The White Spell Read Online Free PDF Page A

spectacular gelding into the arena. A lad came skidding through the dirt to hand her the pair of gloves she’d apparently dropped in her haste, then backed away at a curse from Slaidear. If that one avoided a right proper sacking, she would be surprised. She consigned him to whatever fate awaited him without hesitation and turned her attentions to her own business.
    It was obvious from the first turn she took about the arena that Fuadain’s luncheon companion wasn’t interested in a horse. He knew nothing about them and likely wouldn’t have been able to afford what he was looking at even if he had.
    That wasn’t her affair, though, so she showed the first two ponies to their best advantage, because she couldn’t in good conscience do anything else. She swung up onto the back of the finest of the lot, knowing it was pointless to ride him, but it would at least save her the time of working him later—
    â€œDoghail, you’ll ride the last one. Girl, get off him and let the man show us what he can do.”
    Léirsinn didn’t move at first, but that was only because she’d spent the better part of her life never allowing herself to show any reaction to anything her uncle said. She took her time dismounting but didn’t dare exchange even a quick glance with Doghail as she fussed with the stirrups.
    â€œMake haste, you stupid girl!”
    Léirsinn bobbed her head toward her uncle. “Of course, my lord.” She handed Doghail the reins, then gave him a leg up. Sheput her hand on the gelding’s neck and bid him silently to be gentle. She was well hidden by the horse’s head, so she took a chance and looked up at Doghail.
    He was white with what she never would have suggested might be called fear. His morning ale likely hadn’t agreed with him. The man had a reputation for having ridden horses that no one else would dare come close to; the pony he was on at present hardly qualified as uncontrollable. If he had, several years earlier, tempted fate one too many times and found himself fair trampled to death as a result, well, that sort of thing occasionally happened, didn’t it? It was understandable that he hadn’t been up on a horse since he’d managed to relearn to walk, something her uncle knew damned well—
    â€œPut him through his paces, Doghail,” Fuadain boomed. “Surely you can manage that.”
    Léirsinn didn’t contemplate murder often—very well, she thought about it every time she saw her uncle, but it seemed counterproductive to slay him only to find herself in a dungeon as a result. Better to let him live out his miserable life in peace. Perhaps one day he would face himself and realize what he’d done to those around him.
    She put her hand on Doghail’s boot briefly, ignored the trembling she could feel there, then stepped away. There was nothing else to be done.
    The gelding behaved perfectly in spite of the lump of man who simply sat on his back, no doubt concentrating only on not falling off. The horse showed his gaits because she clicked at him discreetly as he passed her. That, and he was a brilliant, reliable pony who likely could have even kept a fool like her uncle on his back.
    Fuadain tired of his sport after a bit and suggested a return to his solar. He passed her and looked down his nose as he did so.
    â€œSpend your afternoon shoveling,” he commanded. “’Tis all you’re good for, isn’t it?”
    â€œOf course, my lord,” she said, keeping her eyes lowered. She felt the breeze from his hand as he attempted to cuff her and missed.She supposed it might have gone badly for her if his guest hadn’t laughed and pulled him along out of the arena. She remained exactly where she was until they had gone, then she ran over to where Doghail was still sitting atop his gallant steed.
    He managed to get his feet out of the stirrups, dismount without falling on his face,