by Candy Rae
So Councillor had spoken to Innkeeper Talan and had arranged to stay an extra few days. The two of them had plotted about how they could get Rilla and Julean to spend time together. Councillor Horatio Anders spoke to Julean and ordered him to be at the foot of the stairs at dawn. Julean had agreed with little demur. Rilla intrigued him and he was attracted to her. Time would tell if the feeling was mutual and Julean had every confidence in himself as a suitor.
“Your father said that we could take as long as we like,” he added.
“I have to be back to help with breakfast,” countered Rilla.
“Not this morning,” he answered with a smile of triumph. “I’ve even got some eats waiting in my saddlebag in case we get hungry.”
Rilla’s eyes narrowed and Julean although wilting under her scrutiny held his ground.
“Our mounts are saddled and waiting,” he continued, looking away towards the outer door. “One of your stable hands waits with them. That’s a nice little horse you have, Lightfoot, isn’t it? Looks as if he could be quite a goer.”
Now, one thing Rilla liked to talk about was horses and Lightfoot in particular. Julean saw some of the tension leave Rilla’s face and pressed home his advantage.
“He’s got a fine intelligent head on him.”
“He has,” Rilla agreed, wavering. Perhaps a ride with Julean wouldn’t do any harm and she wanted to go out, feel the wind on her face.
“Shall we go?” Julean asked.
The morning wasn’t an unmitigated disaster and as Rilla dismounted when they arrived back at the inn shortly before luncheon she directed a tentative smile in the direction of her escort. She led Lightfoot into his stall, ran up the stirrups and undid the girth. Lightfoot turned his head and blew in her ear as she threw the girth over the saddle.
Julean was feeling pleased with himself. He had enjoyed the ride and had enjoyed Rilla’s company. She wasn’t at all like the merchant or soldier daughters. Unaffected by the rules of polite society, her conversation was witty and interesting. Julean was well on the way to falling in love.
Unlike Julean, Rilla insisted on tending to her mount herself. Julean had handed over his mare to a waiting boy and was standing watching her, his hopes growing. If he had to get married and he knew he must, Julean rather thought that he would like it to be Rilla. He thanked her for a wonderful morning and took his leave. He strode with purposeful tread out of the stable and towards the inn where he was confident his father would be waiting.
After luncheon the fathers of Julean and Rilla spoke at length arranging matters to their mutual satisfaction.
For Talan it was a most splendid match and he told Zanda so when he informed her he wanted to speak to Rilla.
Zanda wasn’t nearly as ecstatic and expressed her doubts in no uncertain terms. She didn’t want Rilla forced into a marriage with a man she hardly knew.
“They’ve only spend a few bells together,” she fretted. “Rilla needs more time to know whether the match is to her liking.”
But Talan wouldn’t listen and insisted Rilla be sent for.
That was when it was realised that Rilla had vanished. The search, instigated by an angry Talan when Zanda reported that Rilla couldn’t be found showed up no trace of her at all. Lightfoot was in his stable and her half of the bedroom was just as she had left it when she had gone for her matinal ride. All the servants, both indoor and out were questioned but none professed to have seen her.
It was if she had disappeared into thin air.
Zilla knew where her sister had gone but she said nothing, lifting a guileless face to her father when the furious man questioned her.
“I’ve not seen her,” she lied, quaking into her shoes. She fled to Lightfoot’s stall where she shed bitter tears into his warm neck.
Her father would find out soon enough where Rilla had gone.
“Now it’s only me left,” she sobbed.
Lightfoot whickered and nudged her. He knew Zilla and although Rilla was his preferred person, Zilla would do very well until Rilla returned.
Lightfoot didn’t understand that Rilla was gone.
An angry Councillor Horatio Anders, disappointed son in tow, left the inn early the flowing morning.
* * * * *
To return to that point in time when Julean took his leave and went off to seek his father, Rilla busied herself making sure every bit of sweat from the ride was gone from Lightfoot’s glossy coat. He stood, oat-crunching and Rilla stood still and quiet, one arm moving as she stroked an appreciative Lightfoot’s neck.
