Arlen laughed. Hardly. Dancers still the meanest horse alive, but he only bites and kicks corelings now.
A low whistle came from behind them, and Renna whirled. Without thinking, her hand found the knife handle again. She took it away quickly, hoping no one had noticed.
And I meant to teach young Nik his manners.
The man who approached showed no sign that he had seen. Like the boy, he only had eyes for the horse at first. He approached calmly, giving Dancer time to get used to his presence. The stallion snorted and stamped a bit, but accepted his touch.
He has grown, the man said, running his hands over Dancers heavy flanks. He was tall and lean, with a thick but close-cropped beard. His brown hair was long and braided in back. Must be two hands taller than his sire, and old Rockslides biggern any horse I ever saw. He picked up one of the stallions feet. Could do with a shoeing, though.
The man looked up at them at last, and like the boy he let his eyes range over Renna, examining her as if she were a horse. A low growl formed at the back of her throat, and the man gave a start when his eyes finally met hers and saw her glare.
Arlen stepped between them. Just a look, Ren, he murmured. Thesere good folk.
Renna gritted her teeth. Much as she hated to admit it, he was right about what the magic did to a person, even in the day. Passion came quick to her now. She took a deep breath and let her anger fall away.
Arlen nodded and turned to the rancher. Renna Tanner, this heres Jon Stallion and his boy Nik. Jon breaks and breeds wild Angierian mustang.
Catches and breeds, anyway, Jon said, his eyes offering an apology as he put out his hand. Ent easy to tame something that can trample a field demon to death and outrun anything else in the naked night. Renna took his hand, but let go quick when he winced at her grip.
Know how they feel, sometimes, she muttered.
Jon nodded back at Dancer. Take thatun. Caught him as a colt not six months old. Thought for sure I could break the wild out of one that young, but he wouldnt take so much as a halter, and kicked his way out of the barn moren once.
The naked night ent forgiving, Arlen said. Six months is a lifetime out with the demons.
Jon nodded. Didnt think even you could tame him.
Didnt, Arlen said. Just brought him back where he belonged.
Got him taking a saddle and reins, though, Jon noted, but I guess I shouldnt be surprised. Back then, you were just the crazy tattooed Messenger who saved my boy. Now I hear tell youre the ripping Deliverer!
Ent, Arlen said. Im Arlen Bales out of Tibbets Brook, and I just got more sack than sense, sometimes.
So you have a name, after all, a woman said, coming out from the ranch house. She was plain, but had the vigorous look of one used to hard work. She wore mens clothes high leather boots, breeches, and vest with a simple white blouse beneath. Her hair was brown and braided back much like Jons.
Dont mind the boys, she told Renna. Ent gonna talk about much else when theres horseflesh about. Im Glyn.
Renna. Renna shook her hand, then clenched her fist as the woman embraced Arlen. Was it the magic that made her resent another woman touching him?
Good to see you again, Messenger. Can you stay for supper?
Arlen nodded, showing the first warm smile Renna had ever seen him give another person. Id like that.
What brings you out this way? Jon asked. Ent just for the shoeing, Id guess.
Arlen nodded. I need another horse. A filly I can breed with Dancer.
He looked at Renna and gave her a half smile. Startin a family.
Mack Pasture, who lived up the road from Rennas fathers farm, had been a horse breeder. Renna visited his ranch often when her mother was alive. It was a good deal smaller than Jon Stallions, but it worked much the same. After Dancer was brought to the farrier, Jon led the way towards a great fenced field where dozens of horses grazed under the watchful eyes of mounted ranch hands and barking dogs. On the way, they passed thick, heavy corrals, too high for even Twilight Dancer to jump in daylight, used for training and quarantine.
In one of these, Renna saw a giant black stallion cantering by itself, watched by two nervous ranch hands with ready whips. She stopped short.
Ay, thats old Rockslide, Jon said. Dancers sire. Caught him on the plain with half a dozen mares and young Dancer. Call him Rockslide cause thats what it felt wed been through when we finally herded him into a corral.
Big bastard wont do a lick of work, but hell kick holes in the barn all night long, you let him. Mean as a demon, and too smart by half. City breedersll tell you wild horses ent smart because they wont follow commands, but dont you believe em. Mustang got their own smarts. Enough to survive the naked night, which is more than most folk can say. Rockslide liked to throw anyone that tried to mount, then trample them into the yard. Retired him to the breeding pen when we got tired of bone setting.
Renna looked at the magnificent animal, and felt a profound sorrow. You were a king out on the plains, and here they have you running circles in a pen and mounting mares all day. She had to suppress an urge to walk right up to the gate and set him free.
