I missed the subway. Even with the crowds, the subway was a civilized way to move people. But even though I didn’t own a card, I missed cars, too. I had always been a beat cop, on my feet. That wasn’t a problem, but my beat had gotten significantly bigger. And a squad car wasn’t an option in the Fairy Tale Realms.
King Roderick’s stable master kept pointing out various horses, elaborating on their personalities and the training they’d received as warhorses. I didn’t give a shit. I wanted a horse for getting around, not something that could handle the rigors of battle. I also didn’t want to contend with the standard training. I wanted something more . . . me.
At the end of the line, in a stall separated from the rest, was a giant horse that reminded me of the Budweiser Clydesdales. It had the same hair in its eyes, and look of power.
“What’s his story?”
“This one? This one is not for you, good master. He bites and is difficult to train. Despite his great power, he will never make a good mount.”
“Sold. Skip the fancy options, but I’ll take some Armor All for the saddle.”
“I thought you had no desire for barding or the wearing of armor?”
“No, I mean . . . aw, hell. Skip it. Just give me the horse and a saddle.”