Alt: The horse was where Hjordis had left it, tied to a post just outside the Golden Dragon's front entrance, which was unfortunately also where the Golden Dragon's front entrance was currently depositing its entire population into the street. Someone had thrown the fiddler through the door. The fiddler had taken the door with them. More patrons, more shouting, a stool, two of Bruno's men moving backwards in a fighting retreat, laughing loudly. The black horse regarded all of this from its post with dead calm. Magistracy seal on the saddle. Fine breed indeed. "There," Hjordis said. "Marvellous," Tryggve said. "Simple matter of untying it and—" Three men spilled out of the brawl and clocked them at the same time. One pointed. "That's them! The Zyrellian and our Nell—" They ran. The horse watched them coming with mild interest and then, as Tryggve arrived at the post reaching for the reins, pinned her ears. Eyes flared, showing white. "Easy," Tryggve told it. "Easy, good horse, excellent horse, we're friends, I have no food but I have tremendous respect for your—" The horse tossed its head. Tryggve grabbed for the reins, got them, and the horse stepped sideways and he went with it and lost the reins and grabbed for the saddle and the horse stepped sideways again, moving him in a neat arc around its bulk while the men closed in behind them. "Just untie it, ye useless sod!" Hjordis shouted from six feet away. "I'm trying! It's not cooperating, there's clearly a misunderstanding—" Tryggve lunged again, slipped, fell to his back, right behind the rear hooves. The horse lowered its head and glanced back at him. He looked back. Shiin's nads. "I respect you enormously," he told it. She caught him square in the forehead with her hoof. The world went briefly white. Then it went very interesting colours. Then it went away.