The Grey Tower

In the midst of braying horses, the stench of overripe hay, and the constant commotion of servants examining each mare or steed for signs of sickness Valadin felt right at home. The sun beamed down angrily though the occasion cool headwinds from the Mountains of Mist provided just enough succor to make wearing the thick cotton tunic bearable. Stable master Ranen, shuffled back and forth, shouting coarse words at young squires who appeared not even old enough to receive their first chin hairs. Val had known of Ranen from during the laziest moments of his daily visits to the Warder Yards. The man brooked no sympathy for foolishness and the chalky-white scar that wound about both forearms spoke of times when the man’s life had not been so peaceful; that and the left-legged limp that brought a grimace with each step. On a good day Ranen’s neck would be bulge with angry veins which writhed with each upbraiding, but on the worst of days most Gaidin steered clear of the stables, knowing the man’s temperament to be as fickle as the headstrong warhorses.

It was by this individual that Valadin’s after-lunch chore was to be overseen.

Though he strode through chaos with a straight back and dour expression—he’d learned that his size and looks made for a potent combination when it came to establishing the upper hand in certain exchanges. As he drew closer and watched a lad drop a shoe on the way to one of the stables, he winced for Ranen had spotted the event from the other side of the stable grounds.

“You blasted goat-fathered farmboy! Ya got the stones to drop a shoe in my yard! Peace! Back home, we’d have yer hide and then feed to the Blight-dwellers!” As usually was the case, Ranen spat at the boy’s feet before the poor youth gathered his senses enough to race towards his task. It was upon this scene that Val was noticed and Ranen’s glowering examination of him did not bode well for the remaining hour of work, “Yer the white-livered son of a goat that they sent me fer the day? Val-something-or-other?”

The insult to his courage washed over him like an unpleasant ice water bath in the morning. Red heated his cheeks, but his hands remained clasped at his back and his fought to keep the fire from his response, “Valadin Manelle, I’m a So—”

“Know yer way around a horse—or any animal fer that matter, farmboy?”

“Yes, sir.”

“That’d be a fine first. C’mere. Show me what ya know with ole’ Sugar here. Should be a good test.”

Moving immediately and purposefully as his training had taught him, Val drew upon the memories of lazy days attending to mares, his eyes carefully noting the slant of the pony’s ears for signs of her mood. Intelligence glowed in those night black eyes as she watched Val approach slowly, hands extending slowly in her direction. So far so good, he told himself. Behind him Ranen grunted,

“Not bad, but ya keep comin’ straight at her like that yer likely to earn a kickin’ as not.”

Shouldering past Val the squat old man limped up to Sugar with a familiarity that belied years of friendship and understanding between the two. “See, how I come from the left? It’s out of her blind spot; let’s her know everything I’m doin’ afore I even get to it. That’s a good girl…”

As the stable master stroked the small horse, the delighted whinny spluttered past its lips though once again those eyes locked onto Valadin who hadn’t moved since Ranen’s interruption. Stubbornness fought with good reason and won as he walked quickly, gaze locked onto Sugar’s and her ears twirled in place individually before standing upright. Drawing closer, Val slowed his advance though with his eyes he tried to let the animal ‘see’ him—he’d done that as a stable hand; something he’d felt made him better than the other boys who saw all creatures as simple beasts. To Val, animals were intuitive beings. They possessed a great deal of natural understanding of the world that humans could grasp very little of and for that they deserved respect. Within moments he was at Ranen’s side softly rubbing Sugar’s flanks. The fine summer coat sent a wave of heat through Val’s hands and within moments his palms were dotted with beads of sweat.

“I’ll not have ya shoein’ on my gals today, but…” Ranen trailed off as he eyed Val suspiciously before spitting to the side. The distasteful curl of his lips made Val wonder if simply being happy was a painful action for the man, “…you’ve got a good eye when it comes to horses. I’ll be requestin’ ya from now on, but follow me: like to see what ya know ‘bout birds and the like.”

The pigeon cotes were less dense, the top of the Tower ending abruptly as the blue sky above dominated most of the scenery. It was Val’s first time atop the Grey Tower and the sight of Hamma Valon as well as more western lands extending into the distance snatched his breath away. A blow to the back of his head brought him back to his senses.

“First thing ya should know are birds are an energetic lot. The pigeons and doves here are used for messages from across the land. Think of it: Andor, Murandy, Illian, and dozen other rips of land ya never even heard I’d reckon all send messages here to the Tower. Tis important work; as important as keepin’ the horses below in good shoes and healthy.”

