Excerpt from Serenade of Blood & Silver

CHAPTER ONE

"Ngaari Baydi bodewol poyngol
Na laamna danewol girrayel Aayi
Nari dawla tiinde tilsaay
Sabu soodataake."

The song filtered faintly through the walls of the bedroom, but Saul was mighty grateful for it. The stench of sickness filled the room, and the curtains were drawn tight to keep out the afternoon sun. The warm, close air of the room weighed heavy on him. The song gave him something else to think on.

"No need to bedeck a face already lucky," the young voice sang, switching to a language Saul could understand, though he could hardly hear the words, "because beauty cannot be bought."

The hiss and spatter of burning sulfur drowned out the song.

Saul shifted his feet.

Madam Dorothy clicked her tongue impatiently, and he nearly jumped out of his skin. She stood so quietly by the bedroom door that he had forgotten she was there, though he couldn't think how. She was a small woman, and plain, but it took only a look at her cold gray eyes to know that you forgot her at your peril. She was the boss lady. She'd summoned him here, to the sickroom of the stableman whose job he'd taken over, temporary-like.

Saul tried to figure if she was displeased with him. Had he greeted her properly when he'd entered the room? He was as clumsy with proper folk as he was deft with a horse's reins, and he'd lost a passel of jobs because of it.

His shoulders relaxed when he remembered. He'd managed the proprieties before the sight of Lance lying on the rune-painted bed with the alchemist bending over him had driven all other thoughts from his head. Lance had been struggling so hard to breathe that he couldn't even greet Saul in return.

Madame Dorothy's tame alchemist threw more sulfur to burn on the spider stove under Lance's bed. Saul wondered why Madame Dorothy didn't hire on a competent herb-witch instead of an alchemist. She'd never struck him as a gambler.

Most everyone knew that alchemists weren't reliable. They were prone to playing with unstable elements without paying any attention to the folks around them. Sometimes they killed themselves in unsavory ways, sometimes they hurt a man who was just passing through, and sometimes, just sometimes, they turned sand into precious aluminum. Their incantations could ensorcell a man who listened too close, just by hinting that things didn't really have to be that way. Just a bit of concentration, some dust from a whirlwind, a clever counterweight system-- and life would be different. The pretty girl in town would smile at you, your pa's ranch hands would respect you, and the bad men in the saloon would buy you drinks. Hell, they might even vote you mayor.

There were always young fools who thought they were slick. A few of 'em even survived to be old fools. Madame Dorothy'd never struck Saul as a fool, neither.

"As you can see," she said, "Lance's fever hasn't passed yet."

"Yes, ma'am."

"I've spoken with the head stableman about how you've been getting on in the warded stable, Saul," she said.

"Yes, ma'am." His stomach felt like it had turned to lead.

"He says you've done a good job."

"Thank you, ma'am!"

"He said you have a good hand with the khel." She smiled, a brief curve of her lips that hardly warmed her face. "He told me you've been gentling the new black filly."

"Yes'm." Saul swallowed.

Lance's job in the warded stable was just grooming the tame horses, feeding them, and taking care of the inevitable result. Saul'd meant to keep to that, but when he'd seen the poor black filly smashing her hooves against her stall, his heart had gone out to her. He couldn't help himself. When he saw a creature in need, he just naturally did what he could to help 'em. He knew he'd overstepped his territory.

"I'm pleased," Madame Dorothy said.

Saul blinked. He gathered his courage enough to say, "She'd do well with a turn in the corral, ma'am. She's not able to run, and I think it's chafing at her."

Madame Dorothy's smile shifted to an expression he didn't recognize and then returned. "Soon," she said. "She needs horseshoes before I'll let her out of the warded stable. I don't want her trying to run and hurting herself. She's a valuable addition to my collection. None of the other ranch owners have anything like my collection, do they?"

"No'm," Saul mumbled.

It didn't set right with him to hear her talking about the khel that way, like they were just things to count up and hoard, things valuable only because nobody else had them. Khel were creatures of heart and will, from the commonest pony to the high-strung mare who had enough fey in her blood that her hoofs never touched the ground. They weren't things.

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