when
she tried to rub it on him. “It smells like herbs!” she said, exasperated; “And it will
probably do your coat good; it’s just like the oil Hornmar put on you to make you
gleam.”
He continued to sidle, and Aerin said through clenched teeth: “I’ll tie you up if
you’re not good.” But Talat, after several days of being chased, step by step and
sidle by sidle, around his pasture, decided that his new master was in earnest; and
the next time Aerin ran him up against the fence, instead of eluding her again, he
stood still and let his doom overtake him.
They went on their overnight journey a fortnight after Arlbeth had watched
them work together, by which time Talat had permitted Aerin—sometimes with
more grace than other times—to rub her yellow grease all over him. Aerin hoped
it would be a warm night since most of what looked like a roll of blankets hung
behind her saddle was a sausage-shaped skin of kenet.
They started before dawn had turned to day, and Aerin pushed Talat along
fairly briskly, that they might still have several hours of daylight left when they
made camp. There was a trail beside the little river, wide enough for a horse but
too narrow for wagons and this they followed; Aerin wished to be close to a large
quantity of water when she tried her experiment; and not getting lost was an
added benefit.
She made camp not long after noon. She unrolled the bundle that had looked
like bedding and first removed the leather tunic and leggings she’d made for
herself and let soak in a shallow basin of the yellow ointment for the last several
weeks. She’d tried setting fire to her suit yesterday, and the fire, however
vigorous it was as a torch, had gone out instantly when it touched a greasy sleeve.
The suit wasn’t very comfortable to wear; it was too sloppy and sloshy, and as she
bound up her hair and stuffed it into a greasy helmet she thought with dread of
washing the stuff off herself afterward.
She made camp not long after noon. She unrolled the bundle that had looked
like bedding and first removed the leather tunic and leggings she’d made for
herself and let soak in a shallow basin of the yellow ointment for the last several
weeks. She’d tried setting fire to her suit yesterday, and the fire, however
vigorous it was as a torch, had gone out instantly when it touched a greasy sleeve.
The suit wasn’t very comfortable to wear; it was too sloppy and sloshy, and as she
bound up her hair and stuffed it into a greasy helmet she thought with dread of
washing the stuff off herself afterward.
Talat came up to the edge of the fire and snorted anxiously. The fire was
pleasantly warm—pleasantly. It tapped at her face and hands with cheerful
friendliness and the best of good will; it murmured and snapped in her ears; it
wrapped its flames around her like the arms of a lover.
She leaped out of the fire and gasped for breath.
She turned back again and looked at the fire. Yes, it was a real fire; it burned
on, unconcerned, although her booted feet had disarranged it somewhat.
Talat thrust a worried nose into her neck. “Your turn,” she said. “Little do you
know.”
Little did he know indeed, and this was the part that worried her the most.
Talat was not going to walk into a bonfire and stand there till she told him to
come out again. She’d already figured out that for her future dragon-slaying
purposes, since dragons were pretty small, Talat could get away with just his
chest and legs and belly protected. But she would prefer to find out now—and to
let him know—that the yellow stuff he objected to did have an important use.
She reached up to feel her eyelashes and was relieved to discover that they
were still there. Talat was blowing at her anxiously—she realized, light-headedly,
that in some odd way she now smelted of fire—and when she swept up a handful
of kenet he eluded her so positively that for a bad moment she thought she
she tried to rub it on him. “It smells like herbs!” she said, exasperated; “And it will
probably do your coat good; it’s just like the oil Hornmar put on you to make you
gleam.”
He continued to sidle, and Aerin said through clenched teeth: “I’ll tie you up if
you’re not good.” But Talat, after several days of being chased, step by step and
sidle by sidle, around his pasture, decided that his new master was in earnest; and
the next time Aerin ran him up against the fence, instead of eluding her again, he
stood still and let his doom overtake him.
They went on their overnight journey a fortnight after Arlbeth had watched
them work together, by which time Talat had permitted Aerin—sometimes with
more grace than other times—to rub her yellow grease all over him. Aerin hoped
it would be a warm night since most of what looked like a roll of blankets hung
behind her saddle was a sausage-shaped skin of kenet.
They started before dawn had turned to day, and Aerin pushed Talat along
fairly briskly, that they might still have several hours of daylight left when they
made camp. There was a trail beside the little river, wide enough for a horse but
too narrow for wagons and this they followed; Aerin wished to be close to a large
quantity of water when she tried her experiment; and not getting lost was an
added benefit.
She made camp not long after noon. She unrolled the bundle that had looked
like bedding and first removed the leather tunic and leggings she’d made for
herself and let soak in a shallow basin of the yellow ointment for the last several
weeks. She’d tried setting fire to her suit yesterday, and the fire, however
vigorous it was as a torch, had gone out instantly when it touched a greasy sleeve.
The suit wasn’t very comfortable to wear; it was too sloppy and sloshy, and as she
bound up her hair and stuffed it into a greasy helmet she thought with dread of
washing the stuff off herself afterward.
She made camp not long after noon. She unrolled the bundle that had looked
like bedding and first removed the leather tunic and leggings she’d made for
herself and let soak in a shallow basin of the yellow ointment for the last several
weeks. She’d tried setting fire to her suit yesterday, and the fire, however
vigorous it was as a torch, had gone out instantly when it touched a greasy sleeve.
The suit wasn’t very comfortable to wear; it was too sloppy and sloshy, and as she
bound up her hair and stuffed it into a greasy helmet she thought with dread of
washing the stuff off herself afterward.
Talat came up to the edge of the fire and snorted anxiously. The fire was
pleasantly warm—pleasantly. It tapped at her face and hands with cheerful
friendliness and the best of good will; it murmured and snapped in her ears; it
wrapped its flames around her like the arms of a lover.
She leaped out of the fire and gasped for breath.
She turned back again and looked at the fire. Yes, it was a real fire; it burned
on, unconcerned, although her booted feet had disarranged it somewhat.
Talat thrust a worried nose into her neck. “Your turn,” she said. “Little do you
know.”
Little did he know indeed, and this was the part that worried her the most.
Talat was not going to walk into a bonfire and stand there till she told him to
come out again. She’d already figured out that for her future dragon-slaying
purposes, since dragons were pretty small, Talat could get away with just his
chest and legs and belly protected. But she would prefer to find out now—and to
let him know—that the yellow stuff he objected to did have an important use.
She reached up to feel her eyelashes and was relieved to discover that they
were still there. Talat was blowing at her anxiously—she realized, light-headedly,
that in some odd way she now smelted of fire—and when she swept up a handful
of kenet he eluded her so positively that for a bad moment she thought she
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