He! He! He! Ha! Ha!

Okay! I'm not tired today, yay me! (had to put a little London Tipton in there. She's so cute!). So, just as I promised, I have something new for you all to read. I don't reveal too much in this one, so you get to think for yourselves what is going on. And trust me; you have no idea what's being plotted in this sly world of mine.













I glanced over my shoulder as I mounted my horse. Daza was cleaning the stalls on the far end of the stables, whistling the same nonsense song my brother had sung earlier this morning. Suppressing a snort, I ran through the obstacle course again, trying hard to focus. I needed to really improve before the race next week.

She went over her lines again and again, seriously trying to catch that accent. It was her fault that she was stuck with this traveling theater troupe. As the wagon jostled hard, the girl looked out to see the large rock they had just passed over. As she was about to turn back to her lines, the corner of her eye raised an eyebrow as she caught Tezho getting out from the wagon behind and hauling it over to the side of the road. He was a stuck up show-off.

Oh, it was beautiful to watch. Every movement was so graceful, he couldn’t take his eyes away from the girl on the stallion. Funny, her brother had never told him her name; really no one called her by any name. But maybe there wasn’t a name to describe the wonderfully indescribable. With a head filled with the yellow of the sunset, and the heavenly white of the horse, nothing else looked more worth making a picture of than that.
Watching over his shoulder, Daza turned to get the oats from the barn. He was excited to be taking her to the race so soon, with no one else but Kjanne, Swege, and Vioti. Shirewin Faire was one of the most famous celebrations in Thayes Cein. It was a party full of wonderful events, like the horse races, dramas, fire shows, musicians, dueling, tournaments, and feasts. Daza surely hoped to catch her name on the journey.
It irked him that he knew so little about someone that he had seen around the barn for over a year. He was also displeased that he was too cowardly to confront her. Daza wondered if she even noticed him. But then, he also wondered about all the things that she might like, or might not like; what would impress her; if she was tomboyish; if she were patient enough to teach him how to read; oh, just about everything. All he knew was that she looked beautiful on a horse and she had a pretty laugh.
Daza scratched his head and pulled his fingers through his red curls, noticing how long the hair had gotten. Goodness, down to his shoulders! He set the bag of oats down and leaned over the watering trough and looked at his reflection. Staring back into his dark, dull green eyes, Daza tried to wipe the dirt off the ridge of his nose. The natural bump in the middle of it peeved him. He didn’t like his square jaw either; it made his head look unbalanced on his shoulders.
Pulling up his sleeve, Daza traced the thick scar that ran over the shoulder and over the muscles of his upper arm. His right arm was the only thing he owned that he was proud of. Just like his left arm, it was ripped with muscle, but the long scar made it unique, special. He didn’t fancy the memory of receiving it, but he thought that it showed how tough he was, how experienced he could be in certain situations. And just about anyone was fascinated by a battle scar or a memento of the troubles one had seen. Rolling the sleeve down, Daza splashed his face with water and picked up the oats again. Pouring them into a bowl, he mixed them with water.
“You’re still up here, Daza?” A voice chuckled in surprise from behind. Daza looked back as he reentered the stables. Aburyfmi had returned from the village. “Of course I’m still here,” Daza answered. “Your sister doesn’t have the time to take care of the horses right now; I do.”
“Funny you mention my sister before yourself,” Aburyfmi joked, getting a consequential sock in the shoulder. Daza smiled anyway, knowing how best friends tended to be. Aburyfmi peeked out of the barn to see the course. “Talented, huh?” he mused with his eyebrows raised, turning back to Daza.
“Phenomenal. I think the wind is trying to catch up to her.”
“Naw, you daydreamer!” Daza leaned away as his friend mussed up his hair. “And, lo and behold, the enchanting rider cometh!” Aburyfmi pointed at the dismounted girl about a hundred yards away.
Leading Rifar by his bridle, I saw my brother pointing toward me as I walked closer to the barn.
“What’s the indication for? I’m coming.” I called to him. When I neared the two, Aburyfmi smiled mischievously. “What?” I cowered at his knowing expression.
“Daza, here, bets five tobs that you’ll lose the race.” Daza looked like he wanted to punch my brother, but when he saw my glare he changed attitudes.
“Ten. Five and ten tobs is what I said. I think he might be hard of hearing.” He jabbed his finger at my brother. This time he stared proudly back at my glare. Fifteen tobs was not a bet I wanted on myself. I turned to Aburyfmi.
“And what do you suppose?” I inquired, raising an eyebrow.
“I say seven on your winning.”
“Only seven?” Where was my brother’s support?
“I figure if I lose the bet, he gets only seven tobs, but if he loses, then I gain my good fifteen and keep my seven, with which I can do anything I want.” Logical and clever enough. “And we already shook on it; neither of us can back on his word now.” I straightened my back and set my shoulders down in a proud posture as I walked Rifar into the stables.
“Well,” I said to Daza. “At least someone knows how to use logic. I would wish you luck on winning your bet, but you look like you have enough.” I looked pointedly at his long red curls. He turned even redder but remained expressionless while I passed him. Aburyfmi gained a jokingly ridiculing face as he exchanged silent words between him and Daza. They shoved, punched, and eventually began a playful wrestling match as I unsaddled Rifar and put away all of the riding gear.
“Alright, Abur, everyone will be worried at home if we don’t make it back before dark.” I said as they pulled each other apart and stood up. Well, Aburyfmi more like scuttled up to his feet; Daza was somewhat more graceful.
“You know, I never asked,” Daza said. “How far out do you two live?”
“From here?” Aburyfmi questioned.
“Mm hm.”
“Say, about four miles away. Why?”
“Just a curious thought. I’m still trying to get to know the country and most other people.” At this, Aburyfmi piped up.
“Well, if you like you could come eat dinner with us.” I was about to protest; I must have begun to turn red because when my brother glanced at me he made double takes. “Are you alright?” I cleared my throat.
“It’s still a little warm outside.” I lied. Shaking his head n confusion because it was obviously fairly chilly by now, Aburyfmi turned back to Daza.
“You could meet the rest of our family,” he urged. Daza considered it a moment, and then confirmed his answer.
“I’d be much obliged. It’s about time I got out for a night.” He left to get his horse. Aburyfmi turned to me.
“Where’s Rifar?”
“In the stables; why?”
“How are we getting home, then?” I groaned and burned my cheeks even redder as I went back to saddle Rifar up again.
When I came back, the first sight I saw was the most amazing horse I’d laid eyes on. A Frisian! Goodness, Daza was lucky; he had a Frisian! The horse must have been a female; Rifar was getting excited. If he were a human, he would have whistled. The two men were in conversation when Aburyfmi stopped and looked at me.
“Could I ride in front today?” I was no mood for arguing, so I consented and mounted behind him. He smirked at Daza before kicking Rifar into a walk.

