EVEN from inside I can smell the scent of dust and horses, the early summer sun beating hard on the brown grass and trees, everything lazy in the afternoon heat. From here, in the cool of the Horsemaster’s castle, the workers are as insignificant as ants – slaving away, rain, shine, and heatwave. The faint sound of guitar rises in the stillness, accompanied by the distant, husky voice of the head groom. Oh, to be like him – promoted into the upper ranks, with nothing to do but relax and shout at people.

I hear a rustle and look away to see that Rane girl peering out the adjacent window. Her eyes are dusty brown-green, and her braided hair is the colour of burnt grass, known to range from sun-scorched yellow in the summer to a dirty, seared brown in the colder months. She’s shuffling a deck of cards, staring intently at the stables below. People say she’s been here almost as long as the head groom. If she was a food, she’d be a dried nut. I look back to the window, taking a moment to arrange my own flowing ebony locks becomingly over my shoulders. I like to believe stable life has acted more favourably on my own appearance.

There is the soft scrape of spurs on stone, and I spin around, flashing a winning smile at the unmistakable figure of the Horsemaster. Sporting high leather boots and decorative spurs, he saunters across the room to look at me with calm green eyes. Dark hair curls down to brush his shoulders, and his features are weathered yet stately, grey hairs beginning to creep into his beard. He’s remarkably tall, his skin tanned. He’s a people’s man. And he’s ready to award me with my promotion.

"Hello Rane. Hello Lacey."

Rane barely gives him a nod. I flash her a dirty look, before turning to our employer. “Hello Horsemaster Ruen,” I offer, with an amicable smile. “Lovely weather today.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Indeed.”

“Is there any reason why that thief Rane is here?” I ask, a little softer. “I hope you don’t think we have anything in common.”

“We have business to discuss.”

“Oh.”

The Horsemaster gives the smallest of smiles. “In fact, I was about to request that you wait outside, momentarily, while I talk to her.”

I stare at him. “I’d rather not wait on a street urchin. I have things to do.”

“I hope you don’t consider all my employees to be urchins.”

“Only the most detestable ones,” I affirm. “I hope you can commiserate.”

The Horsemaster glances at Rane. She shrugs.

“If you insist. I called you here as I have a task for you.”

“Is this a promotion? I’m happy to take it.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

“I…” I falter, clear my throat, and wind a finger through my hair. “What do you want me to do?”

He begins pacing, taking slow, calm steps. “I have a number of acquaintances who are travelling across the Quarter as part of a political venture. Naturally, they are taking a large number of horses for quick transport, yet there are few horsemen among them.” He halts, and turns to me with a look of intent. “I need you to accompany them and assist with the care of the horses, so they can complete their journey as fast as possible.”

“What idiot doesn’t ride a horse?” I blurt incredulously. Rane snickers.

“They are rich. They don’t need to ride when others can do it for them.”

I stare at him, blinking, mulling it over, still not understanding. Rane turns back to her window.

“What’s the pay like?”

“Food and lodging,” the Horsemaster says, and he smirks at the frown on my face. “The rest is up to you.”

“That’s not much. You trying to get rid of me?”

“Let me remind you that these people are extremely wealthy. You would be enjoying a more… expensive lifestyle.”

“You think I want handouts?”

“Yes. They told me – and I quote – they need an ‘insignificant little stable-cat who knows their horses. Not too bright – just someone with enough brains to follow orders.’”

I glare at the Horsemaster. He smiles.

“They sound very conceited.”

“They aren’t alone. Are you going to take the job?”

I have nothing to say. I just stare at the Horsemaster blankly.

“Normally, I would give you time to think. However, my acquaintances must depart as soon as possible. If you’re not confident enough, I can find someone else.”

“No,” I say, a little too fast and a little too loud. “What I mean to say is… the others won’t do a good job. You’re wasting your time there.”

“If you insist. My acquaintances leave tomorrow morning. I’ll extend the offer to other workers, and whoever appears first can take the job.”

I flick some hair over my shoulder, and bite my lip. “Alright then. But I’m the best you’ll get.”

He sighs, and gestures for me to leave. “It’s your decision, Lacey. Now if you would please. I have business to discuss with Rane.”

