Part 2 (1/2)
Rhis did know how to ride a hill pony, but no one rode those in the flatlands. They weren't as fast as these long-legged, high-stepping animals, but they were st.u.r.dy and didn't mind the cold weather. Rhis listened to knowledgeable discussion of the horses' attributes and shortcomings, strongly suspecting that the Nymish hill poniesa”were they to suddenly appear herea”would just be laughed at.
Before the races began, increasing clouds darkened the sky, whipping up a chilly wind. People ignored the changing weather as they watched expectantly.
Rhis peered at the starting line, where riders and their nervous mounts milled around, or walked back and forth. ”What's going on?” she finally asked Shera, who shrugged.
A boy overheard, and said, ”Stablehands have to finish laying the course. They're going to ride round the perimeter of the estate.”
Shera pursed her lips. Remembering the long ride up to the palace once the girls' carriage had rolled through the gates, Rhis wondered if the perimeter was quite a distance.
”Rough terrain,” a girl said. ”I can ride, but not like that.”
”We ride zo creeping, wiss ze mountains. Om! I watch. No ride.”
Rhis gasped, and spun around.
The speaker was a short thin girl with a cloud of wheat-colored hair, walking with her arm linked through that of Prince Lios. She wore a fabulous gown embroidered in bright colors, with bunches of ribbons at arms, waist, and down the front of the gown. She had a round, pleasant face, with slightly protuberant light blue eyes.
Lios stopped, bowed, and said, ”Give me a favor, cousin?”
This girl untied one of the ribbons from her sleeves and handed it to Lios. She grinned, a wide, laughing grin, as he bent down for her to tie it round his arm.
”That must be his cousin from the Isle of Ndai,” Shera whispered. ”I've seen her around, but never to hear or speak to. How fun, to come from such a mysterious place, full of pirates and magic!”
Rhis stared at the girl, who was shorter than Shera, and even skinnier than Rhis. Ice seemed to trickle through her veins when she recognized the accent, and the peculiar speech. Ndai, though relatively close, had been settled by different people, and then had endured a long history of battles with pirates. They had a separate language, Rhis had learned in history lessons. So Iardith hadn't been clowning, she'd been mimicking this princessa”making game of her.
”You ambulate, Couzzin. Um! Um! Um, boh, I forget ze word. Conquest zis race!” cried the princess from Ndai.
Rhis stole a look, and sure enough, she saw Iardith and her red-haired friend laughing behind their fans. Over the buzz of general talk, Rhis thought she heard a faint ”Um!”
”I'm off!” Lios stated, and strode away through the trees.
The noon bells echoed from the far towers, and then, closer by, someone blew a horn. They all turned their attention to the gra.s.sy field that had been chosen for the start and finish. Rhis hugged her arms close, glad of her long sleeves, for the air was getting chillier. She felt cold inside, too, at Iardith's cruelty. She hoped the little Ndaian princess hadn't heard any of it.
The racers appeared, all mounted up, and urged their horses into a long, ragged line. Prince Lios rode in the middle, his hair whipping in the wind as he sat easily astride his large, reddish-brown horse.
When the horn blew, he bent forward slightly and his horse sprang into a gallop. For a moment he was lost in the crowd, but shortly thereafter Rhis saw him again, riding like he'd been born on horseback. He was one of the five at the lead by the time they reached the end of the field, and swept round a corner by a pond.
The crowd of watchers started leaving, some to walk through the palace to witness the race at the halfway point, some to retreat inside as large, cold raindrops began to spatter their faces and clothes. Shera touched Rhis on the shoulder.
”I'm going in,” she said, s.h.i.+vering. ”I can hear about it afterward. Want some hot chocolate?”
”I'll meet you,” Rhis replied. ”I'm used to cold, and I want to see the end.”
Shera smiled, hunching her shoulders. ”Then you can tell me everything. If you don't freeze first.” She hurried up a trail toward the palace.
When at last the racers neared the end of the course the rain was coming down in earnest, and Rhis was almost alone, standing on a little rise to watch them come round the last sweep of trail before they reached the field where they had begun. A few others stood about, some under a rain canopy set up by servants.
Rhis preferred staying where she was, so she could see the winner. She was sure that Lios would be first; her heart soared within her at the sight of Lios and his horse leaping so effortlessly over a low hedge, neck and neck with two other riders.