“Whoa!” Momentum slowly pulled Triah back as the wagon came to a stop. It was tradition that the drivers of the wagons helped the women of the one in front of them out. Glancing up, she saw all of the other girls flock to the back of the wagon as Tezho approached to lift them down. Folding her arms, she reminded herself that it was her fault that she was stuck here. Triah waited until he had lifted the rest of the girls down to give him a straight, dark look in the eyes. He timidly raised his hands to indicate he was helping.
“I can climb down my self,” she said stubbornly. Tezho dropped his arms, rolled his eyes, and sighed.
“Look, I understand that you’re new, and you may not trust me, but it’s just a simple tradition.”
“I am very independent of getting out of a wagon.” He sighed again.
“Please?” he begged.
“No.”
“Please?”
“No.”
“If you don’t let me get you out, then—what are you doing?” Triah had swung her leg over the backboard.
“I told you I could climb out myself.” He was not grabbing her waist now.
“Then pull your dress over your leg, please.” He said, turning away. Giving him an aggravated look that he couldn’t see, she pulled her skirt down over her foot. Alright, he was really just trying to show off his modesty. Swinging her other leg over, her foot got caught inside the skirt, making Triah slip. Tezho took the liberty of catching her in time, nearly hugging her.
“That easy, isn’t it?” he said sarcastically.
“Get off!” She cried, pushing away from his chest. He staggered back in amazement.
“For someone as light as you, you’re strong.” He complimented. She just turned away, growling at his artificial charm, walking as quick as she could. “Supper’s the other way!” All Triah could imagine right now was ripping every dark brown hair from his perfect scalp.
Everyone all sat and sipped stew around a fire, sitting on rocks, or logs, or an object substituting for a seat. We had settled near a great meadow that stretched for and wide beside the road where the wood had ended. The grass was nearly two feet high, with spots of moist earth scattered within the meadow everyone where. Daaenya flounced over to Triah in her perky way and sat, still nearly bouncing in her seat. “I heard you made a fit for Tezho. What did he do?” Triah moaned.
“I’ve seen too much of his pretend courtesy. So, I decided I could get out of the wagon on my own and he could leave.”
“So you did something?” Daaenya’s eyes widened.
“I don’t know. But I don’t like Tezho. He isn’t trustworthy.” And for her, that was almost a gospel truth.
“Oh, you just don’t know ‘im yet. He does like to show off sometimes, but he doesn’t boast. And besides, for someone like us, ‘e looks a-jizzy.” Huh?
“Daaenya, please try to translate your slang before saying it. A month is not long enough to pick up a lingo.”
“Oh. Me apologies. I meant he’s ‘andsome. Don’t you agree?”
“A little. But he’s too perfect for it all to be true. And why is it tradition to have the men help the women from the wagons?” It was so silly!
“It teaches the boys at young ages how to be polite. But Tezho’s the only one who actually is nice.” She sipped her stew.
“Rubbish.” Triah sipped her own stew in turn. Daaenya licked her lips before speaking again.
“No. Someday you’ll see. I mean, he likes you, I don’t see—“
“What?!” Triah nearly choked on a potato.
“Oh, come on. Tezho likes everyone the same. You should try that, too.” Putting her spoon in the now empty bowl, Daaenya sauntered away in a less perky manner. Triah stood also and went to dispose of her bowl in the wagon with the scullery girls attending to it.
“Triah.” She jumped at the voice behind her. Turning, she saw Vindoah hovering over her. “Yes?” she replied.
“How are your lines coming?” he asked in his deep, round tones.
“I’m fine with my lines; why?”
“That’s splendid. I’ve finally chosen someone for the part of Martifreyo.” Triah had to stop herself from snorting at the name. The most outrageous name for the man she was pretending to love. “Only a week is left until the Faire, so I would like you to practice with him every day when we stop to rest and eat.”
“And who is my partner?”
“Tezho.”

