The Name of the Wind

Three minutes later I strode toward the doors of the nearest livery. A well-dressed Cealdish man smiled at my approach and stepped forward to greet me. “Ah, young sir,” he said holding out his hand. “My name is Kaerva. Might I ask—”

“I need a horse,” I said, shaking his hand quickly. “Healthy, well-rested, and well-fed. One that can take six hours of hard riding today.”

“Certainly, certainly,” Kaerva said, rubbing his hands together and nodding. “All things are possible with the will of God. I’d be pleased to ...”

“Listen,” I interrupted again. “I’m in a hurry, so we’re going to skip the preliminaries. I won’t pretend to be uninterested. You won’t waste my time with a parade of hacks and nags. If I have not bought a horse in ten minutes, I will leave and buy one elsewhere.” I met his eye. “Lhinsatva?”

The Cealdish man was aghast. “Sir, the purchase of a horse should never be so rushed. You would not pick a wife in ten minutes, and on the road, a horse is more important than a wife.” He gave a bashful smile. “Even God himself didn’t—”

I cut him off yet again. “God’s not buying a horse today, I am.”

The thin Cealdish man paused to collect his thoughts. “Right,” he said softly, more to himself than to me. “Lhin, come around and see what we have.”

He led me around the outside of the stables to a small corral. He gestured near the edge of the fence. “That dapple mare is as steady a horse as any you could hope for. She’ll take you....”

I ignored him and looked over the half-dozen hacks that stood idly inside the fence. Though I had neither means nor reason to keep a horse, I knew good from bad, and nothing I saw here came close to suiting my needs.

You see, troupers live and die by the horses that pull their wagons, and my parents had not neglected my education in this area. I could size up a horse by the time I was eight, and a good thing too. Townsfolk regularly tried to pass off half-dead or gingered up nags to us, knowing that by the time we discovered our mistakes we’d be miles and days away. There was a world of trouble waiting for a man who sold his neighbor some sickly hobble, but what was the harm of swindling one of the filthy, thieving Ruh?

I turned to face the cavler, frowning. “You have just wasted two precious minutes of my time, so I’m guessing you still don’t understand my position here. Let me be as plain as possible. I want a fast horse ready for hard riding today. For this I will pay quickly, in hard coin, and without complaint.” I held up my newly heavy purse in one hand and shook it, knowing he could tell the ring of true Cealdish silver inside.

“If you sell me a horse that throws a shoe, or starts to limp, or spooks at shadows, I will miss a valuable opportunity. A quite unrecoverable opportunity. If that happens, I will not come back and demand a refund. I will not petition the constable. I will walk back to Imre this very night and set fire to your house. Then, when you run out the front door in your nightshirt and stockle-cap, I will kill you, cook you, and eat you. Right there on your lawn while all your neighbors watch.”

I gave him a deadly serious look. “This is the business arrangement I am proposing, Kaerva. If you are not comfortable with it, tell me and I will go elsewhere. Otherwise, leave off this parade of drays and show me a real horse.”

The short Ceald looked at me, more stunned than horrified. I could see him trying to come to grips with the situation. He must think I was either a raving lunatic, or the son of some important noble. Or both.

“Very well,” he said, letting all the ingratiating charm fall from his voice. “When you say hard riding, how hard do you mean?”

“Very hard,” I said. “I need to go seventy miles today Dirt roads.”

“Will you need saddle and tack too?”

I nodded. “Nothing fancy. Nothing new.”

He drew a deep breath. “Fine, and how much do you have to spend?”

I shook my head and gave a tight smile. “Show me the horse and name your price. A Vaulder would do nicely. If he’s a little wild, I won’t mind if it means he’s got energy to spare. Even a good Vaulder mix could serve me, or a Khershaen forth horse.”

Kaerva nodded and led me back toward the wide doors of the stable. “I do have a Khershaen. A full-blood actually.” He made a gesture to one of the stablehands. “Bring out our black gentleman, double-quick.” The boy sprinted off.

The cavler turned back to me. “Gorgeous animal. I ran him through the traces before I bought him, just to be sure. Galloped him a full mile and he hardly even worked up a sweat, smooth a gait as ever I’ve felt, and I’d not lie to your lordship on that account.”

I nodded, a full-blooded Khershaen was exactly suited to my purpose. They had a legendary endurance, but there would be no avoiding the price, either. A well-trained forth horse was worth a dozen talents. “How much are you asking for him?”

“I’ll want two solid marks,” he said without any hint of apology or wheedling in his voice.