Shadow's Son by Shirley Meier, S.M. Stirling and Karen Wehrstein ...
Shadow's Son by Shirley Meier, S.M. Stirling and Karen Wehrstein ...
Shadow's Son by Shirley Meier, S.M. Stirling and Karen Wehrstein ...
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Generated <strong>by</strong> ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />
set up under his tent-flap, at the edge of the ground. The misty early-morning light had started the grass<br />
steaming dry; sun struggled through thinning clouds. He was wearing a black satin shirt, bordered with<br />
white, the collar square with a "v" cut into it, just under his throat. The effect was dashingly official,<br />
making the scar on his cheek, clearer in sunlight, seem out-of-place. She dismounted with a graceful leap,<br />
Hotblood frisking <strong>and</strong> blowing.<br />
"Very good," Chevenga said, grinning. She put a h<strong>and</strong> to Hotblood's mouth; he lipped her fingers,<br />
making her glad she was wearing gloves. "Tell me, how far apart can the two of you be, <strong>and</strong> still… think<br />
to each other?"<br />
"About two… kylickz… kilometers, you say. Fades out to general feelings beyond that, then thins to<br />
nothing. We can tell each other's direction from much further away; say a hundred, two hundred<br />
kilometers. And whether the other is getting closer or farther."<br />
"That could be useful… hesmells like a meat-eater. Does he eat anything else?"<br />
"Milk, cheese, grain, grass <strong>and</strong> leaves, if he can't get struggling meat. It makes him moody, though."<br />
"Arkans?"<br />
"Two-legs are his favorite after horses; <strong>and</strong> though he's not normally picky about nationalities, I've told<br />
him to be, in this case. Ri are like weasels: kill-crazy. I can keep him under control unless he's attacked.<br />
And I've told him that if I bite it, the yellow-haired red-armored ones are to blame, <strong>and</strong> he should rip up<br />
only them." That had been difficult; Hotblood didn't think in words, what-if a concept at the bare limit of<br />
his comprehension. On top of that he'd greeted the thought of her death with a monumental sulk.<br />
Without warning, the Ri padded up to the desk, stretched his neck to lean his wedge-shaped face within<br />
a h<strong>and</strong>span of Chevenga's.Scareyouhehehehe. Oh, shit… HERDSTALLION , Shkai'ra thought<br />
frantically. Now, Hotblood chose to blithely ignore her, baring his fangs instead.<br />
You're in trouble, Gold-bottom, if there's any fear in you now, whether you show it or not… The<br />
Ri could smell it. Whether thesemanakraseye sensed this or not, she couldn't tell; but he didn't move, his<br />
dark gaze, not so much hard as open, like a cat's hunting-stare, faintly smiling, if anything, back into the<br />
Ri's. They stared at each other frozen for a time.The only two around here who aren't a little tense ,<br />
Shkai'ra thought. Some Yeolis had their h<strong>and</strong>s on their sword-hilts, or knuckles white on spears.<br />
Chevenga raised a h<strong>and</strong>, signing them to do nothing. With a snrug of his mane, Hotblood turned away.<br />
Noscare boring .<br />
"I'm telling him that you're herd stallion around here," said Shkai'ra, sending the thought as she spoke.<br />
"And a greater killer than I am, even. He believes me."<br />
Chevenga shrugged <strong>and</strong> smiled. "Maybe it isn't true." He gave out some order, stripped off his shirt <strong>and</strong><br />
took up a shield <strong>and</strong> a pair of wooden practice-swords that had been leaning on his desk. "Come."<br />
Oh, good, Shkai'ra thought.How good is he, his own self ? He offered <strong>and</strong> she chose, picking out the<br />
sword of white oak, <strong>and</strong> swung it to get the balance while they brought up a horse for him.Not bad : a<br />
big black Lakan gelding, about seventeen h<strong>and</strong>s, definitely a destrier, not too showy but looking very<br />
strong <strong>and</strong> reasonably fast. Brave too; it just rolled the white of its eye at Hotblood, though they were<br />
upwind. The crowd around the ground suddenly thickened, munching on pieces of cold roast pork from<br />
last night; war-camps were as bad as cities for people with nothing to do but watch.