- •I brushed a trembling hand through my hair. What was going on? What happened? I was looking at the vases and…
- •I tore my eyes from the box and back to the—
- •I raised my eyebrow like Spock and waited.
- •I looked quickly at Suzanna. She was no damn help; her eyes were squeezed shut and her lips were moving in what looked like some kind of silent prayer. Jeesh.
- •I should have been nominated for some kind of Greco-Celtic Academy Award for Best Voluptuous Ascent to a Throne. God, it felt good to sit down.
- •I could see my door guards (yes, they did appear proportional) snap crisp sword salutes as the horses reached the doorway and entered the ro—
- •I could feel my jaw setting, but before I could respond, Alanna stepped in. Gracefully, she took my hand and helped me to my feet.
- •I had to clear my abused throat before I could squeak out an “I forgive you.”
- •In a formal, stilted voice he said, “Please excuse the interruption, my Lieutenant had matters of great import to discuss with me.”
- •I shut my eyes. Of course Dad wouldn’t want me to get hurt. If only it were that simple.
- •I opened my eyes. Seeing clearly—finally.
- •I looked at those high stirrups. And the tall mare. And considered my thirty-five-year-old body.
- •I mean riding a horse (one that’s actually alive) for several hours. Alternating between trot, canter, walk, back to trot. On a thirty-five-year-old butt. Without breakfast.
- •I reached down and patted her neck fondly. There are some things about this world that were just plain cool.
- •I sighed melodramatically and gave a big pretend sob while I wiped pretend tears from my eyes.
- •I just wanted to pee and then go back to sleep.
- •I closed my eyes and tried to relax, think, forget about my stomach and keep warm.
- •I straightened and took a step closer to Epi, hating the guilt he made me feel.
- •I swallowed a piece of cheese and took a quick drink of wine. “I had to see about my dad.”
- •I looked down at my half-eaten sandwich. “Are you still willing to take me there, knowing the creatures might be there?”
- •I felt a little like a mother whose four-year-old had just toddled happily off to preschool without her.
- •It was midmorning when I spied some lovely brush cover (and some soft-leafed plants) next to another stream that bisected our roadway.
- •I felt suddenly all Marilyn Monroe–like as my eyes went to half-mast and a moan escaped my lips.
- •I managed to moan some semblance of thanks.
- •I had to agree with him on that.
- •I had only taken a couple steps when I heard Dougal’s hooves thud behind me. I spoke over my shoulder to him.
- •In another world, he’s still alive.
- •I heard a snort of laughter from behind me.
- •I sniffed the air.
- •I swear, a rush of electricity shot from his teeth straight to my crotch.
- •I know it was unusual, but I didn’t know what to say.
- •I smiled at Dougal and saw him practically squirm with pleasure. If he had had a puppy’s tail, I’m sure it would’ve wagged vigorously—and he probably would’ve wet himself. He really was cute.
- •I translated that as centaur for “You’re full of crap.” But I acted as if I didn’t speak the lingo.
- •I curled my body around him and snuggled against his warmth.
- •I nodded my yes against his chest.
- •I didn’t see any fish frying. But I still smelled cooking food.
- •It took a moment for me to realize they were waiting for my permission.
- •I even managed to wave. Thank God I’ve watched a lot of pbs specials about The Royal Family.
- •I had to interrupt her. “Alanna, I can’t stand this ‘my Lady’ stuff. Can’t you call me something else?”
- •I squeezed her hands and turned back around. “At least she was a smart slut.”
- •I opened my mouth to interrupt.
- •I tried not to babble incoherently and to remember that I was dressing for my husband, not for a spot on a tv evangelism program.
- •I nodded at her to go on.
- •I shivered, remembering the weird mirror vision of myself I had glimpsed in the pot as it burst into a fiery ball.
- •I rubbed my fingers and took a wary half step away from it.
- •I blinked in surprise. “No, I didn’t know.”
- •I looked at Alanna and sighed. “Alanna, pour yourself some wine and sit here with me.”
- •I’m telling you, this guy could go on a lecture/training circuit and make a fortune teaching the Non-Octopus Technique to semi-bald, divorced, middle-aged men.
- •Intrigued, I nodded.
- •I smiled but felt the definite stirrings of nervousness.
- •I like to think I’ve attracted my share of men, but one hundred guards is just plain gluttonous.
- •I turned and began beating a hasty retreat down the empty hall.
- •I heard a ripple in the crowd. Suddenly, centaurs surrounded us and members of my guard were rushing from the temple to join them.
- •I took all of this in, but I found it hard to stop staring at the doctor. I knew this man, or perhaps I should say I knew this man’s mirror image—very well.
- •I turned back to face ClanFintan and tugged on his arm until he bent for my quick kiss.
