by T J Muir
“Thank you,” Ashok said, sounding distracted, as if he had forgotten Diya was still in the room.
“It is my pleasure,” she said. “I would like some more tea anyway. And perhaps a sweet roll,” she stated, realizing she was hungry again.
Ashok stopped, looked over his shoulder and nodded toward the sketchbook. “You can take that,” he said. “Oh, and in the future, you might want to keep the more personal sketches in a safe place.”
Diya cringed, feeling more embarrassed than she could ever remember. She had hoped Ashok hadn’t looked through the entire sketchpad, or that he might have forgotten about the naked pictures. She ducked her head and retrieved her drawings, holding her sketchbook close as though she were guarding it. Without making eye contact, she followed Jaresh out into the hallway, almost bumping into Letta. The servant took one look at Jaresh, and then eyed Diya and snickered. She wasn’t going to let the girl bother her. Letta likely assumed that Diya had her eye on the so’har. Servants and gossip, she thought, rolling her eyes. Some things didn’t change, no matter the location.
It didn’t take long to find Korina who got Jaresh something to eat. As it turned out, the man had quite a considerable appetite; devouring a half dozen eggs, as many sausages with cheese melted over them and potato wedges that had been fried in the grease from the sausages.
Once the food was served, Korina left them to themselves. Diya helped herself to a few more sausages, cutting them into small bites and nibbling at them while she talked to Jaresh.
“Can I ask you a question?” she asked. It was a relief, she decided, not having to hide her identity. She could just talk to him like a friend and an equal. It felt like there had been a wall between them before but now it was gone.
“Ask what you like,” Jaresh said.
“You’re so’har. Not the heir but still so’har, right?”
“Yes. That’s no secret though. Is that your question?”
“Are you thinking of joining the Asha-Kajar? Will your family allow you to do that?”
“What?” he asked, sounding like she had caught him off guard. “Why would I join the priests?”
Diya looked away, embarrassed. “Well, you’ve been studying with them and working with them. So I thought you must be intending to become one.”
Jaresh laughed hard when he heard that. Diya felt foolish now. She wasn’t sure why her question was so funny. “What? What did I say?”
“Sorry,” Jaresh said. He looked up at her and laughed harder. “You should see the look on your face.”
Now she felt even worse. She waited for Jaresh to stop laughing.
“First, no. I have no intention of becoming a priest. But if I did want to become a priest, I don’t think my family would refuse it.”
“Oh. In Tatak Rhe, even the younger children are expected to make political marriages. I’m not sure if a second son would be permitted to become a priest.”
Jaresh nodded. “It’s very different here,” he said. “All children of the so’har are required to perform three internships.”
“Oh, yes. Now I remember hearing other students mention this but I never paid much attention to it.” Diya realized she hadn’t paid attention to most things. “How does it work? And why?”
“Well,” he said, leaning back to get comfortable. “In the west, we are expected to understand the needs and lives of the people we rule over.”
“Isn’t that what the council is for?” She remembered when her father would be locked in council meetings for days while they tried to solve problems within the so’harat.
“The council should be used in addition to personal understanding, shouldn’t it?”
Diya wasn’t sure she agreed with him but his words made sense. “But isn’t it better to get advice from people who have better insights and understanding?” She knew her father appointed people as advisors based on their qualifications or family connections. She remembered how many times her uncle Tak had made poor decisions. She was out in the middle of nowhere because Tak hadn’t been qualified to make decisions but he had the authority to make them anyway. Each of her uncles had been raised to be her father’s advisors. Had her aunts’ husbands? What training did they get? Did they have unique educations? She had no idea.
She had never asked, and since she was a woman her only expectation was to make a good marriage. She realized Jaresh had been talking.
“...and so how is the so’har expected to make the best decisions if he can’t rely on his advisors to have direct understanding of the issues?”
“So you study with the priests?” The more he spoke, the less she understood. “I still don’t understand.”
