Fool’s Assassin

He gave me a sideways glance. “Perseverance, miss. It’s a bit too long to shout at me, so I’m Per.” He looked at me and suddenly confided, “But someday I’m going to be Tallestman. My grandfather was called Tallman, and when my father grew taller than he was, all the hands started calling him Tallerman. And that’s how he’s known today.” He pulled himself up straight. “I’m a bit short now, but I think I’m going to grow, and when I top my da, I’m going to be Tallestman. Not Perseverance.” He shut his mouth firmly and thought about it for a minute. His disclosure was like a bridge he was waiting for me to cross. It was my turn to say something.

“How long have you taken care of her?”

“Two years now.”

I looked away from him to the mare. “What name would you give her?” I knew something. He had named her.

“I’d call her Priss. Because she’s so fussy about some things. Hates to have her hooves dirty. And her saddle has to be just so, the pad all smooth, not a rumple anywhere. She’s prissy about things like that.”

“Priss,” I said, and the gray ears flicked forward. She knew it meant her. “It’s a good name. Much better than Dapple.”

“It is,” he agreed easily. He scratched his head again and then frowned and finger-combed his hair, pulling straw from it. “You want me to ready her for you?”

I don’t know how to ride a horse. I’m afraid of horses. I don’t even know how to get on a horse. “Yes, please,” I said, with no idea why I said it.

I sat on the edge of her stall and watched as he worked. He moved quickly but methodically, and I thought that Priss knew everything he would do before he did it. When he set the saddle on her back, it wafted her scent to me. Horse, and the oiled leather, and old sweat. I set my muscles against the nervous shiver that ran down my back. I could do this. She was gentle. Look how she stood so still for the saddle and how she took the bit and bridle with no fuss.

I clambered down from the top of the stall wall as he opened the door to lead her out. I looked up at her. So tall.

“There’s a mounting block near the front of the stable. Here. Walk beside me, not behind her.”

“Does she kick?” I asked with rising dread.

“She’ll be happier if she can see you,” he said, and I decided that might mean yes.

Climbing up the mounting block was not easy for me, and even when I stood on it, her back seemed high. I looked up at the sky. “Looks like it’s going to rain.”

“Nah. Not until evening.” His gaze met mine. “Want a boost?”

I managed a stiff nod.

He came up on the mounting block beside me. “I’ll lift you, and you get a leg over,” he directed me. He hesitated a moment, then put his hands on my waist. He lifted me, and I felt almost anger that it seemed so easy for him to do. But I swung my leg over the mare and he set me down on her. I caught my breath as she shifted under me. She turned her head to look back at me curiously.

“She’s used to me,” Per excused her. “You’d be a lot lighter. She probably wonders if anyone’s really in the saddle.”

I bit my lip and said nothing. “Can you reach the stirrups?” he asked. There was no malice in his voice. No mockery of my size. I felt with my foot. He took my ankle and guided my foot toward the stirrup. “Too long,” he said. “Let me fix that. Pull your foot up.”

I did, staring between the horse’s ears while he adjusted something, first on one stirrup and then on the other. “Try now,” he told me, and when I could feel the stirrup under the arch of my foot, I suddenly felt safer.

He cleared his throat. “Pick up the reins,” he instructed me.

I did, suddenly feeling that I was alone and far away from all safe things. She had me now, and if Priss wanted to race off with me, throw me to the earth and trample me, she could. Then Per spoke again. “I’m going to lead her,” he said. “You hold the reins but don’t try to guide her. Just sit in the saddle and feel how it moves. Straighten your back, though. Got to sit straight on a horse.”

And that was all we did that first day. I sat on Priss and Per led her. He didn’t say much. “Back straight.” “Thumbs up on the reins.” “Let her feel you’re there.” It wasn’t a short time and it wasn’t a long time. I remember the moment when I finally relaxed and let out the bit of air I’d been holding in the bottom of my lungs. “That’s it,” he said, and that was all.

He didn’t help me get off her. He just led her back to the mounting block and waited. After I was off, he said, “Tomorrow will go better if you wear boots.”