A Change of Luck

by T J Muir

  She nodded, feeling her eyes burn.

  Marrick squeezed her arm and tugged playfully. “And you may even decide you love the forests here.”

  Diya wasn't sure about that, but she nodded and hugged him one last time.

  Then she felt another hand on her arm. Korina. “Come. There'll be a fire and hot tea in your room.”

  She watched as Marrick climbed into the wagon and shook the reins, standing there until he was out of sight before letting Korina lead her toward the house.

  ”So, there are three children?” Diya asked, trying to be polite, but stifling a yawn as she tried to speak.

  “Eh? What’s that?” the woman asked.

  “What about the children? What are they like?”

  Did she detect a slight pause? Korina stopped, considering something. “They's good at heart. Clever and quick. Been through a lot though and h'aint taken to outsiders much.”

  There was something in the woman's voice that Diya couldn't quite figure out. What was wrong with the children? Was she warning Diya? Was that veiled hostility? Maybe it was Korina who wasn't impressed with outsiders.

  Once inside, the warmth of the house drained away the rest of her stamina. When they got to the end of the hallway, Korina mumbled something, and the lights behind her dimmed. Diya stumbled, caught off guard. The lights must be magic! She craned her neck, trying to look behind her, until Korina grabbed her to keep her from falling. She was vaguely aware of being led down another hallway. Then she was in a warm room with a bed, hot tea in her hand. She looked at her small bag that was placed on top of a larger trunk at the foot of her bed.

  “Sleep now,” she heard Korina say. “Time enough to tackle the rest tomorrow.”

  CHAPTER Seven

  A tangled lock of hair tickled Diya’s cheek no matter how hard she tried to ignore it and sleep. Finally, her hand crept up from under the covers to brush it back. The skin on her face felt cool against her fingers, and she realized the air felt cold against her cheek. Not Tatak Rhe. She turned over, burrowing under the covers and drew her feet up, looking for a warmer spot to nest. The weight of exhaustion still weighed on her, as well as an empty lost feeling. If she hid in the warmth of her nest, she could pretend none of it was real for just a few moments.

  The slight chill became more pervasive. Where were the servants to make sure her room was warm? No servants. She remembered Marrick's words. A loud rumbling noise made her jump. It sounded like thunder but was much closer, right over her head.

  The roof is caving in. Her heart raced as she panicked and sat upright. A giant white shadow raced past the window. Then silence. She sat there in the bed, blankets clutched tightly around her. A moment passed. Nothing. Another moment, still silence. Her arms and back prickled with cold. If some doom wasn't imminent, she would have ducked back under the covers. It was so cold! Had the roof collapsed and let freezing cold air inside?

  Satisfied that nothing further was about to collapse, she grabbed the blanket and wrapped herself up in it. Diya’s feet met soft carpet. She walked toward the window but stopped the moment her feet hit freezing cold floor, and she decided she needed clothes. Lots of them. She hoped there were something warm and heavy in the boxes.

  She took a quick peek out the window, expecting to see debris. When she looked out, she saw a world that had turned completely and blindingly white. Confused, she stared at it, trying to sort it out. No bright colors or singing birds, no gardens exploding with reds and yellows. Bare trees, dark bark, browns and greys stretched everywhere, and they were draped in white. Snow.

  She’d heard about it from friends at school, but she hadn't believed their words back then. If she weren't freezing cold, she might have been curious.

  She sat, running her fingers through her hair, and gazed around the room. My room now. More wood than stone and, in terms of size, it reminded her more of her servant’s quarters than her own spacious suite at home. This room was furnished with carved wood pieces heavier than the style she was used to but well crafted. Off to the side, she saw an alcove.

  Her pack sat on the floor next to a wardrobe. No breakfast, no clothes laid out, no warm bath waiting. Thinking about warm baths, Diya rubbed her arms.

