Fortune's Fool - Mercedes Lackey [73]
Once again, the first stall was empty, but the second contained the biggest black he-goat that Sasha had ever seen in his life; it was easily the size of a warhorse. Sasha bowed to it, as to a boyar, while it looked at him down its long nose.
“If you don’t mind, sir, I would like to move you while I clean your home,” Sasha said to it. The he-goat shook his massive head till his ears rattled against his huge, curved, and cruelly pointed horns, and looked at Sasha sideways out of his big golden eyes with their bean-shaped pupils.
“Well, it’s all one to me,” the wise Goat said. “I’m doing nothing here until the witch decides to hunt something and saddles me for riding.” And Sasha looked at the side of the stall and saw a proper-sized saddle of bronze and a bridle of gold.
He untied the Goat and led him to the next stall, then asked, “Would you like some bread to eat while I clean your home?”
“Bread!” the Goat exclaimed, and his eyes grew greedy. “It is a long time since I had any bread!”
“Then I am happy to share mine,” said Sasha, who got another loaf from his belongings. He brought it and a bucket of cold, sweet water for the Goat, then set about cleaning the stall thoroughly. As with the Wolf, he then brushed and combed the Goat until the beast’s long hair was soft and silky again, as lovely as a maiden’s hair, and free of all the knots that had been in it.
“You’ve done me good turns, young man,” the Goat said as Sasha returned him to his stall, now deep with clean straw and rushes, the manger full of hay, the bucket full of grain, the trough full of pure water. “I won’t forget them.”
Sasha moved on to the final stall, at the end of the stable, in a melancholy corner where very little light penetrated. He could see something small moving about in the darkest part of the stall, but couldn’t make out what it was.
“Hello?” he said, tentatively. “I’m here to clean your home.”
There was a huge sigh from the darkness, the same one he had heard when he’d come in through the door. “It’s not my home,” said a sad voice. “And I don’t know that it makes any difference. When you’re done here, she’ll eat you and add your bones to the fence and my stall will just get dirty all over again.”
“That’s no way to think!” Sasha said sharply, and came into the stall. And to his amazement, as his eyes got used to the deeper shadow, he knew the creature that was in there. It was as small as a child’s pony, as small as a donkey, with ears a yard long and two humps on its back. Its coal-black eyes were dull with depression, its coat unkempt and dusty, so that nothing of the original color could be seen.
“Sergei!” he exclaimed, gazing with astonishment at the Little Humpback Horse. “But—how did you end up here?”
He had never seen the Horse himself, but he had heard the tale often enough of how his grandfather jad won Sergei and his two handsome brothers from their mother, the Mare of the North Wind. The Horse raised his head sorrowfully and looked at him. “Do I know you?” it said wearily.
“My grandfather made a bargain with the Mare of the North Wind for your services,” said Sasha. “But I thought that a Godmother—”
“Oh it is my own stupid fault,” Sergei replied, dropping his head down to his knees again. “That wretched witch lured me with apples from the Garden of Solomon and acorns from the oak where the Katschei used to keep his heart. If I hadn’t been so greedy, I wouldn’t be here now. She has me well and truly trapped and even Godmother Elena couldn’t find me and free me.”
Sasha bent down and lifted up one of Sergei’s long ears to whisper into it. “I am the Seventh Son, a Songweaver, and a Fortunate Fool, and I will get you out of here. As my grandfather took your service, I will release you from your bondage.”
Slowly Sergei’s head came up. Light came back into his eyes, and he gazed at Sasha with renewed hope. “You would do this for me?” he asked.
“As ever I can,” Sasha replied. “For now, let us get your stall clean and made fit for you, and I will give you bread to eat while you wait.”
Sasha went