Good foaling this summer, Jon said as they made their way out onto the field. Lots of fillies to choose from.
Your choice, Ren, Arlen said. Any one you want.
Renna looked out over the herd. At first glance, Jons horses looked little different from Macks, but as she drew closer and took in their scale, her eyes widened. The foals looked juvenile next to the mares, but even they were bigger than some of the stallions Mack kept. Jon had yearlings big enough for a grown man to ride, and there were no poor specimens. Demons had culled all but the strongest strains, and the remainder were giants, sleek and dark-coated.
There were a number of strong-looking fillies, but Renna found her eyes drawn instead to a grown mare who stood apart from the herd. The mare had a blotchy coat of brown and black, and stood a hand taller than the others. She had a surly look about her, and even the other horses gave her a wide berth.
What about that one? Renna asked, pointing.
Jon grunted. You got a good eye, girl. Most folk cant see past that ugly coat. Thats Twister. Caught her last summer, right before the worst windstorm I ever seen. Strongern most stallions and barely five years old, shes tried to get away more timesn I can count. Go near her with a halter night, go near her at all and she gets all kinds of mean. Even bit old Rockslide when I put her in his pen to see if theyd get on.
Ent gonna need a halter, Renna said, vaulting the fence and heading across the field.
Telling you, that horse is dangerous, Jon called after her. Sure you know what youre doin? Renna waved a hand dismissively, not even bothering to look at him.
Twister didnt back away as Renna approached. That was good. The mare seemed to be ignoring her, but the way her ears were pointed, Renna was sure she had the horses full attention.
She held up her empty hands. Ent got a halter. Dont reckon Id care to wear one, so I ent gonna ask you to, either.
Twister let her get in close, but when Renna reached out to stroke the horses neck, she moved fast, powerful jaws snapping. Renna barely snatched her hand away before it was bitten off.
Werent no call for that! she snapped, slapping the mare hard on the nose. Twister went wild at the blow, rearing up and kicking her feet, but Renna was ready. Months of hunting demons and absorbing their magic had left her stronger and faster than she had ever dreamed, and now that her blood was up she could feel a new tingle in her limbs, a taste of nights power, even here under the sun.
Renna weaved like a barley stalk in the wind, feeling the whoosh of air as the kicking hooves missed her by scant inches. Again and again the frenzied mare tried to crush her. Powerful blows. And fast. Kicks that could break a field demons back.
But Rennas moves were smooth and fluid like a dance, and she remained untouched. It went on for some time, and she began to wonder which of them would give in first. The new power in her limbs was only a fraction of what she felt in the night. The horse seemed tireless.
But at last, Twisters kicks began to slow, and she bunched her muscles, ready to flee. Renna rushed in before the mare could gallop off, gripping a handful of mane in her fist and vaulting onto the horses bare back.
If Twister had been crazed before, her rage was tripled now. She fought true to her name, leaping and writhing in mid-air, bucking and galloping in circles, trying to throw Renna.
But Renna had her seat, and wasnt giving it up. She threw her arms around the horses throat, so thick she was barely able to clasp her wrists. Once she had the hold, that powerful neck became her entire world, her only adversary. Nothing else mattered.
She called upon every bit of power she could muster, and began to squeeze.
It seemed to go on forever, but finally Twister began to calm. She stopped bucking and galloped around the pen, setting the dogs into a frenzy as the other horses leapt from her path.
Renna continued to squeeze, slow and sure, and soon even that gallop slowed to a wilful canter. Renna smiled. Wilful was good.
She eased her grip from Twisters neck, taking two fists of mane and pulling hard to the left. She laughed aloud when Twister obediently turned. Gripping the horses flanks with her knees and the mane in her fist, Renna drew her knife and slapped the horses rump with the wide flat of the blade. Hyah!
Twister leapt ahead, breaking back into a gallop. Renna sheathed her knife and took the mane in both hands. A tug here or there would turn the horse, but Renna let her have her head, exhilarated as the wind whipped her long braid about, and she was jarred again and again by the horses powerful strides.
Renna leaned in, putting her mouth to Twisters ear. You belong in the night, girl. Ent gonna let you end up like Rockslide. Promise.
Renna ran them back to the edge of the fence where Arlen and the others waited, pulling up short.
Made your choice, then? Arlen asked. Twister?
Renna nodded. But Twister ent a good name. Gonna call her Promise.
Dinner on the Stallion ranch was a family affair, and that family extended down to the last ranch hand and laundry girl, over thirty people in all. Even some of the dogs lay on blankets along the walls of the great hall, ready to leap for scraps. Renna and Arlen sat by Jon, Glyn, and Nik at the head of a long trestle table heavily laden with food and pitchers of water and ale.