Desert Rising by Kelley Grant

our caravan for four years, and before that I exercised my father’s racing horses,” Sulis replied. “I’ve been riding since I could walk.”
    Aggie motioned to a stable boy who’d been hovering behind. “Starfire,” she told him, and he darted off.
    She turned back to Sulis. “I expect you know how to groom and saddle a horse, though the saddles we use are different than pack saddles—­kind of in between those and racing saddles. I’ll test you on your ability today.”
    Sulis glanced over at Djinn, reclining in the shade with other feli .
    â€œDon’t the feli scare the horses?” she asked.
    Aggie shook her head. “Every horse in this stable has been exposed to feli from its first days. The ones who don’t adjust are sold. Feli are a part of everyday life at the Temple. A skittish horse is useless to us.”
    The boy returned, leading a tall bay gelding. Sulis studied the horse. He was ganglier than the compact desert horses she was used to. He had a longer neck and legs, and his chest was less muscled. She cupped her hands and let the beast wuffle into them. Then she gathered the reins, put her foot in the stirrup, and mounted fluidly.
    She adjusted the stirrups and squeezed her calves to signal a walk, holding the reins loosely.
    â€œYou’ll want to firm up the reins,” Aggie advised. “Temple horses have not been trained to take leg signals for direction—­just for trot and canter.”
    Thus began one of the more frustrating hours of Sulis’s training. She was irritated and impatient with the slowness of the horse. Rather than responding to the pressure of her leg on his sides, he had to have his head pulled in the direction she wanted him to go. It was slow and cumbersome, and she longed for her mare back in the stables at Uncle Tarik’s house. And the leg signals for trot and canter were different than those she was accustomed to. The teacher had her go around and around the ring, correcting her seat and allowing her to perfect the new signals.
    Some of her frustration must have showed when she dismounted, and Aggie fell into step beside her as Sulis walked the gelding to cool him off.
    â€œYou’ve got an excellent seat,” she commented. “I think most of your problems stem from the differences between the two riding styles. The acolytes we get are mostly highbred children who are accustomed to riding in carriages or taking short day rides to the greens. Most of them will never develop a sensitive seat—­just basic riding skills to get them from one place to another. And they have to learn to ride since many acolytes serve at rural temples in the Territory. They must be able to travel roads wagons cannot take.”
    Sulis nodded, thinking it made sense, even if the new style seemed like much more work to her.
    â€œI’m sure you’re wishing for one of Aaron Hasifel’s excellent mounts, but you need to be able to ride anything in this stable, and you will by the time I’m done with you,” Aggie added. “We will meet again tomorrow, same time.”
    Sulis looked at the older lady in surprise. “Aaron?” she asked, and paused to gather her thoughts into words. “Aaron is my father. Do you know him?” she asked. It was only a small lie since Aaron and Janis had adopted the twins after their parents’ death, but she felt guilty. She was beginning to like Aggie and wanted to trust her.
    Aggie nodded. “I own a mare and a gelding of his training. Before I was paired, I spent a year in Shpeth learning how to ride and train horses desert style. I met his sister, Iamar, then.” She gave Sulis a sideways glance.
    Sulis stiffened. “Yes, my aunt. She died about six years ago.”
    â€œI had not heard that Aaron and Janis had children,” Aggie told her, “although I know Iamar had a son and a daughter.”
    Sulis stopped and felt the