Two days of riding later, and Naqam was certain he would never walk the same again. The insides of his thighs, his calves and his back were throbbing masses of pain. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been so sore.

Hatter, on the other hand, seemed to have no problems. This frustrated Naqam greatly, considering that, compared to him, Hatter was practically an old man.

He had caught the Real Worlder grinning when he'd gotten up the second morning from his bed on the ground, and all but staggered into a nearby aspen. When Naqam had scowled at him and forced his legs to support his weight, Hatter innocently asked, "Feeling all right?"

Naqam had answered with a silent and rather rude gesture, which had just made the Real Worlder laugh again.

It was now the middle of the second day, and Naqam just wanted the trip to be over. It had been a long time since he'd been this miserable. The fact that a man he'd despised from the time he was old enough to talk was his only company compounded the misery substantially.

Thankfully, Hatter was not a chatty individual. In fact, Naqam had barely managed to pull five words from the man after their initial confrontation, and those words had only been to correct him when he was doing something wrong with the horse.

He grimaced as the mare — a word Hatter had taught him — bobbed her head, breaking into a choppy gait to catch up to the black beast. The insides of his thighs throbbed, hot and painful, irritated with every step the horse took.

Naqam startled when Hatter snapped, "Rein her in. Otherwise she'll take off on you."

"You said she wouldn't," Naqam grumbled, copying Hatter as the man demonstrated what he meant by rein her in.

Hatter smiled and Naqam frowned. The expression was content and happy, rather than sarcastic or cruel. He ducked a branch and Hatter said, "She can smell home. All horses want to return home, no matter where home is. Dell will take off with you as soon as she catches scent of the rest of the herd. Unless you stay in control."

Naqam tightened his fingers around the reins, his pinkies bent a little awkwardly under the leather strap, his other three fingers curled over the top, just as Hatter had shown him.

He stiffened when both horses' heads came up, and watched as Mad tightened his own reins. He spoke low, those nonsense words making both horses calm down slightly.

"We're here," Hatter said, and there was something like relief in his voice.

Naqam looked at the man curiously, but his attention was soon diverted as they crested a small ridge. Hatter stopped his horse, taking a moment to gaze out over his empire. The Ace had no choice but to do the same.

A green, lush valley was cradled in the arms of several low, rolling hills. A river rolled slowly past on the east side of the valley. Dark pines blanketed the hills, marching down to a modest house built of logs, the wind sighing softly through their boughs. Standing apart from the house, all the trees cleared away from it, was a much bigger structure of slat wood, with over-large doors and an area that had been circled off with sturdy fencing nearby.

Naqam's gaze wandered over this place of peace, something inside of him growing still and silent. He hadn't realized there had been something so agitated within him until it stopped moving.

The fields were sectioned by fences, and inside most of the sections were two or three horses of every color.

Hatter took off his hat and scrubbed a hand through that despicably dark hair and said, "This place is not a place for fighting. Or for bloodshed. It's sacred ground, with waters that can wash the blood from your hands and winds that can blow the stains off your soul. Do you understand what I'm saying, Naqam?"

Naqam nearly fell off the horse as Hatter addressed him by his name. He frowned, looking out over the valley again. He didn't say anything, because he didn't know what to say. A small movement caught the corner of his eye and he looked over to find Hatter had leveled an intense gaze on him.

He shifted uncomfortably, the mare doing the same under him, then said quietly, "You talk about it like it's alive."

"It is," Hatter said simply.

When Naqam frowned, he just sighed and shook his head. His lip curled slightly and he looked away from the Ace, saying, "Don't kill anything here. Don't do anything to ruin the land. This is your one and only warning."

With that, he tapped his heels lightly to the sides of the black monster and they started down the hill, the horses trying to fight for their heads as they drew nearer. A path that had only seemed like a white ribbon leading to the house from above widened out under them, and the horses broke into a trot as several loud whinnies rang through the air.

They passed paddock after paddock and Naqam watched in some confusion as there was a thunder of hooves each time. The penned horses charged to the fence, whinnying and running back and forth up the fence as Hatter passed.

