—a saying TWO THINGS SYDNEY GUARDED MOST CAREFULLY. The first was her journal, where she recorded her life; the second was the window in the stable beside which her bunk staked out a berth. The journal was to record the wrongs that were done, for later reckoning. The window was for the pleasure of the light on her skin. Everyone wanted a window. But only a few, like Sydney, were willing to fight for them. She sat hunched up by her window, punching the tiny holes in the paper, writing about Glovid’s death and her new mount. Riod was a fine racer, but in accepting him, Sydney’s status had fallen. Riod had a bad reputation. He had long refused war service, along with a few rogue mounts that he led on sorties to harass other Inyx herds, creating ill will and incurring Priov’s displeasure. Making matters worse, he sniffed around Priov’s mares, insulting the old chief. Given this poor match with Riod, she might draw trouble. In the stable, sometimes trouble was bloody. She called her living quarters a stable, because she liked the irony of the riders living there.