The stable staff looked at her, some with pity in their gaze as they passed by on their way to the kitchens for their lunch. Like most domestic and outside servants they knew all they needed to know about their employers. They knew what Talan had in mind and none had been that impressed with what they’d seen of Julean Anders.
Rilla stood alone with the horses. It was quiet except for an occasional whinny and the crunching of teeth on feed.
A peculiar prickling sensation at the back of Rilla’s neck was the only warning she got, that and a sense of unease emanating from amongst the hoofed inhabitants of the stable. She looked round, started with surprise as she looked into a pair of large blue eyes.
: Hello Rilla : said the owner of these eyes.
* * * * *
Rilla
Rilla and Zawlei arrived at Vada one fair evening some eight days after they had left the inn. The journey had been uneventful. Rilla was amazed at how fast Zawlei could travel when he felt inclined. His paws seemed barely to touch the ground as he ran and riding Zawlei was as unalike riding her pony Lightfoot as the difference between chalk and cheese. Lightfoot was the fastest mount in the ward but Zawlei was faster and as smooth as a skiff skimming over water. Rilla was managing pretty well without saddle and stirrups. She gripped hard with her thighs and thanked the gods that she was used to riding. How those town-bred managed she didn’t want to imagine though Zawlei informed her that such newly-paired would travel at a much gentler pace.
She got the impression from Zawlei that it was a good thing that she could already ride and that she would probably be exempt from the basic riding classes.
“Why’s that a good thing?” enquired Rilla and was informed that it meant that she could start the more advanced classes that much earlier and so might be able to catch up with those of similar age.
Rilla knew by now that she would be one of the oldest of the new cadets. Most Lind found their life partners when both were around the age of fourteen. The duo then spent the next four years as Vada Cadets, graduating at eighteen. Rilla was seventeen years old already and had been worrying about being so much older until Zawlei told her that provision was made for such vadeln pairings.
She continued to worry about how she would fit in and plied Zawlei with questions about the training. Surely Zawlei had made a mistake, choosing her as his partner? Unlike Hilla, Rilla had never felt the inclination to be a soldier and had attended the compulsory defence classes back home as something to get through somehow. Hilla had been the one who had gone to the extra classes.
“You will be in a special class,” Zawlei informed her. An image came to Rilla’s mind of a cadet in the maroon uniform of the Vada.
It was a girl, Rilla realised, with a bubbles crop of auburn hair peeking out of a maroon kepi. Zawlei drew her attention to the thin white stripe on the upper part of the girl’s left sleeve.
“That is the single stripe that tells us that she is a first year cadet,” he informed her. “Second years have two stripes and so on.”
Rilla learned that she would wear one thick white stripe like all those in the special class. Once she had reached the standard of others of her age she would be slotted into one of the year groups. First and second years were all under sixteen and had to attend general lessons in reading, writing and reckoning as well as the ones more pertinent to the Vada such as First Aid.
“You’ll have to attend Lindish classes,” Zawlei added,
“I speak your language well as I was brought up in Vadath and probably what the teachers call geography unless you studied Vadath and Lind at your lessons place.”
This conversation regarding lessons occurred as they arrived at the outskirts of Vada itself. They threaded their way through the straggling town and up to the gates of the Stronghold. At the gate Rilla spied guards standing on the ramparts in the Vada uniform. Two had silver piping and badges on their tunics, the third’s piping was white, a cadet with three narrow white year stripes.
: Shona : Zawlei identified her : her Lind is called Danei of pack Crendei from deep within the rtathlians of the Lind. She will look after you and get us settled in. You will like her :
As she and Zawlei stepped through the gate all of Rilla’s trepidation and misgivings came back tenfold.
: Be calm : Zawlei advised.
: I am trying : her mind-voice shook.
: Dismount now : ordered Zawlei.
Rilla did so, wondering what was to happen next but when Zawlei spoke like that Rilla couldn’t do anything else but obey.
