Changespell Legacy by Doranna Durgin Page B

A sidepull, if you have it."
    "This isn't a training facility—we've got a couple of extra bridles, but no sidepulls. And that palomino's not going anywhere—"
    "That's our concern," Suliya said, but Jess said nothing, just looked at the man. After a long moment, he cursed and flung himself gracelessly down the aisle toward the tack room.
    Jess didn't care. She'd already put the man behind her, and Anfeald ahead of her.

Chapter 8
    L ady smelled the death long before they reached it.
    Smelled it and tasted it and felt the fear of it trickle through her withers and stiffen her back. Not death precisely . . . a wrongness with death twisted in. She tensed, jigging along the path with her neck raising, very little of the Jess-self present. A better understanding of speech, without the conceptual ability to process its complexity. A memory of her goals— return to Carey . An awareness of her alter-life, and an ability to return to it when she was ready. But for now . . . she was Lady. A smart, honest horse, straightforward in thought and action and just as wary of wrongness as any other horse, just as concerned. Just as needy for her rider's support.
    Suliya, feeling Lady's gaits shorten, clamped down on the reins, tightening her thighs around Lady's barrel. Lady knew better, she knew she wasn't trapped by those reins, by the unpleasant pressure on her tongue from this thick, unfamiliar bit . . . but anxiety tumbled in on top of wary tension. Ramble, his deep gold color hidden beneath a lighter winter coat, pale mane and tail floating in pampered thickness, tread close on her heels—crowding her, scenting her . . . occasionally snaking his neck as if to herd her, just as often nickering an invitation to admire his magnificence. Too preoccupied with Lady's presence to care about the inexperienced rider clinging to his saddle, and not yet caring about the wrongness they approached.
    A small covey of wood grouse burst into flight from the path-side brush; already anxious, Lady startled—not nearly as much as she wanted to, ever aware of her bareback rider. Still the bit jerked in her mouth— run from it —legs clamped around her barrel— run from it —and her rider's fearful stiffness pervaded Lady— run from it! She didn't. Legs spraddled, head flung high . . . she didn't.
    Bolting was against Carey's Rules.
    After a long moment, Suliya began to breathe again, probably never supposing that Lady could tell she wasn't, and that her failure to do so frightened Lady as much as anything. Her head still flung up against the pull of the reins, Lady nevertheless relaxed a fraction.
    Dayna said dryly, "Maybe we should walk the rest of the way to the damaged area."
    "She knows better," Suliya said, frustration pushing the breathless tension in her voice.
    "I've never," Dayna said, dismounting the palomino with a little stagger, "seen anyone pull on her mouth like that before. I don't mean the staying on part, I mean before it. And after. Don't think Jess won't remember when she changes back. Hell, that's why I'm not riding her in the first place."
    "She—" Suliya said, and stopped; after a moment, the discomfort of the bit eased, and Lady, reassured by Dayna's matter-of-fact behavior, lowered her head to huff a breath at the bush where the grouse had been.
    "They're gone," Dayna said, and gave her a pat on the neck. Suliya threw a leg over Lady's rump and slid down to land beside her, and Lady lowered her head far enough to give a relieved, mane-flapping shake.
    But she didn't relax completely. Not with the wrongness ahead, and Dayna leading the palomino toward it.
    Then Dayna, too, stopped short. "Burning hells," she said, her voice full of intricate human feeling.
    Surprise and fear and awe; Lady recognized them all, and her ears flicked forward and back in independent succession, listening to Dayna, listening for danger.
    "What is it?" Suliya flipped the reins over Lady's head, giving them an absent tug before Lady had a chance