by T J Muir
“If you want. But Chunky will take care of her—”
Now that the weather was nicer, Diya was beginning to feel cooped up. Most of her life, she had the freedom to go where she pleased and vast estates, friends, and a bustling city to keep herself entertained. Riding was one of the few activities she had and she was enjoying it. Should I get my own horse? She spent the week considering it. She didn’t even know how much it would cost. But she did still have the majority of her funds, as well as her earnings from watching the children.
The more she thought about it, the more it became an itch. By the weeks end, she had decided. A slight thrill went through her at the thought of something new. She told Pasha about her decision, who conferred with Chak. The caretaker knew of a horse dealer he trusted, at least more than he trusted any horse trader. So they took the wagon over to the next town to the livery stable. Chak went to find the owner and after a brief conversation, the man called to his assistant and several horses were brought out and tied to the railing.
Diya watched as four possible horses were trotted around on a rope.
Pasha turned to Chak as a solid looking white horse went by. “A bit straight in the shoulder isn't it?”
Chak nodded.
Diya sighed as images of her on a magnificent shining horse vanished. The next horse trotted by tossing its head and bucked. Both Chak and Pasha looked at each other then glanced at Diya and shook their heads no.
The next one was a solid looking mare, honey-colored with a flaxen mane and tail. The mare had two white feet in back and a sharp white stripe on her face that tapered to a fine point just above her nose giving her an inquisitive expression. She didn't look as elegant as the first one but when she trotted by it looked like she was floating. Diya felt a pang in her heart and then looked over at the two men. They looked thoughtful.
“Worth taking a second look at that one,” Chak noted, nodding to the horse trader. The boy leading it brought it over for them to examine. Chak walked up to it and went in a circle around it. Back in front he flicked his fingers in front of the horse who blinked and lifted her head.
“What are you doing? Are you trying to scare her?” Diya asked, alarmed.
“Yes, actually,” Pasha said, “He's making sure that she isn't crazy and she hasn't been drugged.”
“Go ahead and test her feet,” Chak said nodding to Pasha who picked at her feet. He nodded when the horse stood quietly for all four feet. Then he flexed each foot tightly, watching the horse over his shoulder.
“What are you doing?” Diya asked, worried for the horse.
“Watching to see if she's in pain,” Chak said, then turned back to Pasha. “Trot her out again.”
Diya watched the horse and kept turning to look at Chak who had a thoughtful frown on his face but was nodding. Diya was beginning to hope this one would work out.
Pasha walked her back over and Chak ran his fingers down the horses back. When he got to her rump she flinched slightly. Both of them turned to look over at the dealer.
“A sore muscle minor I'm sure,” he said.
“She's got a stone bruise in the hind foot,” Pasha said. “Did you check her teeth?” Pasha asked, looking over his shoulder to Chak, who went back to the mare's head and lifted her upper lip. “Fourteen, maybe?”
“She's broke?”
“Well trained,” the dealer assured.
“Saddle her up. She's not young anymore but let's take a look and see how she rides anyway.”
Diya listened, her concern growing. Why were they sounding so concerned about the horse?
She watched as they got the horse ready. The assistant got on her and rode her around making her walk, trot and canter.
“Can she jump?” Chak asked and watched as the rider found a small log and hopped over it. Diya's breath caught, watching that. Her tail swished, long and flowing as the mare floated over the log. It made her heart catch. She hoped this horse met with their approval. Would she take the horse if they advised against it?
Then Pasha got on her and repeated the same routine. “A hard mouth,” he called out. Diya noticed Chak talking with the dealer out of the corner of her eye. She called over to Pasha. “I'd like to ride her please.”
A brief exchange of looks and then Pasha rode the horse over and Diya got on.
“Just like with Chunky,” he said.
