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Extra info for A Woman of the Horseclans: A Horseclans Novel

Sample text

Indeed, they one and all had treated her far more kindly than had her own folk of late, at least since she had been proved one of the Accursed of God. As regarded those other disgusting attributes of the legendary barbarians. Bettylou could not call any she had been near filthy. Yes indeed, they did smell very different from the boys and men around whom she had grown up, but they looked no grubbier and smelled no worse than any farmer or herder or hunter of the Abode might look or smell between his monthly baths.

This poor girl is not diseased. According to their peculiar customs, they shaved off all her hair and stained her scalp red. “Now, are we going to just stand here mindspeaking for the rest of the day? ” Stiff and sore from the long hours in the saddle, Bettylou Hanson tripped on the foot-high wooden doorsill of the shelter and would surely have fallen had the older woman not grasped her arm in a strong, hard-palmed hand. Retaining her hold, the woman guided the girl to a piece of gaudy carpet partially covered by a tanned wolfpelt and sat her down upon it.

They two were about of an age and were friends of long years standing. “Sol,” said Ehud without preamble. “it’s suthin goldurned funny goin on downstairs. Hear them dogs, don’tcha? ” The thought flitted through Solomon Claxton’s mind that for all that a man could not have a better man beside him when he chanced to be fighting off godless, heathen nomad raiders or a pack of starveling winter wolves, Patriarch Manchester’s son, Ehud, was at times somewhat slow of wits. But he smiled and reassured his old friend.

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