"Si'Wren," Mearch beckoned, his face impassive.
Si'Wren had long since discovered that Mearch had a deep and subtle
sense of pride and good will, in spite of his frankly ugly features.
She felt curiously safe with him, as she still could not with so many
others who never smiled at her, and had come over time to count Mearch
as an unspoken ally, until it seemed that the less either he or she
acknowledged it, the more each became aware of this secret bond of
trust between them. Today, with his flashing eyes, he regarded her with
a look of satisfaction and unvoiced promise, for he was, she suspected,
come to fulfill his duty to Ibi on her behalf, and it evidently gave
him great pleasure, though he dared not show it lest Ibi misunderstand
his motives and give him another chewing out.
"Today, little one, you shall ride the horse I have promised," said
Mearch. "Behold."
With a flourish, he flicked his razor sharp stone knife through the
binding of thongs and swept aside the chamois skin, and revealed a
stunning black leather harness and saddle, intricately trimmed with
ivory and silver.
Si'Wren looked on with astonishment, as he held it out to her.
This, she reflected, clutching the riding gear with both hands and
smelling the fine black leather, was for a horse.
Pages:
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284