The Blue Sword

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

 
The next morning they left the Madamer Gate, to go back down the mountain as they had come. The little troop was less than half what it had been the morning before, and it moved more slowly, from weariness, wounds and ... a slight feeling of anticlimax, Harry thought. She had a foul headache. Every step Sungold took struck like a mallet behind her eyes, and her vision sparkled with it. "Does one always feel a bit lost, the day after a battle?" she asked Jack, who was riding somewhat stiffly at her side. Draco had suffered a cut over his poll, and the headpiece of the bridle was paddled with a bit of blue cloth.
"Yes," he said. "Even when you win."
They rode gently but steadily all that day. That evening Harry said to Kentarre: "You may leave now, if you wish, to go home. I - we're all grateful for your help. It's very likely we would not have held them off even long enough for - for Gonturan to drop the mountains on them, without you. And," Harry said more hesitantly, "it is also good to find another friend and ally."
Kentarre smiled. She smiled much more easily now than she had when she and her archers first stepped out of the trees to pledge to Harimad-sol; and Harry didn't think it was only because the threat of the Northerners had been halted. "It is good to find a friend, lady, as you say, and it is ill to lose one too soon. We would follow you still, and see your king, and give you a little more glory at your return. I think perhaps we filanon have held alone in our woods too long; and without you, Harimad-sol, we would have no homes now to go back to. We were Damarians not so very long ago, and our fathers called Corlath's fathers king. We would go with you." Four of her archers had materialized out of the firelight to stand beside her when she began to speak, and they nodded. One wore a white rag around his forehead, and it covered one eyebrow, which gave him a puzzled uncertain look; but there was no uncertainty in his sharp nod.
Harry looked unhappily at her hands. "I - I'm not sure it would be wise of you to come to Corlath on my heels, calling me sol. I came here - left him and his army and his battle plans - expressly against his wishes, and I think it more than likely that I'm riding into trouble, as I choose to go back. I - er - applaud the idea that you should declare yourselves as Damarians again, but I - well - highly recommend that you make your own path to Corlath, without me."
Kentarre did not seem surprised by Harry's words; but then Terim or Senay must have told her the story. "Your Corlath I think is not a fool, and it would be foolish to treat with less than great honor the one who buried Thurra and thousands of his army. We will come with you, and if he turns you away, we will still come with you. You are welcome here," Kentarre said with a wave of her hand and a faint musical clatter of the blue beads around her wrist. "You need not go into exile homeless."
Harry said nothing. She found that she was too tired to argue, and too grateful for their loyalty, for she was simply afraid of what she was returning to - afraid mainly because she realized how desperately she wanted to be able to go back. It was true, Corlath would be forced to honor her as the cause of Thurra's downfall, for he was no fool and he was a very honorable king; but she did not want him forced. "Very well," she said at last; "let it be as you wish." Kentarre bowed, a brief graceful sweep. "Thank you," said Harry.
"It is my honor to follow Harimad-sol," said Kentarre.
Jack smiled at Harry as she knelt down again by their fire, and was swarmed over by Narknon, who seemed in her own way to be as shaken by the mountains' falling as the human beings had been. "We cling to you like leeches," he said, and she looked at him in surprise. "Or so I believe was the gist of your conversation just now."
Harry nodded.
"So perhaps this is a good time to warn you that Richard and I and our lot are planning to come too - throw ourselves at the mercy of your Hill-king. There's nothing at home for us. And um - " he turned his hands over to warm the backs of them by the fire, and stared at his callused palms - "we'd like to."
"But - "
"You'll only be able to talk us out of it with an extraordinary amount of effort, because any reason you may come up with we will immediately assume has to do with your praiseworthy desire to spare us pain or trouble, and we are quite selfishly set on riding east on your heels. And we none of us have the strength for protracted arguing anyway, yourself included. And I may be old and stiff and sore, but I'm wonderfully stubborn."
There was a pause. "Very well," said Harry.
Richard, at Jack's left hand, poked the fire with a stick. "That was easier than I was expecting," he said. Jack smiled mysteriously.
They came to Senay's village the next day, and they were met with a feast. Senay's father explained: "We felt the mountain fall three days ago, for the earth shook under us and ash blew over us. The air felt brighter afterward, and so we knew it had gone well for you."
"The dust was blue," said Rilly.
