The horse handler gestured for her to put her right foot in his hand. “I lift you up,” he said. He was a slight man who moved with graceful ease, his eyes dark in the shadow of the cloth wrapped around his head.
Darna shook her head. “This foot is weak. I’ll use the other foot.”
“Horse don’t like that, or red hair.”
Darna put her hand on her head. Her headdress had come loose and a few strands of bright hair dangled loose.
“Good to wear that,” the Enomaean said. “We fix later. Now try the horse.”
“But…” Darna patted her head.
“Close. Try now.”
And so she did, and though the horse tried to get out from under her when she was halfway up and the horse handler laughed at her flailing, she did not fall.
“Good,” the Enomaean said. “You sit straight, young man. Good sitting.”
Darna nodde