With a flounce and a strut, I exit the room, Rane smirking back as I close the door.

~~~~~~~~

I feel a little melancholy as I stroke the big bay horse, giving my favourite steed a parting kiss on the cheek before leaving the stall, the latch closing with a soft click. The sun has not yet risen, and I’m alone – the buildings, fields and gum trees all cloaked in a pale blue light. I passed Lacey in the bunkhouse, still very much asleep. If she doesn’t want this opportunity, I’ll gladly take it from her.

I approach the Horsemaster’s castle, strangely out-of-place amongst the gritty, low-lying stable blocks. Built from the foundations of a deteriorating castle, it’s a monument to its owner and all his work – trying to recreate ancient horse breeds, as well as acting peacekeeper for the district after the last Horsemaster committed a treasonous act, and was drawn and quartered by his own horses some time before I first showed up here. I navigate to the courtyard entrance, small shards of doubt embedded in the back of my mind, the fear that they’ve already left.

In the courtyard stands a caravan. I stare at it, absorbed in curiosity. I’ve seen these caravans before, rattling in and out of the Horsemaster’s estate, filled with men and women in starched collars, white gloves and web-like lace. It’s too elegant to be here.

The doors of the caravan are wide open and I can see inside, where two finely woven hammocks hang down from the ceiling, cupboards lining the walls. Both inside and out, the wooden panels exhibit fine craftsmanship, varnished so thoroughly an upper-class maiden could use it as a makeup mirror. It is a caravan made for travelling in comfort. The wooden cabin is just enough to comfortably accommodate four people, five if everybody is on friendly terms.

There isn’t a soul to be seen.

Feeling strangely in awe, I hurry around the courtyard before approaching the back door and giving it a tentative knock. There is no answer, so I begin pacing, contemplating the probability of someone answering if I try the front entrance. It’s not appropriate. I’m not desperate. I knock again, then pace back to look at the caravan. The sound of hooves on stone reaches my ears I spin around, eyes wide, to see a bored stable-hand entering the courtyard with a young, dark-coloured horse. A man follows him, wearing a crisp white shirt and a dark jacket, brown hair neatly combed and stubble artfully arranged on his jawline. He’s leading a heavyset chestnut horse, already wearing a harness, and he appears to be just over thirty years old. Although not overweight, his smooth skin hides some excess weight that a stable-hand would never carry. His smile displays two rows of perfect, white teeth.

“Hello Lacey. You’re… early.” He flashes a brilliant smile, and offers me his hand. “Well, as soon as you’re on, we’re off. It’s a four day ride to the Palace, but we can do it in two. I hope you have everything you need. My name’s Calson, and I hope you enjoy the ride," he says, very chummy.

I meet his grin with a blank gaze, amazed he can pour so much out of his mouth in such a short time. “I’m sorry? The Palace?”

“Yes, Lacey. The Palace. Didn’t Ruen tell you?”

I shake my head. “No. And I’m not Lacey. My name’s Rane.”

Calson hesitates. “Where’s Lacey?”

“That’s why I’m here.”

“Ah. I see.” He falters, peering around, and an awkward pause ensues. I look away from him to the horses, roll my shoulders, one hand in my jacket pocket, fingers resting on the edge of my deck of cards. A horse whinnies. There is the clink of the stable-hand tightening the harness. Nothing happens.

The back door opens, and both of us turn towards it, relieved. The Horsemaster steps out, followed by a pale-faced man and a dishevelled young boy. If he’s surprised to see me, he doesn’t show it.

“Lacey hasn’t arrived?”

“It would seem so,” Calson retorts, trying to smile about it, while giving me a pointed glance. The Horsemaster sighs, and the two begin conversing quietly. I slowly regard the crisp clothes and polished boots of the other man, and for once feel self-conscious of my own appearance. My steel-capped boots are clearly used, my jacket comfortably worn. My hands are calloused, my skin tanned and freckled from the hours in the sun, and I’m sure the approaching summer has already marked me with a strip of sunburn across my nose.

This lot don’t look like they’ve worked a hard day in their lives.

The young boy sidles up to me, and tugs at my shirt. “You got any string?”

I raise an eyebrow, and root through my pockets. “No, sorry. What do you need it for?”

“Stuff,” he says, and disappears into the caravan. The other man loiters for a moment, then follows him. The Horsemaster comes over to me, smiling, Calson standing behind and trying not to look annoyed.

“You’re a good hand, Rane. It’d be a shame to see you go.”

“There are plenty of others,” I reply. The sky has become a pale pink, dawn ready to break over the stables. The stable-hand is busy harnessing the chestnut horse to the caravan.

“So there are.” The Horsemaster says, sighing. “I must say, your enthusiasm is impressive. You’ll travel with Calson to Corten, where you’ll meet with my acquaintances.”

I stare at him. “Corten?”

“Yes.”

I stare at Calson. “You were talking about… the High Palace?” He smiles and nods.

Ruen keeps talking. “You have the black horse. Her name’s Vixen. She’s barely broken in. If she’s well-trained by the end of your journey, I’ll offer to buy her back from you at a very reasonable price.” I look across at the young steed, now tethered to the back of the caravan. She’s more dark brown than black. My eyes flutter a little, still not quite believing the turn of events.

“I thought… I didn’t realise…”

Ruen shrugs. “You can always leave the job to someone else.”

I start, and quickly shake my head. “No. I’ll take it.”

He smiles, albeit regretfully, and rests a hand on my shoulder, his voice lowering “Well, take care, Rane. Stay out of trouble. And remember, you can always return here.”

Calson grins. “Now let’s get moving. Delay any longer, and we might as well give you a bath and some fresh clothes."

My eyes flash but I nod anyway, whispering a thank-you to the Horsemaster, before walking over to the caravan. Calson follows me, giving the Horsemaster a lazy salute as the door closes. I stare outside, watching the world I knew slowly pass by – through the waking stables, passing the bunkhouse and a bleary-eyed Lacey, who stares incomprehensibly at us. We leave the estate just as the sun has begun to break over the horizon.

Next Chapter: Chapter 2