Embarr
September 2010

	Ciara was trapped.  She'd been locked up in her mother's apartments for her whole life.  Deirdre only let her out to play a couple of times a week, and the rest of the time she might as well have had iron shackles locked around her legs.  That was no way for a swift fox to live.  Even her mother got to go outside more often than that, though she doubted that Deirdre took much time to play.  Ciara didn't think a more serious vixen had ever lived.  But there were ways around that.  Ciara had long ago resolved to enjoy herself no matter what her mother thought.
	“It's Saturday.  The first day of summer,” said Ciara.
	“You remember that?” said Dierdre.
	“I've been counting the days.  This is when they bring the new horses in to train them at the stable,” said Ciara.
	Ciara lived with her mother in the Soldier's Quarter in Cearnach Castle.  Most of the Quarter was underground, but since  Deirdre had been promoted to General they were lucky enough to live in one of the uppermost apartments.  This gave them the luxury of a small window they could open to let in the sounds and smells of the city.  Ciara liked to stand under it with her ears cocked and her nose to the breeze that trickled in, where she could imagine what was happening just outside.
	“You and your horses.  Being a groom is no life for a king's daughter,” said Deirdre.
	“The other day, in the marketplace, you told me not to put on airs.  You said I was just a common girl and no more than the daughter of a vixen who should have been a peddler,” said Ciara.
	Deirdre slapped Ciara's leg, which made her yelp.  But it wasn't a hard blow and Ciara opened her eyes in time to catch her mother's quick smile.
	“You have your mother's mouth.  Now sit your butt down before I spank it again.  You're in my light,” said Deirdre.
	Ciara sat on the edge of her mother's bed and watched while Deirdre ran a sharpening stone along the edge of a brand new sword.  The heavy drapes over the window had been taken down so she could see what she was doing, and Deirdre's yellow and white fur shone in the sunlight.  Her mother was a pure swift fox, and even though Deirdre had grown up on Viridis, Ciara knew she was still treated as a foreigner by the soldiers under her command.  Ciara, who was half red fox, and Connor's own daughter, fared little better than her mother.  She knew this was why Deirdre worried so much about her.
	Ciara usually enjoyed watching her mother work.  The older vixen's movements were fluid and methodical and they always reminded Ciara of dancing.  But this morning, her pleasure was tainted by doubt.
	“You're going out on patrol again, aren't you?” said Ciara.
	“I have to.  Blackpool scouts found one of our supply caravans and... We have to go help the survivors,” said Deirdre.
	This morning there was a slight hitch in Deirdre's arm every time she reached the top of her stroke.  Deirdre had broken her last sword while sparring against one of her new recruits, and her left arm was still heavily bandaged from the slash the boy had given her.  Most people would have the sense to sit and rest for a while to let a wound like that heal up.  Deirdre thought that the world would fall down if she wasn't there to prop it up.
	“Can't you get someone else to do it?” said Ciara.
	She knew, by the way her mother's ears turned back, that she was whining again.  Foxes didn't whine, that was what Deirdre said.
	“You ask me that every time.  I've told you, nobody else knows the route like I do.  Nobody else can keep my people alive like I can,” said Deirdre.
	“What if you get attacked?” said Deirdre.
	“I'm going to have sixty fighters with me.  I'll be fine,” said Deirdre.
	Deirdre turned her sword over and frowned at what she saw.  Ciara had watched her work for days on an edge without ever being satisfied with it.
	“When will you be back?” said Ciara.
	“I don't know.  It probably won't take more than two or three days.  Maybe four.  We're only going as far as the North Tower,” said Deirdre.
	That was almost as far as Cearnach's northern border.  Ciara had sneaked a look at her mother's maps last month, while Deirdre had been laid up with a fever.  The north tower was actually a fort, and it was the first line of defense against further attacks from Blackpool.  If the lynxes decided to launch another raid, that was where they would most likely start.
	“What about me?  You said we were going out riding this afternoon.”
	“I know.  But it's going to have to wait until I get back.  I'm sorry.”
