|
Young Lord Irmaedith looked weary and ill.
Heart
glanced at Kip. "Be quiet. Not a sound."
Then she
looked at Avamir. The mare was standing tall, her head lifted to watch.
"It's
the new lord," Heart whispered. "He's just a sickly boy."
The
strange chair moved steadily up the stable aisle.
Heart
could hear the carriers murmuring.
As they
got closer she understood; it was a rhyme, recited to time their steps.
Lord
Dunraven's raspy voice cut through the noise. "How many horses does he
want to see?"
No one
answered him.
Avamir
shook her mane. The tiny Gypsy bells jingled.
Heart's
pulse hammered at her wrists and temples.
"Shhh,"
she whispered to Avamir.
The mare
shook her mane again.
Heart
saw the boy's eyes open wider.
He sat
up straighter, turning his head. He was looking for the source of the
jingling.
The
bracelet on Heart's wrist tightened.
Frantic,
she leaned close to Avamir. "Be still."
Heart
glanced back.
The boy
had slumped in the chair again.
Heart
let out a long breath. They would just walk past, she told herself.
They'd
turn the corner and head back up the next aisle. It was a big stable.
There were a hundred horses or more. The boy wouldn't notice the
unicorns.
Then
Avamir walked closer to the gate.
Heart
pushed at her shoulder.
"Avamir!"
Heart pleaded in a whisper.
Dunraven's deep, rasping voice was getting louder. He was talking about
the cold nights, complaining about the small hearth fires in the castle.
Avamir
pushed her head out over the stall door.
She
shook her mane again.
The
bells tinkled.
"Stop
there," the boy lord said in a high, quivery voice. "That white mare."
Heart
gripped the rake, leaning on it, her pulse thundering in her ears. |