"And it is a three days' ride to the Gate from here, so we expected you," the young woman, Rilly's mother and Senay's father's second wife, explained; and Senay's father, Nandam, said: "Hail to Harimad-sol, Wizard-Tamer, Hurler of Mountains."
"Oh dear," said Harry in Homelander, and Jack snorted and coughed, and Richard demanded to be let in on the joke. But when the platters, heavy and steaming, were passed, she decided that fame had its advantages. She had not eaten so well since she had sat at the banquet that made her a Rider ... with Corlath ...
The next morning, to her dismay, Nandam appeared with a tall black horse with one white foot. "I will come with you," he said. "This leg has made me useless in battle, but I am not without honor, and Corlath knew me of old, for Senay is not the first to ride to the king of the City from my family and my mountain. I will ride in your train too, Wizard-Tamer."
Harry winced. "But - " It was her favorite word of late.
"I know," said Nandam. "Senay told me. It is why I will come."
They avoided the fort of the Outlander town, lying peacefully in the sun, untroubled by the tiresome tribal matters of the old Damarians. The Outlanders had known all along there were too few of the Hillfolk to make serious trouble; and if the earth had shivered slightly underfoot a few days ago, it must be that the mountains were not so old as they thought, and were still shifting and straining against their place upon the earth. Perhaps a little volcanic activity would crack a new vein of wealth, and the Aeel Mines would no longer be the only reason the Outlanders went into the Ramid Mountains.
Jack looked rather broodingly toward the iron-bound wall inside which he had spent most of the last eighteen years. He caught Harry looking at him and said: "Anything there waiting for me is something on the order of 'Confine yourself to quarters while we decide what to do with you - poor man, the desert was too much for him and he finally went bonkers.' I'm not going back."
Harry smiled faintly. "I botched it, you know. If I'd known what I was doing, I could have gone alone, quietly dropped half a mountain range where it would do the most good - "
"And ridden off into a cloud, never to be heard of again," said Jack. "I sometimes think the blind devotion - or the press of numbers - of your loyal followers is all that is sending you back to your king at all."
Harry stared unseeingly at the horizon of her beloved Hills, and she remembered Aerin's words, and that Dickie had called her back to this world just a little too soon.
"Is he really such an ogre?" Jack went on. "Don't you want to go back?"
Harry turned and looked back at the smudge on the golden-grey sands that was Istan. "No, he is not an ogre. And, yes, I want to go back - very much. That is why I am afraid."
Jack looked at her; she could feel his gaze on her, but she would not meet his eyes.
The trip back, Harry thought unhappily less than three days later, seemed a lot shorter than the trip away; and this in spite of the fact that they were moving slowly for the sake of their wounded, who had resisted staying in Nandam's village to be healed and demanded to come with them. "They don't want to miss out on any of the fun," Jack said apologetically, as if it were all his fault.
"Fun?" she said, exasperated.
"Your attitude is perhaps a little unnecessarily rigorous," suggested Jack.
Harry muttered something that was better not said aloud, and added, "They take honor and loyalty very seriously here, you know, you Damarian-mad Homelander."
Jack shrugged. "And if they throw us out on our collective ear - even that is fun of a sort, I believe." He paused, and looked at her out of the corner of his eye. "But I'm afraid I have the same optimistic outlook as the rest of Harry's bandits."
Harry protested, "But I know more about it!"
"Ignorance is bliss," replied Jack.
They had no difficulty finding their way to the camp of the Hill-king. Harry never thought about it, beyond the simple word "east." But although "east" covers a great deal of territory, she had pointed Sungold's nose as surely as if she were a route-rider, covering the same path she had traveled for years. She wished now she weren't quite so accurate. She could see the king's tent looming in the twilight before them, the sunset fading behind them, and their long shadows beginning to dissolve in the ripples of the grey sand underfoot. She knew that they were marked by the king's guard, but no one hailed them. She could well believe that she and Sungold and Gonturan were immediately recognizable, but she was surprised that even if she were not to be taken prisoner on sight the very obvious presence of twelve armed Outlanders in her train was exciting no comment.
Since she did not know what else to do, she rode reluctantly but directly to the king's tent; it rose from the center of the other tents, the black-and-white banner flying from its peak. Still no one stopped or questioned her; but several offered her silent hand greeting, the kind a king's Rider might expect, and this comforted her a little. But she wished she would see someone she knew well enough to talk to - Mathin or Innath by choice - to ask what sort of welcome she might expect.
