Darys’ Cap
D arys didn’t have to be told what had happened a week ago on the night of Feast of Vendane to feel the tension around castle grounds.
His uncle briefed all the grooms about the attack by the wraith creature and that people had died.
Rider G’ladheon was missing. At first, the other Riders were optimistic they’d find her alive and well.
After all, they said, she had a knack for finding her way home, but as time wore on, they became less sure, and they seemed shaken by Condor’s listless behavior.
The gelding refused to eat or drink much and stood with his head low in the back corner of his stall.
Rider Harding visited to ensure he didn’t get sick.
Darys shook his head and nailed a new board into place in Gull’s stall to repair the spot where he’d kicked the wall.
Gull was out in the pasture grazing while Darys worked.
After he tapped the last nail into place, he stood and slapped off the dirt and straw sticking to his trousers and pushed his cap back to gaze in satisfaction at his repair job.
In light of all that had happened, he was glad to do ordinary work.
“Keep your hands busy,” his da always said, “and it’ll keep you out of trouble. ”
After the revelation about Green Riders possessing magic, his uncle had sat him down and explained how dangerous it was for them if word got out even though there was talk going around the city about what some people had seen during the Battle of the Sleeping Waelds, like an army that hadn’t really been there.
Still, his uncle had told him, loose talk about Rider magic could cause people to mistrust the king or hurt the Riders.
People feared magic, and after a night like Feast of Vendane, Darys could understand why.
A new constellation had appeared in the sky that same night and no one knew whether to blame magic or the gods, but some people stood out in the streets yelling about a forthcoming day of doom, an end of days.
“Rider magic is very minor,” Uncle Hep had explained. “Not like the terrible powers you hear about from the Long War days, and not everyone who wielded magic was evil. Many folk, however, can’t tell the difference, or don’t care, and that’s dangerous for the Riders.”
Darys was glad he was just a groom. It made him appreciate simple labor like nailing a board into place or sweeping the floor, and not having to worry about weightier problems.
When he stepped out of Gull’s stall, he was surprised to discover a loose horse down the center aisle standing nose to nose with Condor.
Hells, he thought. Who’d gotten free? Rider horses were very good at opening stall door latches and seemed to do it to amuse themselves. The grooms had to tie down latches if they didn’t want to chase escaped horses.
As he approached the horse, he found he did not recognize it.
It was not full grown, that much he could tell.
A yearling, perhaps, but quite a handsome colt with a silvery dappled hide, white mane and tail, and stockings as black as midnight.
He must have escaped from one of the other stables on castle grounds.
Whoever he belonged to would be beside themselves, for he looked to be finely bred.
“Hello, fella,” Darys said. He approached carefully since he did not know the colt’s disposition.
He fancied the colt and Condor were conversing in the way of horses, and it was a good sign because it was the first time in a while Condor showed interest in anything or anyone. “Who do you belong to?”
The colt turned his head from Condor to look at Darys.
He’d a pretty star on his forehead and long eyelashes, and.
..Darys froze. For a moment he swore one of the colt’s eyes was sky blue with clouds reflected in them.
He was overcome by a vision of a meadow in summer with grass as high as his knees.
Just as odd, the colt’s other eye was dark like the substance of the heavens with the sparkle of distant stars.
Darys shook his head and realized he was imagining things for the colt’s eyes were an ordinary brown. He chuckled nervously. “I’m seeing things. But aren’t you a fine fella.”
The colt’s coat shone smooth and silken, with underlying muscle that hinted at how he would fill out as he grew. He’d be a very impressive adult horse, indeed.
The colt snuffled his jacket and sneezed. Darys laughed. “Allergic to me, eh?”
The colt shook his mane.
“And look at you making a new friend,” Darys told Condor.
Condor blew softly through his nose.
Darys needed to find a spare halter and lead rope so he could take this youngster to wherever he belonged. “Stay right here,” he told the colt.
No sooner had Darys begun his search when the colt trotted by and extended his lips to snatch the cap right off his head. The colt then bolted down the aisle prancing and bucking and whipping the cap about in a playful manner.
“Hey!” Darys yelled. “Give that back!”
The colt was out the stable doors and into the pasture galloping and rearing and bucking and playing with the cap.
Uncle Hep ran in from the other section of the stables. “What’s the matter?”
“The colt stole my cap.”
“What colt?”
“That—” Darys pointed out the open doors, but the colt was out of sight. He ran outside into the wet and gloomy pasture. Gull lipped at the shriveled autumn grasses, but there was no colt to be seen.
“What colt?” Uncle Hep asked again.
“He...” Darys didn’t even see new hoofprints in the mud outside. “I swear. There was a colt.”
A haunted expression flickered across Uncle Hep’s features. He placed his hand on Darys’ shoulder. “You got Gull’s stall fixed?”
“Aye, sir.”
“Well, let’s bring him in, then you and I will take a break and you can explain it all to me over tea and some of your auntie’s muffins.”
“Aye, sir.”
When Darys went to the paddock to fetch Gull, he looked in vain for any sign of the colt, but it was as if he’d never existed.
If the colt had never existed, he thought, where in five hells was his cap?