  She pulled her things out of her pack and realized she needed to replace the thinner, finer clothes her mother had packed. She chose the warmest shirt, long sleeved, soft cotton, the blue-grey color matched her eyes. Then she pulled a bodice over it. She added leggings under a rose colored skirt. She wished she had Marrick’s heavy jacket now but settled for the heaviest sweater she could find. Satisfied she wasn't going to freeze, she reached into her pack again, fishing around, until she finally gave up and dumped the contents out on her bed. Her brush! She grabbed it like a cherished prize and began working the snarls out of her hair.

  The familiar but simple task gave her something to focus on and helped to settle her nerves. As she progressed from the very tips upward, she walked to the curtains and lifted one, revealing the door to a small balcony. She decided to brave the cold.

  Chill air nipped at her cheeks, and she could see her breath. Diya smiled at that and blew her breath out several times, fascinated. Down below, light mist twisted along the ground, and the air was slightly damp with no hint of the warmth she was used to. The scent of pine trees and a hint of cow odor wafted on the breeze. Diya wrinkled her nose as she closed the door. Change the cows for sheep and the rest reminded her a bit of some of Father’s smaller holdings.

  A door closed with a faint thud somewhere in the house, bringing her back to the present. She sighed, hunger nudging her into action.

  Diya retraced her steps, from the night before, down to the entryway. A library opened on her left with a parlor to the right. She poked her head into the library, seeing the usual desks, reading chairs and tables with the faint smell of tobacco. The walls were lined with books and portraits. Up on the wall, just outside the library, was an aerial map of the manor including a village at the far corner. It showed the lane she had come up, the barns and fields behind and a large orchard. On the walls nearby, she noticed small glass globes. Those must be the lights she had seen. They were dark now. She touched one, carefully extending a single finger. Nothing. She stared at it for a moment, but her stomach rumbled again, reminding her that she still hadn't eaten.

  Standing in the middle of the entry, she looked left and right but had no idea where the hall led. Behind her were two large double doors that opened into a formal dining hall. She closed the doors and headed to her right, but this end of the house led to closed doors and drawn curtains so she turned back and headed past the library. Deciding this way might lead to the kitchens, she followed it to discover the facilities which included heated baths. Good! At least this place was civilized. After a quick washing, she headed back out into the hallway that led to the entry and collided with a girl about her own age.

  “Watch yerself,” came the sharp cry of surprise. The girl looked slightly younger than Diya with her light brown hair coming out of its braid, and she was a bit disheveled by Diya's standards.

  Diya blinked, unsure about responding. “Excuse me?” How dare a servant speak to her in such a manner.

  The girl sniffed, looking Diya up and down. “You’ll be the new girl. I wouldna be gettin too comfortable, were I you.”

  “What?”

  “I said, don be planning on stayin long.” She hefted the stack of towels in her arms. “I’ll be needin to get these up to the Missus. Some of us has real work ta do.”

  Don’t worry! I have no intention of staying here any longer than I have to. She kept that thought to herself and ignored the maid’s snippish tone. “Could you tell me how to find the breakfast room?”

  “Breakfast room? Why yes, your ladyship, it’d be right there next to the solarium.” She laughed as she spoke then sniffed at Diya again. “There’s breakfast laid out in the family dining room, unless you want to cook for yourself.”

  “Dining hall?” Diya aske
d, taking no pains to hide her annoyance.

  Her question was met with a dark scowl. Who was this petty servant with such an attitude? Then she caught herself. She took a deep breath and smiled sweetly— using the tone she used when she’d wanted to get servants on her side. “Where do I find the dining hall?” Please the gods, her family would find a solution, or Jay would find a safe place that was far away from this dreary and miserable backwater.

  “Dining room. H’aint no fancy halls around here. Was your last posting in some da'har's palace? Or maybe some other postin for a fancy uppity like yourself that didna require real work,” she smirked. Then she nodded over her shoulder. “Go back the way you came, through the front room and through the doors on the left.” Then she turned on her heels, heading off down the unlit hallway.

  Was everyone here going to be this rude? Diya wondered if this kind of disrespect was common with the local servants as she moved back through the entry and through the library to the doors on the left. She could hear raised voices from further down the hallway, and she changed direction to go back past the bathroom to the southern wing. Whatever was going on sounded dangerous. This wasn't how she envisioned meeting her charges. Raised voices became angry shrieking, even before she walked into the middle of an argument.

