"Mmmm. So, you had a ring to control animals, and you used it on a horse. Knowingly?"

"No, sir. I thought the horse came because-well-I like horses. Star always came to me."

"So why did Macenion think it was the ring?"

"He said his was an elf-bred horse, and that elf horses would not come to humans without magic. He said I had been wearing the ring, and wanting the horse to come." In telling this, Paks had calmed a little.

"So then you were faced with the snowcat. Had you heard of one before? No? And Macenion told you to use the ring. How?"

"He said, sir, to make-make the cat hold still. Not jump at us or the horses. And it worked-" Paks could feel, in memory, the surprise of that. She had still not believed her ring was magic, until the great beast crouched 192.

still on the trail before diem, the snowflake dapples on its coat blending with the felling snow. "And then he-told me how dangerous it was-"

"You didn t see that for yourself?" The Kuakgan's voice was edged with sarcasm.

"Sir, I could see that it was a hunting creature, and big-but it was so beautiful. I didn't know about the magic it had, until Macenion told me. He said we had no chance- and-" Pales faltered again.

"Go on." The Kuakgan was implacable.

"He told me to-to hold it still-and-" Paks squeezed her eyes shut against the memory. "And he took his sword- and killed it."

There was a long silence. Paks dared not move or speak. Her skin p.r.i.c.kled all over.

"You held ft still, by magic, while Macenion killed it? Helpless?"

"Yes, sir," said Paks faintly. "I-I knew it was wrong. I asked him-"

"What!" The word shook the ground with power.

"I asked him not to," whispered Paks. "But he said-he said it was the only way-then-and I- I shouldn't have, sir, I know that, but what can I do now?"

Another long silence. "And men wonder," the Kuakgan said finally, in a quiet voice worse than a shout, "why evil roams the land. I should hope you knew it was wrong. Wrong, yes: bitterly wrong. And I a.s.sure you, Paksenarrion, that Marshal Cedfer would not think light of this. It was an evil deed, and whatever else they may be, the Marshals of Gird abhor evil. Do you claim, as your defense, that it was Macenion's fault, because he told you to do so?"

"No, sir," said Paks. "I should have thought-he toto me, later, when I spoke of it, that I could have used the power to send the beast away-"

"Macenion said that? After telling you to do it in the first place?"

"Yes, sir. I know it was my doing. I know it was wrong. But-what now? 1 thought you would know what to do.

"To make amends?"

Paks nodded. "I thought-even-I had dishonored my .

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sword. I should-give it up, if you said so: not be a warrior."

"Look at me." Paks could not resist the command, and met the Kuakgan's dark eyes, her own blurred with tears. He looked every bit as angry as she had expected. "You would give that up? Your own craft in the world? You take the injury so seriously?"

"Yes." Paks fought again for control of her voice. "Sir, it was ivrong. I have not slept well since. How can I be- what I want, if I could do that?"

"But you are a soldier," he mused. "I judge you are a good one, as soldiers go. Have you any other skill?"

"No, sir."

"I think, then, that you must stay so. Kuakkganni do not hate soldiers, but the necessity of war. If you have dishonored your sword, you must cleanse it with honorable battles. As for amends-the snowcat is dead, and by now the eagles have feasted. Nothing can change that." He looked closely at her, and Paks nodded. "As I said, I have no responsibility for your actions. But if you will be bound by me, I will take a blood payment from you."

"Yes, sir."

"Give me the ring, with which you bound the snowcat, so that you cannot misuse such power again."

Paks froze. Give up the ring? Her hand closed on it. She could hear again the Duke s voice as he gave it, feel again the throb in her injured leg.

"I will not compel," said the Kuakgan. She could feel, however, the withdrawal behind his words. She unclenched her hand, staring at the ring, its twisted strands that meant so much more than power over animals. Then she pulled it from her finger, feeling the tiny ridges for the last time, and laid it in the Kuakgan's waiting palm. His hand closed over it. She felt a cold wave sweep through her heart: that ring she had never meant to lose, save with her life.

"Child, look at my face." She looked again; he was smiling gravely. "You did well, Paksenarrion. I think the evil was not rooted too deeply in you, and this may have it out. Choose your companions with more care, another 194.

time, and trust your own honor more. No one can preserve it but you. *

"Yes, sir,"

"Go now. You have much to do, if you would accomplish what the Council set you-and train that black horse you've been busy with."

Paks started. She had forgotten, until then, that she had been using the ring on the black horse.

The Kuakgan gave her an open grin. "We will see whether Macenion was right, and all your skill with horses mere ring-magic. I think myself you have a way with animals, ring or no. And you can trust yourself, now. Is it not so?"

