Read Online Gwenhwyfar by Mercedes Lackey - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Mercedes Lackey
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on; really, the only difference between tonight and every other night was that the Hall was a great deal fuller.
The bed was cold, and she shivered for a while before her body warmed up the hollow; she was almost asleep when half-running footsteps, murmurs, playful growls and breathless giggling heralded the passage of the king and queen into their bedchamber. The sounds made her uncomfortable all over again, but it wasn’t just the sounds, and it wasn’t just knowing that her mother and father were going to do what all those people in the shadows were doing. It was something else, something she couldn’t put a finger on, a feeling that . . . that something was turning wrong that had been right. Like a blight on grain; this wasn’t just a matter of her parents, it was bigger than that.
The feeling held her pinned in her bed—
Until she woke suddenly to find that it was dawn, and her sisters were all curled up with her, and, as usual, Little Gwen had stolen the covers.
The king was in a rare good mood; after breakfast he gathered up Gwen—with Little Gwen predictably trailing behind, unasked—and took her down to his horsemaster. “Braith says the lass is ready to be trained and to give her a wise old warhorse to train her,” he told the old man. The horsemaster looked down at her critically. Gwen looked him in the eyes. There were scars all over him, at least, everywhere that she could see, and a pair of spectacular knife- or sword-cuts marred a craggy face still further. “I know ye,” he said, finally, his voice a low growl. “And a goodly work ye make of the pony. Braith thinks ye ready for a horse now?”
Gwen nodded. “Aye, sir,” she said quietly.
“I want a horse!” Little Gwen interrupted imperiously. The horsemaster turned to look at her, then Gwen saw him suddenly look up at her father. Something passed between them, and the horsemaster smiled. Gwen got a shiver of pleasure when she saw that smile. It promised that Little Gwen was going to get what she wanted and not like it.
“Well, then, ye’ll have a horse,” the horsemaster said, “An ye’ll follow me?”
Gwen followed obediently at his heels. Little Gwen marched imperiously in front of them all. When they got to the stables, the horsemaster addressed Gwen in a quiet voice while Little Gwen surveyed the horses in the paddock as if she owned all of them.
“And which of these do ye think suits ye,” he asked.
Gwen ducked her head deferentially. “You should pick, sir,” she said. “Braith said, old and wise. I don’t know which are old and wise.”
He smiled. “Then pick I shall—” he began, when Little Gwen interrupted.
“I want that one!” she declared, pointing at a showy young gray. The king made a choking sound. Gwen caught the horsemaster making a soothing motion with his hand.
“All right,” he replied agreeably. “Let’s us get him saddled, then.”
He ordered the astonished grooms to catch, saddle and bridle the high-tempered beast, and put a lead line on the bridle. Little Gwen was practically bouncing with excitement, but she frowned at the line. “I don’t need that!” she announced grandly. “I can ride!”
“Indeed,” the horsemaster said, but kept the rope clipped to the bridle. “But every rider needs the lead to try the paces.” He swung her up onto the saddle, where she perched as if she were on the old pony, legs slack, hands clenched on the reins. The horse reacted poorly to the latter; he tossed his head, and his mane lashed her face, cutting right across her eyes.
She shrieked. The horse reacted to that by lurching into a run.
Or trying to. The horsemaster had been ready for that. He kept a tight grip on the lead and pulled inward while pivoting on one heel, which forced the horse to stay in a trot in a tight circle around him. Little Gwen bounced in the saddle in a way that made Gwen wince for what seemed a very long time, her shrieks now coming out as painful “Ah! Ah! Ah!
The bed was cold, and she shivered for a while before her body warmed up the hollow; she was almost asleep when half-running footsteps, murmurs, playful growls and breathless giggling heralded the passage of the king and queen into their bedchamber. The sounds made her uncomfortable all over again, but it wasn’t just the sounds, and it wasn’t just knowing that her mother and father were going to do what all those people in the shadows were doing. It was something else, something she couldn’t put a finger on, a feeling that . . . that something was turning wrong that had been right. Like a blight on grain; this wasn’t just a matter of her parents, it was bigger than that.
The feeling held her pinned in her bed—
Until she woke suddenly to find that it was dawn, and her sisters were all curled up with her, and, as usual, Little Gwen had stolen the covers.
The king was in a rare good mood; after breakfast he gathered up Gwen—with Little Gwen predictably trailing behind, unasked—and took her down to his horsemaster. “Braith says the lass is ready to be trained and to give her a wise old warhorse to train her,” he told the old man. The horsemaster looked down at her critically. Gwen looked him in the eyes. There were scars all over him, at least, everywhere that she could see, and a pair of spectacular knife- or sword-cuts marred a craggy face still further. “I know ye,” he said, finally, his voice a low growl. “And a goodly work ye make of the pony. Braith thinks ye ready for a horse now?”
Gwen nodded. “Aye, sir,” she said quietly.
“I want a horse!” Little Gwen interrupted imperiously. The horsemaster turned to look at her, then Gwen saw him suddenly look up at her father. Something passed between them, and the horsemaster smiled. Gwen got a shiver of pleasure when she saw that smile. It promised that Little Gwen was going to get what she wanted and not like it.
“Well, then, ye’ll have a horse,” the horsemaster said, “An ye’ll follow me?”
Gwen followed obediently at his heels. Little Gwen marched imperiously in front of them all. When they got to the stables, the horsemaster addressed Gwen in a quiet voice while Little Gwen surveyed the horses in the paddock as if she owned all of them.
“And which of these do ye think suits ye,” he asked.
Gwen ducked her head deferentially. “You should pick, sir,” she said. “Braith said, old and wise. I don’t know which are old and wise.”
He smiled. “Then pick I shall—” he began, when Little Gwen interrupted.
“I want that one!” she declared, pointing at a showy young gray. The king made a choking sound. Gwen caught the horsemaster making a soothing motion with his hand.
“All right,” he replied agreeably. “Let’s us get him saddled, then.”
He ordered the astonished grooms to catch, saddle and bridle the high-tempered beast, and put a lead line on the bridle. Little Gwen was practically bouncing with excitement, but she frowned at the line. “I don’t need that!” she announced grandly. “I can ride!”
“Indeed,” the horsemaster said, but kept the rope clipped to the bridle. “But every rider needs the lead to try the paces.” He swung her up onto the saddle, where she perched as if she were on the old pony, legs slack, hands clenched on the reins. The horse reacted poorly to the latter; he tossed his head, and his mane lashed her face, cutting right across her eyes.
She shrieked. The horse reacted to that by lurching into a run.
Or trying to. The horsemaster had been ready for that. He kept a tight grip on the lead and pulled inward while pivoting on one heel, which forced the horse to stay in a trot in a tight circle around him. Little Gwen bounced in the saddle in a way that made Gwen wince for what seemed a very long time, her shrieks now coming out as painful “Ah! Ah! Ah!
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