There was little sign that this army had fought a desperate battle against the odds only days before; and she suddenly realized that it had never occurred to her that Corlath might lose. She was learning to believe what the backs of her eyelids told her. The tents were all neatly and precisely pitched, and the horses she saw were sleek and fit. There was a hum of tension about the camp, though, which she could feel; the silence had a stretched quality to it, and those people she saw hurrying from tent to tent looked as though their errands might be about life and death.
Sungold's steps fell too quickly. She saw no other Rider, and at the door to the king's tent she paused, and her company came up behind her, and fanned out into a little court around their captain. The gold-sashed guard saluted her, just as he had done half a year ago; she thought it was even the same man, although he looked much older, almost as old as she felt. She stayed in the saddle; she wanted to stay there forever; at very least it made her taller than a man on foot - even Corlath. What was she to say? "The prodigal has returned? The mutineer wishes to be reinstated? The subordinate, having gone to a great deal of trouble to prove her commander wrong, has come back and promises to be a good little subordinate hereafter, or at least until the next time?"
Then Corlath put back his golden silk door and stood before her, and she stared down at him, and she could not have gotten out of the saddle then even if she had wanted to. She realized why, when her kelar had shown him to her in battle some days ago, she had not at first recognized him, that his sash was the wrong color. He was wearing her sash.
"Hari," he said; then "Harimad-sol," as he walked to Sungold's side; stiffly he moved, she thought, and her heart failed her at the thought that he might have been wounded. She stared down at him still, and could not move, and then, shyly, he put his hand around her dusty leather ankle and said, carefully, "Harry."
She pulled her leg over the withers and slid down Sungold's shoulder as she had once slid down Fireheart's, and put her arms around her king and hugged him fiercely; and his arms closed around her and he murmured something, but her blood was ringing in her ears, and she could not hear what it was.
It is not very comfortable, holding someone close who is wearing a sword and various unyielding bits of leather armor, and it is less comfortable yet if both parties are so accoutered. Harry and Corlath dropped their arms after a short time and looked at each other, and each distantly thought that the other one was wearing a rather silly smile, and Harry noticed that Corlath's eyes were the color of gold.
"You are unhurt?" she said; her voice sounded tinny in her hot ears.
"I am unhurt," he said. "And you?"
"Yes," said Harry, still looking at his golden eyes. "Or no. I am not hurt."
"I am glad," her king said, and his voice was still low and shy, "to see you - here - and still - " he hesitated - "still of the Hills?"
Harry took a deep breath. "I will be of the Hills till I die, but what are you going to do to me for going off like that? And it's not their fault," she went on hurriedly, gesturing behind her, "but they would come with me even though I warned them how it was with me. Whatever you say, I will obey, but - what is it?" She stopped, for as she tried to make her apologies, or her amends, or whatever they were, she remembered that she and Corlath were not alone, and that she was a deserter. She looked up and around, but her company were only dark figures to her, dim in the fading light.
"I will return to you your sash," Corlath said, but his hands did not move to untie it from around his waist. "You should not have lost it - for I assume you lost it. If you had not, but flung it away deliberately, it would be a sign that you denied me, and Damar, and were making yourself an exile forever."
"Oh no," said Harry, horrified; and the slightly foolish and uncertain smile on Corlath's face grew into a real smile, one unlike any Harry had ever seen on the Hill-king's face before.
"No," he said. "I hoped not."
Harry whispered: "You have done me much honor - since the beginning."
Corlath replied: "I did only what I must, for the kelar gave me no choice; but I - I came to believe in you, and I did not care what the kelar said."
"Did you believe in me then, when I rode away and left you, my king, and I a king's Rider, against your orders?"
The smile faded, but his eyes were still bright yellow. "I did," he said. "Luthe ... warned me you would do something mad - and I ... feared something else, for thus a man makes a fool of himself, and will not accept the wisdom the gods send him. I did not realize what Luthe had told me - I had forgotten what the kelar had told me - till you had gone."
"Something else?" said Harry. "What did you fear?" Her heart beat more rapidly as she waited for his reply, and she hoped he would ask her such a question, that she might answer it as her heart bade her.
But Corlath looked around them. "The Outlanders you bring to my camp are not your escort home?"
