“You are no unicorns!” he cried.

“Unicorns?” The coppery mare cocked her head, pronouncing the word as though it were new to her.

Tai-shan stumbled back from her, staring. “What manner of beasts are you?”

“Daya,” the other said. “I and my sisters are the sacred daya of Dai’chon.”

He heard footfalls behind him and glimpsed the daïcha hastening toward him. At the same moment, a commotion among the mares caused him to turn again. Beyond them, another of their kind was just entering the enclosed yard through a pivoting panel in the barricade of wooden poles. This was a stallion, as hornless as the mares. His coat was reddish umber, shanks black below the knee. He wore an odd kind of adornment about his head, made of fitted links of shining skystuff. A silver crescent resembling the daïcha’s spanned his brow. The pair of two-foots accompanying him each grasped a long strap attached to the muzzle of the thing.

“Our lord cometh!” one of the fillies cried.

“Hist, away!” her elder sister urged the coppery mare.

Behind him, Tai-shan heard the daïcha draw her breath in sharply. Catching sight of him, the umber stallion pitched to a stop. His two-foot companions halted in seeming confusion. The daïcha hastened forward, calling out to them and waving one forelimb as though urging them to depart. Eyes wide, the two-foots began tugging at the long straps, but the hornless stallion planted his round hooves, stiff-legged, refusing to budge. Head up, he stared at Tai-shan. Abruptly, the umber stallion let loose a peal of rage.

“What meaneth this? Who dareth to approach my consorts?”

The dark unicorn snorted, confused as much by the others hot and angry tone as by his strange way of speaking. Before him, the mares screamed and scattered, thundering away toward the opposite end of the barricaded yard, all save the coppery mare, who cried out to him hastily.

“Peace, my lord. Naught unseemly hath occurred. This is Moonbrow, that our lady hath…”

“Moonbrow?” the other snarled. “The outlander that hath usurped my stall?”

Tai-shan frowned. The meanings of several of the other’s words he had to guess at. Outlander must mean one from outside the two-foots’ settlement. Perhaps stall referred to the wooden enclosure in which he now sheltered. Ignoring his escorts, the umber stallion stamped and sidled.

“Wouldst claim my harem as well?”

Tai-shan shook his head. He had no idea what a harem might be.

“I seek nothing that is not my due,” he called across the barricade. “I long only to learn what place this is—”

“A place where thou’lt find no welcome, upstart!” the stallion spat, eyes narrowed, his small, untasseled ears laid back. “Stand off, harlot,” he shouted at the coppery mare. “Thou’rt pledged to me!”

Trembling, the coppery mare began to back away. Once more, the daïcha called sharply to her fellows. They tugged with determination at the straps of the stallion’s headgear, but he shook them furiously off.

“Trespasser!” he flung at the dark unicorn. “Thief!” Tai-shan ramped and sidled for sheer bafflement. “What is my trespass?” he cried. “I assure you, I am no thief….”

“Dost challenge me?” the other shrilled, rearing. “I’ll brook no such outrage!”

With shouts of surprise, his two-foot companions lost their grip on the straps as all at once, the stallion charged. Confounded, Tai-shan sprang back.

“Peace, friend,” he exclaimed. “I seek no quarrel….”

“No quarrel!” the other roared. “Our keepers should have cut thee, not made thee welcome, freak! I am First Stallion here!”

His words made no sense to Tai-shan. Across the yard, the two-foot escorts cried out in alarm as the umber stallion thundered toward the dark unicorn. Tai-shan tensed: the wooden barrier between them was only shoulder high, an easy leap—then abruptly he realized it was the coppery mare, not he, who stood directly in the other’s path. With a startled cry, she scrambled aside—too slowly. The umber stallion champed and struck at her savagely.

“Hie thee back to thy sisters, strumpet!” he snarled. Then to Tai-shan, “Be grateful a fence standeth between us, colt, else it would be to thee I’d give this drubbing.”

Cornered against the barrier, the coppery mare cried out, unable to dodge. Tai-shan saw blood on her neck where her assailant’s teeth had found her. She stood on three limbs, favoring one bleeding foreleg. With a shout, the dark unicorn leapt the barrier and sprang between them, shouldering the umber stallion away from the coppery mare.

“Leave off!” he shouted. “She has done you no hurt.” Behind him, he heard cries of amazement. The place seemed full of two-foots suddenly, running and calling. The daïcha’s voice rose commandingly above the rest. At the far end of the yard, the panicked mares galloped in circles. Green-clad two-foots ran to contain them. The umber stallion fell back from Tai-shan at first with an astonished look, then seemed to recover himself. Viciously, he lashed and flailed at Tai-shan, who braced and struck back, striving to hold his ground lest he himself be driven back and trapped against the barrier.

“Nay, do not defend me, Moonbrow,” the coppery mare gasped, limping painfully out of the umber stallion’s reach.

The chon burst into the yard suddenly. Tai-shan heard him shouting above the tumult, the clatter of footfalls as his purple-plumes rushed forward with their long, pointed staves. Screaming, the flatbrowed stallion lunged and champed Tai-shan on the shoulder, drawing blood. The dark unicorn struck him away with the flat of his horn.

“Moonbrow, have done!” the coppery mare called to him urgently. “Thou darest do him no injury. He is sacred to Dai’chon!”

Tai-shan glimpsed the daïcha dashing forward to intercept the charging purple-plumes. She waved her forelimbs, crying out frantically to the chon. Taking note of her, apparently for the first time, he barked an order and threw up one of his own forelimbs. Lowering their staves, the purple-plumes strayed uncertainly to a stop.

Eyes red and wild, the umber stallion wheeled and plunged once more at the dark unicorn. Tai-shan reared and threw himself against the other’s side, catching him just as he pivoted. The flatbrow's hindquarters strained, forehooves pawing the air. The dark unicorn lunged, shifting his whole weight forward hard until, hind hooves skidding, his opponent crashed to the icy ground.

"Hold,” the dark unicorn cried, springing to press the tip of his horn to the other’s throat. “Enough, I say!”

Eyes wide, the fallen stallion stared up at him. The other's red-rimmed nostrils flared. His breaths came in panting gasps. He made as if to scramble away, but Tai-shan pressed his horntip harder.

“Peace,” he insisted. “I sought no quarrel with you, nor did this mare.”

Across the yard, the other mares had quieted. They stood silent, astonished. The two-foots as well. Eyes still on the umber stallion, Tai-shan stepped back, horn at the ready.

“Be off,” the dark unicorn snorted. “And do not think to trouble this mare again while I stand ready in her defense.”

With a groan, the defeated stallion pitched to his heels and limped away. His two-foot companions came forward cautiously to catch hold of his headgear’s trailing straps. Other two-foots hied the mares from the enclosed yard through the pivoting panel. They disappeared down a passage between two buildings. The crestfallen stallion allowed his escorts to lead him after the mares without further protest. Tai-shan turned back to the coppery mare.

“Are you hale?” he asked her. “Did he do you much harm?”

The other gazed on him in seeming wonder. “Naught but a bruise and a gash, my lord Moonbrow,” she murmured. “No more than that.”

Warily, another two-foot edged toward them along the wooden barrier. The young mare snorted.