Daughter of Wolves

Chapter 1

I won him in a game of dice. I never owned him, though. He owned himself and always would, but I didn't discover that until much later.

It was the mare that caught my attention. Clean limbed, deep-chested, with a delicate head and wide nostrils that longed to eat the wind, she stood tied to a post in the courtyard of the caravanserai, flicking her tail in boredom. Compared to the shaggy pack horses tethered next to her, she looked as out of place as an opal amongst pebbles.

I urged Shar over and slid from the saddle. The mare pricked her ears forward, touched muzzles with Shar and gave a low whinny. When I stroked her neck, admiring her lustrous white coat, she shook her mane, obviously very much aware of her charms, then deigned to breathe into my hand. Not only a beauty, but also delightful manners. Quite unlike my own irascible gelding, who now snaked his head round, showing yellow teeth, when somebody approached from behind.

The man jumped back hastily. "My apologies, lady, I did not want to startle you."

I snorted. "You didn't." As if I'd let anybody creep up on me.

Short and stocky, the man was dressed in a red tunic and loose trousers of the style often seen in these borderlands. At his waist he wore a broad sash embroidered with peonies for luck and fastened with a jade buckle in the shape of intertwined carp.

He let his eyes slide over me, from my dusty boots up my faded trousers to my blouse sewn with beads of turquoise. There they lingered a moment too long; the day had been hot and I had undone the laces.

"Ah, you're Khotai," he said. "The famous horse people."

I shrugged. Though I suppose it was better than what we were usually called, the wolves of the steppe. Not without reason either.

The merchant sidled over to the mare, who ignored him in favour of rubbing noses with Shar. "I see my horse has caught your fancy. She's a beauty, isn't she?"

I knew better than to praise a horse that I might be interested in buying. "I've seen finer." Briefly, I extended my mage senses, establishing that besides the knife carried openly at his belt, the man had another one concealed in his boot and one in a sheath along his upper arm. Not that this worried me overmuch, but it always paid to be prepared.

"Look at those legs, slim as a dancing girl's," the merchant said. "Her carriage is like that of a maiden in the first flush of youth and the lustre of her eyes would put a courtesan to shame." Belatedly it seemed to dawn on him that comparing the horse to a ravishing woman might not have the same effect on me as on his male customers. His voice petered out.

"Hmm." I slid a hand along one of the mare's legs.

"She's fast too," he added. "And just look at her coat: glowing like a pearl. You will not find another like her in these parts."

That at least was true. A quick glance at the horses clustering round the water trough, all that the little caravanserai sheltered, had already shown me that none of them was worth bargaining for. And I needed another horse. The faster the better.

"Hmm," I said again, not giving the man anything. "I suppose she's quite a pretty colour." I took Shar's bridle and began to lead him away. "Now I need to see about my evening meal though."

"My sweet lady, won't you stay?" he exclaimed and took my arm. "You've hardly had a proper look at her yet."

I gave him an icy stare, put my hand on the hilt of the curved dagger at my belt and pointedly looked down at his fingers on my arm. Hastily he let go. "No offence intended, lady."

"None taken," I replied, but with no warmth in my voice.

The man took a step back. Sometimes the Khotai's reputation as ruthless killers was rather useful. It had kept a number of would-be human predators like this one at bay over the course of my journey, though at times I could not help feeling like a toothless dog masquerading as a fierce wolf. Hopefully they would never discover how little I shared my people's relish for bloodshed.