by Robin Roseau
I went from group to group, making promises. And I saw the abbesses doing the same thing. I imagined this wasn’t the first time they’d done this, but probably the first time they’d do so for this many at once.
Eventually I made my way to Ralalta. “I’ll see you in Marport,” I told her. I grinned. This time, we’d get there first.
“Is our Prestainamatta with you?”
“She’s there,” I said with a gesture.
“I want to talk to her once more,” Ralalta said. So we walked over, and the Goddess turned to us and smiled.
“Queen Ralalta.”
“Prestainamatta, I want to reiterate my invitation to Marport.”
“That is kind. I think we’ll wait for the temple to be built, and maybe a few shrines. Perhaps we could have a shrine built for me just on the Framaran side of the river. We can see if that helps.”
“I’ll see about it on the way through,” I said. “We’re going via Indorítanda, so it will be the right route.”
“Yalla, I want to ask our Prestainamatta a favor, but I do not want you to know I am asking. Will you ask her if that is possible? I don’t mind if you hear her answer, but I don’t want you to hear the question.”
“So mysterious,” I said. “Are you going to ask for six more grandbabies?”
“I just might,” she said. “Tell her what I said.”
I nodded and translated. “Bring Terél to translate,” said the Goddess. So I caught her attention, and the priestess stepped over. I told her what was going on.
“Repeat that in my words,” ordered the Goddess,” so I repeated it again. “Tell her that she must not answer your questions.” So I said that as well, making sure she understood The Goddess was so ordering. Terél grinned and agreed.
“Yalla, turn around and face away. In my words, tell Terél I am going to deafen you, and she may tell Ralalta.” I nodded and repeated that, and then the Goddess set her hands on either ear. There was a buzzing, and then absolute, absolute silence.
“I can’t hear a word,” I said, “Not a single sound.”
And I couldn’t hear my own words.
If anyone spoke, I don’t know. I imagine they did. But it was a minute or two later, and then I felt hands on my ears again. A moment later, I could hear, and I turned around. “Yalla,” said the Goddess. “Terél will translate. Tell Ralalta ‘Nothing would give me more pleasure, but other events must occur first.’”
So I repeated the words, and Terél translated them.
“Thank you, Prestainamatta,” Ralalta said in the language of the Goddess.
“Yalla, tell her it will be some time, but she is healthy, and she will see this favor come to pass, if she is patient.”
So I repeated that, and Terél translated.
“Good.”
“You don’t trust me,” I said.
“I do trust you,” she said. “But I also trust you to be playful and curious, and Ralalta also knows you are playful and curious. Now go finish your goodbyes. I know you are anxious.”
* * * *
We rode easily for an hour. Jakla was a natural, an absolute natural, but I felt her tugging on our bond the entire time we rode. The Goddess refused to answer questions, but I knew this was more than natural talent.
“How are you doing, Jakla?” I asked. Her grin was all the answer I needed. “Terél, please demonstrate a trot.” Then I moved Hamper in the way, blocking Zana so she wouldn’t get competitive and run after Terél.
“Do you see the up and down motion?” I asked. I talked for several minutes, and there was a portion of me that was aghast I was about to do this. Then I turned Hamper. We took several steps, and then I asked for a trot, the Goddess now floating rather than sitting.
Zana, of course, wasn’t to be outdone, and whether Jakla asked for it or not, she stepped into place, very slightly in front of Hamper, and then settled down. And when I looked over, Jakla was correctly posting.
“That just isn’t possible,” I muttered. Ahead of me, the Goddess laughed.
“It’s almost as if she knows everything you do, and only needs to be reminded.”
* * * *
It took us an extra half-day to reach Indorítanda than it would have without Jakla. After all, whether she could post a trot or not, she didn’t have the muscles to sustain it. The caretaker at the manor house was surprised to see us, but I told her to make little fuss. “However, I need to send a message to the head groom. Tell him I am here, and in the morning we will take one of the mounts with us. Please be ready to receive us.”
“Little fuss” still included a nice, comforting dinner and warm, soft beds.
We rose early, and I could tell Jakla was sore. I considered her carefully then said, “We’ll stay one extra day here.” No one asked why.
But we visited the stable in the morning. The head groom was definitely ready, and he met us as we rode in. “Good morning, Lady Yallameenara.”
“Good morning,” I said. “Did you get my message?”
“I did. We put colored bridles on the mounts that have received Altearan training and separated them into two paddocks besides.”
“Thank you,” I said. “I will be taking one with me, and we will need an appropriate saddle.” I dipped my head to Jakla, and he nodded.
“New rider?”
“It shows, does it?”
“She has that look,” he replied.
“We’re going to give her a day, but I want to select her mount and put her to work. In fact.” I grinned. “Could you give her a little stable training without ruining her for riding tomorrow?”
“Two hours of light labor should loosen her nicely,” he replied.
“Thank you,” I said. “That answer is why you remain my head groom.”
He dipped his head. “They’re in the nearest two paddocks, so we can walk, if you like.”