The cutlery clanged against the plates and bowls as the family and Daza peacefully ate.
“So, when do you plan on leaving to the Faire, Daza?” my father asked.
“We’ll be here one more day and the group leaves in the morning.” Daza answered.
“That soon?” Father turned to me. “Then I believe the riding is coming along well?”
“Very well, Da.” I said. He was so talented at conversing with me without calling me by my name. I was glad of that. “Even Abur believes I’ll do great.” I had to keep from glaring at Daza. Sneaking a glance, I noticed that he looked perturbed, also.
“Wonderful!” he cried. Aburyfmi blushed at my father’s joy of having the two of us getting along.
“M’ma, could you pass me the butter?” Lili peeped. She was so small for an eight-year-old girl, and so frail. It frightened my parents.
“Here you go, love,” my mother said, reaching to set the butter across the table. “Mm…. Freshly made this morning. Finally something yellower than our hair.” Lili and Groy, my other younger brother, giggled in their sweet childish way. My mother chuckled and then pulled back the few thin gray wisps that had escaped her knot on top.
“So will you be able to do chores before you leave in the morning, dear?” she asked me.
“Yes, mum.” I answered.
“Are you sure?” This came from Daza.
“Daza,” I said. “If I’m to wake before sunrise to do chores and we’re to leave at mid-morning, wouldn’t you think that I would have plenty of time?” he gave a small nod and a nervous smile and silenced himself. In refrain from looking smug I took a bite of bread.
“So Daza, what else do you do?” my mother asked. “Are you looking to be a cobbler, or a carpenter, or a smith of some sort?”
“Uh, no, ma’am. Just horses,” he said.
“Really? But you must have some interests other than that. You’ve never had a wish to be a scholar, or a warrior, or maybe even an artist?” she continued. Mother liked to hear the tales of dreamers. Daza looked like a disappointment. He also looked like he wanted to tell her something but thought better of it.
“No. I just want to take care of my horses and be a simple merchant. I’ve no need for importance,” he said humbly. I wondered how he could say that. Didn’t he want to be known by people; didn’t he want a name; didn’t he want friends? To feel no oblige to have a little pride was somewhat alien to me. Until now it seemed that no one could live a fulfilled life without enjoying one moment of pride and glory. Mother looked slightly put out.
“Well, that’s very interesting. Aburyfmi, here, plans to be a sailor.” She indicated towards him as he gave a fleeting sheepish look towards Daza. Apparently my brother was aware that our family’s pride might make him feel unaccepted. “And my daughter here would be a jeweler if it weren’t for horses.” I was turning red again and so I bent over my food, trying to hide my face. I blushed because I was glad that Mother hadn’t spoken more than that, but I also fumed somewhat that she had said so in the first place. She knew that jewels easily diverted me and I would gladly recite my knowledge of them to anyone I trusted, but it must have been clear to Daza that I cared nothing for the career and everything for the animals we both so loved.
As supper closed, Father looked out the window and saw how dark the sky had become and at once I knew what he would say next and I dreaded it.
“I do believe that it will be too dark for you to travel tonight, Daza. If we could make a space for you, I don’t think it would do any harm to let you spend the night here and ride with my eldest two to the stables tomorrow. We have room for your horse here.” To my disappointment, Daza said,
“That’s very kind, sir. If it weren’t the dark of fall, I would ask to leave, but thank you for your kindness.” Mother began clearing the dishes while I helped and as she did so, she began spouting off suggestions of where he should sleep. I wondered why my parents showed these actions when it had at first seemed that he was disappointing to their expectations? They were kind, yes, but to invite him to stay? Only three other people had been given the privilege to board in our home that were like him, and they were all close relations. I remembered when my second cousin had lost all of his fortune and had stayed with us for over two years before windfall struck him at last and he landed a good home. Daza wasn’t quite so poor, but I knew that he never seemed to leave the stables as everyone else did, so I knew that his only payment was the low payment of a stable hand. To me it was certainly lowly enough, though. I would have guessed that he slept in the barn! My mother tapped my arm as I was carrying more dishes to the washtub.
“You wouldn’t mind if you shared space with Aburyfmi tonight, so that Daza could use your room, would you?” I was amazed at how I didn’t lose my constant vigil over my temper, but somehow the smile stretched on my lips and the words escaped my mouth.
“No, I don’t mind at all.” In shock at my self, I hurried to the washtub and the smile was gone completely.

