pen smelt of unwashed bodies and human waste. Those who had already been here a week
scratched blank-eyed at their scabbed knees, only rousing when the food was poured into the
trough at the entrance. Flies buzzed, settling in clouds on mouths and eyelids.
No longer able to bear his thoughts about Tashi, Ramil turned his mind to his father. Lagan
would weep to see his son here. But Ramil knew that many more Gerfalians would be joining
him in the pens very soon now that their mission to bring the Blue Crescent navy into the war
had ended in disaster.
I've failed them, he thought. My father trusted me to do what was in the best interests of my
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people, but I failed.
And what has my life been about really? Ramil wondered. I've reacted to events, never initiated
any action I can be proud of -- except the escape.
He thought about what he had told Tashi when she had been at her lowest ebb. He had said to
her that
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maybe the Goddess had put her there because She wanted her to follow a strange path. They
had been glib words from someone who had not known her depth of suffering. Ramil knew that
his own faith was a sorry affair compared to Tashi's--a lazy belief in some benign Father God, a
creator who had always been on excel ent terms with the ac Burinholts like a jol y old patron.
There was little for him to hold on to now that he had reached his own nadir.
So do I give up? he asked himself. Not listen to my own advice to trust that there is a plan?
If there is a God behind all this, it looks like a pretty rubbish plan to me, his cynical side chipped in.
But what would Tashi want me to do?
No sooner had he framed the question than he knew the answer. She would want him to trust
his God; she would expect him to do his duty. He could not honor her by dying here in the filth
with a whimper.
If this is where I am supposed to be right now, Ramil thought, then I have to find a way to serve
the interests of my people. I don't stop being a prince just because I'm in chains.
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Ramil sat up, the light of battle re-ignited in his eyes.
"Right, Gordoc, Melletin," he said, "we've got work to do."
The river washed Tashi up on a sandbank two miles down from where she had jumped. She was
barely
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alive, her spirit wandering between this world and the Peaceful Gardens of the Mother. But it
appeared the Goddess did not want her company just yet: She sent Tashi back so that the girl
returned to consciousness, coughing and vomiting river water as she lay on her side.
Tashi stayed where she was for a long time, hearing the water chatter by over the stones, and
the night chorus of crickets squeak in the long grass.
She didn't want to think because thinking meant admitting that she'd lost Ramil and her other
friends. She'd left them with the slavers and there was nothing she could do for them--nothing
she could do for herself.
To punish her body for being alive, she sat upright. Her hair hung over her face in pale threads,
the dye washed from it after her dousing in the river.
It's stringy, she thought, and burst into tears. She hugged her body, missing the warmth of Ramil
who had held her to him only hours ago. She touched her lips, trying to recall the feel of his
mouth on hers, but she was cold and bruised, her face swelling out of all recognition since her
passage through the rapids.
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Long slow minutes of darkness passed. Then a horse neighed from the bank. Tashi looked up
and saw Thunder standing there, clearly wondering what she was doing sitting in the wet. She
thought for one wild moment of hope that he might have Ramil on his back, but he was alone,
the picket rope trailing from his bridle. Even so, she was relieved to see a friendly face, if not a
human one. Tashi crawled out of the shallows
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and pulled herself onto the bank. Teeth gently pulled her up by the back of her tattered tunic.
"Thunder!" she said, falling against him when she reached the top. "Thank you."
Her shaking hands explored his back. She touched a saddle and bags, then a bedding roll. Ramil
had not taken them off, which was unexpected because he usually saw to the horse before
himself. She then remembered that he had promised he'd have her supper waiting for her when
she returned from her wash. He must have rushed to start cooking, for once leaving the horse
till later. She took off the blanket and wrapped it around her shoulders, then opened the bags.
They were full of Ramil's gear. The familiar smell of his shirts was heart-rending and wonderful
at the same time.
She slipped out of her own wet things and dressed herself in his spare clothes, closing her eyes
and trying to imagine that he was with her.
"Well, boy, what next?" she asked the horse.
Thunder nudged her with his soft nose, inviting her to mount.
"I'm not as good a rider as Ramil. You'll have to do all the work," she said wearily, hauling herself into the saddle. The slaver had said the river would mash her and he had been right. Every limb
cried out with pain as she moved.
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Thunder trotted smoothly back up the road.
"Which way?" she wondered.
Thunder made up her mind for her. He headed south, smelling the horse pastures on the
desert's edge.
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Tashi slumped over his neck, letting him take her where he wanted.
The miles passed by but Tashi did not notice. She only woke up when she hit the ground. In her
exhaustion, she had fallen asleep and rolled off Thunder's back. He nuzzled her in puzzlement,
wondering what his rider was doing on the road. Groaning, she stood up, her whole body
shaking.
"I've got to sleep," she explained. "This will do as well as anywhere else."
She led him off the side of the track, down a dry ditch and behind a tumbled wall. It was shelter
of a sort, and she could go no further. Thunder stood guard while the pale human slept, her
sleep broken with bad dreams. He heard his master's name on her lips and knew she was
missing him too. He scared off the wild dog that came sniffing around and stamped on a snake
that slithered out of the wall when the sun hit the stones. Still the human foal slept.
The sun was high in the sky when Tashi opened her eyes, though it had turned into a cloudy day
and a damp warm rain was falling. If anything she felt worse now that the numbness had worn
off. Her body was battered and bruised, her spirit too. Only determination kept her moving.
Swathing herself in Ramil's spare cloak, she returned to the road and doggedly set off once
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more.
Over the next couple of days she saw few people, and those she did see galloped past. Tashi did
not want to risk speaking to anyone. The landscape was
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changing. The meadows and fields were giving way to treeless plains. The only things that
flourished here were tough grasses and low scrubby bushes spiked with thorns. Even the road
seemed to peter out, becoming little more than a hint of a track through the waving grass.
Thunder raised his head and let out a whinny of joy: this was his land, the home of the horse. He
darted forward, lengthening his stride, feeling the little human tighten her grip with her knees.
His dark mane rippled behind him, as did hers, streaming gold.
They abandoned themselves to the pleasure of the race, with no idea but to run until their
breath failed them. Tashi had tears on her cheeks as she remembered Ramil shouting to her on