“She feels so big!” Diya exclaimed. Looking down she noticed how much farther away the ground was. Diya walked around on the horse, noticing the long stride in comparison to the pony's shorter choppy gait. Feeling confident, she kicked the mare to trot and almost lost her balance as the mare surged forward with more enthusiasm than Chunky did. After an awkward start she began to get a feel for the horse and tried to look like she was doing fine, knowing that the others were watching her. She could walk, trot and stop the horse, although she didn't feel as confident as she did on Chunky.
She rode the horse back to the three men and climbed down, looking back and forth between Pasha and Chak. Chak gave a tiny half-nod..
“You want her?” Pasha asked.
Diya looked over her shoulder at the mare and then back to Chak. She nodded, “Yes. I think so. I know this wasn't a good start but I will get better with some practice.”
“Go on, then. Tie her up behind the wagon,” Chak said.
“But don't we have to--”
“Already done whilst ya was ridin round,” Chak said. Then in a lower voice he added, “You can settle with me when we get back, but we wanted to make sure ya get a fair price on her.”
Back home, she watched the horse as it nibbled on a pile of hay in the small paddock, trying to come up with a name. She was really looking forward to having a lesson on the mare even though Pasha said it would be best to give the horse some time to settle into her new home first. “It’s just the way we do it,” he told her.
Diya reached into her pocket and took out the carrot slices, wishing the horse would walk up to her the way Chunky came to Tilly. Part of her realized it wouldn't be that easy, and that she didn't have that special gift with animals like the young girl did. She called out and whistled to the horse a few times, but only got the vaguest responses as the horse lifted her head briefly and flipped her ear at Diya before returning to her hay. So Diya climbed over the fence and into the pen with her horse, slowly making her way up close but feeling a bit nervous as she did.
“Hey there, sweet little thing? What should I call you? You need a special name. Do you have a name?” she wondered out loud. Coming up with names was not her special gift. “Here,” she said, softly reaching out her hand with the carrot slices. That got the horse’s attention right away, as her head came up and her ears twitched while her nose sniffed. Diya felt a shiver of delight as the horse's nose brushed against her fingers as she nibbled at the carrots. While the horse ate, Diya reached a hand up and stroked her neck. At that point she ran out of carrots, and the horse nuzzled her shirt searching for more. Finally convinced there were no more treats, she turned her attention back to the hay, but she let Diya stay close and pet her while she ate.
“Chiyu,” she said looking at the horse, delicate and wise. The mare whuffed slightly, whether in approval or hunger Diya had no idea, but that decided it and her mare was now Chiyu.
As she watched the horse eat, she brushed and rubbed her fur, leaning against her soft shoulder. The bright color reminded her of the tawny honey of Jedda's skin —that soft glowing amber that was unique to the Faenyr. She wondered where Jedda was. What was he doing now? Was he safe? Did he miss her? What if he had found someone else? The thought of that was almost more painful than to think that he might be hurt or dead. The mare in front of her was a welcome distraction.
The next afternoon Pasha agreed it would be okay to do a short lesson, but he insisted on riding the horse first to make sure Diya would be safe. At first Diya was annoyed because she wanted to be the first one to ride her horse, but as she watched Pasha riding she completely forgot her f
rustration. This was a horse ,not a pony, with a long flowing stride that was magical to watch, and Pasha was a skilled rider so that she was filled with both pride and envy as she watched them.
Once he was satisfied the horse was safe and reliable and had no problems, he got off and gave Diya a lesson. By the time they were done, Diya felt confident as she rode and didn't want to stop even though her legs burned with exhaustion. After the lesson she spent a long time just brushing, cleaning and watching her horse. She knew that this was not the most expensive or extravagant thing she’d ever bought, but she felt a warm pride. She felt a satisfaction that she never would have imagined possible.
The next morning, Diya dashed out before breakfast to check on Chiyu who looked up at her with sleepy eyes from her nest in the bedding.
