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By Root 390 0

of breaking her fast on a bit of bread that she took with her, and headed for the Castle outbuildings. It had been like a revelation in the night, that thought. It would have been infernally clever, to put the bottle where the Jinn never went. It could be hidden among all the broken and useless objects in one of the sheds, of course. Or wedged in among the wood in the woodshed—as hot as it was, the only fires were being laid to cook things. Or even in the stable—the place was full of horses, donkeys, and mules, all brought by the troops that the Jinn had hired, but no one ever rode anywhere except to exercise a favorite mount.

Katya decided to start with the stalls first. It would be just like that wretched Jinn to wedge the bottle in under a manger or a watering trough.

The stables were a substantial stone building with exposed wooden beams and a huge hayloft overhead. She supposed that in the normal climate here the stone was a necessity to keep the horses warm in the winter; now it served to keep them from baking in the heat. When she entered the double doors and paused in the doorway she was met by a breath of cool air redolent with the scent of clean straw, the dryer scent of hay, and just a faint whiff of horse droppings. She was also met by at least two dozen sets of eyes as every beast in the stable turned to look at her.

She had not been around horses much, but the legacy of the Sea King’s children and the dragon’s blood she had swallowed so long ago meant she could talk to and soothe most animals. The horses eyed her with suspicion, but a few words into the darkness convinced them that she was not an enemy.

This was just as well, considering that these were warhorses. She went slowly from stall to stall, stopping to speak, and to listen, quieting fears, dispelling suspicion, and convincing them before she ever entered a stall that she was a herd member. These were not Wise animals, merely animals, but they did listen to reason when it was given to them in their own tongue. Even the worst tempered eventually allowed her into their stalls.

She had finished with the last of the horses and had started on the few mules, when she heard it. She was hunting at the back of a mule’s stall, just under the manger, feeling through the straw when the voice whispered to her.

“Psst. Sea princess—”

Startled, her head came up suddenly, and she banged it into the bottom of the manger. Red and black flashes passed in front of her eyes, she saw stars, and sat down abruptly in the straw, her head alive with pain.

“Ow!” was the first thing out of her mouth, followed by a stream of articulate and literate curses that were neither blasphemous nor prurient.

She’d had years to develop a vocabulary of invective that wouldn’t offend anyone. It was the sort of thing a princess had to do if she was going to be able to adequately release her feelings.

She put up her hand and felt the brand new lump on the back of her head, wincing as her fingers probed it. “Ow.”

“Good saints, princess, I am impressed!” said the voice. “I do not believe I have ever heard anyone call me a noodle-spined bar sinister son of a blind camel and a cactus before.”

“I’m not,” she replied crossly, slowly getting to her feet and peering over the top of the stall. “I’m not impressed, that is. I can do without being introduced quite so intimately to the underside of a manger, thank you. Who are you?”

She wasn’t sure quite what to expect, but the ugly little creature, like a tiny horse with the long ears of a donkey and two humps on its back, was not it. “And while I am at it, what are you?”

“Sergei. Son of the Mare of the North Wind. Called ‘the Humpback Horse’ by some.” The beast looked around furtively. “I don’t think there is anyone here to overhear us, is there? I don’t sense anything. Sasha sent me. We all think it’s not safe to send back the bird.”

She blinked, felt the lump on her head again, and stared at him. How—where had this all come from? Had she hit her head too hard? Was she seeing things, hearing things? How could this little fellow have come