by T J Muir
“You just think that because I am a woman!” How did he guess I was from Tatak Rhe? She knew she hadn't slipped—especially not with this prig of a man. Should I deny it? Ignore him, Diya decided, angry enough about the conversation that she forgot about the issue as Hadrin continued his verbal assault.
“No! I think that because you are a stuck up southerner, thinking you are above the rest of us! Putting on airs like you were somehow better than everyone else!”
Diya fumed. How dare he speak to me like that! In Tatak Rhe, he’d have been flogged for insolence of this kind.
Well, maybe not flogged, she corrected herself. A tiny part of her knew there was some truth in his words which brought out her defensive side even stronger.
“Well, if you call it arrogance to refuse to give up on a child who is clearly bright and attentive, then you can call me anything you like!”
Then she looked up, realizing the twins had been following their argument. Esha wore a satisfied grin. Pasha’s eyes were wide and his mouth opened in shocked surprise.
If word got to Jinna that she had fought with the staff, it could get her fired. She was behaving in the exact manner of the So’har which she had tried all this time not to reveal. She stared Hadrin down and then turned back to the twins. From their expressions, Diya had a feeling she’d just won a few points.
Hadrin followed Diya’s gaze, and where she felt triumphant, the tutor’s expression was anything but. He straightened his shirt and collected himself but he was clearly ruffled by the exchange. “Remember your assignments for tomorrow,” he said, his words sounding stiff and formal. Then with a curt nod, he turned and retreated.
The excitement over, Esha and Pasha lost interest. Esha looked over at Diya and shrugged.
“C’mon. Let’s go for a ride.” Pasha said, tugging his sister’s arm. As the two walked away, she could hear their voices trailing off.
“That was epic. Did you see how red his face got?”
Pasha snickered and shook his head. “I still only give her a month.”
Esha sounded less certain now. “I’m not so sure.”
“A month.”
“What are you willing to bet…?”
CHAPTER Eleven
The pitter patter on the roof told Diya it was raining even before she opened the window to look outside. Again. It had rained almost every day for over two weeks. Fog and mist covered everything in an eerie silvery-grey blankness. Spring brought the birds and new bursts of leaf upon the trees but it came more mud and dampness. She grabbed a sweater and then went to find Tilly who was already dressed and down in the kitchen. Her fingers were covered in grease from the sausages she was eating.
“Good morning,” Diya said, reaching for the teapot Korina had left on the table for her next to a plate with eggs, sausages and buttered rolls. On a small plate next to it was a bowl of steamed apples. Diya knew there wouldn't be any fresh fruit for a while, but she was grateful that Korina had made an effort on her behalf.
After she finished, she looked outside. “Well, it doesn't look like we'll be going outside this morning. Why don't we go into the library and read for a while?”
Tilly pushed her plate away and hopped down from her chair, following Diya down to the library. Diya liked the room because it also had a fireplace which she had convinced Ben to keep going on damp days like this.
While she stopped to add wood to the fire, Tilly went over to the far shelf and picked up one of the books they had been reading. It was a collection of myths, stories about the four gods and their father Chayam. In that world, they all lived on a mythical island but sometimes visited the world of mortals
Diya read through the story of Iyana who cried for her lost myr'tznim, Aiyilla. She had cried so hard that it rained for three months until everyone prayed for her to stop. She couldn't stop crying for her beloved pet, so Aja-nu set off to find it. It took a long time, but she had promised to wait for him to return with it and she stopped crying. Occasionally, she would forget her promise and begin to cry again. In the mortal world, they now referred to heavy rain as Aiyilla's tears.
As Diya read the story, she pointed out words for Tilly to follow and paused on words she thought Tilly might begin to recognize. By the time she got to the end of the story, Tilly was leaning close and hunching over so she could stare at the pages.
Deficient! The girl was anything but deficient. Looking down at Tilly, Diya tried to think of some way she might teach Tilly herself. She thought about her own tutors and teachers, but she knew nothing she remembered was going to work since most teaching required communication.
