I Could Bite Them
The tented stables were cordoned off from the crowd, and two guards stood at the rope. Every now and then someone approached, and they pulled aside the rope to let them in; the vast majority of people, though, were turned away.
‘How are we going to get in?’ said Christopher.
‘Yes,’ said Christopher, ‘but without your fire, I don’t think it would have the effect we need. And we’re trying to be subtle.’
Anya appeared to be fighting an internal battle. Then she sighed. ‘I can get us in,’ she said.
‘How?’
‘Stay close behind me.’
‘You’re not going to bite them, are you?’
‘Only as a backup. You’ll see.’ It was extraordinary to watch.
She ran her hands through her floor-length hair until it fell in a cascade over one shoulder.
She straightened her spine, lifted her chin, put her hands behind her back, and her entire aspect changed.
Her mouth and eyes shifted, became sharp and confident and entitled.
She became, Christopher thought, more visible, more deliberate.
More like a princess.
She approached the rope, her eyes set on the guards.
‘We have come,’ said Anya, ‘to view the contestants and grant them our blessing and goodwill.’
The men exchanged looks. ‘And who might you be?’
She laughed. It was one of the five royally approved laughs, which princesses learn by heart: warning. ‘If my father finds out that you are ignorant enough to ask me that question,’ she said, ‘you will never work in this city again. Step aside, please.’
The guards hesitated. They exchanged uneasy glances, a brief whisper; then one shrugged and nodded, and the other gave a grudging half-bow.
‘Our apologies, my lady. Do enter, and welcome.’
They made to close the rope again in front of Christopher and Ratwin, but Anya snapped, ‘They’re with me. By the Immortal, do you not recognise a guard when you see one?’
And Anya swept in, leading them past the barrier.
As soon as they were out of earshot, Christopher turned to Anya. ‘That,’ he said, ‘was amazing.’
‘I didn’t knows you could do thats,’ said Ratwin.
‘Princessing is just a kind of acting, I think,’ said Anya. ‘Come on. We don’t know how much time we have.’
They peered into the first tented stable. Inside was sawdust, a drinking trough and what looked like a white mare, but twice as large. Her rider was a rangy man, his hat worn low.
‘Qianlima,’ said Anya. ‘They can gallop hundreds of miles in a day. That one’s not pure-bred, though.’
The next tent held a woman with a blue-black twrch tryth, a boar the size of a carthorse. She grinned, and he saw that her canine teeth had been replaced with jewels.
‘Not a restful personality, I’d imagine,’ said Jacques as they moved swiftly past.
The third tent held a sleek grey mare with a diminutive black horn, being groomed by a very small man with an open shirt and no hair anywhere on his body. He flashed a charming smile at them, but there was a knife in his sleeve.
‘I don’t like the look of that horn,’ said Anya.
‘Or the look on his face,’ said Christopher. He tried to keep his tone lighter than he felt.
The fourth tent held an enormous wolf-like dog, with ears of flame, and a gangling teenager brushing its coat.
‘Kludde,’ said Christopher. ‘I met one before. I was nearly eaten.’
‘What was that like?’ said Anya.
‘I wouldn’t recommend it.’
The fifth tent held … Christopher reared back, his eyes wide and staring.
‘That’s a karkadann,’ he said.
‘They’re dark creatures!’ said Anya. She looked furious.
The woman who rode him was a redhead, dressed in the same shade of blackish-purple as the karkadann’s skin. She looked at them, and nothing in her eyes betokened warmth. ‘Get out,’ she said.
The karkadann, wearing a halter made of iron and a muzzle, turned its poison-tipped horn towards them. They got out.
In the sixth and final tent, there was a stamping sound. Christopher looked around the edge of the tent flap. And instantly their plan went from seeming just-possible to insane.
The hind was huge. She was a deer as large as a carthorse, with immense golden antlers and flecks of foam at the corners of her mouth. She was bound in chains.
A group of three men and a woman all dressed in blue stood in a corner of the tent. One of them balanced on crutches with casts on both legs.
‘You could still ride it, Tatenda,’ said one. ‘Twenty thousand bullions is worth breaking another limb for.’
‘It bit off three of my fingers. My legs are broken in seventeen places. No, Genrit.’
