Before Karigan could reply, the professor intervened. “Kari, this is Dr. Silk, a colleague of mine in the field of archeology.” The way he said the word “colleague” made it sound like an epithet.
“And I trust this is your niece, Miss Goodgrave, who has so recently joined your household.”
“It is.”
Dr. Silk extended a black-gloved hand to her. It rotated unnaturally on his wrist, emitting a low whirring sound, then came to a stop with a distinct snick. The stallion tossed his head, and it took all Karigan had not to recoil from the man. Instead, she turned to the horse to quiet him, but still, Dr. Silk’s hand remained extended. He raised a silver gray eyebrow over the rim of one of his lenses, the darkness of the glass seeming to billow like storm clouds or a swirling void.
The professor passed her an imploring look. Reluctantly she placed her hand in Dr. Silk’s. Although his grasp was firm, it did not feel unlike any other hand she’d ever held. Perhaps she’d only imagined the unnatural motion, the noise.
Dr. Silk bowed over their clasped hands. “It is a pleasure to meet you.” He smiled and released her, and the moment passed.
The two men stared at one another like cats, though the professor was probably at a disadvantage, unable to see Dr. Silk’s eyes. Karigan absently stroked the bay’s neck, his flesh quivering beneath her touch.
“Kari,” the professor said, without averting his gaze, “give the lead rope to Dr. Silk.”
Karigan felt her hackles rise. The bay snorted. She could not let this horse back into the possession of those who would abuse him. Karigan was about to argue, when Dr. Silk spoke.
“Perhaps we can come to some accord. I have brought Samson to market because he’s unmanageable. He’s already killed one of my hostlers. I thought perhaps if no one else would buy him today, maybe the meat men would. A pity, for he is a fine specimen of a horse.”
“Knackers?” Karigan demanded, her hand tightening on the lead rope.
“Precisely.” A faint smile fluttered on his lips. “A terrible shame.”
Karigan found herself staring at her own reflection in his specs, though the cloudy darkness of the glass seemed to swallow it.
He returned his gaze to the professor, and Karigan exhaled in relief. “Seeing as your niece and Samson have taken to one another, perhaps he need not face slaughter after all.”
“What are you saying?” the professor demanded. “That I buy this beast from you?”
“For a very reasonable price.”
“I don’t need—”
“Uncle,” she said hastily. She grabbed his arm, squeezing it to make sure she had his full attention. “Please, this horse, he’s special.”
“Kari, he’s killed a man.”
“You wouldn’t know by looking at him now,” Dr. Silk said. “Harmless as a kitten in your niece’s hands.”
The bay watched the exchange with ears perked, head lowered beside Karigan so she could pet him. Nothing about him indicated danger.
“In fact,” Dr. Silk continued, “your niece appears to have a calming effect on him. It’d be a waste to send him to slaughter, but if that is what I must do, that’s what I’ll do. You are the one who will have to contend with your niece’s broken heart.”
Karigan would use the bonewood on anyone who tried to take the horse away from her, even if it meant ending the whole charade and losing the professor’s protection. This horse, he was not ordinary, in fact . . . Well, she couldn’t swear on it, but . . . “He’s special,” she said again to the professor, trying to impress it upon him with all her will.
“See? She’s already attached,” Dr. Silk said. “And my price is reasonable.”
The professor stared hard at Karigan. She tried to gaze meaningfully at him through her veil. He frowned, made a noise of exasperation, then nodded to himself as if coming to some conclusion and began negotiating.
She sighed in relief. The connection she felt with this horse was so like the one she shared with her own Condor, the quiet intelligence that went beyond an ordinary horse. She could only conclude that the big bay stallion was of the same lineage as all Green Rider horses, and that maybe magic was not completely dead in the world after all.
WATER POWER
It was clear to Karigan from the outset that the two men were enemies, or at the very least, rivals, as she watched them dicker over the price of Raven. If the professor had hackles, they’d be standing right up. Dr. Silk remained cool even as the professor smoldered. The image of a pair of predators came to mind, pacing around each other, snapping and growling in a dominance display, for all that they spoke in polite terms and behaved cordially.
“I will accept four gold dragons,” Dr. Silk said suddenly.
The tension eased in the professor’s shoulders.
“I will accept four gold dragons and one other thing.”
The professor instantly tensed again. “What? Four gold dragons is absolute thievery for a problem horse. What else could you possibly want?”
Dr. Silk turned his gaze on Karigan, a tight smile on his lips, the sun flashing on the rims of his specs. “Why, a promise that you’ll bring your delightful niece around for a visit. That, or the horse goes to the meat men.”
Karigan watched the professor struggle with himself. The restraints of this society likely did not permit an outright refusal, and she had a notion of him trying to find an adequately polite way out and to suffer defeat without losing face. He would let Raven go to the knackers after all, just to prevent her from calling on Dr. Silk. She tightened her grip on Raven’s lead rope. She could not allow that to happen.