  “You didn’t ask and now it’s broken!” a young boy screamed, throwing down a crumpled kite. That must be Pasha. He sounded like any one of her cousins, spoiled and willful, more than ready to blame other people, but her cousins, like most people in Tatak Rhe, had slightly darker skin, more brown, and sand colored hair. Like Marrick, Pasha was fair skinned with dark red hair. He reminded her of someone. It took her a moment to remember who. Kirrin! Jay's servant. She caught her breath and closed her eyes tight for a moment, trying to push the hurt away.

  The girl's voice shrieked, “I didn’t break it. The frame was wrong. That’s your fault. You built it.” Diya opened her eyes. Esha. She was very similar to Pasha with fair skin but redder, longer hair. She sounded just as defiant and just as head-strong as her brother.

  “The frame wasn’t wrong. You broke it!”

  “I did not!” Esha bellowed in a most unladylike manner.

  “You did too!”

  “Give me your stupid kite,” Esha screamed back, grabbing the wreckage and intentionally snapping it. “There. Now I broke it. Satisfied?” Esha's spiteful act took Diya by surprise. She froze, shocked.

  Pasha leapt for his sister, grabbing her by the shoulders and shoving her backwards, but Esha braced herself against the weight and clawed at her brother’s arms. They grappled back and forth, and then Esha kicked her brother in the shin. Pasha howled and tried to grab her by the hair, but she lunged forward and tackled him. The two of them tumbled backwards and landed in a heap, but that didn’t put an end to their fight. How had it escalated into blows so quickly? The two tore at each other with a ferocity that confused her. She saw a scratch on Pasha's face. He screamed and swung at his sister.

  “Stop!” Diya jumped forward and tried pulling the pair apart. The two continued to cling, wrestling and scratching, as the third child wandered into the playroom and began wailing.

  Holding and pinching each of them by the nape of their necks, Diya managed to pull the pair apart. All three of them panted and glared at each other as the littlest one continued howling. For all of the ruckus, neither one of them seemed to be injured, other than the ugly scratch that was across Pasha's face.

  Diya looked over at the smaller child and then back at the twins. Esha seemed more composed at this point and looked Diya in the eye, holding her gaze.

  “Done?” she asked them, pinching all the harder. Esha nodded. Diya stared at her, making sure, before loosening her grip.

  Esha stepped back, straightening her clothes, and Diya turned to Pasha, waiting for him to comply. He tensed, fighting her hold, until his sister stalked from the room. Only then did he relax. “Done?” she asked. He let out his breath and nodded.

  Diya let go, but she was prepared to grab hold again if he started after Esha. However, he stayed, staring down at his kite's wreckage.

  Satisfied, Diya went over to Tilly. She looked down at the girl and realized she had no idea how to make her stop screaming. “Okay, she said, you can stop now.”

  The girl’s crying intensified.

  “You need to stop. This isn’t helping, and there’s no point in being upset. Okay? Come now. Get up.”

  Pasha cackled behind her.

  Diya swung around. “What?” she asked, sharper than she intended.

  “She’s only five!” he said, stifling his laughter. He shook his head and snorted at Diya. “You have no idea what you’re doing, do you? You can’t even manage a little child her age,” he said, nodding towards his little sister.

  “Fine. You come over here and calm her down then,” Diya said, hoping the challenge would get Pasha to deal with Tilly.

  He just laughed again and shook his head. “Absolutely not. You are the new nursemaid, aren’t you?” he asked, with a look of complete derision. “I want to watch you make a mess of things. And you will. You’re an idiot. This is going to be fun!”

  Diya glared at Pasha, knowing he was right. She forced down her own outburst and took a breath. Okay, little one. I can do this. She lowered her voice and softened her tone. “It’s okay sweetie. They’ve stopped now, you need to stop too.” She bent to comfort the shrieking child, reaching out with both arms to pick her up, but Tilly shrieked louder, kicked Diya’s shin and then bolted from the room.

  “Nine hells!” Diya swore, then caught herself, looking over at Pasha. “Sorry. That was inappropriate.”

