A Woman of the Horseclans

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This twelfth book of HORSECLANS is dedicated to: The First Lady of Pern, Anne McCaffrey, esteemed colleague; the littlest princess, Tracy Weiner; the second-littlest princess, my niece Cherie; Rhoda Katerinsky and all my other friends at MS magazine; Alfie Bester, one of the finest living talents in our field; Lydia and A. E. Van Vogt; Laurence Janifer; Roy Torgeson; and all the folk of the Horseclans Societies.

Bettylou Hanson set down the heavy, smelly slop bucket and paused for a moment on the upper porch of the Building of the Son to gaze through the deepening dusk across the neat acres of gardens immediately surrounding the Abode of the Chosen. Beyond the gardens lay the broad ring of rippling grain fields and, beyond them, the fenced and always guarded pastures from whence the herdsmen were even now driving the sleek, lowing cattle. The herd guard dogs—big, prick-eared and long-haired beasts, bred up over many generations from the packs of wild dogs that once had roamed the plains—nipped at the heels of the cattle, easily dodging retaliatory hooves and horn swipes.

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