The girl approached, a welcoming smile on her face.
: Shona knows something about how you feel : Zawlei told her : she, like you was older than many when she arrived here with Danei and that not long ago. She has recently exchanged the wide stripe for the three :
That made Rilla feel better but not by very much. Would she manage as well as this Shona?
“Rilla,” Shona said, “a thousand welcomes to you and Zawlei.” She executed a quick bow in Zawlei’s direction. Rilla had learned that such courtesies were appreciated by the Lind. “I’m Shona. I’ll be looking after you for a while, help you settle in. Let’s get you both to your quarters so you can freshen up after your long ride. Food too, you look as if you could do with a good meal, didn’t you stop at the Supply Stations along the way?”
“Yes,” answered Rilla, “each night.” There was no need, Rilla decided, to tell Shona that she, despite Zawlei’s support felt nervous and apprehensive about the about turn her life had taken. She kept one hand on Zawlei’s withers as Shona talked.
Shona didn’t pursue the matter for which Rilla was grateful.
“You’ll be stiff and sore,” continued Shona, “but we’ll leave the bath for a while, the bathrooms will be fit to bursting with cadets at this bell.”
She began to lead Rilla towards a conglomeration of large two-storied buildings and eyed her new charge. “You don’t look that sore.”
“I’m not,” Rilla admitted. “I’m used to riding. I had a pony of my own at home.” A wave of homesickness swept over Rilla as she remembered Lightfoot and she wondered how Zilla was getting along looking after him. As they neared the first of the doors of the buildings, Danei and Zawlei veered away and Rilla suppressed a surge of anxiety which Shona was quick to notice.
“Don’t panic,” she soothed. “They’ll be back soon. My Danei is taking your Zawlei off to look over the complex and then probably they’ll go on to the hunting grounds to get something good to eat.”
“Hunting grounds?” stammered Rilla. During their journey to Vada Zawlei had eaten at the Supply Stations but the meat had already been dead and butchered. She had forgotten that in their native habitat the Lind hunted live meat.
“A mile or so to the south of here,” explained Shona. “Our friends like to hunt, it’s natural for them and the Vada keeps the area well stocked. They’re not averse to having their meat served on a platter so to speak but they hunt once in a tenday if not more when they can. There’s virtually no hunting in Argyll though most farmers will provide culls. Mostly our vadeln will provide payment if asked but they’re more usually paid as a reduction of their contribution to the defence tithe. Probably they’ll not hunt tonight though Danei’ll show him the kill-sheds.”
“Kill-sheds?”
Shona laughed. “I’ll explain later, come along and get settled in. This is the girl’s barracks. There are three. One for the girls, one for the boys and a much smaller one for adult cadets. What age are you?”
“Seventeen.”
“Oh. You don’t look it. I thought you about fifteen. You’ll not be a junior. That’s for the fourteen and fifteen year olds who still attend general lessons.”
“I finished schooling last year,” Rilla offered the information. “Passed the Leaving Exam too.”
“Good,” said Shona, “that means that you’ll soon catch up with the rest of us. My sixteenth birthday was last month and I’m a senior cadet.”
Rilla was relieved Zawlei had explained the Vada rank structure.
“I get the single white stripe?”
“Zawlei told you? Good. That’s right, a wide one and you’ll keep that until you’re ready to be slotted into one of the standard training year-groups. Probably the Thirds with me and Danei.”
“When do you think that will be?”
“Depends on how fast you learn.”
“Riding and sword work?” Rilla ventured to ask.
“And the rest,” answered Shona with another grin. “First Aid, Living off the Land, Scouting, Tactics, Lindish; not many from Argyll know much more than a yes and a no.”
“I can speak it a little,” said Rilla. “My family runs an inn on the Southern Trade Route and there’s no Supply Stations that close so we get Lind passing through though not often. Zawlei speaks Standard.”
“Well, he would, wouldn’t he? He’s a blue stripe, his rtath’s in Vadath; to the north of here. Most Lind, from what we call the home packs learn both. It’s good, means that you should find Lindish easy to pick up, more time to catch up on everything else.”