"Yes, sir." Suddenly Paks felt much better. She had not known how much it bothered her to control the horse with the ring.

"You may take a few extra bruises, but-I heard from Sevri the care you gave your pack pony when you arrived. Such care, Paksenarrion, and not magic, will accomplish what you hope for." He took her shoulders and turned her away from the fountain. "And there's your path out. Don't stray from it-and don't look back."

"Thank you, sir," said Paks. She walked toward the white stones, and along them to the lane.

Lighter in heart, Paks headed for the inn, thinking of what had pa.s.sed. Her finger felt sore and empty without the Duke's ring. She would not have bartered it for food if she had been starving, it was that dear. But the Duke, she felt, would rattier have had her give it up, under the circ.u.mstances, than keep it in dishonor. She turned aside from the inn door and went around by the stableyard. Sevri was currying a trader's heavy cart horse outside. Paks went into the stable. Star pushed her head up over the stall side, and Paks scratched her absently, watching the black. He seemed more relaxed; he stood at ease, nose resting on the stall door, tail switching at intervals. Paks fed Star half an apple and took the rest to him.

He stiffened as she neared the stall, then caught the scent of apple. Paks held it on the flat of her hand. His nostrils quivered; his lip twitched. Slowly he reached out .

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and lifted it from her palm. She reached up and scratched him, just as she would Star. Still crunching, he leaned into the caress. Paks murmured to him, the meaningless, friendly talk that soothes, and watched his eyes slide shut. She heard Sevri behind her in the aisle, leading the cart horse to its stall.

All at once Paks decided what to do. "Sevri?"

"Yes? Do you need something?"

"Only to tell you something." Paks paused. It wasn't going to be easy. She liked the girl. "Sevri, I-haven't been fair with you." The girl's face was puzzled. "The smith was right, Sevri, about this horse. I was using magic on him. To quiet him."

"What kind of magic?" She seemed more interested than surprised.

"A ring. It worked to quiet animals-to control them. That's why I could work on him at all."

"Oh. Are you using it now? Which ring is it?"

Paks spread her hand. "I don't have it any more. It was the gold one. I'm sorry, Sevri, I should have told you-"

"Why? All horse trainers have their secrets. And you weren't using it to hurt him. What happened to your ring? Was it stolen?"

"No. I gave it to Master Oakhallow." Paks was surprised at the girl's reaction. "But Sevri-your family are kuakkgannir, aren't they? I thought you would think it wrong."

Sevri shrugged. "I don't think you needed it. Master Oakhallow says the heart shows in all things. You were always kind to Star and the black, and that's what works with horses. If you used the ring to quiet him until he could trust you-it shortened your work, that's all."

Paks felt a wave of relief. She had feared die girl's disapproval more than she knew. "I-I thought you should know, that's all."

"I'm glad you trust me," said Sevri seriously, older than her years. "But I wouldn't tell those others. Let them think what they will. If they knew you'd had one magic 196.

ring, they might come looking for others. I learned that working here in the inn."

"I hadn't thought of that," said Paks. "Thank you. But now I suppose we might as well see how the training has gone, and bring him out."

To her surprise, the black horse was no worse than any other morning. Paks had just finished grooming him and turned to reach for the saddle, when she saw the Kuakgan beside her.

"You are doing well with him," said the Kuakgan. Paks could find nothing in his voice but polite interest. "Have you been able to cure the injuries he received earlier?"

Paks laid a hand on the horse's shoulder to steady herself. She had not thought to see the Kuakgan again so soon; her breath came short. "Sir, his mouth healed quickly, but-there's one thing. He has deep scars on his hind legs, and I don't know what can be done for them."

"I'll take a look." At the Kuakgan's touch, the horse relaxed even more, and did not flinch even when the Kuakgan ran his strong hands down the hind legs. He paused when he came to the scar on the near leg. "A rope or wire cut him deeply here; it's a wonder he was not crippled by it. The wound healed cleanly, but the scar has grown to hamper the action of the joint a little. Do you find he sometimes seemed to drag his hoof there?"

Paks shook her head. "I've never seen it myself. But Marshal Cedfer says he does so, when I'm training with him."

"Hmmm. Perhaps I can ease that for him." Paks did not see him do anything, but he laid his hand over the scar a long moment, and then on the other leg. "Now," he said, as he straightened up, "I would see you ride, young woman."

Paks felt her belly clench. Would he make the horse rear and buck? Bun away? She was sure he could do that. Or would he criticize what Marshal Cedfer had taught her? Her fingers felt huge and clumsy as she set the saddle on the horse's back, arranged the crupper and breastband, girthed up, and bridled. The Kuakgan inspected the tack, running the leather through his hands, touching the bit with his fingers. At last there was nothing to do but .

