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wild?”
    â€œNone whatsoever.”
    â€œThen why not make shift to set her free? Failing that, even killing her would be kinder.” My voice was rising again. Kor’s quietness maddened me.
    â€œPajlat would take offense,” he said.
    I stood and stared at him. Pajlat was the fierce king of the Fanged Horse Folk.
    â€œPajlat thinks more of his own scheming than of the creatures of Sakeema,” Korridun added. “The poor beast is his gift to me.”
    â€œWhy would Pajlat give you such a gift?” I burst out.
    â€œTo humiliate me,” said Kor. “He knows I cannot ride it.”
    He spoke quite levelly, and he was right, of course. There seemed to be something in him that spoke truth always, that did not sway to winds of pride or anger, a sureness that stunned me.
    Seeing that I was done with him for the time, he loosened the children from around his legs and sent them back down the headland toward the lodges. The little ones rolled about like ducks as they walked, their legs were so short. A thought came to me, why the children might be with him. Kings were expected to augment the numbers of their people.
    â€œYours?” I asked.
    He shook his head. “I am not yet pledged.”
    No more was I, but I suspected I had fathered a few such scantlings.… Great Sakeema, what sort of a king was this one? I watched silently as he walked the rest of the way to the fanged mare’s pen. The horse shrilled and kicked the logs as he approached. Paying her no heed, Korridun climbed up the corner as I had done and emptied his basket of fish into the feeding trough ten feet below.
    â€œOn the high plain, I know, they eat snakes,” he remarked to me. “But she has taken to the fish well enough. She would be fat if she did not wear it all off with her fretting.”
    The horse’s charge set the barrier to shuddering, and Kor climbed down, unhurried. I watched him in a sort of despair.
    â€œAre there no servingfolk to feed the horse?” I asked, nearly imploring. My tone made him grin. If I had known how rare such smiles were from him, I would have felt the gift of it.
    â€œNo more than there are for you.”
    Well hit. It was true, I felt a sympathy with the maddened mare. I turned away from Korridun and watched her whirling around her prison while her food lay untouched. No, more than sympathy. A hidden kinship, a stirring of some dark understanding.
    â€œI will—” I stopped, swallowed, and started over again. Though I did not call Korridun “king,” I would remember that I was a guest in his household and owed him courtesy. “I would like to have the tending of her.”
    â€œTo feed her?”
    â€œTo take a long, strong rope and drop a loop of it over her head and give her freedom if only to the rope’s extent. I will need a stick also, to fend her off. But I think she will want mainly to run.”
    Korridun gave me a startled look. “You are so willing to risk your life?”
    â€œYes!” Though I could not say why, I who did not know what had happened to send me to his side, I who did not know my own name. I felt the jolt of something shadowed, some feeling almost as nameless as I, and I quickly quelled it. Korridun was staring at me. I stared back.
    â€œOnce you have regained your full strength,” he said at last.
    â€œI am strong enough!” I protested.
    â€œBy Sedna’s bones, I believe you are nearly strong enough to wrestle the blue bear of Sakeema.” He did not smile, and I thought I heard something taut in his voice. “But I have my people’s well-being to think of, you know, should the mad thing escape you. Ask me again in three days.”
    He picked up his wicker basket and turned away. I found myself staring at his back, at the brown wool of his tunic. Very well, three days did not make so long a time.… “Does the horse have a name?” I called after him. He glanced