7. Zarek
Zarek
LOOK BUSY
“That stallion is going to be a problem,” Lilias whispers.
She’s bent over the back leg of the gray horse, frowning at the hoof I’m holding in my lap.
The smugglers are spread out on the grass, having a picnic while we do whatever it is farriers do.
The horses Lilias and I rode from Dungal are grazing amicably, but the smugglers’ stallion, the one who did the little dance, is snorting and pawing the grass nervously on the other side of the road.
He’s tied to one of the carts, but honestly, I don’t think that would stop him if he decided to go on a murder spree.
Lilias nods. “Give me your dagger. The small one.”
I reach into my vest and hand her my small dagger. Lilias runs the blade along the edge of the horse’s hoof with a frown.
“You really need a rasp for this,” she mutters.
The bright edge of my dagger flashes in the sun as Lilias peels away little flecks of hoof.
“This will solve the problem?” I whisper.
Lilias looks up at me, her smile as bright as the edge of my dagger.
“Not a chance,” she says. “If this old mare had been limping, we’d be in trouble.”
She bends back over the hoof as I slowly start to understand what she means.
“You were bluffing,” I say.
She grins, and I look away as that familiar heat rushes to a place that’s uncomfortably close to a very large animal’s hoof. And to my dagger.
“I don’t think Toth knows a thing about horses,” Lilias whispers.
“And the harnesses?” I whisper. “For the oxen?”
“Just fine,” she replies, as she peels a long, white curl from the horse’s hoof. “But clearly he didn’t know that.”
She leans back, then wipes her forehead. She’s pulled her hair back into a loose braid, and a few strands dance around her flushed cheeks.
“You lied your way in,” I say. “Princess, I’m impressed.”
“Well, I am married to the snake of Vsenrog,” she replies.
She smiles at me, proud, beautiful, and streaked with dust from the road that runs through the ruins of Dungal, holding my dagger in her hand after fooling a man who appears to be a practiced con artist.
I have never wanted to kiss anyone as much as I want to kiss my wife right now.
I clear my throat, and the horse shifts above me in a way that makes me very nervous.
“Can I put this thing down?” I ask, glancing at the massive hoof in my lap.
When she smiles at me again, it’s softer, like the sun hiding behind a veil of clouds.
“Yes,” she says. “We’re done.”
I place the hoof gently on the road, then come to my feet, brush off my clothes, and step away from the horse as gingerly as I can. She ignores me, but the big red stallion tied to the cart nearby whinnies and snorts.
“He’s the problem?” I say, turning to Lilias.
She nods. “He’s bossy, he’s not very well-trained, and he doesn’t like the others.”
“Are we still talking about the horse?”
She flashes me a small smile, then leans closer. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s stolen,” she whispers.
“I wouldn’t be surprised if everything in here is stolen,” I reply, glancing at the tattered canvas pulled tight over the creaking cart.
Lilias nods, and her lips press into a tight line.
“If my mare goes into heat,” she says, “it’s going to be a problem.”
“Oh,” I reply.
I glance at the mare Lilias was riding. She’s grazing placidly next to the horse I rode. But now that Lilias has mentioned it, I notice the big red horse does seem to be staring directly at her.
“Shit,” I whisper. “When does she go into heat?”
Lilias shrugs. She walks over to the ox pulling the cart closest to us. The poor bastard looks half dead.
“Here,” she says, pointing at the harness. “Take this strap.”
I do as she says. Lilias walks to the other side, grabbing a different strap on the harness.
“I think it’ll be a couple of days before she goes into heat,” she whispers. “I hope.”
I look at the mare again. She looks like a horse. I have no idea what a mare looks like when she’s in heat, let alone when she’s thinking of going into heat.
“We should be through the toll by then,” I say.
Lilias frowns over the harness. “We’d better be.”
I stare at the strap, then at my wife. “What do I do with this?” I whisper.
She winks at me.
“Look busy,” she whispers.