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mount. The horse had picked up Paks's tension, and stiffened his ears, but he stood still while she gained the saddle.

Once up, habit rea.s.serted itself, and she gave to the horse's movement. She rode around the stableyard twice, then made a few circles and other figures around the dungheap. She looked at the Kuakgan; he gestured for her to ride outside. Paks sighed, nodded, and guided the black through the gate. He had already pa.s.sed it himself, and was walking out of town on the south-east road. Paks followed it, the black horse stepping along lightly. He turned as she caught up with him.

"I think you have done well so far," he said. "Ride ahead, now, and turn back when you come to the edge of the grove."

Paks nudged the horse into a slow trot, halted and turned where she was bid, and rode back.

"He should have no more trouble with those scars," said the Kuakgan. "He's moving easier. Could you feel it?"

"It seemed springier, somehow."

"Yes, and he wm be able to do some of those fency things the Marshal would like to teach you. It's too bad they re used for fighting only. If it did not risk his death or yours, I'd be happier about it." He smiled up at her. "But you and he were meant to be so, perhaps. I wish you well, Paksenarrion. You may come again to the grove, if you wish; you have a definite talent with animals. That is, in part, what hurt you so when you misused it." He waved and turned away. Paks sat still, and watched him cross die road and enter the grove by leaping the wall. She almost called a warning, then realized that it would hold no perils for him. He had disappeared among the trees when she lifted the reins and rode to the grange, along die street for the first time.

Chapter Thirteen.

In the next two days, Paks rode along most of the roads near town, and began to explore the small lanes and paths that led to outlying farmsteads. She found nothing; she was not even sure what she was looking for. But at least, she thought, she had a better idea of the surrounding land. It was richer than die land around Three Firs. Most form folk had an orchard of apples and pears; for grain they grew wheat as well as northern barley and oats. Redroots, onions, and other vegetables grew in every kitchen garden. Paks saw the local hogs, hefty red beasts with yellow eyes, rooting in the roadside woods and hedges. Cattle were sleek, mostly dun-colored, with dark horns.

She was trotting the black horse along the west road one afternoon when she got her first clue. Low sun behind her threw her shadow far ahead. In that slanting light, she saw something glint on a treetrunk beside the road. She rode toward it, suddenly alert, her hand dropping to her swordhilt.

As she came nearer, she saw that it was nothing but the tree itself-instead of dark farrowed bark, pale underbark lay open to die sun from a narrow gash. Paks halted the black horse, her brow farrowed in thought. She'd heard of 198.

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such signs-the scouts in the Duke's Company had had a system of marks on trees and wayside rocks. But she had no idea what this one meant-if indeed it were anything but an accident.

She turned the black horse off the road, and made a half circle in tile woods around the marked tree. Nothing but a game trail, that ended a few yards from the road. She came out to the road again, and thought about it. Came trail? Why would a game trail stop suddenly? She had seen others that crossed the road. Her neck p.r.i.c.kled, and she looked around at the silent trees. Nothing. She thought of returning to die mysterious trail, but decided to ride on as if she had found nothing. As she jogged on toward town, she heard a distant call off to her right-a herdsman, perhaps, or perhaps someone else.

That night was drill night again. Paks drank a quick bowl of soup in the crowded common room, then went upstairs to change. When she came downstairs, the tall young man she'd noticed the first day in the common room called to her.

"Lady Paks! Going to drill! Walk with us, why don't you?" His grin was nearly as wide as his shoulders. Two other men, that Paks remembered but vaguely from the first night's drill smiled at her.

Paks nodded at them. She wondered who they were.

"I'm Mal Argonist," said the one who had called her. *Tm the forester here, since my brother went away. I saw you the day you came in."

"Amisi," said the dark one at his side. "I'm a fermer, just east there-beyond the Grove, those grain fields."

"Adgan," said the redhead. "I work for Amisi, right now,"

"He's my senior herdsman."

"They're just learning sword drill," said Mal. "I told 'em they should use an axe, but-"

' Mal, for Gird's sake don't start on that-"

"What?" asked Paks.

"Axes. Mel thinks everyone should fight with an axe. It's aO right for him, as big as he is, and using an axe every day. But- "

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"In formation?" Paks tried to imagine it. She knew that some knights fought with small axes; the smaller head was said to be easier to handle than a long blade. But she'd never heard of a foot soldier using one.

"Nah-not formation exactly." Mel laughed loudly. "It's a right Girdish weapon, that s all, being taken from our tools, you see. And I've killed wolf with it-"