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where to start. She had just ruled out working on one of the neighboring farms when the disturbance on the valley road caught her eye. A farmer heading back home from trading his early spring vegetables with the Adepts stopped his mule team and moved them to the side of the road. Horsemen! The distance hid any identifying characteristics. With a last glance for the party on the road, Saroya pelted back down her short cut through the olive orchard. While the Adepts stayed close-mouthed about their business with visitors, Saroya was an expert at gleaning good gossip from the servants, especially now that they seemed to think she’d joined their ranks.
    Saroya dashed into the stable yard, out of breath from the run down the hill. Trotting past the stables, she picked several burrs out of her tunic, hoping to catch a glimpse of the visitors in the courtyard.
    “Saroya!”
    “Sorry, Durin! Gotta run … I saw horsemen coming up the valley road. Maybe I can catch them before they get to the gates,” she threw back over her shoulder.
    “Too late.” The head stableman’s answer stopped her in her tracks. “Doyenne’s already greeted them. Moved on to her study ten minutes ago. Come see the horses.”
    Who knew how long they’d be before they announced any news? She turned and headed for the stable door.
      “Don’t see beauties like these too often round these parts.” Durin stared appreciatively into the stable corridor. Saroya peered in. She had to agree. With a horse tethered in front of each of four empty stalls, stablehands removed gleaming leather saddles, or scraped lather off heaving flanks. The biggest horse Saroya had ever seen, a gorgeous black, was already being taken to a corral for a warmdown. The others, similarly spirited animals, gave the Adepts’ handlers a hard time, stamping and prancing from side to side. If the curve of their necks and grace of their steps hadn’t been enough, the tack told her these must be noblemen’s steeds. Worked silver adorned the bridles, bits clinking as a stableboy hung them from a peg. The burnished leather even smelled richer than usual. She turned to Durin.
    “Do you know who they are?” she asked.
    “Didn’t notice any standards or crests.”
    “And they didn’t say anything about why they were here?”
    Durin grinned at her. “Nope. Could be they’re just passing through and Crossroads Inn isn’t good enough for them. Took about as much notice of old Durin as of a fly on the wall. Have to talk to the doyenne if you want to know more.”
    Saroya smiled ruefully back at him. “We both know how likely the doyenne is to tell me anything.”
    “Speaking of Doyenne Ganarra, asked me to talk to you, she did. Knows you like the horses. Might want to consider helping us around the stables when term ends. Not a bad life—easy to teach you how to train ’em, you’ve already got a nice seat and hands on the reins.” Durin rubbed his chin. “Won’t be able to get you involved in full breeding and husbandry, now, ’coz the Agriculture Guild would string me up, but I can always use an extra set of hands. Pay’s not great, but better’n nothing. Don’t hold no truck with them that says someone like you’s bad luck.”
    The prospect of mucking out stalls for the rest of her life smelled as good as the manure she’d be shoveling, but Saroya didn’t want to offend Durin.
    “Can I think about it and let you know later?” Durin nodded. “I’d better run. Maybe the visitors will be at dinner. Thanks for letting me see the horses!” She raced off towards her dormitory.
    She came flying off the second floor landing, already planning how to break her news to Nalini. Visitors were gossip fodder, but noblemen! She burst into her room, the door slamming into the wall behind her.
    “Nalini, wait ’til you hear—”
    “Saroya, where have you been!” Nalini interrupted. “There are king’s men here and the doyenne’s ordered everyone to the Great Hall by third