Prince of the Icemark by Stuart Hill Read Free Book Online

if my soldiers inspect them, then,” the young King said, and nodded to the troopers without waiting for an answer.
    The soldiers now spread out and began to select horses randomly for inspection. Redrought watched them for a while,then turned to Kahin. “What do you think? Shall we go and find something for me to ride?”
    “I thought that was the entire purpose of the exercise,” she answered sharply, as the stench of horse dung continued to defeat her perfumed handkerchief.
    “Really? I thought it was to rebuild the cavalry. And besides, the only reason you’re here is to make sure we don’t overspend.”
    Kahin didn’t deny his words and she trotted after him as he led the way deep into the horsy throng. The Polypontian merchants followed along, and soon Redrought was at the head of an unlikely procession of one stern old lady and a gaggle of fawning horse traders. There was an addition to the party when a large black shadow slunk along the ground and clambered up Redrought’s legs before finally settling on his shoulder.
    “Cadwalader! I wish you wouldn’t use me as a sodding ladder!” his owner said, rubbing his calf where a set of sharp claws had found a foothold. The cat meowed throatily and rubbed his head against his master’s cheek, and Redrought’s mood immediately softened. “Aw, that’s all right, you big thmelly puthy cat, just be more careful next time.” Cadwalader may have looked like a slightly smaller version of the giant black hunting cats that were supposed to haunt the jungles of the Southern Continent, but he and Redrought were already becoming inseparable. As Kahin said, they were kindred spirits: large, powerful and at times, less than hygienic.
    The King continued a loving dialogue with the cat as they wound their way through the pickets of tethered animals, completely oblivious of the glances the horse traders wereexchanging. But he suddenly stopped in front of a black horse that had deep scars along its flanks and haunches. “What happened here, then?”
    The traders’ spokesman bustled up. “That’s Romulus. Used to be one of our finest stud stallions, and a brave war horse too, but then . . .” He paused as he realised he was probably about to talk himself out of a sale.
    Redrought turned to him. “Well?”
    The horse trader shrugged and went on. “A party of werewolves crossed the border one night. My stud farm is less than an hour’s ride away and they obviously saw it as a good hunting ground. Romulus was in the largest paddock with his herd of mares and foals . . . We don’t know exactly what happened, but we found him the next morning badly wounded and with the corpses of three werewolves under his hooves. None of the mares or foals were touched.”
    “Hah, a true warrior, then,” said Redrought appreciatively. “It takes a brave horse to stand up to the Wolf-folk.”
    “Yes, My Lord,” the trader agreed. “But ever since that day, his spirit has deserted him. It’s as if his mind has turned in on itself and he hardly functions at all.”
    The King fell silent for a moment, remembering his own reaction to the horror of battle, before the witch, White Annis, had put him into the healing sleep that had restored his mind. “So why did you bring him on this trip?”
    “I hoped that the changing world and new sights and sounds would bring him back from . . . from wherever it is he’s gone to. But so far . . .” He shrugged expressively.
    Redrought nodded, but before he could say anything, Kahin interrupted his thoughts. “Well, there’s no point in wasting our time with this old crock. There are plenty ofothers to choose from.”
    He was about to answer when Cadwalader leapt down from his shoulder and positioned himself directly beneath the drooping muzzle of the black horse. The cat’s eyes narrowed and he began to mutter to himself in a series of muted squalls and groans.
    “What’s the animal doing?” Kahin asked in exasperation, impatient to get