- •I frowned at her. “Don’t worry about it. It just means she’s crazy about him, too.” She looked like that explanation helped. “You two aren’t married in this world?”
- •I shrugged. “Whatever, but we might be here for a while, so feel free to sit and pour yourself some wine. After all, grapes are my favorite breakfast fruit.”
- •I looked at Alanna’s worried face and sighed. “I can’t do this anymore,” I said to her. My eyes sought ClanFintan’s. “I don’t want to lie to you anymore.”
- •I returned his smile before looking nervously back at ClanFintan.
- •I wanted to throw my arms around him and bury my face in his heat, but I could feel Alanna’s and Carolan’s eyes boring joyfully into our romantic interlude.
- •I shouldn’t have been surprised. I already knew he was a biter.
- •I kissed him lightly on the cheek.
- •I felt ClanFintan’s startled reaction, which made me remember that the map that zapped me had shown all the land to the east of the river as centaur lands.
- •I remembered their horrible, ground-eating strides and had to agree with him.
- •I tried not to get distracted by the lovely image he was painting, and the thought of what it might look like now.
- •I searched my memory, wishing the biology electives I had taken in college hadn’t been ten-plus years ago.
- •I smiled my thanks at her before turning back to Carolan. “Well, what do we need to do?”
- •I found myself suddenly encompassed within the centaur’s strong arms.
- •I swear, underneath the layer of sweat and yuck he blushed. “Perhaps it has slipped my mind.”
- •It was the assistant who had been sent to get the dead child’s parents. I could see the shadowed forms of two people standing behind her in the hallway. I squared my shoulders and walked toward them.
- •I complied happily, resting my forearms against the ledge on which I had been sitting. He swept my hair out of the way and began rubbing soap all over the back of my body.
- •I remembered his little tкte-а-tкte with my guards and grinned. “You won’t have to.”
- •I rejoined Alanna, pulled the robe over my head and walked down the stone stairs into the warm pool to give myself a quick morning bath.
- •I smiled at his accented pronunciation.
- •I studied her face, thinking I saw a familiar expression.
- •Victoria caught my eye and raised her eyebrows at me. “I know a young centaur who would be happy to be our runner.”
- •I mean, please, I am an English teacher. Some things just aren’t acceptable.
- •I frowned and continued to dry myself.
- •I gulped and tried not to look worried.
- •I snuggled comfortably against him. “Are you sure it was just me? I think you cast some kind of spell or something.”
- •I wriggled around, pressing myself against his hard chest so that I could breathe in his ear, “Why not?”
- •I smiled at him and patted his arm like he was a cross between a teenager and a puppy. “Thank you, Dougal. It’s perfect.”
- •I thought poor Dougal might faint.
- •I laughed, but my eyes gravitated to my husband’s handsome profile. As if he felt my gaze, he turned his head in my direction and smiled warmly from across the fire.
- •It was wide and sturdy, and I didn’t have any trouble balancing on it. I looked at him and grinned happily.
- •I playfully slapped his hand away and smiled through my eggs. “You’re so fresh.”
- •I turned my face into the breeze, shaking out my own hair, liking the way it was lifted off my shoulders. I breathed deeply, stretching my sore muscles, and…
- •I closed my eyes and whispered, “Please don’t make me go down there.”
- •I had the disconcerting feeling that she knew who I was. On impulse I slid off ClanFintan’s back, and took her hand in mine, squeezing it warmly.
- •I leaned over and whispered to ClanFintan, “Isn’t Terpsichore the Muse that danced at our handfast?”
- •I tried more delicious food than I could keep count of, then, satisfied, I leaned back against my husband’s warm chest to enjoy the talent of the Muses, and the delicious quality of their red wine.
- •Vic covered his hand with her own. “Fight the battle with a clear mind, my friend. I will protect Rhea with my life.”
- •I took the small telescope and tried to thank her, but she had already moved away and was speaking to a group of nervous young girls.
- •I heard the Huntress directly behind me, I think her name was Elaine, snort a quick laugh at my response. Nope—they sure didn’t act nervous.
- •I slid off her back, and Vic opened the door. Sila was in the middle of the room, helping patients from their beds and onto thick blanket-like pallets. She looked up as we entered.
- •I almost called her Michelle, but caught myself in time.
- •I saw that Terpsichore was walking purposefully to stand by the dark woman’s side. She looked serene and lovely and spoke in a calm, unhurried voice.
- •In response, Dougal unsheathed his claymore, and Victoria pulled her crossbow and quiver from the sling at her side.
- •I went back to work on his cuts. He stood quietly, and soon I was able to lather in the salve. That done, I reluctantly moved to the rear of his body.
- •I saw Dougal flush in happy surprise. When Vic finally raised her eyes to meet his, I thought I detected an unaccustomed shyness in her gaze.