Christopher looked at the hind. She had that earthen beauty that all deer have, and her eyes were intelligent, full of fire. The chain around her neck clanked. Christopher looked with hatred at those chains. This was not a tame creature. She should not be here.
None of the four was watching, so Christopher approached the hind. Her eyes, rolling in a frenzy from side to side, fell on him. He stood stock still. The hind breathed in. Christopher held out his hand, and the hind sniffed and snorted.
‘A charming tableau,’ said Jacques.
‘A sweet-adorabling moments,’ agreed Ratwin.
The hind sank her teeth into Christopher’s hand.
‘Hey!’ shouted one of the men. ‘You keep back!’
Christopher snatched his hand away. It was bleeding. He pressed it under his arm, swearing quietly.
Ratwin gasped and Anya cursed, twice down to the right. ‘We should go!’ she said. ‘There’s no way you can ride that, Christopher. We’ll have to find another way: steal the apple from whoever wins it, or—’
But Christopher shook his head. He moved closer to the hind. He thought of what Naravirala had said about the Light: Anchor yourself.
He held out his good hand, palm up. The hind’s muzzle, damp with flecks of furious spit, touched his fingertips.
Slowly Christopher ran his hand along the hind’s nose.
He fixed his eyes on hers, and tried to sink backwards into his mind, tried to find his way towards her, and yet to keep hold of himself.
The flash came. For the first time, it was less like being punched by a wall and more like a sparkling: a feeling that ran from the top of his head to the base of his feet.
The golden thread unspooled between them, and he held his breath.
An image rose up behind his eyes: woods, and in among the trees a great herd of the Ceryneian deer – and with it a yearning so strong it shook his internal organs.
The hind ducked her head, and butted him hard on the shoulder. He bent his head to meet hers.
‘Incredible.’ The four figures in blue stood at the mouth of the stable.
‘I think you have your rider,’ said Tatenda. ‘Where have you come from, lad?
The golden thread vanished. But it did not feel far away – as though he could pick it up again, if he tried.
‘From the south,’ said Christopher. He sized the men up expressionlessly. This was not a time for manners. He held his whole body still and impassive.
‘You ride for me, lad,’ said the tallest of the men, ‘and if you win, we’ll split the money, fifty-fifty.’
‘No,’ said Christopher. ‘You can keep the money. I want the golden apple.’
‘You cheeky little—’ But the word, which Christopher felt sure would have been worth hearing, was drowned out by the warning bell.
A voice blared out, ‘All entrants to the starting line! Five minutes!’
‘Not the apple,’ said the man. ‘The cash.’
‘This isn’t a negotiation,’ said Anya. ‘It’s a yes or no.’
There was a brief, hurried conversation among the four. ‘All right. Deal!’
‘That’s not everything,’ said Christopher. ‘If I win, you let her go.’
‘No way, kid. She’s worth twice the prize money!’
‘You’ll not find anyone else to ride her,’ Tatenda said. ‘I’d take it.’
‘She’s a free creature,’ said Christopher. ‘She’s not yours.’
‘I’m just trying to make a living,’ said the man. ‘Don’t look at me like that – you’ve never had to fight to keep a roof over your head, have you? You’re just a kid! Everything provided for you.’
Anya looked the man up and down. ‘You’re wearing gold rings worth five thousand gold bullions, so you don’t strike me as someone urgently in need.’
The man grunted. ‘Mount then, lad. Her name’s Cervusia.’
‘Wait, I haven’t even seen the course,’ said Christopher.
‘It’s a loop around the city: you can’t miss it.
Around the square, out to the cathedral – they’ve put up jumps – along the city walls, ford the river – it’s deep, mind – and then a straight sprint along the far bank to the Ceryneian Bridge for the finish.
Look out for the karkadann, and the lad on the kludde.
He likes to win and he’s not afraid to attack. ’
‘OK,’ said Christopher. ‘I understand. You can leave now.’
‘Leave? It’s my hind, kid.’
‘She’s not. She’s her own. And if you don’t leave, I’m not riding and what you’ll have is a very angry deer that I’m about to untie.’
Anya moved closer to Christopher, and together they stared him down: a former princess, a guardian of the Archipelago. The man spat on the ground and left.
‘We can create a real atmosphere of menace when we want to,’ said Anya.
Jacques huffed. ‘I congratulate you.’ And he sounded like he meant it.