Your answer dwells at the manor. The
children’s mother spoke the truth; he knows it by the strange chill that
flickered over his hide when she said the words. The manor. He doesn’t
remember being there, but there is where he was last a man.
Mine …
The children come by on the brink of full dark. They
have brought food gathered in the wild: berries and mushrooms and an armload of
apples, and Joel has replenished the waterskin. Sian wonders why they have not
offered him meat, until he realizes that the notion of eating flesh repulses
him. It was not always so … but he has not always been half-horse, either. He
consumes what his equine organs can digest and deposits the waste in like
fashion. The children have been more aware of it than he is. Their innate love
of horses has given them the know-how to treat him where anyone else, including
himself, might have done more harm.
Joel throws the blanket over the manhorse’s back and
motions a promise of grooming come the morning. Sian solemnly nods. He would
like a bath and a brush. The fever and old unguent have left him tarnished, but
he must be gone before the boy returns.
He puts out a hand. Joel lays his small palm across
Sian’s wide one. They look together at Roanne, who stands removed after delivering
the apples. Joel murmurs confidentially at the manhorse’s side, but the words
mean nothing to Sian. The boy’s tone indicates some droll amusement concerning
his sister, and when Sian smiles, the effort is genuine. He likes Joel. He
likes Roanne as well, but when he turns his smile on her, something in her eyes
freezes it in place. She whispers a word, and the smile slowly melts.
It’s a name. Is it … ?
Mine.
Joel squawks indignantly at her. She disregards him.
Her luminous dark eyes are fixed on Sian, watching for something to sign
recognition. A hint, a twitch, a spark, anything. He stares back at her,
knowing the word yet not knowing, unable to place when he last heard it, or who
had spoken it.
* * *
It means something to him; she can tell by the way his
eyes go inward, searching. Her brother, who gets angry when he’s confused,
demands to know what she thinks she’s doing. It’s late and they have to get
home before Da comes looking—and since Mam knows about the cave, the cave is
the first place he’ll look. “We don’t want Da finding Sian, do we?” he reminds
her.
Roanne has known from the beginning that Da will take
Sian to the manor—but the manor, if Kev knows what he’s yammering about, is
where he belongs. Only he doesn’t belong there; not if he and his brother
fought over Lady Alarice and Lord Derrick did something wicked to punish him.
“It’s not safe here anymore,” she says.
Joel flaps his arms in irritation. “It’ll be fine if
we’re in time for supper. Let’s go, Roanne. You can teach Sian some words in the
morning.”
“It’s not just a word, Joel. It’s his name.”
“His name is Sian.”
“No. It’s Blais—isn’t it?” she asks, her eyes steady
on his. “You’re Lord Derrick’s little brother. You’re in love with his wife and
he found out, so he turned you into a manhorse and tried to kill you with a
poisoned arrow.”
He can’t understand her, but Joel can. His jaw drops
and his eyes pop, and he utters a mewling squeak that he intended to be a
derisive scoff. “What? Is that what the manor oaf told you?”
“Lord Derrick is a magician,” she says to him. “Mam
knows.”
Joel gapes, horrified. The Lirosi are known seers and
such, but marauders are disbelievers to the point of forbidding the natives
from using their talents for any reason whatsoever. For one of them, for one of
the highest order among them, to practice witchery himself, is impossible. Yet
if Mam believes otherwise … “How would Mam know?”
“She has the sight, just like—” Roanne stops abruptly,
biting her lip.
“Just like me,” Joel finishes, grimly.
That isn’t what Roanne had been about to say, but she
lets him think it was. He does have it, after all, and he hardly remembers
Norra.