“Lead the way.”
It was a short walk, just a minute or two. Zana wasn’t impressed at being left behind, but she’d survive. At the paddock, several of us climbed up onto the fence rail. I dipped in between and strode out to my horses.
My horses. That was still amazing for me. I didn’t feel I had earned them, not the way a man of The Hippa might earn them. But this one herd was nearly as large as the entire herd of the Three Cats Tribe. Oh, how I’d like my grandfather to see me now.
If he even still lived. Life on The Hippa was uncertain.
The horses all watched me, and while they weren’t necessarily standoffish, they didn’t approach, either. I watched them, just judging their reactions to me. And then Jakla did something unexpected.
She gave a whistle. When I turned, she had her hand out, and she was holding a carrot. I had no idea where she’d gotten it.
I wasn’t the only one who saw the carrot. Four of my horses trotted over, one feisty mare edging out the other three to win the prize. Jakla laughed. “She tickles!”
I stepped over. The mare had finished the carrot by the time I arrived, and she was nudging for more. But while she was focused on Jakla, I looked her over.
“She’s not normally this friendly,” said the head groom.
“Jakla has a way about her,” I said. I inspected the mare carefully, running hands down her legs. She was sound, and her hooves good. In fact, she was perfect.
I checked her shoes, shaking my head. Shoes on horses. But they were expertly done, and I was pleased. “Compliment the farrier for me.”
“I will, Lady Yallameenara. My cousin.”
I nodded, then finished my inspection. “I’ll take that blanket and saddle.”
It only took a few minutes to prepare the mare, then I climbed atop and put her through a little workout.
And I checked her signals while I was at it.
She was good. Spirited, as a good horse of The Hippa should be, and responsive. I didn’t think she’d beat Zana on the barrels, but she might give Hamper a run for his money. Well, if there were two of me to do the riding. Finally I
brought her to a snorting stop in front of my small audience.
“I do enjoy watching you ride,” said the groom.
“Thank you,” I said. “Jakla, come on through. What do you think?”
“What do I think?” she asked.
“You’re not keeping Zana,” I said. “We’re here to pick one that is all yours.”
“Mine?”
“Yours,” I said.
She climbed down from the fence, and I climbed down from the horse. The groom came through, too, and I handed him the reins. Then I showed Jakla everything I had checked. “It’s hard to explain when things are wrong. Larent, is there anything you could show her today?”
“Not much. We have a few due for shoes, and there’s some heat coming from one of the Altearan mounts.”
“Show her, later,” I said. “Anything I need to worry about?”
“We’re taking care of it,” he replied.
I turned back to Jakla. “Do you like her?”
“What is her name?”
“That’s a good question. Larent?”
“The others might have names. These don’t have names they’d know.”
“Well, Jakla,” I said. “I suppose you’ll have to name her. She’d be your horse, after all. But we’ll have to talk about it, because she is an Arrlottan horse, so she should have an Arrlottan name.”
“I don’t know any Arrlottan names.”
“It’s a good thing I can help you, then,” I said. “Climb up.”
I helped her to mount. She collected the reins, and I told her, “Give her a little ride, but be careful.”
“I will.”
Jakla rode slowly at first, then asked for a trot, moving around the paddock. I was impressed she could do it, as sore as I thought she must be. Finally she came to a stop, facing me, and was grinning.
“She’s mine?”
“I want to try her for a longer distance,” I said. “Just to be sure. But yes, I believe she’s yours. Let me just be sure.”
* * * *
We gave Jakla a day, leaving early the next morning, all of us rested. Yahamala seemed pleased to take Zana back, which amused me, and we rode easily.
“Yallameenara,” Jakla said, sometime about midmorning. “You said you would help me name her.”
“So I did,” I said. “I think we should call her Mescoito.”
“What does that mean?”
“Fly-bitten.”
“She is not fly-bitten!” Jakla protested. “She’s a good horse.”
“She is,” I agreed. “But look. Zana is laughing.”
“I do not want Zana to laugh at my horse, Yallameenara.”
“Well, what do you want to call her?” I asked. And darn, but she offered an Altearan name that would never, ever fit around my tongue. “Oh, no,” I said. “Arrlottan. What does that mean?”
“Smooth of foot and smarter than Zana.”
I laughed. “I do not believe Zana cares for that name. But we could call her Sharsint. In a way, it is like an Altearan name, shortening words, and comes from words meaning Smooth of Foot and Even of Gait.”
“I like it,” Jakla said after just a moment. “Sharsint. Are you teasing me?”
“Not at all,” I said.
“Then her name is Sharsint.” She leaned forward and patted Sharsint’s neck. “She’s a good girl.”
“That she is,” I agreed. As was her rider.
Equinox
I couldn’t believe it.
Tomorrow was the fall equinox, and I stood in the new temple watching my priestesses making last minute adjustments.
I couldn’t believe it.
Ralalta had beaten us back to Marport after all, and by the time I arrived, she’d arranged for us to talk to builders. In that meeting, I’d been given two very basic choices. If I wanted it done quickly, we could build of wood. If I wanted the project to take far longer, we could build of stone.