  “Yep. Gonna be fun,” Pasha snorted, looking pleased at hearing an adult swear but being mostly dismissive. “Better go find her before she climbs out on the roof again.”

  Diya felt her heart skip a beat. “The roof? You’re joking, right?” But she didn’t wait for a response as she dashed out of the room following the wailing. It sounded eerie, trailing through the long wooden hallways.

  She found Tilly huddled on the floor, her sobs subsided now. The child stared out the large library window while scratching at her arm. She stiffened slightly as Diya approached, and Diya didn’t intend to make the same mistake again. For a small child, she’d delivered a hefty kick. It was still throbbing. She cringed, knowing the nasty bruise it would create.

  While Diya might not understand the dynamics of siblings very well, she understood the lost, lonely expression on Tilly’s face. She had watched her Papa leave too many times, staring out the window as his carriage disappeared.

  Diya slid down to the floor, careful to keep a safe distance. The two of them sat in silence for a while, each lost in their own thoughts and emotions. Diya felt exhausted in a way she’d never experienced. She wondered where Jay was now. Had he managed to escape the city and get away from Hak’kar? What did Hak’kar want with him, anyway? Nothing made sense. She wanted to feel Jedda's arms around her, holding her close.

  She forced her attention back to the problem in front of her. Tilly’s sniffles had all but stopped, leaving a sullen silence. Diya watched the girl’s steady rhythmic scratching and the raw spot on her arm.

  “I’ll just stay here until you feel better. Is that okay?”

  No response. Diya took that as agreement and quickly realized she’d locked herself into the deal. I might find myself sitting here all day. She immediately regretted her offer. She was hungry and wanted a hot cup of tea. She knew she had to keep this agreement or the rest of her time taking care of these children would be worse than the nine hells. Even if she had no experience with anyone being in her care, she knew a thing or two about getting people to do what she wanted. Diya knew how to read people, win them over and figure out what they might agree to. She was, after all, her father’s daughter.

  Step one was always putting them at their ease so they let their guard down. Appeal to their vanity. Compliment them. She sighed. Flattery wasn’t going to work
here. Children liked to be praised but that wasn’t the same thing as admiring their clothes or jewelry. She tried to think back to when she was that age. What did I like? Stories! She loved it when people told her stories. Perfect. They were sitting in a small library. She looked around, reading the titles of the books she could see. Most of them were not suitable for a child. She spotted one, a collection of stories and tales from the forest, and stood long enough to reach it.

  She flipped through the pages. Most of the stories were slightly different versions than the few tales she remembered. She found one about Chiyu, a young girl who got lost in the woods and was adopted by the forest creatures. Eventually, she became their leader and protector. Diya started reading out loud, watching Tilly from the corner of her eye.

  “‘Chiyu was brave and clever, but when she realized she was lost, a great fear swept over her.’— Forests can be scary places,” she explained, watching Tilly. “Where I grew up, there are open fields and orchards. And vineyards. Very different than it is here. Oh, and great big cities too. Tall buildings and vast rivers. This is a big change for me.” The scratching slowed. So, Tilly was listening. “But let’s find out what happens to Chiyu.”

  Diya read until the Nibbin started his second pass, marking lunch time. The vague rumblings of hunger had suspended their assault when the chaos erupted. Now that she felt her body settling down, the hunger was back doubly intense, but she was determined to win this tiny battle. Tilly seemed more relaxed, her head nodding toward her chest. Diya closed the book, which brought Tilly upright again. Maybe she could make it work for her.

  Time for step two: sympathy. She remembered how many times she had gotten the staff to feel sorry for her. It hadn’t been hard to get the servants to sneak her treats when she was punished or to look the other way when she broke a rule. She turned that tactic on Tilly now. “You know, I’ve had a very long journey and haven’t eaten anything since yesterday. It’s been so long since I’ve had anything to eat, almost like poor Chiyu. It’s been a busy morning, following Chiyu. We’ve been having such an adventure, haven’t we?” Diya watched Tilly from the corner of her eye, then looked up over the top of the book. “I bet you must also be a little bit hungry, right?”