“The priests were just one of the three internships I chose.”
“You chose?” Diya asked. That was a surprise. She imagined the council would have made those decisions.
“Well, yes. There have been increasing issues with the shells lately and I thought it would be a valuable understanding to have.”
“Oh!” Diya exclaimed, excited. “So that is why you are helping Ashok!” It was the first time she felt like she had any idea what was going on.
“Yes. Having worked with the priests made me an ideal intermediary for the current situation.”
“What situation?”
“One shell in particular isn’t working well. There have been problems regulating the water and magic surges are becoming more frequent.”
“The problems with water sound similar to what is happening in Tatak Rhe,” she said. “Several of the shells have stopped working, and others are failing.”
Jaresh nodded “The Faenyr said chenwa reyata. Chenwa means life force or energy. Reyata doesn’t quite translate directly,’ he said. “ Roughly though, it means dying.”
“Dying? Do the faenyr see them as living things?”
“They might. Understanding the faenyr can be tricky. They see all things as living, but in this case, they might mean something closer to the way we understand it.”
“So why would the da’har be against trying to repair the shell?”
Jaresh poked at a potato with his fork, his brow furrowed. “What Ash doesn’t understand is the ramifications of the entire project. What if it fails completely and makes things worse? All of the yfa chirrik are interconnected, through the da’hars yfa chirra.”
Diya understood exactly what Jaresh was referring to. “So the shells, just like people, are part of a bigger network and not isolated.”
“Exactly. What if trying to repair the one shell causes a cascade effect, and other shells are then affected? One shell, even two or three, within a da’harat is not crucial. But it is a delicate balance, and the Da’har is right to be cautious.”
Diya imagined Pavan in the same situation. The man would want to appease everyone, but do as little as possible to upset the existing stability. The man disliked turmoil. Then she imagined what Trey would do, he was younger and bolder. She imagined he would be far more inclined to take a risk, especially if the reward was worth it.
Then she stopped, dropping her fork which clattered loudly against her plate. “Where is the convocation being held? It’s nearby, isn’t it?”
“Over in Oldfall, why?”
She shook her head. “Nothing,” she said. The convocation was a gathering of all the countries’ da’har. Trey was a da’har. That meant he would attend this event, especially this early in his rulership. Oldfall was less than a day away.
Trey was the one person who might know where Jay was. She had to find a way to see him. She just had to get permission to leave for a few days. A week. Ashok was home. Surely she wasn’t needed to look after the children while Ashok was home. Then she began to imagine finding out where Jay was. She could go to him and they could go to the Faenyr lands like he had promised.
Diya waited impatiently for Jaresh to finish his breakfast. Once he was done, she escorted him to the door and wished him a safe ride back to his home. She then went in search of Ashok in order to
obtain permission to take some time off to go to Oldfall. She considered what excuse she could give him for going to the city. Perhaps she could say she needed some art supplies as well as more clothing. She found it was much easier than she had thought to obtain his permission. He easily agreed to her request to go to Oldfall, giving her a week away from her duties.
She wondered where Trey was staying. She then considered the other dahars who would be present at the convocation, all of them, usually. Suddenly, she realized that Pavan, her own dahar, would be there...that would be bad. She knew how close Pavan and Hak’kar were. Would he still recognize me? Looking in the mirror, she realized how much her clothing had changed over three months. She saw that even with the clothing change, she still looked a lot like her father. She had his rich dark hair and grey eyes. Nothing she could do about the eyes, but she imagined it wouldn’t be too hard to change her hair. Maybe the seamstress would have dye? She should have time before she left to make a quick trip to the village.
CHAPTER Twenty-nine
Now that she had permission to go and preparations had been made for a carriage, she began to worry. How would she find Trey? Or rather, how would she find Trey without being noticed? What if she ran into someone who recognized her? What if Trey didn’t know where Jay was? She didn’t have anyone to turn to. No one to advise her. No Jomar. No Marrick. Jaresh wasn’t the same, and she didn’t feel comfortable telling him everything, anyway.
