The mayor banged his gavel once, and everyone quieted. "One last thing. The town, as I said, will supply the militia, their food and weapons. But do you have what you need for yourself? I see you have armor—" He waited for her answer. Paks thought about her gear. To move about the countryside, as far as he had mentioned—a day's ride away?—she would need a horse of some kind.

"I could use a horse or mule," she said. "My pony's not the right animal for prowling around."

Sir Felis frowned. "I haven't any spares, right now. We've thrush in the stable, and horses lame."

The mayor shook his head. "It's so late in the season. The horses in town now are work horses—and in use every day. Marshal Cedfer?"

"No. Sorry. My own mount, and Ambros's, that's all I've got. If you wanted to buy one, perhaps Sir Felis could send to the count's stable—"

"There's one spare horse," said Hebbinford. "In my stable—that black horse."

Paks felt a surge of excitement. She had not thought of the black, but that was the sort of horse she had dreamed of in the past. A true warrior's horse. She looked at the mayor, and Hebbinford, and back again. "What about that one, then? No one else is using it."

"I suppose that's all right," said the mayor slowly. "I can see you need a horse, to go looking all over the country. If the rest of you agree—"

"What of the man's heirs?" asked Master Feddith. "He looked a friendless man, but if he had heirs, they'd have some right to the beast."

"What of the fines he'd have owed, for trying to rob our Master Smith, if he'd lived?" asked Senneth sharply. "I say the Council can claim his horse for damages, and sell it to Paksenarrion if we choose."

"Perhaps, sirs," said Paks, uncertain if she should speak. "I could but have the use of the horse at first—paying Master Hebbinford for his keep, of course. It may be that I have not the skill to master such an animal—" She paused as the smith snorted loudly, and all eyes went to him. "Even if I do, I will not need it after this, I think."

"That's well spoke," said the smith abruptly. "'Twould do that beast good to be worked, that it would, and the trying of him out would be a reason for her to ride about the countryside. But as for skill—" He looked hard at Paks. "You've either skill of a horse-breaker, girl, or magic in your fingers, and that's a fact." Paks saw both the Kuakgan and the Marshal give her hands a quick glance. She was glad they were clasped to cover the ring.