“Sorry,” she whispered realizing she had woken her up. She watched the horse for a while and then headed back in to the house. She came in to the back hallway, hoping Korina had started breakfast already so she could sneak something to nibble on. She heard a noise coming from the playroom and turned, curious. The twins weren't usually up this early, and if they were, they would be getting breakfast or getting ready for their lessons. She hoped neither one of them was up to something as she marched in, prepared to catch one of them red-handed.
“You'd better have a very good reason for being in here at this hour,” she said, flinging the door wide.
Then she stopped, surprised, her mouth open but nothing came out. Letta and Hadrin were just behind the door hastily straightening their clothing. Diya didn't even know where to begin. What the two of them did as adults was of no concern but this was in the children's space.
She stood there, hands on her hips, covering up her surprise with a frown.
“Yes, well, I'll be off now to prepare today's lessons,” Hadrin said, chin up trying to hold the high ground and staring Diya down as he brushed by her.
This should probably be dealt with by Jinna, or perhaps she might ask Korina for her opinion. Diya turned to walk out.
“Hold on missy,” Letta called out.
“What?” Diya asked.
“Don't go botherin the missus with this you hear? She don' need to be fussin over things that don't matter.”
“Doesn't matter? In the Playroom?!” Diya asked straightening up indignant.
The barest flicker of uncertainty crossed Letta’s face, but she wasn’t about to concede. “So go ahead then. Run to the missus. Just who do you think they're going to believe? I've worked for this house for years now. You think you know so much just because you walk in here all high and mighty?”
Diya watched Letta and heard the defiance in her words. Was the girl that terrified of losing her job? She remembered the run down cottage where Letta lived. Maybe she was. Perhaps she could give her a good scare and let Letta know that she was keeping her secret, but that could change if Letta continued to make her life difficult.
“Perhaps if your job was so important to you then you should have considered that before doing something this completely foolish.”
Letta's eyes narrowed, less defiant now but still angry and resentful. She took a step towards Diya, threatening her. Diya also saw something else in Letta’s expression. Desperation.
“Look,” she said. “You may think you're so much better than everyone else. But me? This is it. I gotta little sister to think about. And that,” she said nodding down the hall where Hadrin had left, “might be my best chance out of this mess. My only real chance.”
Diya opened her mouth and then closed it. Was Letta trying to get pregnant? What kind of foolish idiot did that? Then she remembered Trey and Findal-- doing exactly that. Trey was hoping to get Findal accidentally pregnant so that they could force a marriage which Trey’s family would be against for political reasons. This with Letta was completely different. Wasn’t it? Findal and Trey wanted to be together and were agreeing on the plan. Letta was trying to trap Hadrin into an unwanted marriage. As little as she liked Hadrin she didn’t feel much sympathy for the man.
Would she have trapped Jay? What if she had been pregnant? What would her family have done then? Findal came from a wealthy so’har family. Jay was an orphan. Her family would have been forced to look for a suitable match, finding someone who would be willing to take her, damaged. She laughed, imagining the surprise when she produced a half faenyr baby.
“What’s so funny?” Letta asked. “You think my life is some joke?”
“What?” Diya said, shaking her head as she brought her attention back to the present. “No. Not at all.” She remembered the embarrassing scene she had witnessed when Letta had confronted her drunk parent. She had no idea what Letta’s life had been like. It certainly had not been one of ease and luxury. “Look,” Diya said, deciding she shouldn’t be interfering in Letta’s life. “You want to chase after Hadrin? That’s your decision. I know a little bit about bad decisions myself.”
“What? You think Hadrin isn’t good enough for you?”
Diya blinked trying to follow Letta’s reasoning. “What? No.” Yes. She couldn’t imagine a scenario where she would find Hadrin appealing. Even Hak’ket would be preferable to a small-town scholar who thought he knew more about the world than he actually did. “I just meant that it’s your choice. Hadrin is an adult and knows the risks. But,” she said, changing her tone. “A bit of advice? Don’t make a job-ending mistake like this,” she waved her hand toward the corner where Letta and Hadrin had been. “In other words, don’t muck it all up before your plan works.”