Doubt began to eat away at her. Looking up at the sky, she noticed it was getting close to mid-day. She would have to ride down to the village. Despite her earlier experience, she thought maybe she could make an offering at the family’s shrine. She had avoided it since the night she had disturbed the spirit of the water. But she was desperate. She wished there was a shrine to the four gods, the ones she knew. That wasn’t an option. So she decided to put together an offering to the gods of the family shrine and ask them for guidance.
On her way to the kitchen, she almost ran into Letta and Hadrin, standing close in the back hallway. . When she got close, she coughed politely. Letta took a step back away from Hadrin, looking nervously at Diya. Good, hopefully the girl had learned her lesson and would stop throwing herself at the arrogant prig.
“I think the twins are waiting for you in the classroom,” she said pointedly. Then she stepped around the two without waiting for a response.
Diya wrapped up some venison, cheese and a handful of cookies and tucked them into her jacket. She paused and then reached for a bottle of wine, filling a flask. She felt foolish as she headed out the back door. Clouds flitted across the sky, drifting across the moons and casting the yard in dappled shadow. A few tiny flickers of light crossed the sky. It was nothing alarming, and she hadn’t planned on doing any magic.
She pulled her coat close against the chill and headed out to the small grove of trees behind the storage sheds. She startled a pheasant, who broke cover and flapped its wings frantically, taking flight. She found the stone path past Pasha’s zoo toward the family’s shrine.
She looked around at the four altars, glancing sideways towards the water shrine. No. Definitely not that one, she decided. Fire was associated with passion, she thought. Air? sacred prayers and messages? That didn’t feel right. She felt more comfortable approaching the shepherdess. The human form felt more inviting and closer to the gods she was familiar with.
She knew it wasn't the new moon or the full moon, which was when offerings were normally made but she wanted this to be private- between her and the gods. She hoped they would understand, and she knew that the family made the offerings on a regular basis. The twins were fanatical about it-- sure their prayers were keeping their mother from getting sicker.
Now that she was there, she wasn't sure what she wanted to say.
“Thank you for keeping me safe and helping me to learn about respecting people better. I never understood the importance of the people I see every day, people I considered inferior. These people matter, whether it is here or at home on the soh'arat.”
“Please keep my family safe and help them to find a way out of their situation with the So'har Hak'kar. And please keep Jay safe- wherever he is. I think he really loved me, loves me and I'm sure I love him. I don't want to live without him, no matter the terms. Do you know where he is? Please help me to find him. I need him so much. He helps me to be a better person.”
She ran out of things to pray for that wouldn't just be the same thing over again, so she took out her offerings and laid them out on the plate. Then she poured the wine into the carved stone goblet.
“Please help me find Jay,” she repeated anyway, hoping that repeating herself would show them how important he was to her.
Satisfied that she had done her best, she headed to the barn, where Chiyu was napping in the sun. The morning was still brisk and Chiyu felt eager to get out and move. It took all of her limited skill to keep the horse at a walk for the short ride down to the village. Every little while, Chiyu would start to prance and break into a trot so Diya did what Pasha taught her and made the horse stop and stand. When she was satisfied that the horse was quieting down, she let her walk again. Where had her well-behaved perfect horse gone?
The ride took twice as long as it would have, as they repeated the pattern several times. As she stood there, she noticed that everything was turning rich shades of green and that there were wildflowers along the roadside- bright yellow dots that she didn't recognize. The mountains in the distance were no longer black and grey. Now they were a deep dusty mauve color which surprised her.
She found Rualla in her shop, resting in a pocket of morning sunshine by the front window. Diya suspected she was there for the light, rather than for the warmth. The woman never seemed to get cold. She looked up from her needlework and smiled when Diya walked in. “Ready for some spring clothing?” she asked.