Harry shook her head violently. "They are my escort home only insofar as they would bear me company in my home, in the Hills, if you will have them."
"I will have them, and be honored," said Corlath, and his eyes lingered on Jack, who sat Draco quietly between Richard and Terim, "they who stood at Madamer Gate and watched the mountain fall on Thurra. This tale they will tell, I hope, and tell often."
"And I hope I will never have to do anything like that again," said Harry, and for a moment she could not see Corlath's yellow eyes, but a demon-thing that had once been human on a white stallion with the teeth of a leopard.
Corlath looked down at the top of her bent head. "For you I hope that you do not either; the kelar strength is not a comfortable Gift.
"I saw - I watched the mountain fall. I heard you call me and knew then who it was you faced - and thus why it was that I had not seen him before me: why we were able to throw the Northerners back, for all that they outnumbered us. They did not, I think, expect us to be so strong, or Thurra would not have divided his army as he did; for Thurra's demon blood had told him that only the demon Gifts are strong.
"I was proud of you - and I was glad that it was I you called upon." His voice died away to a murmur, but then he spoke loudly: "There is a tradition that goes back hundreds of years, to Aerin and Tor, that we do not often see today, for there have been few women warriors of late, till Gonturan rode to battle again. But tradition is that a betrothed pair may exchange sashes, and thus they pledge their honor to each other, for all to see. I will return you your sash if you choose, for I have no right to wear it, as you have not granted me the right. But I have been honored to wear it, in my people's eyes, till you returned - for as I had had so little faith in you despite Luthe's words to me, so I decided to have faith that you would return, to the Hills and to me, and to hope that your answer might justify me."
Harry said clearly, that all might hear: "My king, I would far rather you kept my sash as you have kept it for me in faith while I was gone away from you, and gave me your sash to wear in its place. For my honor, and more than my honor, has been yours for months past, but I saw no more clearly than did you till I had parted from you, and knew then what it would cost me if I could not return. And more, I knew what it would cost me if I returned only to be a king's Rider."
Then a cheer went up from many throats, and not only from those of Harry's company; for many of the camp had gathered in the center court before the king's zotar to hear how this meeting would go, for they had seen Harimad-sol's sash around their king's waist, and those who remembered the tradition had told of it to those who did not. And there was no surprise, in those who had followed Harry or in those who had fought with Corlath, and there was much joy; and the echoes of those cheers must have come even to the city boundaries of the Outlander town called Istan, and the barred gate of the General Mundy. And the Outlanders who had followed Jack Dedham when he decided to follow the young Harry Crewe, who had become Harimad-sol and the Hill-king's Rider, and who did not know the Hill tongue, looked around them, and at the two tall figures before them standing beside the chestnut stallion, and they cheered too; and Jack, in a lull, said to them: "In case you would like to be sure what you're cheering, our Harry is going to marry this chap. He's the king, Corlath."
Under the cover of the shouting Corlath drew Harry closer to him and said: "I have loved you long, though at first I did not know it; but I knew it when I sent you into the Hills with Mathin and Tsornin for your teachers, for I saw then how I missed you. And when in the City I found that Narknon had followed you, I was jealous of a cat, who could go where she wished."
Harry said, softly, that only his ears might hear: "You might have spoken."
Corlath smiled wryly. "I was afraid to tell you, for I had stolen you from your people, and the awakening of your kelar might make you hate me, for she whose blood gave you the Gift left the Hills long ago. When you knew what it was that this heritage gave you, it might drive you back all the more strongly to your father's people, to a fate the Hills had no part of. The Gift is not a pleasant burden.
"But when I saw you were gone I looked to the west, for I knew where you must be going, and I vowed that if we both lived, when we met again I would tell you that I loved you, and ask you to stand by me not as Rider but as queen; for suddenly it seemed worth the risk, and I could not bear it that you might never know."
Harry said: "I love you, and it has haunted me that for my disobedience I would be exiled, not from the people I have claimed as my own, though this were punishment enough, but from you that I loved best of anything and best of all. I think I knew you could not exile me, for the victory Gonturan had won for you and your Hills; but I knew that for you to have turned against me for leaving as I did, it would have been the bitterest exile, even if I sat at your left hand as Rider all my life."