Triah stared at Vindoah for a second too long, for he asked if she was feeling well. Shaking her head, she flustered.
“Oh, no, I’m fine. It’s just that I don’t know him very well and this is a very—um—different way of getting to know him. And I’m getting drowsy; my head feels light as it always does at this time of day—night. Or maybe I ate too much…” She felt as if she were going to be sick! Putting her hand on her forehead to see if she really wasn’t feeling well, she suddenly reeled over and hit something hard.
Triah. Triah, wake up. How’s your head?
“Triah, are you feeling all right? Triah, get up!” Someone shook her gently and she finally came to. If she weren’t just waking from a strange moment of faintness, she would have moaned in annoyance. The light from the candles sitting nearby fell upon Tezho’s perfectly loathsome face, which was creased with worry, and out of the corner of Triah’s eye she could see Daaenya fiddling with something.
“You’re not my partner,” she groaned at him, meaning to tell him that he wasn’t to come within a fifty-mile radius of her. He looked at her strangely.
“Yes, I am.” He said plainly, in confusion. “It seems you hit your head hard when you fainted,”
“I what?” Triah exclaimed as loud as her exhausted voice allowed her.
“When Vindoah told you that I was your partner, he told me that you had become nervous and then suddenly fainted and hit your head on the wheel of a wagon behind you. Maybe you’re getting sick, Triah. It would probably be best if you didn’t act in the play. Who is your understudy?” Even though she knew that she would be playing the main part with this artificial angel, Triah did not want to give up her part.
“No!” she cried, suddenly awake and alert. “I’m fine. I’m just not used to all of this yet. I’ve only been here a month; leave me alone!” She kicked from under the blankets that were laid on her and Tezho was pushed to the side with some force. Daaenya then set down her matchbox, which was what she had been messing with because she had spilled the matches after lighting the candles, and held Triah. Looking to Tezho, she explained:
“She doesn’t trust you very much, so it’s best that you leave us alone while I watch her.” Tezho looked hurt and defeated, but he came down out of the great wagon that they were in and through the dark, as it was now late at night, the two girls heard his footsteps retreat. Daaenya turned back to Triah again.
“You shouldn’t have said that. He did most of the tending to you; all I was good at doing was lighting the candles, and I made a mess of it anyway! Why do you hate him so much?” Triah swooned a bit before answering.
“He’s shows off for everyone, and he’s doing things extra special just for me. And there some look in his eyes every time he does something kind to me, as if he were thinking of something, hoping, planning. I’ve known too many men like him and I owe it to the ones who are not so polite that I’m still alive. I’ve learned that one month isn’t enough to get to know someone once they’ve instilled a suspicion.” Daaenya listened, sighing and rolling her eyes the entire time.
“Alright. Then what exactly do you see in his eyes, what plot is behind that face?” Triah thought a moment before answering, for she was unsure what it was completely, she only had ideas.
“It’s like he’s telling me that he’s doing this for a reason. That I’m just supposed to trust him and all will be well, but something extra shines in there. A look I know very well means that if I just succumbed to him, I would be taken away and all horrors are open to me.” Again, Daaenya refused to take everything seriously.
“You know, there may as well be something in his eyes that’s trying to say something more than ‘Trust me,’ but to what you’re making it, I’ve known him to long to even fathom him thinking that way. Triah, he’s very different from most other men, and he finds good in everyone. How can you find evil in that?”
“I think it’s all an act, just a display for me. I’ve gotten it several times. He is an actor anyhow.”
“Well, it must be a serious act, because he’s been displaying since before he was handsome, I think since he was eleven years old. Eight years of acting like someone you’re not would make someone crack, don’t you agree?” Triah didn’t answer. She only huffed and laid back down, just then realizing the throbbing pain in her head that seemed to enhance the feeling of her heartbeat. She held her head and screwed up her face in pain, feeling stupid about herself fainting. That was what a princess did when she learned she was betrothed to a man she’d never met. Only higher people did those silly things, not Triah. To her it felt like she’d done something very silly, something lower than she was expected. Triah liked to think of her self as a strong girl; weakness was an insult.
“Do you think you’ll sleep all right, Triah?” Daaenya asked. “It looks like your head is still hurting. Should I get someone to give you medicine?”
“No, I’ve slept with worse things with headaches before. If I can sleep with broken ribs I can sleep with small headache.” With those words, she grabbed the nearest candles and blew them out, Daaenya doing the same, so that the wagon’s light disappeared and they couldn’t see each other.
“Goodnight, Triah. Good luck with your practicing tomorrow.” Daaenya whispered. Triah groaned to herself and muttered, “Goodnight, Daa,” and closed her eyes tightly as if she could blink away the vision of she and Tezho acting together.

