The Worlds of the Sheaf

Essca - Part 4

     Tak decided that that would be too dangerous. He didn't doubt that some of them were Yinnfarsian agents, and even those who were genuine enemies of Yinnfarsia might not necessarily be friends of Domandropolis. Best to leave all that to Barl. He was better at it than he was. Tak's job was just to get his friend out of danger if trouble started.

     Just thinking this made him feel better. He could manipulate the raw essence of life itself and command forces to scatter armies and tear down mountains, but politics and intrigue left him floundering dangerously out of his depth. Better for him to stick to what he was best at.

     The sport began an hour after breakfast had finished, when all the guests had had a chance to digest the large meal and change into their hunting pinks. Their servants produced changes of clothing for them that they changed into while admiring a huge and splendid portrait hanging on the wall of their morning chamber. The portrait showed someone bearing a close resemblance to the King, probably an ancestor, sitting on a horse and blowing on a long trumpet while dogs of a strange breed he'd never seen before milled around him. A small crowd of other hunters trailed behind, many of them grossly overweight, making Tak feel sorry for their horses.

     The whole scene had a faintly ridiculous look to it, making the wizard wonder whether the artist had been trying to communicate some subtle message in his work. Tak had mixed feelings about hunting himself. On the one hand he couldn't help but feel sorry for the breeks whose end, being speared through the back and then clubbed to death, couldn't be pleasant, but on the other hand people had a right to enjoy the sport of their choice, and breek hunting was no worse than many other sports enjoyed by people throughout the human world. Tak himself enjoyed the occasional wager on the cock fights that took place in the streets of the city he helped to rule, and since animals suffered in the natural world anyway, fighting each other with tooth and claw, what was wrong with people finding sport in it?

     Tak had learned how to ride a horse in the aristocratic fashion since the Gem Lords had risen to power, so he could take part in the twice annual ceremonial processions that wound through the streets of Domandropolis, during which crowds would wave and cheer and throw flowers in their path in gratitude for their deliverance from the rak Khalkedon. He'd never attempted anything faster than a gentle trot, though, while maintaining the rigidly upright sitting position that etiquette demanded from the nobility.

     He climbed into the saddle, from which a short lance and a heavy hammer hung from leather straps, and gave the horse a few simple commands, leading it around in a small, tight circle and then up to the end of the courtyard and back, trying to resist the temptation to assume a more relaxed and comfortable posture. Something that would betray him as lowborn in a moment, to the ruin of their whole mission. The master of the hounds had gathered his dogs by the gates, and Tak saw that they were the same breed as the creatures in the portrait. Long bodied with short, stubby legs with long toes that looked as though they would function pretty well as paddles. They bore a strong resemblance to otters and had clearly been bred for swimming, but they were pretty fast on land as well and were tearing back and forth across the hard packed earth of the courtyard with all the speed of a much longer legged breed.

     The other riders, meanwhile, were saddling up, waiting for the King to give the signal to begin. He had the hunting horn in his hand now and was fiddling with the mouthpiece as he glanced around at the others, seeing if they were ready to go.

     "Open the gates!" he commanded, and the gatekeeper swung back the huge wooden crossbeam on its carefully balanced hinge. Another man then pulled the gates open, and the dogs howled their delight, jumping excitedly and straining at the leash. The master of the hounds led them out through the gate into the warm sunlight beyond and the horsemen filed through after them.