The Princess and the Horse (The Princess and the Hound) Page 4

  “It is the name I was given,” she said.

  “No doubt she gave it to you.” He made a negligent motion backward, as if to the princess.

  Fierce did not bother to tell him that it was not so, that her mother had named her at birth. She did not tell him anything about her true life, for that would have given him too much advantage over her.

  “I will give you another name. A better name, for company among those without the wild magic. How would you like that?”

  Fierce thought that she would not like it at all, but he did not give her a chance to say so.

  “I will call you—Feersha,” he said after a moment’s hesitation. “What do you think of that? A good name for a woman, yes?”

  Fierce shrugged. Lord Ahran was not very original, she thought. But then again, she had never had a particularly good opinion of the intelligence of humans. If they were as smart as hounds or horses, she thought, they would leave their crowded homes and enjoy the forests more.

  “Feersha. I like the sound of it. Yes, I know that will suit you very well. I am known for being a good judge of character at first sight, with animals or with humans.”

  Fierce struggled not to laugh at this. “Shall we go again, then?” she asked impatiently.

  They found a wild apple orchard and quenched their thirst eating the sour, early fruits. Then Lord Ahran grunted and sighed and cursed himself and the princess and the horse and Fierce and even a stone that he tripped over when he had let go of her arm.

  It was growing dark when they came to a stream. She bent over it and lapped at it like a hound. When she got up, he was staring at her. “You are very rough,” he said. “To drink like that.”

  “And how should I drink?” asked Fierce.

  Lord Ahran made her cup her hands for him, kneeling over the stream, then holding them out for him to sip from. It was very awkward and it took him more than three times as long to drink his fill. It was proof again of how foolish humans were, and how right Fierce was to wish to be a hound again instead.

  After drinking, Lord Ahran took a moment to stare around at the twilight sky. “I think I have an idea where we are now. Not far from my estate.”

  Fierce held tight to her mind the details of this place. There was no sharpness in the air, and the plants were overpoweringly sweet and made her nose twitch. It was harder to remember things like smell in her human mind, which was an odd thing. How did humans remember anything without such a weak sense of smell?

  In a few moments, Fierce realized that Lord Ahran had stopped in front of a stone building as large as a mountain, or so it seemed to Fierce. The stones had been cut so that they were all the same shape and size, and then mortared together so that they made a massive barrier. In the forest, no one thing dominated above all others, because animals sought for camouflage. But not humans, who wished to show themselves and their work off.

  How ridiculous it was. Had her mother truly gone off to be human because of something like this? It was awe-inspiring, Fierce supposed, if she considered the work days that must have gone into creating it. But what use was it? The forest was far better for sleeping in, in terms of comfort and soporific sound. In addition, there was no way to know inside a stone hut like this, if an enemy was approaching. Worse than that, it was a beacon to enemies that here was the prey. If animals lived like this, they might as well be fenced in, ready for slaughter. But that is what humans did to animals they tamed, as well.

  “It is impressive, isn’t it?” said Lord Ahran, misinterpreting her reaction. “My great-grandfather had it built. My father added on to it.” He nodded to the corner where a new, more reddish stone had been used to create a tower twice as tall as the rest.

  Before he had a chance to say more, there was a stream of humans coming out of the edifice, shouting and waving their arms at him.

  Had they checked first to see that they were safe? Fierce knew that her pack of hounds could be loud like this after a successful hunt, but they were still watchful out of the corners of their eyes, and Fierce did not see the humans looking this way and that. And they let their young ones out, as well, tripping over their own two feet, without being flanked on either side with protectors.

  Lord Ahran was picked up, carried inside and Fierce was dragged along with him. No one sniffed at her to see if she smelled unaggressive, or from the wrong pack. They did not seem to see her at all. She was like one of Lord Ahran’s bags or the cloak around his back that had been taken from him and carried on by one of the other humans. She might look human, but it did not seem to her that the humans treated her much differently than they would have if she was a hound.

  Fierce did not know quite what to make of that, but she went along. It was dark inside the stone building, and there Fierce found the smells more intense. Food cooking, human waste, rotten fruit, the mold of wet clothes, the dust of old rugs, the stench of a painting of Lord Ahran on a horse, and the smell of dead animals that hung on the walls. A bear’s head, the antlers of dozens of bucks, a moose head, the whole body of a wolf, stuffed and hung overhead.

  Fierce wondered how many humans could see the tell-tale signs of age or infirmity on the animals displayed. She saw them immediately, and having been in battle with Lord Ahran, suspected that he normally sought out animals he knew he could defeat.

  A door opened and Fierce turned to see a young male human, with red hair and such mottled skin that he looked as if he had been half-cooked in the sun. He was tall and wiry, with muscles that stood out against his bones like an animal that was used to running constantly.

  “Home, good, eat, smell,” said the young man in the language of the hounds. Fierce’s eyebrows went up to hear the familiar words.

  The young man’s tone was soft and gentle, but his words were simple, like a hound who had never grown past a few weeks old. She supposed that must be the best a human could do, though why he was speaking to her this way she did not know.