It was Innath who grabbed her away at last and danced her around, for Innath had no dignity, and Corlath and Harry seemed able to ignore the tumult around them indefinitely. Then Jack took her away from him, and then she was embraced and knocked about and swung back and forth till she was dizzy; but she laughed and was happy, and thanked everyone who touched her. But there was one face in particular that she looked for and could not find, and its absence troubled her. At last they let her go to Corlath again, and her happiness was shaken for the face she could not find, and she seized his arm anxiously and said, "Where is Mathin?"
Corlath, who had been dancing too, went very still.
"He is not dead?" she said, and her voice rose till it broke; but when he shook his head it gave her no comfort. He took her hand in his and said, "Come," and led her away, through the tents. Now she could see the traces of battle, for by lantern light she saw blood-stained gear and unidentifiable bits and tatters moving mournfully in the evening breeze, and some few people, bandaged, limping, or lying by campfires, gently tended by those who were unhurt. Corlath led her to a long low tent and drew her inside, and the smell of death struck her at once, although the figures lying on rugs and blankets and cushions were well cared for and cleanly bandaged, and their chests still rose and fell with breathing, and there were many nurses watching over them and bringing drink and thin invalid food. Corlath brought her to the far end of the narrow tent, and the figure there turned its head toward them. Harry threw herself on her knees, weeping, for here was Mathin.
"I knew you would return," said Mathin, and one hand moved a few inches to close weakly around Harry's; and Harry gulped and nodded, but still her tears flowed and she could not stop them. "And you will marry our king?" he went on, in what would have been a conversational tone if it had not been so faint, and Harry nodded again.
"I wanted you to toast us at the wedding, my old friend and horse-breaker and teacher," she said.
Mathin smiled. "I leave my honor in good hands, best of daughters," he said gently.
"No," said Harry, and while her tears still fell her voice gained strength. "No." As she knelt, Gonturan dug a hole between her ribs, and she stood up impatiently and unbuckled her and let her fall; and as she bent down again a few of her tears fell on her own hand, and they were hot, scalding hot, and left red marks where they touched the skin; and she realized that her eyes and cheeks burned with them. She drew the blanket away from Mathin's chest and belly, where a long mortal wound oozed through its wrappings; the blood was almost black, and green-tinged, poisoned, and there was an unhealthy smell.
"In Aerin's day," murmured Harry, "kelar was good for things. It didn't only hurt things, and make trouble."
Corlath came to stand behind her. Mathin looked up at his king and said, "Aerin - "
Harry felt Corlath's hands on her shoulders, and twisted where she knelt, and seized his hands. "Help me," she said. "You helped me on that mountaintop. It was as though you held me up, held me by the shoulders as you did the first evening when I tasted the Water of Sight." Her eyes, wide open, were going blind; it was like the golden war-rage, only worse; it would split her skin, she would wither and blacken in the heat of it.
Corlath said, as if against his will, "Mathin fell, guarding me, while I was far away on a mountaintop; if it had not been for him, I would have had no body to return to."
Harry shivered and the heat plucked at her nerves and ate up her strength, and blindly she reached out one hand to touch Mathin, and her fingers touched the bare skin of his upper arm, and she felt him shudder, and his breath hissed between his teeth. Whatever it was thundered through her veins and filled her lungs and stomach, her hands and mouth; and she let go of Mathin and turned to the next bed, and scrabbled with the bedclothes, for she could see nothing but the golden storm and feel nothing but one of Corlath's hands tight in one of hers, and she touched the throat of the occupant of the pallet next to Mathin. She groped her way down the long length of that tent, stumbling, almost crawling but for Corlath, touching foreheads and hands and shoulders, and the nurses turned back the bedding, and the eyes of the dying looked into her blind eyes and hoped for her touch but feared it, and none but Corlath who were themselves whole came near enough even to brush the hem of her tunic, for it was hard just to breathe if she, with the power that was in her, was too near. The fire rose through her and crackled in her ears, so that she was deaf as well; but at last they came to the door, and Corlath led her out, her feeble feet not sure where they would find the earth with each step; and she felt the evening breeze, and the fire began to subside, reluctantly at first. But as it drained out of her, back to where it had come from, it took with it the marrow of her bones and the elastic of her muscles, for such was the fire's fuel, and she leaned against Corlath. He put his arms around her, and when the fire flickered at last and went out and she crumpled, he picked her up and carried her back to his zotar, and she lay in his arms as limp a burden as when he had put the sleep on her, the night he stole her from the Residency.