“Thought I’d finished with lessons. My sister Hilla, she’s with the Garda, she expected more but when I left the schoolroom I certainly didn’t.”
“Hilla your sister? Older or younger?”
“Older, by a bell,” grinned Rilla.
“Twins then?”
“Believe it or not, triplets. I’m the middle one. Hilla went to the Garda three months ago. She’s an Officer Trainee. Zilla’s the youngest. She’s still at home.”
“Triplets,” marvelled Shona. “I’ve never met a triplet before. Are you all alike?”
“Not really but everyone who meets us says that there is a likeness. Hilla’s pretty, she’s strong too. Zilla’s the really attractive one. An absolute mane of wavy blonde hair and even if I am her sister, a complexion to die for. Hilla’s hair is a curly dark red. Mine, as you can se, is vuzy brown, almost black and as straight as a die. The Plain Jane of the family, that’s me. Even Tala is prettier and Zala is another edition of Zilla.”
“Gracious. How many of you are there? Never mind, I’ll find out later and okay, you’re not exactly beautiful but I can’t see that you’ve much to complain about. You’re no worse than many and much better than some. Fastia for example. Now she’s a ‘Plain Jane’ and would be the first to admit it if asked. Her sisters are the same. It’s strange because her brothers are handsome. She says that it’s a good thing that her Xlei paired with her else she would have become an old, unmarried maid with nothing to look forward to at all.”
“Is she a cadet?”
Shona laughed. “Absolutely not. She’s the Vada Weaponsecond. You’ll meet her soon enough. She’s awfully strict, more so than Weaponsmaster Jilmis and he’s got a reputation. Tough as old boots he is, has to be with all us cadets to train.”
Rilla gulped. She had been beginning to feel more at ease and this information brought her nervousness back to the fore with an almighty leap of her stomach innards.
“Are all the trainers like them?”
Shona considered the question and gave an honest reply.
“Pretty much but the Junior Ryzcka is very kind. She’ll not have much to do with you and Zawlei though, not even when you exchange your wide stripe for the three.”
“How many are there? Older like me?”
“There’s never many, I think you make eight. You and Zawlei get intensive ridi
ng and weapons classes, one to one if they think you need it and you’ll be slotted into other classes as the timetables allow. Don’t panic, others have done it and it’s just a matter of application and practice, lots of practice.”
Rilla was not convinced.
“Now,” said Shona. “Here is our barracks.”
The door swung easily on its hinges so that the Lind could open it easily. Rilla was to find that most doors in the Stronghold were multi-hinged, had no handles or locks and could be swung open by pushing from either side. “You’re on the ground floor. Me and Danei are upstairs.” She led the way about half way up the long central corridor to a room on the left hand side. She pushed it open and Rilla noticed in passing that a square card on which were written her and Zawlei’s names had already been slotted into the nameplate holder.
The room was small and overfull with furniture. A narrow bed was set in the corner, beside it a small table and chair. The mattress had been flattened out and Rilla was to later find out that Shona had done this for her knowing that she would be tired after her long ride. A clothes press and desk with shelves above sat against the opposite wall. Under the window was a low divan affair with a thick rough spun mattress. Shona saw her looking at it.
“That’s for Zawlei. Now, put your holdall on the bed. We’ll go see the Quartermaster and get your uniform and the rest of the stuff you’ll need.”
“Like what?”
“Grooming kit for Zawlei for one and he’ll have your study stuff ready too. We all get standard books etcetera.”
“Oh,” started Rilla, who hadn’t realised that things would be quite so organised. Why, it was like what Hilla had written home about when she had arrived at Settlement.
“The Vada’s not quite the Garda but there are similarities,” offered Shona who seemed to know what Rilla was thinking. “We’re both armies if you think about it logically and armies must be trained.”
“I thought it might be different here,” said Rilla. “Hilla’s an Officer Trainee, I am not.”