	“You're always sorry,” said Ciara.
	She jumped up and retreated to her bedroom where the scrape of stone on metal would at least be muted.  She was being childish, and she knew it, but she didn't care.
	Ciara's room had originally been a closet.  Soldiers weren't expected to have family, never mind children, and most apartments only had enough space for one person.  Ciara's bed took up most of the space in the room, and her shelves of books and the few toys she'd saved from when she was a little girl took up the rest.  But the room had its own window.  Ciara kept it open all the time because there was something reassuring about the smell of so many other foxes living all around her.  There was a little path carved through the mess that led from the door to a spindly chair that had been shoved under the window so she could sit and listen to the world above her.  She climbed up on it now and, by standing up on her toes, she could just see into the city that existed outside of the castle walls.
	Cearnach wasn't the richest city in Viridis, or the prettiest, but it was the largest.  Before the war, before she was born, the city had been home to almost a hundred thousand people.  There was no telling how many there were now.  All the new refugees had built a separate tent city in Queen's Park, and vendor stalls filled every available space along all of the roads.  Ciara longed to go exploring.  On days when the wind was right she could smell the chocolate and fresh fruit that the richer merchants sold.  Sometimes she could hear snatches of music or the shouts of children as they played somewhere out of sight.  Ciara knew almost no one her own age.
	“It's time for me to go,” said Deirdre.
	Ciara threaded her way through the maze of her room to where her mother stood in the doorway.  Deirdre was dressed now in a brown leather cuirass and leather skirt over chain leggings.  Ciara hated the way Deirdre looked in her armor.  It covered up all of her mother's soft fur and made her look hard and distant.
	“You'd better come back,” said Ciara.
	Deirdre smiled and lowered her head so Ciara could give her a kiss on the cheek.
	“You say that every single time I go out,” said Deirdre.
	“It works,” said Ciara.
	“Maybe it does.”
	It was the same ritual they went through every time Deirdre went out to fight.  They hadn't missed a turn once in five years.  Ciara wasn't sure if she believed it was a wish, or a prayer, but neither of them wanted to break the magic, whatever it was.  Then Deirdre shrugged her shoulders under her cuirass to get it to settle and turned so Ciara could finished tightening the straps for her.  That was part of the ritual, too.  Deirdre had been a soldier since she was sixteen and her various injuries meant she was no longer limber enough to fasten all of the belts on her back.
	“I want you to make me a promise for while I'm gone,” said Deirdre.
	“I know.  I won't go to the stables,” said Ciara.
	“Yes you will.  Just stay away from the war horses.  I know the little ponies aren't fast enough for you, but it's hard enough to train a good charger when he's not being spoiled all the time,” said Deirdre.
	Ciara's ears drooped with disappointment.  She was glad her mother's back was turned so Deirdre wouldn't see.
	“Just ponies, I promise,” she said.
	That meant she wouldn't be able to see the new horses until they'd already been trained, and by then they were no good for riding.  She was strong enough to stay on their backs, but war horses were trained to follow certain voice commands and nobody would teach those to her.
	When Deirdre's armor was secure, she strapped her sword belt around her waist and gave Ciara a smile.
	“Just be patient with me a little while longer, okay?” she said.
	She gave Ciara a kiss, the end of the ritual, and then she was out of the door and away again, back to the world where she was happiest.
	Ciara was a good girl at heart.  She knew that, no matter what Deirdre had said, her mother would want her to stay inside.  She mooched around for a while, and made a half-hearted attempt at tidying up the apartment.  Deirdre might have been a good soldier, but she could never remember where the clothes hamper was.  It took Ciara an hour to find and fold all of her mother's clothes, and to sort them into piles depending on what needed to be washed.  She wrestled the big wooden washtub down from its hook in the bathroom and found the jar of soap shavings she'd made one afternoon with the special abrasive soap for getting bloodstains out of cloth.  She couldn't bring herself to actually fill the tub with water and set to work.  She was a good girl, but she didn't see why any girl should be kept from seeing the new horses just because her mother wanted to go out and play.
