"The latter," he said, puzzled. "But—"
"But I have had your Salamander bring me your shirts for the past month and more, and I have been leaving them overnight in Sunset's stall to familiarize him with your new scent!" she said triumphantly. "He was a bit alarmed at first, but evidently there was enough of the old 'you' in the new scent to reassure him. Now he is quite used to it. Won't you please at least try to see if he'll accept you?" she begged shamelessly, looking up into his troubled eyes. "He misses you so much—and I am simply no real substitute for you. Even the company of poor old Brownie is not enough to make up for your loss."
He looked away for a moment, and she sensed he was struggling with himself. She continued with arguments she had rehearsed almost as many times as the apologetic speech she had not had a chance to deliver. "Du Mond told me that he was a gift from another Firemaster, and although I have not had a great deal of experience with horses, it seems to me that he is truly quite out of the ordinary. Given that, don't you think you ought to give him the chance to prove he can tolerate more than any other horse you might have owned?"
"Perhaps," he murmured, but he did not sound convinced.
"He needs more exercise than he gets in that little paddock," she persisted, putting one hand on his arm. "And I cannot ride. I would not even dare to take him for walks, like a dog; I don't know enough about horses to keep him under control if he should take fright. He needs to be ridden, or he will be quite out of condition before long. He needs to see more than the paddock, or I think he will grow stale with boredom."
"Is he in the paddock now?" Cameron asked, still looking away from her, off in the direction of the stable.
He doesn't want to see my pleading expression! she guessed shrewdly. He is afraid he would not be able to resist it!
"Yes, he is—and you know, if he will not come to you, I think we could take that as the sign that he will not accept you as you are," she replied, as persuasively as she could. "After all, he hated du Mond, and the paddock seemed to provide plenty of room for him to feel safe when the man was anywhere near."
"That's true...." Finally, after several minutes, he turned back to her. "All right. I will make your experiment on that basis." His tone turned wry. "I only hope he does not decide to attack me! That is what the lead stallion would do, in defense of his herd, if a wolf came sniffing about."
"He won't," she replied with confidence. Given Sunset's reaction to the scent of Jason's shirts, she was quite certain that Cameron's fears were unfounded. Perhaps if she had not taken the time to accustom the stallion to the scent, he would have been correct—but now whenever she brought a new shirt, Sunset drank in the scent, then looked to the direction of the house or the door of the stable expectantly, whickering as if he thought that Jason himself was about to appear.
It was her turn to take Jason's hand and lead him along the path to the stable and paddock area. He hung back, as though reluctant to go, and yet he kept straining his gaze for the first sight of Sunset.
I thought he missed that horse more than he would admit, precisely because he didn't talk about it. In fact, he had avoided the subject of Sunset and riding as much as possible, once he knew that she did not ride and could not give his beloved stallion his needed exercise. This was a part of his life that had been painful to give up.
As they came into sight of the paddock, she whistled shrilly—another unladylike habit that her father had never asked her to break.
"Whistling girls and crowing hens, both will come to some bad ends." How many times did bratty little boys quote that piece of doggerel at me?
Sunset whickered in immediate answer to her whistle, and soon came trotting into view. He broke into a canter at the sight of her—
And then stopped dead, staring at her companion.
Jason stopped as well, pulling his hand away from hers. "He sees me—he's afraid of me—"
"Nonsense!" she said briskly, seizing his hand again and tugging him insistently onwards. "He thinks you might be Paul du Mond, that's all! Good heavens, du Mond has been the only other human besides myself he has seen in months and months! Of course he doesn't know it's you yet. Call to him, or whistle, whatever you used to do so he knows it is you!"
Oh drat—can he whistle anymore?
But Jason cleared his throat, and made a series of very peculiar, high-pitched yipping sounds. "Sunset!" he called, as the stallion's ears pricked forward, and he took a tentative step or two in their direction. "Ho, Sunset!" Then he called out something else in a guttural tongue that Rose assumed was Arabic.
The stallion whinnied shrilly, and broke into a run towards them, pulling up at the last minute right at the fence, rearing a little in excitement. He continued to dance in place, ears up, tail flagged, showing far more excitement than he ever did when Rose greeted him. Jason ran too, dropping Rose's hand to sprint to the fence, where he met the horse, caught either side of the halter in his hands, and pulled Sunset's head down to his chest. The stallion made little rumbling sounds that Rose assumed were noises of happiness and contentment, as Jason rubbed and scratched his head, ears, and neck. Jason muttered things under his breath that Rose knew were words of affection and contentment, even though she couldn't understand a bit of it.
She made her way in a leisurely manner down to the fence, and stood beside them for several minutes. Stallion and Master were totally oblivious to her.
Which is as it should be, she thought, with great content of her own.
"His tack is all still in the stable," she said aloud. "And he's quite used to having the Salamanders about. I suspect you could have them act as stableboys. I'll be up at the library when you've finished your ride."
For a moment, she thought that he hadn't heard her. Then be turned to her with tears literally standing in his eyes.
"How can I ever thank you?" he asked. "You've given me back something I thought I would never have again—"
"You can thank me by saddling up and taking this poor, neglected horse for a long ride," she replied with a laugh. "You both need the exercise. Master Pao said that a great deal of your pain is, frankly, due to the fact that you never leave the house! I take my walks so that I don't turn into a fat little Milwaukee bratwurst-frau—now you go take your rides, or I fear you will do the same!"
And with that, she turned and marched back up to the house, sure that he would take her advice.
She stopped in her room long enough to put her hair and clothing back in order, and looked out the window at the unaccustomed sound of hoofbeats. Sure enough, she reached the window just in time to see Jason, feet somehow crammed into riding-boots, galloping off towards the cliff-top trail.
She wiped a tear or two of her own away, although she was smiling at the same time. I don't think that I have ever seen him so completely happy before. I believe that this time I managed to give him an important part of himself back.
She returned to her mirror, but once her hair was pinned back into place, she didn't rise. Instead, she sat at her dressing-table, staring soberly into the eyes of her reflection. She had not had a moment for contemplation of anything other than Magick in a very long time, but this had brought the question of the future home to her in a way that could not be ignored.
What will happen when he gets the rest of his life back?
Realistically, she already knew what would happen. He wouldn't need her anymore. He would return to his former social round, and there was no room in that for her. She was not the kind of woman that a man of his station would associate with, socially. The only time someone like her would encounter someone like him, perhaps, was as the wife of one of the university professors if he were given a reception following a generous endowment. Or if she somehow achieved scholastic notoriety, and he required advice about a manuscript or something of the sort.