mane and tail. Gently Alanna caressed the mare’s nose. The creature whickered softly, rubbing against her hand.
“George, she’s the most wonderful thing I’ve ever seen.” Suddenly Alanna remembered this might not be the horse George had in mind. “George—she is the one you brought me to see?”
George bit back a smile, seeing the dismay in Alan’s violet eyes. “Aye, lad, she’s the one.”
“She’s perfect.” Alanna and the mare watched each other, spellbound.
Jonathan stepped into the stall. He ran expert hands over the mare’s legs and shoulders, petting her absently. Finally he looked at George.
“She’s stolen,” he accused.
George dug his hands into his breeches’ pockets, grinning. “Highness, would I do such a thing?”
“I hope you didn’t steal her, George,” Alanna murmured.
“I’ve a bill of sale. I don’t balk at stealin’ a proper horse, young sprout, but I knew you would.” George handed a paper to Jonathan, who examined it carefully.
“It’s legal,” the Prince said at last, returning it to George.
“How much, George?” Alanna wanted to know.
The thief looked at the page, his hazel eyes guarded. “Eight for the mare, two for the tack—ten gold nobles and she’s yours.” His tone dared Jon to argue. The Prince didn’t take the dare.
Alanna never hesitated, although it was the largest amount she had paid in her life. She counted the money into her friend’s hand and returned to admiring the horse—her horse. “We’re going a long way, you and I,” she whispered to the mare. The horse butted her gently, as if agreeing.
George took down a plain leather saddle and bridle. “Here you go.”
“George, if you ever want my life, you can have it,” Alanna said quietly, meaning every word. “What’s her name?”
“She hasn’t one. The Bazhir who sold her didn’t dare name such a noble lady.”
“I’ll call her Moonlight. D’you like that, girl?”
The mare tossed her head. Alanna laughed and set to work saddling her horse.
Jonathan drew George away from the stall. “That’s not a third of what you paid for that mare.”
George’s voice was low. “Would you have me deny the lad his heart’s desire? He’s been riding that pony all year when the poor beast should be at pasture and Alan on a horse. That care-for-naught he calls Father will never get him a proper mount Call it a birthday gift, if you will. I’d give her to the boy outright, if he’d take her.”
Jonathan grinned ruefully. He had had his own experience with his small friend’s pride. “I can’t let you take a loss of at least twenty gold nobles. Besides—I owe Alan my life.” He looked sharply at the man. “I suppose you know about that, too.”
“I may,” the thief admitted.
Jonathan drew a sapphire ring off his finger. “That should more than cover the price of the mare.”
George turned the gem over in his long fingers. “It does indeed,” he said slowly, and made a rapid decision. “You’ve no proper horse of your own, I hear. Not a chief mount, a horse you’ll ride above all others. You might have an eye to this.” He opened a closed stall. Inside stood a great stallion, as black as Jonathan’s hair. “The ring would also cover his price, Highness. I don’t take charity.”
Jon hesitated, biting his lip. “Are you trying to buy me off, King of the Thieves?”
George smiled. “If the lad didn’t tell you, how’d you guess?”
“I sit on my father’s Council, remember. I’ve heard about you.”
George smoothed a hand over the stallion’s nose. “I’ve no wish to buy your silence. This is a sale, right and straight. When I bought the mare, I couldn’t let this one go. The dealer was a filthy old Bazhir. These two in his string were like gems in garbage. I figured the lad would want the mare, and I can always find a buyer for this fellow.”
Jonathan examined the stallion. He was more restless than Moonlight, but he quieted under the Prince’s firm hand. “You have an eye for horseflesh, George.”
“I like horses,” the man admitted. “I’ve a chestnut mare of my own, as pretty as you please. I’d be flattered if you’d have a look at her, sometime.”
“I’d like that.” Jonathan looked at George thoughtfully. Suddenly he smiled and offered his hand. “Thank you. A good horse can mean a man’s life.”
George took the offered hand, his eyes searching Jon’s for hidden motives. “You honor my taste, Highness.”
“I’m Jonathan—to my friends. Kings and princes should be friendly, don’t you agree?”
George laughed, but there was respect in his gaze. “I agree—Jonathan. And never