  She was silent, unwilling to speak to him in the same language and reveal too much about herself too soon.

  And his face flushed red as if he had only then realized what he had done.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, in the language of humans. “I was thinking about my hounds in the stable, and their words came out. I meant you no disrespect.” He smiled tentatively.

  “Do I look like a hound?” Fierce asked. She hoped that she did, that she had not lost everything of herself. She also hoped it was not utterly obvious to all humans, for it could make her a target of their attention in a way she did not wish for.

  But the young man shook his head. “I did not mean that at all. I think I have simply spent too much time with hounds.” He ducked his head. “Please, forgive me.”

  Fierce nodded easily. It was strange to be in a position where she was the one to offer acceptance and forgiveness rather than the reverse. She rather liked it. “Lord Ahran brought me,” she said. Then she used the human name he had given her. “I am Feersha.”

  The young man nodded. “Feersha. I am Red.” He pointed to his hair.

  “Red,” echoed Fierce. It was the first human name that had made any sense to her.

  “Are you hungry?” asked Red.

  “Hungry. Yes.”

  He led her away from the place where she had crouched and toward the smell of food cooking over a fire. Fierce had seen animals burned in fires accidentally before, and had sometimes gnawed on them when she was in a terrible hunger. But she had not realized before now that humans ate the meat that way on purpose.

  Red offered her a plate of it, and at least there was a little red on it. She thought that the only thing she liked about being human was that she could see the deep, rich color of red blood more clearly than she had as a hound. The color was even more enticing to her senses.

  She devoured the meat in a few bites, using her hands to put it into her mouth, until her first wave of hunger was past. Then she saw that Red used something to stab with and she watched him until she thought she could do
the same, the next time.

  He must think her very wild, but unlike Lord Ahran, he made no comment on it.

  He was patient and he smelled good. He was the first human she had met who smelled naturally, of animals and grass and rushing water.

  And he was kind to her.

  Fierce had never experienced kindness, not from any hounds in her pack. She had not realized how it would feel. She had not even had a name for it, but it came to her in her human mind, what this was. It felt comforting, like the lull of warmth on a hot summer’s day, and yet also like the weightlessness of cool water at the break of dawn.

  Were all humans like this? No, that seemed obvious. But if a human had been this kind to her mother, Fierce could see what might have lured her away from her pack and her forest.

  Chapter Six:

  That night, Fierce slept with Lord Ahran’s other servants in the kitchen, and woke before light when the bread baking began. For the first time since she had met the princess, she had not dreamed of the Xaon. Perhaps the threat of it was gone now? Or at least, had grown weaker?

  Could she simply accept a life here, among these other humans, and not think of the forest or hounds or the princess’s wild magic again? She did not know if she wished it or not now.

  The young man, Red, stepped inside the back entrance of the kitchen and waved to her.

  “Would you like to come with me to see the kennels?” he said softly.

  “Kennels?”

  “Where the hounds are kept.”

  “Hounds?” Fierce could feel the blood rushing in her veins, her breath coming fast and hot in her throat. “Yes,” she said. She wanted to be with hounds again, if she could. In any form, in any way.

  “I am the kennel boy, the keeper of the hounds. Lord Ahran has several valuable ones, shipped from the east, and one from the west.”

  “Thank you,” said Fierce. And she followed Red to the kennels. There was room enough for a dozen or more hounds, but for now there were only three. Two of them were golden and long-haired, with large, soft ears. They smelled clean and happy, and with a hint of a spice that Fierce could not name. It had been at the table the night before, and in the air that the humans breathed, but she had no name for it. It was both sweet and pungent, and made her feel as if she were surrounded by a hazy, hot smoke that danced around her and teased her like a hummingbird.

  The other hound was gray and rough-looking. His muzzle was sharply pointed and one of his ears had been gnawed on by some other creature. Fierce realized after a moment that he was half-wolf. He smelled of winter, or rock and stone and the mountains with their cold-running streams. Fierce had never been far north before, but she had met creatures who had been, and they had a clipped way of speaking and a tenseness about them that this half-wolf shared.

  Fierce put out her clawless humans hands to the three hounds, and they sniffed at her for a moment, then seemed to accept her easily enough, watching her with half an eye, and returning to their old places on the floor. The half-wolf looked expectantly at Red, and at the door that led to the outside, but he did bark or growl to demand anything.

  “I knew they would like you,” said Red, smiling.

  “How?” she asked.

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. It comes to me, sometimes. I see someone and I know if they would be welcome to the hounds.” He was watching her closely.

  Fierce bent down and scratched at one of the golden hounds, copying Red’s actions with the wolf-hound step by step. Behind the ears, over the top of the head, around the other ears, and then, more gently, around the eyes and across the bridge of the nose. She leaned closer and pressed her cheek to theirs. It was a good feeling, a little like how she had felt with her own pack, and yet different.

  She turned to the other golden hound, and looked up at Red.

  “Go on,” he told her. “You’re doing fine.”

  She hesitated.

  “You haven’t been around hounds before?” he asked her.