“I have an idea. I know you've been doing an amazing job learning your letters. Why don't we practice finding letters on the page. We could start with T for Tilly.”
In her mind, she imagined Tilly would point out each letter T on the page, but Tilly took the book and turning her back to Diya, she hunched over the page. Fortunately, Diya had learned to trust Tilly and not to say anything that might discourage or distress her. Tilly was probably trying this idea out on her own, the way she did her drawings.
A moment later, Tilly turned around, shoving the book over to Diya. Diya looked down, trying to hide her shocked surprise. There were big black dots all over the page where Tilly had marked every T by blacking it out. Biting back her distress, she forced a smile.
“That's excellent!” she said, hoping no one in the house would be reading these stories. “You're so good at this. How about this time, you just point them out to me instead?”
They spent the rest of the morning going through some letters and then some simple words, like cat, rain and Iyana, that Tilly might already know and be able to recognize.
After hunching over the book for so long, Diya straightened up and stretched her neck and shoulders. She noticed the sun had finally broken out from behind the clouds, just in time for lunch. Diya was still getting used to the cooler crisp air and the reversal of her normal routines. In Tatak Rhe, most things during the summer got done before the day became too warm. Now, she found the mornings brisk and she often waited before venturing outside. She nodded to Korina in the hallway, looking out the glass doors to indicate they’d be on the veranda for lunch.
Diya took a blank sheet of paper and thought for a moment. “What would you like today's animal to be? How about a dog, for D?” She watched Tilly as she explained the steps but Diya didn't expect any responses. The fact that she was there and listening was enough of a victory for Diya. “There you go,” she said, pushing the paper across the table. Then she pulled up a blank page and started to draw a picture of Tilly drawing her D-dog figure.
Both of them were so engrossed in their drawing that they barely noticed when Korina brought lunch out. The cook must have guessed Tilly would join her because lunch was small sandwiches,sliced apples and carrots with a side of cheeses--all things that could be managed by small hands while otherwise engaged.
Diya looked up to see Korina admiring her work.
“At's a good likeness of the wee un.”
Tilly’s head shot up. She peered across the table, pretending she didn’t see Diya and Korina smile.
“Would you like to see it?” Diya asked. After a polite pause, she held up the paper. “That's you, sitting right here at the table.” Then she took the paper and wrote 'TILLY' in large letters across the bottom of the page and slid it across the table.
A tiny hand crept up and pulled the paper the rest of the way. Her head bent over it as she examined it closely. Then she took her finger and traced the letters of her name. A quick glance flicked up and then she grabbed the paper and took off around the corner of the house, leaving the two women blinking at each other in bewilderment.
Korina shrugged, staring after Tilly and then looked back at Diya. “At child’s shown more interest in playing with those papers than she has in anything in a very long time.” It was clear from the tone that Diya was winning Korina over. The woman looked down at Diya’s sketches, a thoughtful frown on he
r face.
To fill the awkward silence Diya always felt when anyone looked at her work, she said, “I studied art in school and art history.”
Korina sniffed. “A month ago, I’d have said h’aint much use in that learnin.” She nodded thoughtfully, considering Diya’s sketches of the house and property. “But seein the wee un all bent over practicing, even though it’s all hiding in corners...might be a use for that learnin that you never expected.”
Diya nodded, thinking about Korina's comment. Things being unexpectedly useful. In truth, she’d never expected to do anything with her education.
“Perhaps I should order some real art supplies. Is there any delivery service in the area? How do you receive things?”
Korina sniffed. “We h'aint that provincial here. Write up what you like and where the order be goin, and we’ll see it gets tended to. Messages go down to Woodview and over at Oldfall. At's where most supplies comin from. And mail comes in twice every week.” Korina had straightened, standing a bit stiffer.