They vanished behind some trees and then, two of the horses reappeared again, their riders bent low. One rider wore bright clothes, her dark braids flapping on her thin back; the other's pale yellow hair was plastered to forehead and neck. Lios lagged a full horse's length behind the two leaders.
Taniva of the High Plains sent a grim look over at Jarvas, who sneered back, then dug his heels into his horse's side. The animal seemed to tighten all over. Rhis winced, knowing it must hurt, but the horse suddenly leaped, sailing over another hedgerow, and Taniva's horse was airborne a moment later.
Jarvas reached the field firsta”just barely. He slowed his horse gradually as he rode straight for the stable. Taniva followed without looking back.
Lios galloped to the finish line right after, and then more appeared, all riding at the same speed. When they finished, they were laughing and calling mock-insults at one another as they brought their sweaty, blowing mounts round to the small knot of people gathereda”the cold wind tugging and snapping their clothes and haira”to watch the stragglers finish up the race. Lios was at the center of the crowd.
Lios joked with his friends. Rhis didn't know any of the people any more than she knew their past experiences. Feeling closed out, she left the garden and trudged back against the wind to the palace.
With her tousled hair redone and warm, dry clothes on, she rejoined the party, which was gathered on the windowed terrace adjacent to the garden. They were still talking about the race, mostly teasing the losers.
Iardith and her admirers crowded around Lios, of course, and around pale Jarvas of Damatras, who had won. But Taniva, who had nearly beat Jarvas, wasn't included. She stood at a window alone at the other end of the terrace, staring out at the rain.
As everyone wandered about, talking or helping themselves to the trays of hot snacks the servants brought in, Rhis gathered her courage and made her way to the tall princess in the bright vest, layered skirts, and crimson blouse. Vest, blouse, and the top layer of her skirt were edged with tiny chimes; in her black sash she wore a spectacularly handsome knife with a black and silver hilt. The sheath was studded with brilliant blue gems.
”Very fine riding today, Taniva,” she said.
The princess turned her head and studied Rhis for a long moment. She had long, slightly slanted greenish gray eyes, broad cheeks, and a flat nose. Her skin was more pale in color than the lowlanders' and Rhis's, with a yellowish cast. It was a better color, Rhis secretly thought, than Jarvas's pinkish pale. Taniva's clothes tinkled faintly when she moved.
”I do not know you?” Taniva asked. Her accent was strong.
”I'm Rhis. Of Nym. Southern mountains,” Rhis added awkwardly.
Taniva smiled, and her face was transformed. ”Ah, mountains! Then you too must feel this place a cage. Pest! I wish to go home. But I promised to come. So I stay.”
”You don't enjoy it here?” Rhis asked.
”Maybe I do, if . . .” Taniva shook her head. ”No. To complain is to whine like a zeem-bug. No one wants them around. You are not afraid to be seen talking to me?” Her lips curled.
”Why should I be? Do you kick people?”
”No. Nor do I stab, with the words,” Taniva added.
Now Rhis knew what the princess was talking about. And probably who.
”You're too good with a sword,” Rhis said, grinning as she remembered her conversation the night before.
”Have to bea”” Just then Taniva gave a stiff nod.
Rhis turned. The blond Jarvas, still surrounded by Iardith's crowd, raked his pale gaze down Taniva. His eyes narrowed when they stopped at Taniva's jeweled knife. He gave a slow nod, unsmiling, over the short red-haired girl's head. Then he turned back to the beautiful Iardith.
”There is an enemy,” Taniva said, waving a callus-palmed hand toward Jarvas, then placed it on the blue-hilted knife in her sash. ”Our people are enemies. We know it, but we understand one another. That Iardith, now, I do not understand.”
Rhis remembered the two or three times her eyes had met Iardith's. Each time the Princess had turned away dismissively. Rhis had a.s.sumed it was just because Rhis was a stranger, hadn't been introduced. Now she wondered if it was because she was younger, and plain, from a small kingdom.
”I've never spoken to her,” Rhis admitted.
”You have not enough importance,” Taniva said. Her tone was too matter-of-fact to be insulting. She was making an observation, and Rhis ducked her chin in acknowledgement, not particularly happy to find her thoughts corroborated. But it was probably right.
Taniva gave the garden view a brooding glower. She had little etiquette. Her face was as expressive as her voice, and she obviously said what she thought.