She slowly approaches Sian. He has been listening to
the exchange, unable to interpret anything but the tone of their voices, and a
worried frown has wrinkled his beautifully smooth brow. Everything about him is
beautiful—she saw it right away, yet she has favoured the beauty of the horse
over the beauty of the man. She has appealed to his equine nature, speaking
softly, moving slowly, touching gently, and he has responded as a horse will
respond, with trust and benevolence. She must remember that such traits may not
exist in his nature as a man … but when she looks up into his eyes, she sees
someone wronged. Someone betrayed. Someone unjustly punished—and yet, someone
loved. Someone treasured. Someone given the gift of greater beauty than he had
on two legs. Dark magic did not make this glorious creature. Dark magic seeks
to destroy him.
* * *
She is quiet through supper. Da asks what’s got her
tongue, and she sticks it out to show him it’s still there. Mam’s attempt at a
disapproving frown is weakened by her poorly concealed smile. Da simply grunts
with mild amusement and takes Joel’s bread to sop up the last of the gravy from
his bowl. Joel protests and Da looks hard at him. Hard, but with pride. Da
loves his children in a taciturn, roughspun sort of way. Roanne adores him
almost as much as she fears him—he has a temper as black as his hair, but
horses would have nothing to do with him if they sensed anything truly mean
about him. He is more proud of his son than his daughter, probably because Joel
is the only boy of three to survive beyond infancy, but it may also be that he
has more faith in the boy’s resistance to the marauders’ conniving ways. Losing
Norra hurt him deeply, and when he looks at Roanne, he cannot help but see the
resemblance to her older sister. Mam says that’s why he dislikes her to visit
the manor without him. Every day, he asks her if she’s seen that fool boy, and
while Roanne always answers honestly, Da is notably relieved when she says no.
“He came to the camp today,” Mam says casually,
dishing up the stewed fruit.
A muscle twitches in Da’s jaw. “Why?”
“He burned his hand and wanted me to tend it.”
“Don’t they tend burns at the manor?”
“This was an odd one,” Mam says. “He said he’d picked
up an arrowhead that scorched him, but there was no blemish that I saw.”
Da glares at Roanne, who, along with Joel, tries to
look as if her throat has not closed about her windpipe and is threatening to
choke her. “Were you with him?”
“We both were,” Joel answers. Da won’t hit him as hard
as he’ll hit Roanne, so he often speaks for her when their father’s ire is
roused. “He told it true, Da. He did pick up an arrowhead and it did scorch
him. I think it was magicked.”
Da looks to Mam. “Is that what you think?”
She nods.
“The lord?”
“Someone,” Mam says. Some Lirosi mothers use Lord
Derrick’s name to frighten their badly behaved children, but Mam won’t use it
to frighten hers.
“Where is this arrowhead?” Da wants to know.
“In the cave off the north creek trail.”
The children exchange frantic glances. Mam is sending
their father straight to Sian!
Da smacks Joel’s head to get his attention. “You left
it there?”
“We buried it. It won’t do any harm in the earth.”
“Did it burn you, son?”
Joel wags his head in a non-committal manner. “Only
when I touched it. The longer I held it, the worse it burned, but as soon as I
dropped it, my hand healed. Magicked,” he concludes with a shrug.
Roanne watches her father’s face. Like her, Da lacks
the knowing shared by Mam and Joel, so he must rely on their word when magic is
mentioned. It seldom happens because of the marauders’ rule against the mystic
arts, so talk of this bespelled arrowhead has him more interested than his
daughter would like. He decides to visit the cave in the morning, with Joel
along to show him the spot where the object is buried. Roanne demands to go
with them. Da refuses. She pleads. Da still refuses. A third attempt makes him
suspicious, so she abandons the hunt.
She impatiently waits until her parents are asleep and
the whole camp is quiet. Joel wakes as soon as her skin rasps against the
blanket. “Are you crazy?” he whispers, knowing instinctively where she’s bound.
“I’m Lirosi,” she whispers back.
He starts to get out of bed. She stops him with a hand
on his head and a promise to be back soon.
She returns sooner than either of them expect, with
news that alternately relieves and worries her brother.
The manhorse is gone from the cave.
To be continued …
copyright 2013 Ruth R. Greig
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