So there was regular mail delivery. Back home, there were private couriers and messengers that came and went at all hours. Not having instant access to services was still a bit strange but she felt better knowing that there was a way to communicate if needed. Her family could reach her, even if the message might be delayed by a few extra days. So could Jay, she realized, if he knew where she was. Please let him be safe, she prayed. She wished she knew where to reach him. Would her family send her word of him? She should have made her father promise her. He would never break a promise, once she coerced him into giving his word.
“Where is Ashok?” she asked, suddenly curious about the children’s father. Korina looked up suddenly and blinked. “Eh?”
“Is it normal for him to travel this long? The twins don’t seem to talk about him very much or about their mother either.”
“Oh, they talk about their mum and pa, plenty…”
Diya noted the way Korina’s voice trailed off and what was unsaid. Just not to me. Korina must have read the expression on Diya’s face and shrugged helplessly. “Theyuns been through a lot and even afore their mum took ill, they was thick to themselves. But this is a particularly long trip for Mister Ashok. H’aint sure where he was off at this trip, thinkin he had a few places he was going. He didna sound too certain when he left.”
Was that a hint of evasion Diya sensed? Was there something secret about Ashok’s work? Regardless, the children must miss having their father at home.
Diya nodded. Part of her felt bad. She had never been an outsider before and she had never had to work so hard to make people like her. Then she reminded herself that she only had to keep this up until Jay sent for her. He had promised and she trusted him completely. She just had to bide her time a little longer.
CHAPTER Twelve
A week later, Diya was in her room putting away her clothes. She looked up to see Esha hovering in the doorway. “Package for you in the front hall.” Esha was trying to sound uninterested but Diya heard the hint of curiosity in the girls tone.
“Oooh! A package!” Diya exclaimed, excited despite herself. She felt herself blushing, embarrassed. Back in Tatak Rhe, she’d always loved shopping and the arrival of ordered goods was always a highlight of her day. She had enjoyed opening up her packages almost as much as she liked showing off her new things. Now that she’d begun drawing with Tilly, she itched for good quality pencils, pens and paper.
She barely noticed Esha trailing behind her as she hurried down to the entryway. There by the door was a package addressed to her. Esha picked it up, feeling the heft of it and frowned, watching Diya over her shoulder.
“Here, I’ll take that,” Diya said as she retrieved the box and carried it over to the small desk that stood against the wall. Then she began working at the knots. She couldn’t get them untied and growled in frustration. Then she heard a soft click and looked to see that Esha had set a small knife down next to her. She looked up, surprised.
“In the drawer, over there,” was Esha’s only comment, as she stepped back, now trying not to look interested.
Diya drew out each item, examining them for quality, testing the bristles on the paint brushes. She looked at the quality of the pencils. Then she pulled out three different sketch pads, looking at the paper each one held.
“Sure seems like an awful lot of paper, just for making some pictures,” Esha said with a sniff that was somewhere between disdain and curiosity.
“Oh, but each one is different,” Diya explained, caught up in her own excitement. “See this paper, nice and smooth? That one is good for the colored pencils or for solid drawing like Tilly has been doing. While this one here, this texture is for water colors so the paint doesn’t run as much. And then this one, feel it, Esha, see? It’s textured too, but flatter, good for sketching and charcoal, to create shadows, depths. You could do wonders with paper choice alone. I can’t wait to draw on them. Oh, and this smaller one? I got that so Tilly could have her very own drawing pad. I had them design special pens, a little fatter so her hands could grip them easier.”
“Sounds awful expensive,” Esha remained still, eying the bundle.
“Oh?” Diya said, flustered. She wasn’t sure how to respond to that. No one really talked about money or expenses. At home, she’d always bought whatever she wanted to order—the Household covered debts. “I had some savings I had put aside. This seemed like a good use for them.”
“Hrmph.” A typical noncommittal response but she could see that Esha’s dislike of her was less intense.