Valadin nodded quickly in understanding. Ranen’s previous hostility had somewhat softened though smiling seemed completely beyond that cragged and tanned face; some people just weren’t made to display happiness. Though a harsh teacher, the stable master appeared to take an interest in anyone who held the same respect as he for animals. “If you don’t mind my asking, Stable Master,” Val cut in during a brief pause,

“Why exactly are we up here? After all it’s almost an after High—not that I wouldn’t mind spending my free time here, but earlier you didn’t appear to care much about having me around.”

“Pshaw! I don’t reckon I care for any wool-heads takin’ up space in my stables. Are you a wool-head?”

“No…I mean…no. No, I’m not.”

A grunt was as fair any reaction Val could’ve expected to that. The remaining two hours were spent learning the behaviors of birds and the pitfalls of handling pigeons. Ranen took great care in explaining the importance of examining bird stool before every cleaning. Apparently it was possible to tell whether the birds were sick from their droppings, but as Val glanced into the cotes all he could make out were spots of gray-white ooze that gave off a funny odor as the winds changed directions making the smell less ignorable.

After drilling Val on basic cleaning twice—the first time Val left the cote open and the bird squawked in excitement at the prospect of freedom, but thankfully Ranen was quickly to seal the entrance; with Val inside. As their time drew to a close, conversation seemed to flow more freely between the two. A few times Val was certain that he’d heard a joke thrown in-between Ranen’s swears and bawdy references to which Gaidar he’d like to dandy over his knee on a night’s tavern excursion.

“Listen lad, come by tomorrow. Ya seem to know a bit of horse-knowledge so I’ll let deal with one of my stallions and see what ya make of it. Don’t get any ideas now; just a test to see if I could have ya ‘round bit more often. Light knows I could use someone with sense…”

With that the Val returned to his duties, but his mood remained curiously unfazed by the pranks of his peers or the hardships imposed upon him by his senior Dedicated brothers. The time spent in the stable yards and even the pigeon cotes had restored something he’d felt lost since arriving at the Grey Tower. A piece of home had finally settled in with him as the adjustment to Tower life gradually became more manageable.

The next day brought an encounter with a Dhurron draft by the name of Mischief. Mischief was a red roan about 14 hands tall and a white star spotted on its face. Living true to his name Mischief nipped at every attempt any servant had ever made usually only allow Ranen to draw near him. Val cut a suspicious look toward the old Stable master as the instruction to brush Mischief’s coat and check the condition of each hoof was given. No sooner had Val made eye contact did the draft buck softly against its restraints,

“Easy there. I’m only going to give yer coat a good one-over; no need for trouble between us. Easy. Easy.” The words had little effect as the beast grew more agitated with every step Val took.

It was when Val was a handbreadth away that Mischief became suddenly tame. Checking every sign before drawing every closer, all seemed well. Nostrils don’t seem overly big. Ears tilted back just enough, but Light! He’s a big one! Hate to take a kick from those legs… Gently setting one hand on the stallion’s snout and another upon the large neck, Val felt bright with success as a smile began to break over his features. With a contented sigh he kept one hand touching the horse while he reached for the soft brush. Each stroke seemed to draw no signs for worry as a few hands walked by the stall and stared incredulously at Valadin. Even Ranen’s face was split in a toothy grin.

Everything had gone smoothly from checking for lameness or any other signs of ailment that horses were so often afflicted with until Valadin gently picked up the creature’s front foot. Placing a hand on the horse’s side as he’d been taught many years ago he cradled the foreleg and coaxed up so he examine the shoe itself when he felt a blast of hot air upon his neck. Turning slowly, he found himself face to face with Mischief, a glint in its round black eyes that seemed nothing like the placid companion whom he’d been tending to for the past hour. “Oh Light…” Val groaned.

Later that evening Ranen was still howling. The Yellow Sister shot the Stable Master icy stares, but the man was beyond reprimand as recounted Valadin’s pale face while leaping over the stall door only to stumble into a hay-heap of day-old horse droppings. The red-purple welts across his forearms and neck were mended quickly as the Sister’s Healing took effect. Even the prickling cold of the Weaves touching his skin didn’t diminish the hotness in his cheeks as he somberly accepted treatment before being told to rest for the remainder of the day.

Ranen became fast friend with Valadin after that though by virtue of amusement as there were many tricks and pranks that Val found himself the target of in his days as a Soldier. In the future, during times of strife and anxiety, he would reminisce upon his duties and upon Ranen who would perish a few years later.

Life had been much easier in those horse-days.