- •I pulled one foot up, and put it out in front of me, set it down—
- •I brushed some of the clinging sand from his face, then kissed the spot I had cleaned.
- •I jerked upright.
- •I smiled at him, but ClanFintan didn’t hesitate in his pace.
- •I stepped into Alanna’s arms, returning her embrace.
- •I took a long drink, focusing on getting the trembling inside me under control.
- •I looked away, unable to watch their agony.
- •I nodded against his chest and sent up another plea to the Goddess for her to watch after the mare.
- •I could see Alanna was putting on a brave face, and I smiled in response.
- •I shrugged my shoulders in a nonchalant way. “When isn’t it in my way?”
- •I tried to come up with a pithy reply, but in actuality I was relieved when Victoria’s voice cut through the need for any further words.
- •I saw the familiar figure of Victoria firing off arrows quickly, each finding its deadly mark. Between loading and shooting, her attention suddenly wavered, and she met my gaze.
- •I pulled my attention from Alanna and what was happening around me. Instead, I listened to my heart, or maybe, more accurately, my soul.
- •It seemed the mare battled on that small hill for time unending, but my mind knew logically that only minutes had passed before dark, winged shapes completely surrounded us.
- •In the middle of my thought I felt the tremor that passed through my body as it became semivisible. I mentally crossed my fingers that I was doing the right thing.
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I looked at those high stirrups. And the tall mare. And considered my thirty-five-year-old body.
Great. Now I have to pretend to be Ms. Athletic.
Wait—no, all I have to pretend to be is Ms. Bitch. And some people would say that was not much of a pretense.
“Well, someone help me mount!” Damn, I sounded hateful. Smile. Without hesitating, I strode forward (relishing a true John Wayne moment), grabbed a fistful of silver mane and lifted my foot (hoping a nymph would catch it and give me a boost up). Thank God one did, and I scrambled aboard, sticking my other foot in the empty stirrup and squaring my shoulders.
But now I didn’t know which way was out.
“Well, open the gate for me!” I seemed to be catching on to this pretend-to-be-a-bitch stuff pretty easily.
One of the nymphs scampered toward a door at the far side of the mare’s stall, and another nymph scrambled to open a seamless exit in the outer wall of the temple. I clucked twice with my tongue on the side of my teeth (in what I hoped was the universal horse noise for giddyup) and the wonderful mare moved forward. Just before I went through the last opened door, I pulled her to a halt and spoke over my shoulder to the servants.
“Thank you. You may go back to your beds now. Sleep late, I will care for the mare myself when I return.” I squeezed my thighs against the soft saddle blanket and leaned forward. The mare broke into a rolling canter.
We were out of the castle and on our way. The moon was still high and bright, so visibility was pretty darn good. I pulled the mare up so that I could look around and attempt to figure out just where the hell I was, and then I would theoretically know where the hell I should be going. The first thing I noticed was that the temple had been built strategically on the top of a hilly rise, and the grounds around it, although lush and green, were clear of trees. The temple itself was a huge circle, stately and rich-looking with marbled columns and a rushing fountain situated square in the foreground (some kind of giant horse rising from a fake ocean with what looked like hot mineral water spewing from several orifices—very Trevi Fountain–like).
I tried to look at the building with a soldier’s eye, and I could see what ClanFintan had meant by it being built for defense. The biggest clue to that was the huge wall that encircled it. The wall looked thick and impenetrable, and the top of it had the stereotypical toothlike balustrades, complete with a battlement that would be a great place to situate archers (or sunbathers, whichever the current conditions of war or not-war called for). And the wall wasn’t just solid, I noticed with a start of surprise, it was beautiful. It looked as if it had been built of one solid slab of enormous cream-colored marble. In the moonlight it gave off an otherworldly glow. I realized that if you took away the outer wall, the temple itself would have reminded me of the Pantheon in Rome, only the top didn’t have a hole in it.
The reflection of the moon on water drew my attention to the river, which looped around and behind the temple—not so close it would flood, but close enough that barges could dock nearby. It was a convenient setup. If it weren’t for those horrible flesh-eating man-creature things, this would be a very nice place to live.
Which reminded me that instead of sitting there all slack-jawed like a Japanese tourist at the Vatican, I should be following that river to the sea. I had more important things to do than gawk at a pretty temple. And I damn sure didn’t have a camera with me. I mean, please, where would I get the film developed?
I headed the mare toward the river, glad that the night was so clear and quiet. I knew that somewhere inside the temple ClanFintan was rousing the centaurs and giving them instructions to start bringing the people to safety, so I leaned forward and squeezed my knees, urging the mare into a smooth gallop. It wouldn’t do to be caught out here in the open and have to go through some horribly embarrassing public power play about what I’ve been up to. Plus, I might very well lose. Rhiannon’s power seemed impressive, but I wondered how far it would extend if my desires were at odds with what was considered safe for Epona’s Beloved.