Harry woke up feeling as if she had been sick for a year and was now approaching convalescence. She stared at the peaked roof of the zotar and slowly realized where she was. Even her thoughts were too weak to entertain the idea of moving. Narknon, by some extra feline sense, knew when she opened her eyes, and without moving from her sprawl across Harry's legs, began to purr.
With the purr came Corlath, who had been sitting just beyond the curtain that had been hung by Harry's bed to give her peace from the comings and goings of the king's tent. He put back the curtain when he heard Narknon. He was himself weary, for much of the strength Harry had used the evening before was his; and he had not been able to sleep that night for watching her. He watched her sleeping, hoping only that she would awaken and still be Harry. His heart was in his mouth as he dropped down beside her.
The look on his face brought Harry more strongly back to herself, and she sat shakily up; and he put an arm around her shoulders, and she was happy to rest her head against his chest and be silent.
She did not want to ask, but she could not help herself, so at last she said: "Mathin?"
His voice sounded deeper than ever with her ear against his chest when he spoke. "He will carry a handsome scar, but he will carry it lightly, and he will be strong enough to sit on Windrider when we leave this place to return to the City, in a few days' time; although his right arm still pains him somewhat, from the long raw burn near the shoulder, as though a fire had scorched him."
Harry remembered how she had known the fire was eating her, that it would leave nothing of her; and she opened her right hand, the hand that had touched Mathin. It looked as it always had, but for the small white mark across the palm, which was only two months old.
"And the others?"
"None will die, and while none is as quick to recover as Mathin, none either bears the mark of where Harimad-sol touched them."
"And - my people? Jack, and Kentarre, and those who follow them? And Nandam, and - and Richard? Have you met my brother Richard?"
"Your Jack has introduced us." Corlath had remembered Colonel Dedham when he saw him standing in the twilight behind Harry; remembered him as the one man who had seemed to listen to what Forloy said, and believe that the men of the Hills might be speaking the truth, even to Outlanders. It was that sight of the man who had offered the Hill-king his loyalty while standing on the Residency verandah that had given Corlath the courage to declare his love for Harry the night before. It had seemed a fine bold thing to him at the time to bind her sash around himself and wear it openly; it hadn't occurred to him till he saw her with her company at her back, and her pale eyes fixed on him with an expression he could not read, that it would force him to face her with it and what it meant immediately, whenever he saw her again - if he saw her again. It would doubtless have been kinder or more courteous - and less dangerous - to choose his time and place; and not make such a public display of it. But then, without the sash around his waist and his people watching eagerly for the outcome, it was so extremely possible that his courage would have failed him again, for all his noble words about risk-taking. All these things he would tell Harry later. "But Richard has the face of your family, though he has not the eyes, and I would have guessed who he must be."
"Jack would like better than anything in the world to ride a Hill horse." Harry heard the beginning of his laugh far inside him before it burst out into the air; and she raised her head and looked inquiringly into his face. He shook his head at her and said, "My heart, your Jack shall have a hundred of our horses, and welcome," and then he bent his head and kissed her, and she drew him down beside her. A few minutes later Narknon, with an offended growl, climbed off the bed and stalked away.
Mathin was a trifle paler than usual when Corlath's army mounted and set their faces to the east, but he sat easily on Windrider and looked all around him as if reminding himself of what he thought he had lost; but most often he looked at Harimad-sol, riding at the king's right hand. The army moved slowly, for there were litters to carry, and they need not hurry. Even the desert sun overhead seemed glorious rather than relentless, and their king was to marry the damalur-sol who bore Gonturan the Blue Sword, and the Northerners had been defeated, at least for their time, and probably for their children's time, and perhaps even their grandchildren's; and Damar was still theirs. And it was as well also that the army was moving slowly for the sake of Jack Dedham and Richard Crewe, who were riding Hill horses, and finding Hill horsemanship a little more difficult than Harry had, and were dismayed at the idea of being able to stop a horse at full gallop simply by sitting down a little harder in the saddle. Harry, when she was not with Corlath, rode circles around them and teased them and made Sungold do all sorts of fancy passes and turns, not really to annoy them but only because she could not contain herself for happiness. Sungold bucked and bounced till even Harry had to clutch at his mane to stay on - Jack had the temerity to laugh - and behaved not at all like a well-schooled war-horse, and seemed just as happy as she.