Once she was satisfied that everything was there and the quality met her expectations, she bundled everything back into the box and brought it to her room. She was excited to see Tilly and pulled out the special pens and pencils, wrapping them up in paper and tying them with a piece of ribbon. She thought about waiting until the next day and presenting it as a surprise at their usual lunch-time, but Diya’s own excitement got the better of her. She went off in search of the girl. She found her in the playroom.
“Tilly!” she called out, excitedly. “I have something for you. A special present.”
The little head popped up, but Diya held the bundle behind her back. Tilly bit her lip, thinking, until curiosity overcame her reluctance. For the first time ever, Tilly moved toward Diya, stopping a few feet away and trying to peer behind her back.
Diya laughed, happy to have gotten a reaction from Tilly. “Here,” she said, stepping over to the low table. Tilly tagged along beside. “I had these made extra-special. For you,” she said, placing the little bundle on the table.
Tilly untied the bow with ease and her mouth formed a silent O as she ran a finger with delicate curiosity over the pens and pencils. Diya placed the small drawing pad next to her. “And this is for you too. Your very own drawing pad, to draw whatever you like.”
Tilly blinked up at Diya, hesitating.
“Go ahead,” Diya nodded encouragement.
Tilly, choosing a deep purple pen, tested it on the paper, and a tiny smile appeared at the corners of her mouth. She flicked a glance up at Diya.
“I have something else for you,” Diya said.
The slight lift of her chin told Diya that Tilly wanted to know what the surprise was.
“I made these for you, last night,” she said, taking out a dozen hearts she’d drawn onto note-sized pieces of paper. She had drawn them up on a whim, wondering if Tilly might engage with people through pictures. Diya slid them across the table. “You can use them to say thank you to people, for example, people who talk to you or help you with something.”
Tilly frowned thoughtfully.
“Oh, I also made you some new worksheets. Look here,” Diya said, placing one down between them. “I wrote out the whole word for you this time. See? C-A-T, for cat. You can trace the letters for practice, or you can—” she stopped explaining because Tilly had already picked up a pencil and copied the letters right below the word.
“Right. You’ve already g
ot it figured out so I’ll just shut up.” She laughed as she said it, watching Tilly’s intense stare focused on the paper. “I made a bunch, for you,” she said, giving the other sheets to her. Each one’s picture meant there wasn’t even the need to explain each word. This was when Tilly was likely to take her things and disappear, but to Diya’s surprise, she pulled the chair closer to the table and worked on each one until she’d done all twelve, writing the word several times on each page. The pencil clicked against the table with a triumphant satisfaction as if to say: done.
Then she hunched over again for a moment, and sitting up, slid a piece of paper over so that it was in front of Diya. In strong bold purple, she’d drawn a heart similar to the ones Diya had just given her but drawn in the child’s own hand.
Diya felt tears sting the corners of her eyes. She stooped down so she was on Tilly’s level. “You’re very welcome.” Dark somber eyes looked at her but they didn’t look away this time. For a moment, all of the struggling was completely worth it.
CHAPTER Thirteen
Diya found sketching was the perfect way to keep an eye on the twins, she could be in the same room, letting the sketch pad serve as a shield and buffer zone, as she practiced simple types of shading, hatch-cross attempts or pen and ink studies.
Just by making her presence known, the twins’ fights remained nominal. So long as Diya remained preoccupied and wasn’t interfering, both of them tolerated her presence as they worked on their assignments.
Diya began to get a sense of the twins as people, as well. Esha, just hitting that age with the coltish lanky body that hadn’t quite found its shape and curves yet, was lean and athletic. Diya realized she must have been the one who stepped in to fill their mother’s role.
Pasha, not quite a man, intuitive, wiry and protective of the three of them. Diya worked on several sketches that brought out those aspects of each child. Esha bending over Tilly’s shoulder and pointing to a puzzle piece to show her little sister where it belonged, and Pasha holding a piece in his hand, studying the table to find where it fit.