The King's Deryni by Katherine Kurtz Page B

household.
    Tesselin snorted. “Oh, ponies have their uses, even for grown men. There’s nothing better in rugged mountains. Of course, I come from that kind of country.”
    â€œWell, so do they—Duncan, at least,” Llion replied. “Still, I suppose it was time—and you saw how Alaric performed at the tournament. Nor was Duncan far behind, and neither of them yet eight.”
    â€œAye, they’re fearless at this age,” Tesselin said with a chuckle. “But ponies are small and quick and maneuverable—and closer to the ground. There’s more scope for error on a full-sized mount.”
    â€œTrue enough.” Llion scanned ahead, where the boys had been joined by one of the squires. “But somehow, I don’t think there will be much difference, once they’re riding full-sized horses regularly.” He glanced aside at Tesselin with a sly grin. “Remember, I’ve been training Alaric since he was four; I know what he can do.”
    Tesselin shrugged amiably. “You may be right. Still, it’s a transition all of us have had to make.”
    â€¢Â Â Â â€¢Â Â Â â€¢
    F OR Alaric and Duncan, the initial headiness of embarking upon their first almost-adult adventure had settled into tedium by the second day, underlined by increasing physical discomfort. While they had been thrilled to be given full-sized mounts for the journey, and had sat their horses proudly as they headed north along the river, it soon became abundantly clear that there was a vast difference between a few hours of riding for pleasure, or even for training, and spending hour after hour in the saddle, mile after mile and day after day. Llion and Tesselin halted the party every few hours to rest the horses and allow their riders to get down and stretch cramped limbs, but by the second day, the boys were finding it increasingly difficult to summon up serious enthusiasm when it was time to remount and press on.
    â€œI suppose it just takes practice,” Alaric murmured aside to Duncan, on one such occasion midway through the second day, as they watched two of their escort knights cinch up the horses’ girths again, getting ready to resume travel. “It doesn’t seem to bother the men.”
    Duncan nodded, rubbing surreptitiously at his backside. “I think those saddles are too big for us,” he replied. “We were used to our old saddles.”
    â€œYes, but our saddles are pony saddles,” Alaric pointed out reasonably. “They’re too small for these horses.”
    â€œThat’s true,” Duncan agreed. “My da says it’s always better to have a sore backside than for your horse to have a sore back.”
    â€œAye, my da says that, too.”
    As they walked back over to the horses in question, Llion came to join them.
    â€œAll right, lads. Ready for a leg up?”
    Both boys put on stoic faces and accepted the offered assistance, settling gingerly into saddles as they resigned themselves to several more hours before they would stop for the night.
    â€¢Â Â Â â€¢Â Â Â â€¢
    T HEY stopped that night at the manor house of a minor baron called Murchison, whose lady provided them with simple but plentiful fare before they bedded down in the stable loft. The boys slept reasonably well in the sweet-smelling hay, but every muscle of legs and backs protested as they clambered down the next morning to break their fast.
    But they knew better than to complain. Both boys hoped to see Duke Andrew a final time. Fortunately, their initial stiffness slowly subsided to a dull ache as they worked sore muscles and settled into their usual pace, though conversation was sparse, each rider alone with his thoughts.
    The long hours in the saddle allowed Alaric ample time for his own contemplation, often on matters far different than any of his adult companions or even his cousin might imagine. Often he found himself thinking