	Leaving her work in the middle of the floor for when she came back she dashed into her room and pulled on a pair of shorts and her favorite purple shirt.  She brushed her hair because it shone better when the tangles were out, and she grinned at herself in the mirror.  Her fur was a light strawberry blonde which shone like fire in the sun.  She twirled, once, enjoying the way the light played across her body, and she smiled to herself.  As much as she missed her mother, Deirdre never let her have any fun.
	The Royal Stables were just behind the castle, within an easy dash from their apartment.  Five minutes after she turned the key in the lock Ciara was at the other end of the freezing corridor outside her mother's door.  There was another door here, twice as tall as she was and made of solid oak that had become as hard as stone over the years.  It was never locked.  The ancient wood fit so tightly into its frame that it took all her strength just to push it open enough for her to slip through.
	She stood, blinking, in the mid-morning sunlight for a moment while her eyes adjusted.  The door led out onto a little raised platform at the back of the castle that was part of one of the original sentry routes around the castle.  Half the walkways were gone now, and the ones that remained could lead anyone who didn't know what they were doing on a confusing trip that would probably end with a nasty fall through rotten planking.  But she could have found the stables with her eyes closed.  Even here, the smell of horses, fresh hay and honeyed oats was enough to send a little tingle of excitement through her belly, and it only took a few minutes for her to reach the safety of the big outer paddock.
	Marcus, the head groom, was waiting for her by the stable door, and he grinned when he saw her.  Marcus was a skinny wolf with grey fur, who originally came from some strange, hilly country in the mainland.  He claimed to have been a soldier there, and he still kept a suit of strange, banded armor on a stand in his office.  Now he was lame, and only fit for tending horses, but he was always kind to her.
	“Ah.  There's my favorite filly.  I had a feeling I'd see you before the end of the day,” he said.
	“Of course.  I want to see the new horses before you spoil them,” said Ciara.
	“Such a sweet girl, to always speak so highly of my work.  But I'm afraid I only have one horse to ruin this quarter.  The rest of King Connor's breeding stock was slaughtered by Blackpool soldiers,” said Marcus.
	Ciara felt her heart sink a little.
	“So when Mom said she was going out on patrol?” she said.
	“Going out for revenge, I'd bet.  Well, we can't let an insult like that pass, can we?” said Marcus.
	“And the new horse?”
	“He's waiting for you,” said Marcus.
	Marcus' barn was a long, low building, dimly lit by lanterns hung from long hooks drilled into the ceiling and insulated from the rest of the world by the leather tack and bales of hay that lined the walls on both sides.  Most of the stalls were empty now.  Deirdre's cavalry would have taken most of the good horses, and the Home Patrol had taken the rest.  What was left were the stocky riding ponies who were fit for training children to ride and little else.  Ciara was disappointed.  The ponies were safer, and they wouldn't throw her like some of the chargers liked to do.  But none of them could run as fast as she liked.
	She had just taken a pony bridle down from its hook on the wall, when something big moved in the dimness ahead of her.  Chains clinked, and the horse at the back of the barn threw back his head and screamed.  The sound made Ciara drop her bridle and press herself against the wall.  She was used to calming frightened horses.  Most of the animals that Marcus trained came to him unbroken.  But this horse sounded wild.
	“That's Embarr,” said Marcus.
	“Is he hurt?  Why is he so angry?” said Ciara.
	“He doesn't like ropes,” said Marcus.
	He reached out to put a hand on her shoulder, but she slipped away from him and edged closer toward the horse.  She could see Embarr watching her, turning his head so he could get a better look at her as she approached.  He was a huge black stallion with a thick, shaggy mane that hung down past his neck and his ears laid back against his head.  Somebody had managed to slip a heavy leather and canvas halter over his head, and he was tethered to the wall by four thick ropes that attached to ring bolts on either side of the barn.  The stall gates on either side of him had been kicked to splinters and two of the ropes were slightly frayed, like he had been chewing on them.
	“We should let him go.  He's going to hurt himself if we keep him tied up like this,” said Ciara.