Finally drawing up the the house, Hatter dismounted, looking expectantly at Naqam. The Ace slumped in the saddle for a moment, then got down, his legs shaking and aching. Hatter laughed. "You'll toughen up here soon enough. Grab her reins and follow me."

Naqam bristled at the implication that he wasn't already tough, but then his legs cried out to him with every step and he kept his retort to himself. He followed Hatter and the black devil to the larger structure, immediately stopping quite a distance away when he watched Hatter drop his horse's reins to the ground. Shockingly, the black horse stood quietly, ears swiveling back and forth as whinnies continued to ring out around them.

Hatter hauled the door open, then went back to the horse and picked up the reins. He gestured for Naqam to follow and led him into a dim, sweet-smelling space with rows of half doors on each side of the spacious center aisle.

He stood silently, uncertainty eating at him. It occurred to him that he had never before been so outside of his element. Hatter pointed to two sets of ropes and said, "Those are cross-ties. Watch me, then do the exact same."

Naqam fought against a sneer, then watched as the man led the black horse to the middle of the center aisle, first taking off the horse's bridle, then replacing it with a similar looking apparatus. Quietly, Hatter said, "This is a halter. Clip the ropes to the sides here."

He tapped the fabric crossing over the horses nose, then crossed his arms.

Puffing his chest, Naqam led the palomino to the center aisle, a few feet away from the black terror. His fingers shook a little as he worked the buckles to remove the bridle and he grimaced. Hatter couldn't know how this place affected him.

Anxiety at not knowing how to behave was starting to already take its toll.

He finally got the bridle off, then turned rapidly as something floated through the air to him. He caught the contraption Hatter had called a halter. Raising an eyebrow at Hatter reproachfully, he studied the thing before buckling it onto the mare's head.

Hatter shook his head and said, "Don't cut that look at me. That didn't surprise you any more than this does."

Now he threw a brush at Naqam, who caught it easily. He scowled and snapped, "Stop acting like you know what I can do."

"Kid," Hatter said, a low warning in his voice, "I know everything you can do."

"Why?" Naqam asked. Then, sarcastically, he said, "What, since you managed to survive one fight with an Ace, you think you know everything about us?"

Hatter's gaze flattened and something inside Naqam shivered. Venom welled up to replace the feeling and he spat, "It was luck anyway."

There was a flash of movement and then something went screaming past Naqam's ear. A split second later there was a sharp report that echoed terribly in his ears. The horses snorted, but didn't try to run.

Naqam's breath hissed out slowly, and he turned around to find a smoking hole in one of the support beams directly behind him. His ear stung where the displaced air had slapped it.

He hadn't even registered that the man had pulled a gun. His fingers trembled again around the brush. 

His breath rapid now, he turned to Hatter, who had lowered the gun to his side, the black metal wicked in the low light.

Hatter's eyes were cruel when he said, "If you'd been armed, you'd be lying in a puddle of your own blood and I'd have to clean up a corpse." He tucked the gun away, then calmly turned to his horse. Over his shoulder, he said, "Take the saddle and blanket, and put it in that corner room on one of the racks. If I find you just threw it in there, I'm throwing you out."

Naqam's heart beat fast in his chest, his mind realizing that he'd very nearly died for nothing more than pride on behalf of someone he'd never even met. That he didn't even really know.

He did as Hatter ordered, still unbelieving of what had just occurred. If you'd been armed, echoed in his head. He didn't understand what the differentiation was for. If the shoe had been on the other foot, he'd have shot Hatter, armed or unarmed. 

"That's called mercy."

The words were answers to thoughts he hadn't voiced. He looked up to find Hatter running another brush over the silky black hide of his horse. He gestured at the palomino and said, "Brush her down. Don't rub the bristles against the grain. Go in the direction of the hair. I'll tell you when you're done."

Mechanically, Naqam imitated Hatter's movements and frowned when the horse leaned toward him with a huffed sigh. He brushed away loose hair and dirt, concentrating particularly on the area where the saddle had rested.

