The truth, Venick decided, was that he hadn’t really known Ellina. She was like this valley. He’d imagined the shape of her. He’d filled in the blanks with ridges and slopes. But really, those details were all in his head.
A fantasy.
NINE
Venick saw the horses trotting down the mountain path early the next morning, a whole crooked line of them. Riderless, no saddles or bags. They could have been wild, except wild horses didn’t roam this far north. Even if they did, it wasn’t right, the way they all filed along like that in neat order, heading straight for their camp. Which could only mean—
“You summoned homing horses?” Venick asked Dourin. Venick knew that elves could summon homing horses with their minds, even from great distances. Not all elves had the same level of skill, and not every horse responded to every elf. Only horses who were bonded to their riders would answer the call.
So. Call Dourin busy then, if this many horses answered to him.
Busy? You mean gifted, Venick.
Gifted. Hell.Stupid, to think he could summon a whole herd of horses and not draw unwanted attention. It wasn’t the first time Dourin had made that mistake either. Venick remembered standing outside the border-city Kenath, watching two homing horses glide across the dark valley. Their bodies had been lean. Elegant. They’d parted the tall grass like ships parting waves.
Ellina had shot them dead. She had worried then what Venick worried now: that the horses could be recognized, shadow-bound, followed. They could be used to guide an enemy straight to their waiting camp. Ellina had killed Dourin’s horses with a cold brutality that Venick had overlooked, because it had been convenient to overlook.Fierce, he’d thought of her, when what he really should have been thinking washeartless.
“They’re not exactly inconspicuous,” Venick told Dourin now.
Dourin fought a smile. “Neither are we.”
“They might have been tracked.”
“Would you ratherwalkacross the tundra?”
Venick shot the elf a look.
“If you must know,” Dourin said wryly, “I did not summon these horses from the city. They have been roaming wild. I let them loose soon after you appeared in Evov with your warning.” The elf crossed his arms, settling into the posture. Pleased. “You may congratulate me on my forward thinking.”
“You believed me all along.” When Venick had come to Evov to warn the elves about the southern army, Dourin had always acted as if Venick was a liar. Or a lunatic.
“Perhaps.”
“I sometimes really don’t like you.”
Dourin smirked. “Come. I have chosen one especially for you.”
She was a tall buckskin mare, sleek, beautiful. Venick approached slowly, admiring her long underline, the refined neck, all well-proportioned. When he came around to her head, however, he paused. “She’s blind.” The horse’s eyes were milky white.
Dourin said, “Youareastute.”
“How am I supposed to ride a blind horse?”
“As you would ride any horse. On her back.”
“This isn’t funny.”
“Mildly amusing, though.”
“I can’t ride a blind horse.”
“You are welcome to choose another.” Dourin motioned around them with an easy hand.
Too easy. Venick eyed the elf, sensing a trap, though he couldn’t fathom its shape or size. Dourin’s face became a mask of polite interest. He clapped his fingers together, bounced them once against his hips and said, “Well?”
The scene was drawing eyes. Elves watched as Venick—apprehensive, a little uneasy—approached a sighted horse…who immediately shied away from him. Venick threw another glance in Dourin’s direction, but the elf’s bland smile made his message clear. He would be no help.
Frowning, Venick moved towards another sighted homing horse, but just as before, the horse shied away. She was anxious. Clearly agitated. Almost as if…
