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ONE

GIRL WITH A PONY

Each year, at the end of March, a great fair was held in Cría, the capital of Galla Like thousands of others in the Eastern Lands, Onua Cha ponies, in her case This year she had another transaction tono luck with it By the end of her fifth day at the fair, it seemed she would never find the assistant she required The prospect of taking her animals south, with no one to help, was an unpleasant one

“Excuse irl, shy and country bred “I heard you was hiring I’m”—she paused, then went on—“a fair hand with aniirl in a green wool dress, skirts short enough to show leggings and boots Brown curls tamed by a head-scarf fell to thin shoulders A soft, full mouth said she was vulnerable; her chin was entirely stubborn A quiver filled with long arrows hung on her back, a bow rested in her hand, unstrung

“Is that yours?” the trader asked, pointing

Blue-gray eyes flashed “I’d not have the nerve to carry it otherwise”

“Hht,” Onua jibed “Whose is it, really?”

The girl brought a coiled string out of her sash With ease she fitted it to one end of the bow and set it against her foot Raising the free end of the string, she brought the other end of the bon, hooking therip, she turned sideways to it, caught the string in two fingers, and drew it back to her ear in a sesture Now Onua could see she wore an archer’s wrist- and aruards

“I’d put an arrow up,” the girl said, gently releasing the string, “but I’d hit someone, surely”

Onua grinned “I’”

The girl took the string off the bow, coiled it, and put it away “Nor did I, at first I keep this one limber, or I still couldn’t draw it”

“Crossbow?” The question was out before Onua remembered, I don’t want to hire her—I want to send her home to her mama She’s a runaway for sure

“Yes’ flickered in her eyes She looked down “We had bandits at home I stood watch with the sheep, so I learned crossbow and longbow And sling”—a half s”

We had, Onua thought Did she change it ’cause she wants ot a home?

Soe brown eye It was a shaggy ray mare She was plump and well combed, and bore two packs easily

“Yours?” The girl nodded “How much would you ask for her?” Onua motioned to a pen filled with ponies at her back “I’m in the market”

“I can’t sell Cloud She’s faain Onua saw a flash of sorrow that was pushed aside

“What’s your naers into a pouch filled with a powder known as “eyebright”

“Daine, mum,” came the soft reply “Veralidaine Sarrasri”

The eyebright ical Gift “How old are you, Daine?”

“Fifteen” An aura of red fire, visible only to Onua, flared around the girl’s face The lie was a good one—she ht wryly—but a lie nevertheless She looked about thirteen

“Where are you from?”

“Snowsdale, up north About teeks’ walk”

There was no flare of red—she had told the truth Onua sighed “Are you a runaway? From home, or a bad master—”

“No, ot no family—just Cloud”

No red fire this ti, of the K’miri Raadeh”