Page 57 of The Priory of the Orange Tree

Tané set her jaw as an ostler took her stallion. Its coat was dark with rain and sweat.

“Ignore him, Tané,” Dumusa said, dismounting. Her hair coiled wetly about her shoulders. “The water runs the same in all of us.”

Turosa curled his lip, but left. He never quarreled with the other descendants of riders.

When he was gone, Tané bowed to Dumusa. “You have great talent, honorable Dumusa,” she said. “I hope to be as skilled an archer as you one day.”

Dumusa bowed in return. “I hope to have the same mastery of firearms as you one day, honorable Tané.”

They left the stables together. Tané had spoken to Dumusa before, but now they were alone, she found herself unsure of what to say. She had often wondered what it must have been like for her, growing up in a mansion in Ginura with her Miduchi grandparents.

When they reached the practice hall, they sat close to each other, and Tané set about cleaning the mud from her arrows. Kanperu, the tall and silent apprentice, was already there, furbishing his silver-mounted pistol.

As they worked, Onren entered the hall.

“That,” she declared, “was the worst I have ever shot.” She scraped back her drenched hair. “I must find a shrine and beg the great Kwiriki to wash away all horses. They have been out to thwart me since the day I was born.”

“Peace.” Dumusa did not look up from her bow. “You have plenty of time to show your skill to the Miduchi.”

“Easy for you to say. You have the blood of the Miduchi. All of you become riders in the end.”

“There is always a chance that I will be the first one who does not.”

“A chance,” Onren agreed, “but we all know that chance is very small.”

Her knee was swollen from the duel. She would have to work hard if she meant to be a rider.

Kanperu returned his pistol to the wall-rack. As he left, he gave Onren an indecipherable look over his shoulder.

“I hear the honorable Kanperu has taken to visiting a tavern near the fruit market,” Dumusa murmured to Onren when he was out of earshot. “He spends every evening there.”

“What of it?”

“I thought we might go, too. When we become riders, we will all be spending a great deal of time together. It would behoove us to be well acquainted. Would you not agree?”

Onren smiled. “Dumu,” she said, “are you trying to distract me so I won’t outperform you?”

“You know very well that you outperform me in everything but archery.” Dumusa inspected her bow once more. “Come. I need to get out of this place for a few hours.”

“I should tell the honored Sea General what a bad influence you are.” Onren stood and stretched. “Coming, Tané?”

It took Tané a moment to notice that they were both looking at her, waiting for an answer.

They were serious. In the middle of their water trials, they wanted to go to a tavern.

“Thank you,” she said slowly, “but I must stay here and practice for the next water trial.” She paused. “Should you not also be preparing for tomorrow, Onren?”

Onren snorted. “I have practiced for most of my life. Practicing last night did not help me today. No,” she said, “what I need tonight is a stiff drink. And perhaps a stiff—” She glanced at Dumusa, and though their lips quaked in an effort to contain it, they both laughed.

They had lost their senses. Surely, at a time like this, no one could afford distractions.

“I hope you enjoy your evening,” Tané said, rising. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Tané,” Onren said. Her smile faded, and her brow furrowed. “Try to get some sleep, won’t you?”

“Of course.”

Tané crossed the hall and hung up her bow. Turosa, who was about to practice unarmed combat with his friends, caught her gaze and clapped his fist into his palm.

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