When the druid did not move, the Vaich reached out and pulled him through, then pointed up at the russet mare they had ridden from the Augeri.
“This is Saorla. She’s been my queen for thirteen summers. She’s in peak now, but she’ll soon get on. In preparation, I had her bred but once.” He nodded aside where stood a great ebon stallion. He was excitable, already chomping at his bit, and the Vaich grinned proudly.
The druid considered the horses and then the Vaich himself. There was a gleam in his eye which the druid did not recognize and had never seen there before.
“It is her only issue?” he asked.
The Vaich nodded. “Carried him nigh a year. The birth was swift as she. And here they came together. I thought to take him when she was spent, but it will be years yet before that. Still, you’ve got to bring the young up well. They need time to ripen. And you’ve got to get to know them as they go. He’s a wild thing, proud as he is—kens he’s strong of blood.”
The druid could not recall the Vaich ever speaking so much to him at once. But then, he wasn’t, really. The words were for the air. It mattered not who heard. He spoke them true and that was all.
It meant something.
“You’ll take him, a-nis,” said the Vaich. “It will be good exercise. And I can trust him not to throw you, and to follow. That’s important. He’ll always follow her.” The king looked at the mare with love in his eyes. Yes, the druid thought, that is what it was. That strange gleam he hadn’t recognized.
Love.
“Stand here,” the king commanded and the druid moved aside. The Vaich unlatched the gate pin and at once the horse came cantering out. The pups darted between its legs.
“Aye now, aye now.Sían thí no thall,” the Vaich cooed, catching its long face between his hands. His fingers stroked the dark bridge of its nose.
The more the druid watched him, the more he understood—it wished to stretch its eager legs. It wished to return to the road.
“You may call him Eócha,” said the Vaich. “Come, give me your leg.”
The druid hesitated, but he came. The steed lorded over him, clearing his head by almost double his shoulder to crown. The men of Cullach were, by and large, great towering things, and they had great towering horses. The druid—being born small and feminine—hadn’t the presence of his forebearers. He had to be foisted up like a caber, and maybe too vigorously, as the Vaich misjudged his strength, nearly sending him over. He was quick to settle his hands on the druid’s waist, easing him into the saddle with a quiet chuckle.
“Gods, youaresmall,” he said.
The druid pressed his lips, and the Vaich laughed at the expression. “He mightn’t feel you at all. That’s no good. We’ll have to stuff you full of butter and heft you up.”
“It will be no use to you if I get very fat. The farmers will question what you have done with all their crop.”
The Vaich smiled. “A jest from you? That I might live to see the day. Well, how does it feel, then?”
“The horse or the jest?” asked the druid.
“Both, but I’ll start with the horse.”
The druid couldn’t help but smile, though wished to press it down. It felt too natural. He had never disliked natural things, but now was made to question them.
“Does His Majesty blush?” whispered the Vaich.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
The king looked as if he might press it, but shook his head and looked away. “You’re a good fit. See how he stays? He’s excitable, but a good boy. And he doesn’t frighten.”
“He is braw,” said the druid.
The Vaich nodded, and indeed, he seemed happy. “Aye, he is.”
He went to the second gate and drew the pin and out came Saorla, proud and fine. She was still larger than her son, strong in the legs, with a long, lean face. Her auburn coat glistened warm beneath the sun, looking like honey where the light touched her. The muscles were thick and tight at the withers, and her mane was kept long and untied. The Vaich was a dark sentry upon her burnished back, but together they were a flame-kissed night.
The two came up beside them and the Vaich clicked his tongue. “Eócha,” he called and the stallion came trotting, unsteadying the druid who gripped the reins. “Ease up, now,” said the king. “Trust that he kens what you don’t.”
The druid eased on the leather and the Vaich nodded. “Good. You’ve the make of a steer, after all. Quick to the bit, you are.”
The druid was quiet beneath his praise, but not uncomfortable. They went out together into the yard, with their litter beneath their feet, and there they were met with awe and reverence.
