Prince of the Icemark by Stuart Hill Read Free Book Online Page A

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    “I don’t know,” Redrought replied. “He seems interested in the horse for some reason. I wonder . . . he is a witch’s cat. Perhaps he can do something.”
    “He’s a cat ,” the Royal Adviser said, summing up all her disbelief, distaste and distrust in the one phrase.
    “I know, I know, but just wait a moment.”
    Cadwalader continued to mutter to himself, then he stood and let out a loud yowl. The horse’s ears flicked slightly, but the muzzle still drooped. The cat stalked forward slowly and yowled again, his eyes seeming almost to glow as the sunlight glinted in their depths. The horse’s muzzle rose, but then drooped again.
    “All he’s doing is annoying the animal,” Kahin went on. “He’s likely to get squished if he’s not careful.”
    “Just give him a moment. I want to see what happens,” Redrought insisted, and watched closely as Cadwalader walked slowly around to the shoulder of the horse, then suddenly leapt onto its back.
    If the creature hadn’t been the King’s cat, the horse trader would have grabbed it by the scruff of its neck and thrown it into the nearest pile of dung. But as it was, all he could do was watch as it stalked up the gracefully arching neck of the war horse and forced its muzzle into one of the flicking ears.The small audience of King, horse traders and Royal Adviser could hear the cat’s muttering voice, muffled by a large black ear. Then Cadwalader let out a sudden wailing screech that echoed back from the surrounding buildings.
    The world erupted into a tangle of flailing hooves and outraged screaming as the horse reared up onto its hind legs. Redrought leapt backwards, falling in a heap and dragging Kahin with him, and the traders scrambled in all directions.
    Cadwalader jumped lightly to the ground, and calmly walked round to sit facing the horse as its hooves crashed down. But it didn’t rear again; it simply shook its head as though shaking off troublesome flies and then whickered down its nose as it looked around at its surroundings for the first time. Eventually its eyes moved down to where Cadwalader sat between its front hooves. It whickered again and lowered its muzzle to snuff gently at the cat, who returned the greeting by rubbing his cheek against the horse’s soft nose.
    “I think you’ve got your stallion back,” said Redrought to the horse trader, as he helped Kahin to her feet. “That in itself has got to be worth a discount. Just see it as a bonus and knock it off the price.”
    “You’re not buying that one, surely?!” Kahin puffed. “It’s scarred and battered and you don’t even know how it’ll react in battle! It might bolt or freeze or try to throw you!”
    The young King slowly approached the stallion, which now stood, head raised, snuffling the air and looking around at the sights and sounds of the market. “He’ll be just fine. Him and me know exactly what it’s like to face battle and lose something of yourself to the blood and the killing. But the next time he faces it, he’ll have me with him.”
    Kahin looked at the boy who represented the last desperatedefence of his people, and saw something beyond the usual earthy physical creature he was. She saw the mystery of the rule of kings and queens. They governed the people with absolute power, they lived in luxury and possessed huge wealth. But in times of crisis they were called upon to lead in battle and even to lay down their lives for the people they governed. This was the covenant between ruler and ruled. Failure meant death, and the loss of the respect and love of the people could lead to revolution and even execution. But success meant adulation and deep reverence, and could lead the people to believe that their monarch was special, precious, even someone or something that was almost other than human. Kahin could see this now in Redrought’s certainty that the scarred stallion would face battle bravely, and she could see it also in the self-possession of the