Manta snorted. She didn’t like this . . . but she did like the new human, and the human had clearly summoned The Beast. So she was wary, but not quite ready to attack it.

Ivar had his dog approach slowly, a few steps at a time. If Manta showed signs of aggression or nerves, he would tell the dog “back,” and Bay would back up a few steps until told to stop again. Finally they were within a length of each other; Ivar gathered the reins just under the mare’s chin and touched Manta’s muzzle again. “Manta,” he said, and her ears flicked toward him at the sound of her name. “Bay is my friend. If we are going to be friends too, you need to accept him. Come up.”

Now he walked her one slow step at a time to his dog. Bay sat as still as a statue, no whining, no twitching. Now Ivar touched his fist to Bay’s nose, then to Manta’s muzzle. He continued to do this, over and over, until finally Manta reached out with her nose, warily, and sniffed the dog.

Now Ivar praised and made much of her, and took her for a little walk in a circle. Then he brought her back to the dog, and began the process all over again.

By the time the candlemark was over, he was on Manta’s bare back, with the dog trotting a length away, even with his right heel, and Manta was perfectly happy with the situation.

Grim was clearly gobsmacked. So was Delia.

“Well. I never,” Grim said, as Ivar swung his leg over Manta’s shoulder, and dropped to the ground. “That does beat all!”

Ivar blushed, pleased. “I suppose I’ve got a bit of a knack with animals,” he replied. “I like them better than most people. Present company excepted.”

Grim cast a look at Delia that she interpreted as a reminder that she was supposed to be working with her foal, and she scooted back to the stables that held the mares and youngest foals. Ivar was certainly an interesting fellow, and in many ways.

But right now, the important thing was that he was one more piece of the Plan, and a vital one at that.

—

Kordas was doing his level best to keep his impatience in check, but it was dreadfully hard. He exorcised it as best he could by riding out every single day to the farms and manors of those he trusted absolutely, whose sons and daughters would form the vanguard of the planned migration. This was not a message he wanted entrusted to the written word.