I didn’t understand, and it had taken time to explain. Finally Juleena said, “Do you remember the first building you ever saw?”
“You said it was a barn, a house for animals,” I said.
“That’s right. The barns we passed are built in a day.”
“No,” I whispered.
“Oh, they spend time getting ready, but the entire community arrives early in the morning, and when they leave that night, it is done.”
“Why is the palace built of stone?”
“To last,” Ralalta said. “And because we cannot build a wood structure this massive.”
“But your temple is almost exactly the same size as a barn,” Juleena said. “And we can build it the same.”
“I do not want our Prestainamatta’s temple to look like a house for animals!”
“It won’t,” she said. “But it can be built the same way while looking exactly how you want. But if you want it out of stone, you can do that. It will only take longer.”
“Much longer,” I said.
“Much longer,” said Nealand, the man who would build it, if I built of stone.
“And more expensive.”
“Yes.”
“Why should I pay you to take a long time if I can have my barn,” I said the word with distaste, “in a day?”
“Stone doesn’t burn. Stone will last for centuries. Your barn,” and he smiled as he said it, “if built well, and if it receives proper care, can also last for centuries, but probably not as many centuries.”
There were still times I distrusted my understanding of Framaran words, even after all these years, and so I said, “A century is ten tens of years.”
“Yes.”
“On the other hand,” said Varmateed, the woman who would build my barn, “If we build of wood, it is warmer, and we can do things that are difficult with stone.” Then she smiled. “And you don’t need to wait two years.”
“I do not want a barn.”
“I can build a model.”
“We have a model.” I pointed to the model Tiera did. “It is a very good model.”
“It is quite good,” agreed the woman. “My model will show you what the building will really look like when I am done.”
“And then you will build our temple in one day?”
“No, no. If I were building a barn, it would take one day. When do you want your temple?”
I smiled. “In time to hold our fall equinox celebration.”
She paused only a heartbeat. “All right. If you accept my first design with only minimal changes, I can make that deadline.”
“I was kidding.”
“I am not.”
And so, I had accepted her proposal. Varmateed returned a week later, and at first I was dismayed. “It doesn’t just look like a barn, it is a barn!”
“You’re right,” she said. “That is a barn.” Then she pointed to another crate. “The model inside that crate is not a barn. It is a temple.”
“Oh,” I said. “Why did you bring me this?”
“So you could see the difference, but I wanted to show you how the construction will be similar.”
I didn’t really understand, but I nodded. She gestured, and her assistants -- a son and niece -- opened the crate and removed the model, covered in cloth. “We can make simple changes,” she said. “If you hate it, we can try again.”
I nodded, and then her assistants removed the cloth, and I stared at the model. “It’s not a barn,” I whispered.
“No, it is not,” she said. Then she showed me the exterior features, including the windows to face the sea, windows that could be opened for good days. “They will be a little different,” she said. “The hardware will be different. But it will work much like this.”
That was another word I didn’t know: hardware. “It will look the same?”
“Not identical, but very close.”
I looked to Ralalta, and she nodded, so we moved on.
“Now, I built this so the top removes.” Then her assistants pulled the roof away, and we could see inside
more easily. “I put two rooms here,” she said, indicating left and right of the main door. “But kept this open for your celebrations. If you do not want these rooms, I can take them out.”
“They will look like this?”
“There is much wood, and so it won’t look exactly like this, but yes,” she said. “I think you’ll like it.”
I nodded. “You said you would show me why this is like a barn, but not like a barn.”
“I can’t show you everything, because you cannot see the bones, but it is in these beams.” She gestured. And then her assistants lifted the roof and held it up. “When we build this structure, we start with these beams, and they go all the way to the peak. To make the barn, we do the same, and we lift them into place and connect them.” She spoke for several minutes, and while I didn’t understand everything, I understood enough.
“Built like a barn, but not to look like a barn,” I said.
“Yes. And the walls will be thicker and warmer. And, of course, the floor is not dirt.”
Then she said finally, “There is one promise I cannot make.”
“What?”
“These steps at the front and the back,” she said. “They are stone. I do not know if I can have them done for your celebration. If not, then we will install wooden steps.” And then her niece set two sets of premade steps onto the table. The builder removed the stone steps, which I saw weren’t actually stone, anyway, and set the wooden steps into place. “Like this.”
“I want to see what it looks like on the model.” I pointed to the one Tiera had done. “This is bigger.”
“This model is bigger,” she said. “I could not make the model the same size.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I am offering a building of the size your artist indicated,” she said. “I built the model larger.”
“I still don’t understand.”
She gestured, and her son retrieved the clay temple Tiera had made. He carefully set it down on the table beside the much larger, wood temple his mother had constructed. “The final building would be the same,” she said. “I made the model differently. I made this model so one foot of the final building is represented by one inch in the model. Your artist appears to have made one foot require only about a half inch. It is the model that is the different size, not the final building.”