Page 23 of Shadows of Winter

To be tested and fail is disappointing but not so disappointing as to never be tested at all.

~ Elder Taybarri Ravarn

Riding a taybarri and stroking her fingers through its thick, lush fur was amazing. Too bad Kaylina had to share the mount with Frayvar and Vlerion. The stuffy ranger lord hadn’t spoken a word since giving her the challenging you’re-going-to-be-scared-spitless-tonight-in-that-castle stare.

At least she’d talked Frayvar into being the one to ride directly behind Vlerion, with her behind them. That way, she wouldn’t have to wrap her arms around the ranger if the taybarri broke into a gallop. There’d been far too much touching that day for her tastes.

Full night darkened the city as the furry creature ambled down the street paralleling the river and leading to the castle. Its back could have carried even more than three people. Their powerful muscles and inherent magic made the taybarri strong enough for loads that would have dropped horses. Not that anyone had ever hooked one of their kind up to a plow. From what she’d read, they were far too intelligent—and powerful—to allow themselves to be used in any way except as they wished.

The handful of people running late errands or returning from drinking bowed as Vlerion passed on his mount, only glancing at the riders behind him. Per Targon’s order, Kaylina and Frayvar wore borrowed cloaks with the hoods pulled up to hide their faces.

The ranger captain hadn’t said he didn’t want anyone to associate Vlerion with them, but Kaylina assumed that was the reason. They couldn’t be spies for the nobles if the Virts knew they had a relationship.

Not that Kaylina wanted to have a relationship with the nobles. If she’d known where to find the Saybrooks, she might have tried to negotiate a lease herself. Reluctantly, she admitted that Vlerion, who’d built play forts with the girls, might get them a better deal.

When the castle came into view, a black monolith against the night, the skeletal trees rattling in a breeze, there was nothing inviting about it.

Kaylina wouldn’t be deterred. She leaned around her brother to tell Vlerion, “We have five hundred a month to spend on the lease.”

“That’s enough to rent a stable for one horse,” Vlerion said without looking back.

“If the castle is so cursed you don’t think we’ll survive a night there, that should be about right, wouldn’t you think?”

“I didn’t say you wouldn’t survive.”

“You only think we’ll be so scared that we’ll wet ourselves and run screaming to the docks to buy passage on the first ship heading home?”

“That would be the smart thing for you to do. The north isn’t a place for southern innkeepers.”

The taybarri whuffed and shook himself, making Kaylina lunge to grip its fur, lest she fall off. Frayvar flailed and grabbed Vlerion.

“Crenoch is disturbed when people who ride him speak of wetting themselves,” Vlerion said blandly.

Frayvar recovered and stroked a curious hand through the taybarri’s fur, much as Kaylina had. “Can he understand us?”

“To some extent. The elder taybarri most assuredly can, and they watch out for their young.”

Kaylina had heard stories that taybarri gained great intelligence if they survived their long childhoods. The elders had been the ones who had, centuries earlier, allied with humans, letting rangers ride their young into battle to improve the odds that the desirable lands west of the mountains remained safe for both their peoples. It was hard to imagine the two-thousand-pound creature they rode being a baby.

“How old is Crenoch?” she asked.

“Five years. He’s smart and knows a lot of commands—when he chooses to obey them. He loves riding into battle and chomping down enemies.” Vlerion’s voice lowered, and she almost missed the rest. “He’s less pleased to run down humans in the streets of the city.”

Crenoch was or Vlerion was?

Kaylina wondered if the rangers had caught the prisoners who’d broken out of jail and almost asked, but did she want to know? The memory of the man’s head being lopped off swept through her, and she shivered. Had she and Frayvar run, would Vlerion and his mount have chased them down and given them the same treatment?

If she and Frayvar died in the north, who would send word back home? Even if he’d left a note—an essay—their family had to be worried about them. Guilt crept into Kaylina. Even if her kin were stifling and sometimes judgmental, they cared. It was why they were stifling and judgmental.

Crenoch stopped at the open courtyard gate of the castle, no lights burning in the nearby streetlamps, as if the city worker who lit them didn’t want to give people reason to come this way.

Kaylina would have to provide her own lights if she wanted evening visitors to the meadery. Unfortunately, they were a long way from being ready for visitors of any kind. If they were able to sign a lease, that would only be Step One.

As she gazed through the gate at the crumbling castle, the stones silver under the glow of a half moon, the enormity of the task ahead came to her. The repairs and cleaning they would have to do. All the supplies they would have to buy before she could ferment her first batch of mead and Frayvar could cook his first meal. Was there even any firewood for the hearths? Probably not. They might freeze on their first night here.

The fatigue that had been catching up to her before her questioning and the jailbreak threatened to overwhelm her. At least it was nighttime. They could sleep, and tomorrow… She would figure out tomorrow when it came.

Vlerion slid off, producing something from his pocket. The big taybarri head swung over, sniffing at his hand.

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