Letta stood there her mouth partway opened, looking confused as she processed the advice. The servant girl was suspicious and wary. Letta had hated Diya so completely that this display of support put her off balance. Diya fought down a laugh. The poor girl didn’t know what to make of Diya’s lack of attack. Diya shook her head as she watched Letta disappear down the hallway. At least Letta had a plan, poorly thought out as it was. The gods were fickle, perhaps the girl deserved a chance for a better life, for something different than the one that had been forced on her.
CHAPTER Twenty-four
Whenever Diya had a moment to herself she practiced her push spell. At first it was exciting and she worked to make little challenges for herself that would improve her skills. Push-rolling a ball around sharp corners without touching the walls was hard but she kept at it until she could do it with ease. She also began to understand the warnings about doing magic and the surges. There were some days when she would cast the spell and her target would lunge forward with far more force than she expected. Other days it felt a tad sluggish and she had to work a bit harder for the same results.
Pasha caught her one evening in the playroom. She had looked up guiltily but he just frowned and nodded for her to continue. He had watched for a little while and then warned her not to let Korina catch her using magic in the house. Not long after that Esha and Ben taught her how to play their version of a game called polarity that combined the use of the light spell with a simple push spell. Each player tried to wrest control of the ball and guide it to the other side to score a point.
They spent a good part of the afternoon playing. It took several games before she began to understand the rules. Diya thought she had the hang of it until Esha pushed from underneath the ball and slipped it past Diya’s defensive push. She forgot that up and down were directions to be exploited.
Then Esha switched, to let Diya play against Ben. The little ball of light zinged back and forth between Diya and Ben while Esha watched. Diya suspected the girl was more interested in Ben than in playing the game. He seemed to have a knack or at least he had played polarity enough to be good at it— and he was good at teaching magic. Diya had to keep her focus sharp or she made mistakes.
“This isn't real polarity,” Ben said, popping the ball past her guard.
“I know.” Diya said. “The real one’s with an actual ball, kicking and tossing it back and forth. I never played though.”
“Actually the origi
nal game is a Faenyr magic game.”
“Really?” Diya was surprised and a little curious which caused her to lose her focus again so Ben scored a new point. If Jedda was going to take her to stay with the Faenyr, she wanted to learn as much as she could about their culture. It made her feel like he was there with her even if her distraction was giving Ben an advantage.
“There's a game of polarity with a real ball?” Esha asked, as though she didn't believe it.
“Yes. You'd probably be very good at it. But it needs more people to play it, and I don't really know the rules. I never paid much attention to it. It's pretty popular though down— south.”
Ben scored again, taking full advantage of Diya's divided attention. She frowned, feeling like he was cheating. He must have read the expression on her face. Ben laughed.
“Getting it right with no distractions is easy. Getting it right with a lot going on— that's valuable learning.”
Ben’s words made sense but she still wasn't sure that she liked being taken advantage of.
“How’s Zaylin doing? I haven’t seen him since the Beddo left,” she asked. In truth, she hadn’t seen him much even when the Beddo were there. She was pretty sure the man was avoiding her and she was fine with that. He had worked well but was prone to drinking too much and complaining about everything as well as occasionally pilfering things that he just happened to find.
Ben shrugged, keeping his attention on the game. “He’s okay, I guess. I haven’t seen him. He tends to work for a while and then disappear until he runs out of money or needs a place to hide for a bit.”
“Doesn’t sound like much of a friend,” Diya said, before she realized that she had spoken out loud.
Ben looked up sharply and frowned. “He’s family!” His tone carried a kind of finality, as though that fact would excuse even the worst behaviours.
Then Diya remembered. Ben was a bit of an orphan, taken in by his aunt and uncle. Zaylin was related by blood and Ben would probably forgive the most egregious behaviour on that account.