The stillness pressed heavily onto his shoulders, and he kept looking at Hatter, who never acknowledged the Ace, all of his considerable concentration bent on the task at hand. More than once, Naqam's eyes fell on the bullet hole scarring the wooden beam, understanding over and over again that it had been mere whim on the Real Worlder's part that had kept him from being the one with a hole in his middle.

Finally, unable to bear the silence any longer, his blood jumping crazily inside of him, he asked, "Why didn't you just shoot me? You wouldn't have gotten in trouble with the King." Muttering now, he said, "Actually he probably would have thanked you."

"He would have thanked me," Hatter said and Naqam looked up, surprised that he had been heard.

He silently realized that it hadn't been lack of hearing that had kept Hatter from answering his litany of questions on the ride here.

He met Hatter's eyes, which were now mellow, more like the thick grass outside than the cold stones they had so resembled before. With a sigh, Hatter turned back to the black horse and said, "Killian has been looking for the new Red Deck Aces for a long time. He began to give it up as Tarian grew." His eyes flashed up again. "Then you show up, strutting in, all piss and vinegar, and expect a warm welcome?"

The sarcasm somehow made Naqam feel foolish. Playing it off, he shrugged and said, "I'd heard King Killian was a kind leader."

"Killian's fair, not kind, or nice. Those are three completely different things. And one could say that the Ace of Hearts owes the Spade King a pound of flesh. Tamsus slaughtered his family. His father. You come in here with those eyes and that face, wanting open arms?" Hatter barked out a laugh and Naqam bristled again.

Though the words hurt, he ground out, "I'm not Tamsus Heart."

"And I hope you'll never be," Hatter said, and again Naqam was shocked by his earnestness.

His hands slid along the mare's silky back. His shock turned to bitterness, which fed his hate. Tamsus Heart was all but a hero to the Hearts. The idea that someone didn't want him to be like Tamsus was a strange and sour thought.

Hatter laughed softly, like Naqam had said something, then walked over to inspect the palomino's sandy hide. He clicked his tongue, then nodded once and said, "Grab two of the leads. They're hanging over there."

Naqam went to the wall nearest the door, grabbing two soft, loosely woven ropes. He handed one to Hatter, who freed the black beast from the cross-ties, just to clip the lead to the halter. He glanced carelessly at the Ace, who scrambled to do the same, then led them back outside.

Pointing to a far pasture, he said, "Put her with the steeldust over there."

At Naqam's blank look, he said, " The greyish horse. Black mane."

This time, Naqam forced his eyes to trace where Hatter was pointing, and he found a horse with a hide that was a rippling grey. Reluctantly enchanted with the strange names of the colors, he led the mare to the paddock.

The steeldust met her pasture-mate at the gate and Naqam had to wrestle with the two horses and the gate before he managed to release the palomino, who went obediently into the paddock. The horses greeted each other, and Naqam leaned against the fence, propping his arms up on the topmost railing.

Resting his chin on his crossed arms, he could at least appreciate these ridiculous creatures for their shining coats and fluid movements. He was almost able to admire their training, before he realized that was all Hatter's doing and scowled at the horses as the ambled about, nibbling here and there at the thick grass that was so green it was almost blue.

That's called mercy.

He shook his head violently, his red hair fluttering around his face. His face contorted into a scowl and he venomously hissed, "I don't need your mercy."

Naqam's fingers bunched into fists at the nerve of the man. The air brushing against his skin seemed laced with poison, and he wished desperately to be almost anywhere but this dreadful quiet place. Briefly, he wondered if he was going to be able to do this.

Then, he realized he had no choice. Not if he wanted to get to Killian.

A sharp whistle pierced the air, breaking through his murderous thoughts, and Naqam looked over his shoulder to find Hatter waving him towards the house.

He sighed and rested his forehead on his arms for a moment, trying to convince himself that he could survive this. That he could even pass Hatter's stupid tests, whatever those might be.

Naqam grimaced, thinking again of that bullet hole.

Maybe he was already failing.

Naqam prayed to his only goddess, War, that he could survive this terrible place of peace.