“Not today. But soon,” Diya said. Knowing she only had a little while, she decided to skip the usual pleasantries. “I was wondering if any of the dyes you had for the cloth, might be usable for hair.”
Rualla pursed her lips, brow furrowed. Her head shifted from side to side as she considered the question. “I don't see why's not. Dye is dye is dye. But why you be wantin to dye your hair for? You've got such lovely locks.”
Because I'm terrified someone might recognize me. But she couldn't say that. She shrugged, trying her best to sound bored. “Oh, I don't know. I just wanted a change is all. Something different.”
Rualla peered at Diya. “What did you have in mind?”
Good question. Diya had been chasing that question around for a while. Her own hair was a rich dark brown, almost black, but tended to have reddish highlights. She wondered what she would look like with golden hair, like Jay’s. But then she knew her goal was to blend in.
She shrugged. “Maybe a nice dark red, reddish brown? What do they call that?”
“Chestnut? Auburn? Ya mean somethin like that then?”
“What's the difference?”
“Chestnut be browner. Auburn a bit redder, but sounds more like what yer askin. Red-brown.”
Red-brown. That might be okay. She imagined Esha and Pasha with their bright red hair. Definitely not for her. But red-brown might work. She nodded. “Yes. I think so. That would be good. Auburn. Do you have it?”
“Aye. I can make a dye that will turn your hair that color if ye're wantin it.”
“Perfect.”
Rualla heaved herself up to her feet. “Wait here. I'll have to go inta the back storage room.” She nodded to the empty seat across from her as she made her slow way towards the door.
It was a little while before Diya heard the shuffle of Rualla's step returning. She was carrying a small jar in her hand. “Wash your hair, then work this in and let it set for about as long as it takes to boil a pot of tea. Then rinse it out thoroughly with vinegar, and dry it with an old towel, something you don't mind ruining. There's enough here to repeat it in case you want to make it redder.”
She put the jar in Diya's hand and moved toward her window seat, settling herself back down with a creaky sigh.
Diya peered down at the jar, opened the lid, sniffing it. It looked awfully dark. How was that going to make her hair redder? But the woman knew her fabrics and her colors, so Diya didn't question her.
“Can you do something else, quick?” Diya asked, hesitant. “Can you trim my hair and give me bangs? Not too short of a trim. Nothing fancy.”
In response, Rualla pulled out a chair and motioned Diya to take a seat. While Diya got comfortable, the seamstress reached over and picked up a hefty-looking pair of shears.
“Just a tiny trim in the back,” Diya said, having a vision of the woman hacking into her hair the way Chak would shear a sheep.
Rualla just put a hand on Diya’s shoulder, straightening her out and began combing and snipping away. A few moments later, the older woman stepped back, admiring her own handiwork, nodding in satisfaction.
Diya reached up and ran her hand down her hair. She suppressed a shudder at the new length. She knew it probably wasn’t much shorter. Then she reached up and brushed her bangs aside. When she lowered her hand, she saw Rualla holding up a mirror.
It had been ages since she had worn bangs, but the seamstress had done a nice job of feathering her hair and sweeping it back away from her face.
She nodded. “It looks good. Very nice. As nice a job as any in the south might manage,” she said.
Rualla just nodded but Diya could see a glint of pride in the set of the woman’s shoulders.
“How much for the dye and the haircut?” she asked.
Lips pursed in thought. “Ten coppers is fine.”
Diya blinked, surprised. She knew dyes were very expensive and Rualla was asking for a few pennies. “Is that enough?”
The older woman looked up, grinning. “Truth? At's an easy color to make. Squeeze a bit o beets, some honey and some crushed up black walnut.”
Diya scowled, disbelieving and also a little annoyed. She could have gotten all of those things from Korina's pantry. But she handed over the copper pennies, grateful for the advice. “Thank you. I'll let you know how it works. And I'll be back before long for some new clothes.”