Sighing, Meridy brought her gaze down to the mortal world. After another moment, she crawled back under the wagon and lay down again, pulling up the blanket. She was very sleepy. She didn’t know whether or not to hope for more dreams. But she did not dream again that night.
—
The day dawned clear and bright. Meridy, waking once more beneath the Gehliy family’s wagon, had a second of confused disorientation before she remembered where she was. The wagon, yes. Maraift and Derren and their family, and a lot of wagons and people, enough to be safe from any brigands or wolves or fire horses. Yes. She was safe, and on the road to Riam, and from there who knew where? Excitement stirred, the same that had buoyed her since she’d first seen the Yellow River and the long road that led into the world. She clambered out from under the wagon to see what the morning promised.
The muted shout of the last watch of guards waking their fellows was still hanging in the quiet air, and the picketed horses were snorting impatiently at the men working their way along the line with the morning grain. A couple of guards were making breakfast porridge. Meridy noticed Jaift wandering past the cooking pots and pausing to stir them.
Sure enough, when she collected a bowl of the porridge, it was definitely a cut above the usual—creamier or thicker or something, Meridy wasn’t quite sure. Iëhiy leaned his weightless head against her hip and rolled his eyes up to her, begging. Meridy glanced around surreptitiously. No one appeared to be watching. She bent a bit of the porridge out of the real and dropped it off her spoon. She’d been practicing such changes a lot in the past few days. The hound caught the dollop before it hit the ground and, tail waving, begged for more.
“Not now,” Meridy whispered. “Behave!”
Ignoring this command, Iëhiy sat up on his hind legs, a ridiculously cute sight when the dog had surely outweighed her when he’d been alive. He was irresistible. She tipped another spoonful of porridge out of the real into the ethereal. Iëhiy snapped it up and lolled his tongue out in canine good humor. It was a terrible encouragement of bad manners, but after all Meridy truly did need to practice working with the real and the ethereal. She dropped another dollop.
But then she realized Jaift had come back again and was now looking in her direction. Plainly the other girl hadn’t noticed anything strange—she was absentmindedly watching a couple of the men bringing horses from the picket lines to the wagons—but still, it was impossible to give Iëhiy any more porridge. Especially since he didn’t actually need food at all. Meridy ate the rest of the bowlful herself.
Derren Gehliy made his appearance before Meridy was quite finished with her breakfast. Meridy watched the merchant shake his head over one hitch, where one of the lead horses had apparently come up lame. He finally ordered the horse unharnessed and put on a lead and some of the weight redistributed to other wagons to spare the short hitch. Meridy was surprised that it wasn’t the caravan guards who had seen the problem but the merchant himself. He hadn’t seemed so perceptive to her. Meridy made a mental note to be careful about Iëhiy when Derren was watching.
Then Maraift bustled over. “You did look exhausted last night,” she said comfortably. “But you look much better this morning. Just put that bowl with the others to be washed, dear, and let me introduce you to the children. Now that you’re properly awake you may be able to remember all the names, though of course you can simply ask again if you forget.” She led Meridy firmly toward her children. They stood in a clump, six of them, ranging in age from Jaift right down to an infant a younger girl was holding. They all stared at Meridy with an intensity of interest she couldn’t help but find daunting. She jerked her chin up and glowered back at them, trying to take courage from Iëhiy’s cheerfully waving tail. But he didn’t know how cruel girls could be to each other.
“Now, you’ve met Jaift,” continued Maraift, also seeming oblivious to the possibility that her children might resent or despise the stranger she was foisting on them. “And these two young terrors are Cory and Cehy, they’re twins as you can see, and this is Jihiy with the baby, and this one is Little Derren, after my husband, of course. My dears, this is Meridy Turiyn. I’m sure you’ll all get along famously.” She gave a pleasant nod and swished away in a cloud of skirts and hospitality, taking the baby with her. It took a shameful effort for Meridy not to run after her.