The girl’s room was very different from a stall in the barn. The floor wasn’t packed down with straw or dirt, and it hardly smelled of horses, though it had an essence of them. Daza simply gazed at the bed. It had a mattress, it had a pillow, even a frame! He’d never slept in a real bed before; this room was worth a palace suite to him. The blankets were folded neatly at the edge of the bed, and a chest lay at the foot of it. A table that seemed ridiculously small was set by the head of the bed, with only room for the pitcher and bowl that stood upon it. Daza stamped his foot on the floor: the boards were sturdy. Looking up, he saw a door that opened, and when he’d opened it, he almost hit himself in the face with a ladder that unfolded itself. He’s guessed that the girl was going to sleep up there. Pulling off his boots, he unfolded the blankets and lay on his back, staring at the dust waltzing in the light coming through the window above.
Daza suddenly nearly wanted to curse. He still didn’t know her name! That thought alone drove him insane. Her family hadn’t even spoken it during dinner, which surprised him, because it should have been mentioned at least once during the nice conversation at the table. He wondered if they were purposely avoiding it, but why would they be? If they didn’t trust him enough, how were they letting him stay in their house, in her room? And only her name had been omitted from the talk; he now knew her parents’ names and her younger siblings’ names.
Oh well, Daza thought to himself, rolling over onto his side. He would need to wait until their ride to the Faire and see if he could get it out of her. Maybe she just never went by her name because she seemed to easily answer to any other common summoning. Whatever the reason was, Daza was determined to learn about her as much as he could. They could even become friends on the way; he would have to tell her that the bet he and Abur had made wasn’t actually on.
Turning back to his original position, Daza kept thinking and pondering about what would happen on their journey until his mind got tired of working and he fell asleep. When the girl made her way into the loft, he was dreaming too much to notice.

Sleeping above my bedroom in the loft felt very different; and I still didn’t understand why I had agreed to let Daza sleep in my room. He had kicked the blankets off and was hugging the pillow as if it were a stuffed toy just like a child would. I pictured him with his thumb sticking out of his mouth and chuckled quietly to myself. But I still couldn’t understand what I saw when I had looked at his face. It was like he was in a paradise, or a palace, or near enough to sleeping in heaven. And then there was a trace of strangeness. Oh, I just saw a million different faces in one; sorrow, ecstasy, determination, and possibly fear.
I heard a strange thump from under me; I thought maybe Daza had fallen off the bed. It seemed he really wasn’t used to beds after I had seen the blankets kicked away. My mind pricked the thought that Daza actually did sleep in the stables. Aburyfmi sighed in his slumber, making a strange moaning sound following it. I had almost forgotten he was there because for a young man he slept so quietly. The scent of the thick layer of straw came to my nose, and, simply by reflex, I inhaled it and smiled.
I guessed the loft wasn’t such a problem, if it reminded me of the barn and how much I loved all the horses. Sometime that night I fell asleep, but I never completely remembered when or how. I’d heard one more funny sound from under, but otherwise there was peaceful silence and the smell of sweet straw.