Strange Attractors - Kim Falconer [79]
When he reached the stables he went straight to his section. There he found Fortuna and Grace, his charges. They were fed and watered but not groomed—their coats crisp with dry sweat and mud, their hooves packed, manes and tails full of brambles. He sighed and brought Fortuna, the palomino gelding, out first. He cross-tied him in the breezeway and with a curry comb in both hands he went to work.
Using circular strokes he started at the gelding’s neck, just behind his ears, flipping the tangled mane to the other side. His strokes lifted the caked mud, the powder falling to the ground. He did a thorough job, currying the entire body save his legs and the lesions left by bramble thorns. Fortuna tolerated the grooming with only an occasional pinning of his ears or swish of his tail. Good lad.
‘You must be tired to be this well mannered, eh, boy? If I wasn’t beat myself I’d dose you for worms while you’re placid.’ He combed out his mane and tail and finished with a stiff boar-bristle brush, running his hand down each leg to check for injury. ‘Sound as always, Fortuna, though you look like you swam through a briar patch. You fit your name, lucky one.’ He treated the wounds and stood back, checking his work. ‘Let’s tend to your hooves and be done.’
He grabbed a hoof pick from the groom box and bent over, running his hand down the near front leg, clucking as he leaned into the horse’s shoulder. Fortuna lifted his hoof and Xane cleaned it, picking out the packed dirt and rocks until the V-shaped sole was clean and smooth. He checked the shoe nails, running his thumb across the heads before setting the hoof down.
Xane repeated the procedure on each hoof and with a bucket of water and a brush he scrubbed the last of the mud away from the hoof walls, rubbing in oil until they shone like polished wood. When he finished, he looked at the ground, frowning. One of the rocks that he picked from the hooves caught his eye and he held it to the light. ‘Where have you been, Fortuna?’
He groomed the mare next, saving the sweet one for last. Grace always lived up to her name. She stood poised and serene as he curried and brushed her coat until it shone like obsidian. He examined the stones from her hooves as well, shaking his head. ‘How could this be?’ he whispered as he led her back to her stall, refilling the water buckets and giving them each an extra armful of hay. ‘If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’ve been halfway to Mount Pele and back. But that’s impossible.’ He scratched his head and went off in search of the Stable Master, the blue metal rocks in his hand. Impossible?
Xane tapped on the Stable Master’s door. ‘Master?’ He wasn’t expecting to be chastised but his charges had been injured and only returned by chance. He squeezed the rocks in his hand.
‘Xane,’ the Stable Master said. ‘Are your horses settled?’
He entered the room as several officers filed out. ‘Aye, sir, and groomed.’
‘Injuries?’
‘They’re sound, sir, with minor scratches.’
‘From?’
‘Brambles. They’d both been tied in them, I’d say.’
‘By Captain Naden?’
‘I don’t know, sir. I can’t remember.’
The Stable Master got up from his desk and examined Xane’s neck.
‘I’m surprised you’re alive, with or without memories.’
A fire jolted up Xane’s spine and he shivered. ‘Me too,’ he whispered. He squared his shoulders. ‘Sir, I think the horses have had an uncanny journey.’
‘A what?’
‘I found these packed into their hooves.’ He held out his hand, the blue metal dull in the evening light.
The Stable Master took the stones and held them to the lamp. Under the candlelight they sparkled, their edges like glitter. ‘You picked these from their hooves? Are you sure, boy?’
‘Certain. Do you know where they’re from?’
The Stable Master nodded. ‘Nowhere accountable, lad.’ He headed for the door. ‘Bring them up. I want to check them for myself.’
Xane almost wished he’d waited until morning to show the Stable Master the rocks. His head throbbed and his stomach ached. He was overcome