After the barest moment, Jaift stepped forward and offered her hand to Meridy. She was perhaps a few years older than Meridy, a tall girl, as tall as most men, but she carried her height with confidence, as though she knew every other girl longed to be just that tall. She was pretty, in a straightforward sort of way. She wore a dark green blouse, a split traveling skirt in dark brown, and practical brown knee boots that laced up the front. Her wheaten hair, a shade lighter than her mother’s, was braided back with the ends tucked invisibly under, a style Meridy hadn’t seen before.
Meridy was fairly certain she could guess what Jaift thought of her: a plain, dark village girl with near-black hair that always tangled no matter what she tried to do with it. Boys the twins’ age didn’t usually go out of their way to be mean to a girl—they would hardly have noticed girls at all, yet—and the other children were probably too young to care. But Meridy knew Jaift must be scornful of a hard-worn dress that had obviously, even in its best days, never been anything but a village girl’s homespun. A girl like Jaift, practically the next thing to highborn, would hate her for being dark and common even if her smoky-black eyes didn’t suggest the strong possibility that she might be a witch.
She brushed the offered palm lightly with her own and said, trying not to sound too grim about it, “I’m pleased to know you, Jaift Gehliy.”
“And I you, Meridy Turiyn.” The merchant’s daughter sounded perfectly friendly. “It will be pleasant to have a girl my age along for the rest of the journey. Perhaps you will ride with me? You could take one of the remounts.”
Meridy felt her face heat. “I’m sorry,” she said, trying not to sound resentful. “I don’t know how to ride.”
She was sure Jaift had asked her just to show up her lack of skill, but the Gehliys’ daughter blinked in what seemed honest surprise and said after a second, with no sign of scorn, “Perhaps we could both walk, then. Or would you like me to teach you to ride?”
Meridy looked at the horses to give herself time to think. She didn’t want to try to be friendly with Jaift. She knew the merchant’s daughter probably intended to embarrass her. And horses looked much bigger when you thought about getting up on one than when you saw them in a pasture or in front of a wagon. But Meridy had always wished she knew how to ride. She remembered her daydreams of taming a beautiful fire horse and riding proudly across the land, and stupid as it was, she still wanted to learn. Even though she would never have chosen a girl nearly her own age as a teacher, she said at last, “That would be very kind of you.”
Cory, or maybe Cehy, pushed in. “I ride better than Jaift does,” the boy declared. “Are you a witch like Uncle Daven?”
“I’m a better teacher, and you’ve no manners,” said Jaift tartly. “Go have one of the remounts saddled for Meridy. Mind, not that idiot colt you’ve been teaching bad habits! Jihiy, better catch Little Derren before he wanders too far!” As the younger children all darted away, she added to Meridy, “I’m sorry, but Cory didn’t mean anything by it, you know! Uncle Daven’s a priest, and our favorite uncle. The children are likely to ask you for stories, I’m afraid. They think that’s what witches do—tell stories and do tricks.”
Meridy cautiously answered Jaift’s easy smile. She still didn’t trust that appearance of friendliness, but it made her feel better, somehow, to know there was a reason the Gehliy family seemed so untroubled by her black eyes. She wasn’t sure whether she was sorry the uncle wasn’t traveling with the family or not.
Jaift’s smile was starting to fade. Meridy glanced at Iëhiy, who was sitting with his ears slanted back in a friendly expression that made it clear he, at least, was perfectly
ready to be friends. At last, half persuaded by the wolfhound’s attitude, Meridy said cautiously, “I could probably tell a story, if the children want.” She had heard plenty of Ambica’s stories often enough to remember them.
Jaift was immediately friendly again. “They’d like that! We’ve all heard each other’s stories far too many times.”
Niniol rode up before Meridy had to answer this, leading a stocky cider-colored gelding. He gave Meridy a nod and Jaift a respectful salute. “Your brother said you wanted a horse for your guest, miss. This is my own remount. I think he’ll answer.”
“Thank you, Niniol,” Jaift said, taking the reins. “We’ll take good care of him.”
The guard tipped Meridy a friendly wink and rode off.
Meridy stared after him, wondering. If Iëhiy seemed to accept the goodwill of the Gehliy family, even Jaift; and if Niniol was willing to lend his own horse…maybe this wasn’t going to be quite as bad as she’d feared.
