Among the Powers Read Free Page B

surrounding grassland before he calmed sufficiently to
think at all. His pace gradually slowed, and on a whim he turned
his steps eastward.
    He walked on, and he thought.
    His life was not going right. He felt that,
but he could not really explain it. It all seemed to hinge somehow
on his encounter with Geste the Trickster, the most playful of all
the Powers. Before that he had seen nothing wrong with his life,
but now he could see little that was right.
    Had Geste played some subtle trick on him,
perhaps? Something that altered his feelings, something far more
devious than the rather silly and simple-minded stunt with Lord
Grey’s mare?
    He shook his head at the thought. He did not
really believe that was it.
    Fifty wakes earlier he had been a normal
young man, happily pursuing wealth, glory, and young women. He was
a fine hunter, one of the best in the village—that was no boast,
but simple fact. He was tall, strong, and if not staggeringly
handsome, certainly not ugly. His family was respected and
respectable, his brother and three sisters all well enough behaved,
both parents alive and healthy, his various aunts, uncles, and
cousins causing no problems. He had had no bitter quarrels or
disagreements, nothing beyond the ordinary household squabbles that
every family had, and even those had been few and mild of late.
    He had almost no money, of course, but that
was nothing. An unmarried man needed little enough. All he really
owned was his bachelor’s tent and a few personal items, but he had
never lacked for the essentials, and his future was bright. Hunting
was steady work, and prestigious, and a good hunter could make
plenty of money once he had paid off his debt to his parents.
Bredon’s debt was down to a matter of a dozen meals or so, and his
parents were not pressing him. If anything, pleased and proud as
they were at how quickly he was paying, they seemed to be
encouraging him to take his time.
    As for women, for the past few seasons,
since he had reached man-height and his complexion had begun
clearing, he had had little trouble in finding willing females to
share his bedding—though not always those he might have preferred.
He had taken the occasional romantic setback in stride. He had had
friends of both sexes, and was rarely lonely.
    He had been happy, he knew he had.
    Then he had glimpsed the mare when she
wandered near the village, and he had set out in pursuit. A fine
horse was wealth he could appreciate. He had spent three wakes
chasing her, almost six full lights and five darks, with his
childhood friend and inseparable companion beside him, and they had
trapped her.
    And that was where everything had gone
wrong. By rights, they should have struggled with her, tied her,
dragged her back home, and spent weeks breaking and training her.
They would have worked hard with her, certainly, but their efforts
would have been rewarded with the respect of the village, and with
the knowledge of their own skills proven, as well as with a superb
mount.
    Instead, they had left the horse out on the
plain and had come back with nothing but the strange red disk. A
legend had come to life, appearing out of nowhere and snatching
their quarry from them.
    Even coming back empty-handed because the
mare escaped or died would have been more satisfying, he thought.
They would have been honorably defeated, to learn from their
mistakes and be better prepared the next time.
    Instead, they had come back, and told their
story, which Atheron the Storyteller had declared fully authentic
and consistent with the known characteristics of the Powers. They
had shown the disk. The villagers had smiled, applauded them,
honored them, feasted them—but it was all somehow unsatisfying and
empty.
    Bredon realized, with a start, what was
really lacking. The villagers treated him with awe and wonder, they
honored him—but the respect that he had sought was not there.
    And why should it be, he asked himself
silently. He had done nothing worthy of