Soon, the mare’s gallop brought us to the riverbank, and I turned her to the west. The river itself was impressive. I had no way of telling how deep it was, but it was wide and the current was swift. It had a nice smell, not fishy and muddy like the Mississippi, but clear and rocky like the Colorado River. Trees lined the banks and I was relieved to see that the mare had picked out a small path, probably some kind of deer trail, which ran parallel with the bank. There wasn’t so much underbrush that she couldn’t have made her way without the path, but this made things quicker and easier. And I sure didn’t want to ride down the road that I had glimpsed from the temple. It seemed to head in the general direction I wanted to go, but it looked like it was pretty well used. Not that it was a four-lane highway, but I was fairly sure that at first light it would be crowded with centaurs and people—and, please. Like they wouldn’t notice Epona’s Beloved trotting along on her shimmery silver mare?
Speaking of my beautiful mare, I pulled her up from a gallop. She looked like she was in great shape, but we had two hard days of traveling, and no horse could keep up a gallop for two days. Patting her silky neck I relaxed and found my seat as she settled into a smooth, ground-eating trot.
“Hey, sweet girl, what does Rhiannon call you?” Her delicate ears cocked back attentively at the sound of my voice. “I can’t keep calling you The Mare, it’s rude. It’s like someone calling me The Woman, or considering my attitude lately, The Bitch.” She tossed her head in obvious agreement. And in this world, you never knew, maybe she could understand my words. “Clearly, everyone calls you Epona, but that sounds too formal and stuffy for me.” I reached forward and mussed her mane. “How about if I call you Epi? It might not be as dignified, but in my world dignified is usually synonymous with what politicians try to appear to be.” I didn’t think she’d be interested in a depressing lecture on the downslide of modern American politics, but it might be a long two days and I filed the story away to tell her about later—if I got really desperate for topics.
Her sassy snort and a little prance to the side were answer enough for me. “Epi it is.”
I let my fingers trail through her soft mane and settled back for a long ride. It was clear from the start that Epi was not one of those horses who need a lot of her rider’s attention. She was smart and well able to trot forward along the path without me guiding and coaxing. So I settled back and took in the scenery. It certainly was pretty country. Between the trees I caught glimpses of homes dotting the scenic land. They looked well kept and adorably thatched, although thinking about all the bugs that lived in the thatching dispelled some of my romanticizing.
Between cottages stretched acres of vineyards and fields filled with crops, I think I recognized corn and beans, but I couldn’t be sure in the moonlight. Once in a while I’d notice some sleepy animals, mostly cows and sheep with an occasional horse thrown in—and I was impressed and appreciative that Epi didn’t neigh like a common mare. Every so often I could see the moonlight reflect off the road as it snaked between homesteads, keeping in a generally northwesterly direction, but it was pretty far away and I felt well concealed by the trees.
All in all it was a nice night. I guess some people (sissies) would be scared at the thought of being alone out in the middle of who-knows-where, but I have never been afraid of the dark and never been scared of being alone. True, my destination was daunting, and I wasn’t even entirely sure what the hell I was actually going to do when (if) I got there, but I was Scarlett O’Hara–ing that, so it wasn’t hard, with me deeply entrenched in denial, to find joy in a clear, lovely night ride.
Gradually it became lighter. At about the same time the trees started to become more dense and the path less defined. Epi didn’t seem worried about it, so I let her pick her own path, and we gravitated toward the rocky riverbank. That horse-sense thing can really come in handy. Also, about this time I realized that I had ridden off, all Bitchy and In Charge, without giving one tiny thought to things like breakfast, lunch, dinner, water or toilet paper. Who knew what time it was, but by the time the sun was peeping over the top of the trees my butt and my stomach were both telling me that we had been riding “a while.”
In Okie slang, “a while” ranges from five hours to five days. My mind said I had probably been riding about five hours. My butt and stomach said they were sure it had been five days. And let’s face it, my butt and stomach are bigger than my mind, so they won.
Well, at least I knew where I could get some water. I could lithely dismount, lead Epi down to the sparkling river and (much like John Wayne) get a cool, refreshing drink. Maybe I’d even walk for a while and let Epi take a break.
Easier thought than done.
Have you ever ridden for “a while?” And I don’t mean round and round in a little corral while a riding instructor beams encouragement. And I don’t mean paying fifty bucks an hour to sit on a horse that could probably be declared clinically dead, following fifteen other Nags of the Walking Dead on an Authentic Trail Ride. Which lasts exactly thirty-five and one-half minutes.