Then Meridy looked again at the horse. “He seems a little, um, large,” she ventured, and instantly winced inwardly, though she tried not to show it.
She had expected mockery, but Jaift’s smile seemed open and friendly. “He’s smaller than you are where it counts—in his head. That’s the first thing you should keep in mind about horses.” She handed Meridy a bit of bread from her pocket. “Want to get acquainted? Give him this, flat on your palm.”
It might have been a trick, except Meridy knew that truly was how you offered treats to a horse. She gingerly extended her hand, and the horse lipped the bread delicately off her fingers, blowing gently in her face. She patted his neck and thought that, after all, he wasn’t that much taller than Iëhiy. Perhaps she could treat this animal like a large dog. The wolfhound, as if summoned by the thought, insinuated himself jealously under her hand. Meridy patted him, too, then looked quickly to see if Jaift had noticed.
The other girl was checking something about the gelding’s bridle and didn’t appear to have seen anything odd. Now she turned back and asked, “Shall I give you a leg up?”
For the first time, there seemed a slight reserve to her tone, and Meridy hesitated. But she didn’t think she could get up by herself. “If you don’t mind…”
Jaift smiled at her, the stiffness vanishing until Meridy wasn’t sure any constraint had been there at all. “Of course I don’t mind! Go ahead and grab his mane—it won’t hurt him.” Cupping Meridy’s knee, she heaved her up and said, “Good—you see? That wasn’t hard, and there you are. How does it feel?”
Meridy looked around. She felt much higher up than she had expected. But after a moment, when the horse didn’t do anything sudden or startling, she started to relax a little, feeling that this might work after all.
“Now,” said Jaift, “sit up straight. Lean back if you want him to slow down or stop. Your leg should be here.” She took Meridy’s ankle and firmly moved her leg back. “Keep your head up. You nudge with your feet to go. Don’t kick, just nudge. You tighten the right rein to turn him right, the left to turn him left, and both together to get him to stop. Don’t jerk. It only takes gentle pressure.”
“All right,” Meridy answered tensely. At least she doubted that Niniol would have purposefully given her a difficult or dangerous horse. So far the animal was standing quietly, though his ears rotated back toward Meridy, perhaps wondering what she was waiting for. She pressed her legs firmly against his sides. He stepped forward gently and she pulled back on the reins in startled reflex. The gelding stopped, ears cocked back at her attentively.
“There, you see?” said Jaift. “Hold on while I get my mare. You can ride him in circles, if you like.” And she walked off toward the horse lines, leaving Meridy by herself.
Meridy did not panic, but she didn’t try to get the gelding to move, either. She sat perfectly still and thanked the God for the great good fortune of being given a particularly amicable animal. And, apparently, a particularly amicable family of merchants. She was almost starting to think even Jaift might not be so bad. Maybe the daughters of wealthy merchants weren’t the same as village girls. Or maybe the God had in fact guided Meridy’s steps.
It wasn’t just that the Gehliy family seemed genuinely nice. What mattered was that not one of them knew Meridy from little green acorns. They didn’t know her mother had never named her father—maybe that was why they were nice to her. And they had an uncle who was a witch, so they didn’t mind the color of her eyes. She was sure that was important.
Here among these people, Meridy could actually tell any story about herself and her past that she pleased. Free from her past! There should have been unadulterated delight in the thought, and there was pleasure in it; but Meridy discovered that it gave her an odd unrooted sort of feeling, too. Surely she wasn’t missing Tikiy?
She told herself firmly not to be ridiculous and, as Jaift returned, carefully nudged her borrowed horse into a walk to join her.
The whole camp moved out almost as soon as Jaift was mounted, the wagons rumbling forward in close formation and the riders spreading out around them. Derren Gehliy rode a stocky bay horse up and down along the train of wagons. Maraift, with the baby on her ample lap, waved cheerfully as her wagon passed Jaift and Meridy. Jaift led the way to fall in to one side of her mother’s wagon. Iëhiy paced beside Meridy’s horse, keeping up effortlessly. The twins tore by on a matched pair of spotted brown-and-white horses, riding fast beside the road, yelling and whooping. A pair of guards rode after them with a long-suffering attitude.