	“And when he runs away?  Do you have any idea what this horse is worth?  Connor has promised to grant me citizenship if I can train him by midwinter,” said Marcus.
	Ciara kept moving forward with careful, easy steps, ready to leap back if Embarr lunged at her.  The horse was angry and scared but there was something else there as well, a glimmer of intelligence she hadn't seen in any of the other horses she had ridden.  He snorted at her and stamped a hoof, but he let her stroke his nose and scratch the bristles under his chin.
	“I can train him before the first snowfall,” said Ciara.
	“That isn't funny,” said Marcus.
	“I'm not joking,” said Ciara.
	She never took her eyes off of Embarr.  The big stallion let her cup her paws over his muzzle, and she eased her way up to brush the nose strap of the halter he wore with her fingers.  Someone had pulled all of the straps too tight, and she could feel where they had cut into Embarr's skin.
	“You're just a little girl.  Even if you knew what you were doing, your mother would gut me,” said Marcus.
	“Mom's too busy to care,” said Ciara.
	“What makes you think--”
	“I know how to put a halter on a horse, for a start,” said Ciara.
	She grabbed the buckle on the crown-piece and gave it a sharp tug.  Embarr squealed at the sudden pressure and he shook his head so his wiry mane stung the inside of Ciara's arm.  The halter slipped free and she let it drop to the floor.
	“Get back away from him.  It took six of us to get that thing on,” said Marcus.
	He grabbed at Ciara's shoulder, but she ducked away from him again.  There was a mounting block nailed to the barn post next to her.  She stepped up on it and put a paw on Embarr's neck.  She didn't dare wonder why the horse hadn't bolted yet.  There was nothing between him and freedom now except for Marcus, and the groom had flattened himself against the wall.
	“He will throw you, and then he'll eat you,” said Marcus.
	“I've ridden bareback before,” said Ciara.
	“That isn't the point and you know it.  If you climb up on that monster's back, I'll ban you from setting foot in my stables again,” said Marcus.
	“Maybe you'd better.  Look at his nose,” said Ciara.
	Embarr was bleeding from several shallow cuts across his muzzle where the straps of the halter had been.
	“What do you think Connor would have to say about the way you're treating his new horse?” she said.
	Ciara gave a little jump and pulled herself up on his back, feeling a little surprised at her own boldness.  It certainly surprised Marcus.  He abandoned the safety of his wall and rushed forward to drag her down, until Embarr lunged at him.  The big stallion butted Marcus in the chest and knocked him sprawling.  Ciara wrapped her paws in Embarr's mane and hunkered down close to him to keep her balance when he bolted.  But Embarr didn't run.  He stepped around where Marcus still lay on the floor and walked calmly out of the barn.
	Ciara couldn't remember the last time she'd been allowed out to play without Deirdre looking over her shoulder.  The breeze was pleasantly cool after the stuffiness of the barn, and her new freedom made her feel slightly giddy.  She sat up straighter as Embarr wandered out of the stable yard and into the city itself.  He followed the roads through the city without her needing to guide him, and she wondered if he already knew his way around.
	“I knew you were smart.  Aren't you?” she said.
	Embarr tilted on ear back toward her and snorted.  To Ciara, it sounded for all the world like a laugh.
	People stopped to watch them as they passed.  Riders were hardly uncommon in Cearnach, but Embarr was the biggest horse in the city.  Ciara was a few inches short of five feet tall, and his shoulder rose well above her head.  She shouldn't have been able to stay on his back, let alone control him.  But when she clucked her tongue and tugged gently on his mane to steer him around those gawkers who were too careless to get out of the way, he responded at once.
	When they reached Kings' Way, Embarr quickened his pace.  This was the main street through the middle of Cearnach, lined on both sides with statues of every king who had ruled the city, and it was kept clear by law.  It led straight to the big, steel-reinforced double gates at the front of the city and beyond, across half of the island of Viridis.  Ciara had never been more than a mile way from the city, and she often wondered where the road led.