  She sighed. “Not like this,” she said. It was too hard to explain the rest. It would take too many words, even if she did not reveal the whole truth about herself. Perhaps someday she would, to Red, but she was not ready now.

  The hounds began to get used to her, and soon were barking at her in their own language. Fierce was surprised that it had not yet been corrupted, as it normally was for animals who spent too much time in human company. These hounds must not have been in captivity long.

  “The meat here is very bad,” said the female with her long ears held high. “Do you have any fresh?” she demanded of Fierce.

  Fierce shook her head subtly. She glanced up at Red again. He was listening intently, but she did not think he understood the language of the hounds as easily as she did. How had he learned it? Was it truly that he simply listened better than other humans did? Or was there something special about him?

  “And what of the one who tries to speak to us? Did he bring you to translate for him?” asked the golden male, turning his head for a moment toward Red.

  They did not speak back to Red, then? That made it even more astonishing that he could understand them. Perhaps he had learned with other hounds, who had now died. But if they were older and more tame, then how would they keep their language? Red must have learned what he knew by going to the forest itself and watching hounds in their natural environment, listening in to packs as they went by him. Or when they went into their caves. If they had found him there, he could easily have been torn to shreds, but they had not found him, clearly.

  Fierce found that she was very glad of that. And that Red showed himself so different from other humans. He did not pretend to be a hound, like some humans did, when they tried to tempt animals from the forest. He was willing to give up part of himself and become more like a hound. Take risks as a hound did.

  “If we speak to him, he understands very little. He speaks like one of those hounds who are raised amongst the humans and lose their language young,” said the female golden hound with disdain.

  The wolf-hound snorted at this in agreement.

  Fierce looked at Red. He seemed embarrassed, as if he could tell they were talking about him, but not what they said. As if he knew that it was nothing complimentary.

  “I wish that I had the animal magic, so I could speak to them truly,” said Red.

  The animal magic allowed some humans to speak directly to animals, but as far as Fierce knew, it was mainly used to draw animals out for hunting, so that they could be killed more easily. She could not wish for Red to have that.

  “They are talking about magic,” said Red.

  “What do you know about magic?” asked Fierce.

  Red answered cautiously. “There is the animal magic, which is the lesser magic. And the wild magic, which is the greater. In some kingdoms, the wild magic is dangerous and punishable by death. The animal magic is considered less dire. But there was a time, hundreds of years ago, when King Richon punished even those who could speak with animals. Then he and his queen changed everything, and the animal magic is prized.”

  “I see,” said Fierce. She wanted to ask more, but did not want to give herself away. She had learned caution after her years with the pack. She would not give another an advantage over her if she could avoid it, and she would not show her vulnerabilities.

  “Perhaps you have a bit of the animal magic yourself,” Red offered.

  “Why do you say that?” asked Fierce, nervously glancing back at the hounds.

  “Because you seem to understand the hounds so easily. Have you ever tried to speak their language yourself?” asked Red.

  “Do you think I could?” Fierce knew that she was concealing the full truth, but it was like concealing where she had found the rabbit she had in her teeth. She would share the meat with her pack, but not her information. That was what was fair.

  “You have been here five minutes and already they respond better to you than they have to me in ten months,” said Red. He waved a hand. “Go
on. See what you can do.”

  “But how?” said Fierce. She watched Red closely, eyes narrowed.

  “There are no rules, as far as I know. What I have learned I have learned through listening, and then trying to speak to them as if I were a hound myself. I put myself in their place and then speak in their voices.” He shrugged, unsure of himself. “That is the best way I can explain it.”

  “I will try it, then,” said Fierce, turning to the hounds.

  “I will be here with you,” said Red. “If you need anything.”

  Did he think that she would be in danger, from speaking with hounds? It was foolish, but it was not the most foolish thing a human had said to her, so she did not correct him. She stared at the hounds.

  “What of Lord Ahran? Does he beat you?” Fierce asked them. She could see no signs of it on them, but she could not see why they would be exempt when it seemed that the lord beat every creature he could, even the humans who were weak around him.

  “Not us,” said the male.

  “Have you seen him mistreat other animals, then?”

  “The horses,” said the male.

  “And other animals,” said the female. “But not us.”

  “Why?”

  “Because we are hounds, of course,” said the male. He seemed to need no other reason than that. Once, Fierce would have agreed with him. Now she smiled in gentle amusement.

  “And the black horse? Do you know that one?” she asked.

  “The great one, so tall and strong?” asked the male, his hair bristling.

  “Yes, that one,” said Fierce.

  “I think he was a little afraid of it, and that made him beat it all the more,” said the female.

  “What are they saying?” Red interrupted, his face red with excitement at her success. “Do you understand any of it? Can you explain it to me?”

  “That Lord Ahran treats his animals badly,” said Fierce, still holding back from him. He was, after all, still human.

  Red laughed aloud. “That he does,” he said. “The man has never met an animal he thought he could not tame nor a human he thought he could not humble. Though these hounds cost him so much that he does not want to ruin their prices, and I keep them away from him as much as I can. So they are well-treated, at least.” He was apologetic, though it was not his fault, so far as Fierce could tell.