Silence hung thick in the stable; even the horses sensed something was afoot, and weren’t making their usual noise. Finally, Kero nodded. “I thought this would happen in the spring, but I’m ready—or as ready as I’ll ever be. And I’ll go to the Skybolts; I’d have to be a fool to turn down an offer like that.”

Tarma relaxed, and smiled. “I try not to train fools,” she replied. “And—Kero, you’re of the Clan—I want you to take Hellsbane.”

“What?” Kero asked, incredulously. “I can’t do that!”

“Why not?” Tarma retorted. “You’ve been training with her all damned year; you’re better with her than I am. Leave Keth your Verenna—a saddle horse isn’t going to do you much good as a merc, anyway, you’ll spend far too long getting her battle-trained. I’ll still have Ironheart, Keth is never going to need a battlemare again, and to tell you the truth, she’s always been a shade uneasy about riding them. She’ll be just as happy with Verenna, and your girl will be a lot happier with us.”

Warrl appeared like a shadow behind the Shin‘a’in. :She’s right, you know. Hellsbane is warrior-trained, like you. It would be a shame for her potential to be wasted.:

Kero shook her head, part in disbelief, part in amusement. “I can see I’ve been outvoted.”

Tarma’s hoarse voice roughened still further with emotion. “You’re kin of my Clan. You’re the closest thing I’ll have to a daughter. You’re my only true protégée. And you’re the best damned warrior I’ve ever trained. I want you equipped with the very best.” Then she smiled, and her voice and eyes lightened again. “Besides, after you see the rest of the gear Keth and I got you, Hellsbane is going to seem like an afterthought!”

Kero found it very hard to speak, or even swallow. “I don’t know what to say—” she began.

Tarma pulled the saddle off Verenna, and led the relieved mare back into her stall. “You can start with ‘thank you,’ and we’ll take it from there. Think you’d be ready to take the road by the end of the week?”

“I—” Kero faltered. “I—”

“If you are,” Tarma continued, “Keth can start the messages out to Twoblades, and we can start fitting your fancy new armor to you so you don’t disgrace us when you get there.”

“I can be ready,” she managed. “As ready to leave as I’m likely to be. I wish—I wish I didn’t have to leave. Or that I could take you with me....”

Tarma snorted. “Not likely. I did my share on the lines. Chick can’t go back in the shell, and a young hawk can’t unfledge. Time for you to try your wings.”