	“One of these days, I'll ride clear to the other end of the island.  With a horse like you, the trip would be easy,” she said.
	Embarr was moving at an easy trot when they reached the gate.  There were guards stationed on either side of the archway, both armed with pikes.  But the fighting was still a comfortable distance away, and one little girl on a horse wasn't going to rouse them out of their drowsy stupor.  She flipped them a salute, the way she had seen her mother do, and was past them before either of them had time to react.
	When they were clear of the city Embarr broke into a gallop.  His gait was so smooth that Ciara only noticed how fast they were moving by the way her hair whipped into her eyes.  The soft ground added a comfortable springiness to his step, and she crouched closer to Embarr's back and urged him to go faster.
	An hour's ride brought them to the Glass River Bridge and when she saw it, some of Ciara's confidence drained away.  Once she crossed that she would be out of the heart of the kingdom and away from the protection of the Home Guard.  Embarr slowed to a walk when she sat up straight and relaxed her grip on his mane.  He moved his ears in what she took for a questioning gesture, and kept heading straight for the bridge.
	“We can't.  I'm in enough trouble for taking you already,” she said.
	The black stallion snorted and tossed his head and, for a moment, Ciara thought he would continue on across the bridge anyway.  Instead, he turned in a slow arc until they were facing back the way they had come.  Even though her back was sore from staying crouched for so long, Ciara prepared for the journey home.  She didn't expect him to stop dead in his tracks, ears cocked forward to listen
	“What is it?” she said “We really ought to get back.”
	She sat up straight again, and swiveled her own ears around to try to hear whatever had caught his attention.  Eyes closed, she sniffed the air, heeding ancient instincts she barely knew she had.  As close as she was to Embarr, it was difficult to ignore the smell of horse all around her.  But she caught the slight taint of leather and polish even before she heard the sound of the stranger's horse approaching.  She knew she probably wasn't in any danger.  There weren't any bandits for miles and even if there were they wouldn't dare operate during the day.  She knew this, but she still threw her arms around Embarr's neck and dug her bare heels into his flanks.
	As the stallion surged forward, she was certain she could hear the stranger's hoof beats closing in behind them.  When she risked a glance behind, she could just see them, someone dressed in leather on a red horse almost as big as Embarr.  She nudged him again, even though he was already running as fast as he could, and tried to fight down the panic rising in her chest.
	The road was smooth and straight all the way home.  Cearnach took very good care of it, and kept it clear of any large stones or holes that could break a horse's ankle.  If she had been a better rider, and if Embarr, for all his strength, hadn't been so young and tender footed they might have made it.  The red horse first flanked them, and then cut them off, dancing in a circle just in front of Embarr's nose to make him shy and stop.
	“I shouldn't be surprised.  You never listen to me,” said Deirdre.
	“I thought you were out on patrol,” said Ciara.
	“I got ordered back at the first checkpoint.  Connor wants me to stay home and babysit the new recruits while he lets some hotshot new Captain prove himself in the field.”
	“Maybe that's a good thing.  You need some help.”
	“Or maybe Connor just wants me to keep you from stealing any more horses.  A rider met me half way, Ciara.  Marcus is very upset,” said Deirdre.
	Ciara smoothed a few tangles out of Embarr's mane and took a deep breath to quell the surge of anger.  Embarr could never belong to her, but after what had happened in the stables she felt there had to be more between them than a single afternoon.
	“I'm not sorry,” she said.
	“I didn't think you would be.  But you can't steal horses just because some idiot doesn't know how to put a halter on properly.  You need to learn responsibility,” said Deirdre.
	“I'm not going to apologize, either,” said Ciara.
	“No.  But you're going to look after that horse yourself.  I'll have a word with Connor when we get back, and you'll have your fill of horses by the time you're done,” said Deirdre.
	But she was smiling, slightly, when she said it and as they started home Ciara wondered if she was being punished or rewarded for what she had done.  She knew that her mother would have done more than steal a horse if she had been the one to find out what had happened to Embarr.  They walked their horses all the way back to Cearnach.