Jaift laughed and shook her head. “Riding herd on those two is wearing out the guards, poor things. But I think they like it, however much they complain. It breaks the monotony, you know. It does get boring on a trip like this. It’s nearly a four-week trip at caravan speed.”
Meridy made a noncommittal sound.
“That’s one reason I was glad when Mother said you would be traveling with us. Were you honestly planning to walk all the way to Riam by yourself?”
“I’d have had to, wouldn’t I, if I hadn’t met your party?”
Jaift gazed at her with open admiration, not seeming to mind Meridy’s edged tone. “Wouldn’t you have been scared to death? You should maintain more tension in the reins than that. You ought to be barely able to feel his mouth. That’s right, good, that’s much better. What if you’d run into outlaws?”
Meridy flashed on Braid with her knife in his belly, and Scar falling after Iëhiy had torn out his throat. She swallowed hard and focused on her horse’s neck. “I’m very glad your father let me ride with you.”
“Oh, he had to, once Mother made up her mind. Mother would never have let him hear the end of it if he’d turned you away.”
“Your mother seems kind.”
“She is. Heels down. So is Father, really.” Jaift hesitated. “Your parents are both in the hand of the God, Mother said. I’m sorry. That must be hard for you.”
Trying not to snap at the other girl, Meridy said tightly, “It happens. I’ll get by.”
“Of course,” Jaift answered quickly. “I’m sorry.” She visibly searched for another subject. “Have you ever been to Riam before?”
“No.” It was Meridy’s turn to hesitate. Jaift hadn’t said or done one nasty thing, and her own suspicions were starting to feel mean-spirited. Yet she didn’t even know how to talk to girls who were trying to be friendly. “Your mother said you were hoping to find a husband there,” she offered at last.
“A Derem son, Timias.” Jaift sounded relieved at this change of topic. “Yes. At least he’s only a little older than I am.”
“You don’t mind getting married?” Meridy realized as she asked the question that Jaift might justifiably be offended.
But Jaift only shrugged. “Sometimes I used to think I might follow my uncle’s path.”
“Your uncle the priest? You thought of being a priestess?” Meridy asked in surprise. Not many girls followed that path—she’d never known one who had, but then, priests seldom came through
little villages like Tikiy, only once or twice a year to send any lingering ghost to the God, and to bless new cottages and new wells, new marriages and new babies.
Jaift shrugged again. “Well, yes, I thought I might. But marrying this Derem boy would be good for the business, I suppose. The boys will be our uncle’s heirs—that’s already been settled. Which is fine, but there’s not another girl after me except Jihiy, and she’s so little still, it’ll be years before she could marry. I like doing the accounts, anyway. He’ll be coming to Tamar if we do marry, so I wouldn’t have to leave my family. That would be nice.”
Meridy didn’t answer. How different it must be, to be surrounded by your own family, which wanted you to be a part of it….
“Heels down,” Jaift reminded her. “Or sometimes it helps to think of it as lifting your toes.”
Meridy gave her a wary look, but Jaift’s tone had been matter-of-fact rather than scornful. She tried to push her heels down.
“Good,” said Jaift. “How about you? Were there any young men in your village you were sorry to leave?”
“No,” Meridy said, more emphatically than she’d intended.
Jaift laughed. “Oh! A boy broke your heart, did he? Some tall, brooding boy with a smile just for you. Or else your kin wanted you to marry where you didn’t want to, so you ran away from home—”
“No!” snapped Meridy.
“I’m sorry!” Jaift seemed taken aback by Meridy’s sharp answer. “I was just, just—” She waved an apologetic hand. “I like imagining stories about people, that’s all. I didn’t mean any of that. I’m sorry.”
Now it was Meridy’s turn to be embarrassed. She said in a much more conciliatory tone, “No, I was stupid.” She tried to think of something else to say. “I wanted to see Riam,” she muttered.
Jaift brightened immediately. “Oh, yes, so do I! It’s a much bigger city than Tamar, you know. Does your aunt in Riam have a business of her own that you’re going to help her with?”
The White Road of the Moon Page 7