal of difference."
"Indeed, ves'tacha," Tarma replied, her eyes gone brooding in truth. "In very deed."
* * *
At dawn Tarma relieved Warrl of his watch on the horses, and amused herself by first going through a few sword drills, then working them, much to the titillation of the gawkers. Toward noon, Kethry (who had been playing the aristo, rising late, and demanding breakfast in bed) put in her appearance. With her was a pale stranger, as expensively dressed as their visitor of the previous evening, but in much better taste. He, too, wore the badge of the King's Household on his right shoulder. By his walk Tarma would have known him for a horseman. By the clothing and the badge, she knew him for the Master of the King's Horse.
And by the appreciation in his eyes, Tarma knew him for a man who knew his business. She heaved a mental sigh of relief at that; she'd half feared he might turn out to be as big a booby as the courtier of the night before. It would have cut her to the heart to sell these lovelies to an ignoramus -- but if she refused to sell, they'd lose their cover story.
She had been taking the horses out of the corral, one at a time, and working them in a smaller pen. Most of them she did work on a lunge -- there were only a handful among the thirty she could work loose, the way she had the chestnut. She had a particularly skittish young buckskin gelding out when Kethry and her escort arrived, one she needed to devote most of her attention to. So after taking a few mental notes on the man, she went back to work. He spent a long time looking over the herd as a whole, and all in complete silence.
:This is a good one, mindmate,: Warrl said, from his resting place under the horse trough. :He smells of soap and leather, not perfume. And there's no/ear in him, nor on him.:
"Kathal, dester'edre" she told the buckskin, who kept wanting to break into a canter. "What else can you pick up from him?"
:Lots of horse-scent, and not a trace of horse-fear.:
"For'shava."
After a time the Master of Horse left his post at the corral, and took up a nearly identical stance at the fence of the pen where she was working the buckskin. She watched him out of the corner of her eye, appraisingly. He was older than she'd first thought. Medium height, dark eyes, dark hair, beard and mustache -- his complexion would be very white if not for his suntan-muscles in his shoulders that made his tunic leather stretch when he moved. His sole vanity seemed to be a set of matching silver jewelry: fillet, torque, bracelets, all inset with a single moonstone apiece. He leaned comfortably on the fence, missing nothing she did. Finally, he spoke to Kethry, who was standing at his side, dressed for the day in a cleaner and far more expensive set of the leathers she'd worn to ride in yesterday. Sewen had not spared the Company coffers when it had come time to outfit them for their ruse.
"I understood that your companion was working the horses yesterday without a lunge...."
"Only a few of the horses are schooled enough to work that way at the moment," Kehry said smoothly, "although eventually all of them could be trained so. Do you wish to see her work one of them now?"
"If you would both be so kind."
Kethry leaned over the fence. "You heard him, she'enedra; is Master Flutterby there ready to pause?"
The buckskin was obeying now, having tried to fret himself into a froth. Tarma halted him, then gave him a quick rubdown, and led him out. This time she called up a gentle dappled gelding -- one she was rather glad hadn't been chosen by a Sunhawk. He was so good-natured -- he really wasn't suited to a battlefield, but he was so earnest he'd have broken his heart or a leg trying to do what was asked of him.
She didn't even bother to take him into the pen, she worked him in the open, then mounted him bareback, and put him through a bit of easy dressage. When she slid off, the Horsemaster approached; she kept one hand on the dapple's neck and watched as he examined the animal almost exactly as she would have. The dapple, curious, craned his head around and whuffed the man's hair as he ran his hands gently down the horse's legs, rear, then front, then picked up a forefoot. At that, the man grinned -- a most unexpected expression on so solemn a face -- and held out his hand for the dapple to smell, then rubbed his nose, gently.
"Lady," he spoke directly to Tarma, though he must have been told she didn't speak the language -- a courtesy as delicate as any she'd ever been given, "I would cheerfully sell the Palace to purchase these horses. For once, rumor has understated fact."
"I think he's rather well hooked, she'enedra," Kethry said, pretending to translate. "How is he as a horseman? Can you feel happy letting them go to his care?"