by M. A. Ray
“Hello, little brother,” the tulon said, in Trader’s—patronizingly, or so it sounded.
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The tulon cocked his head to one side. All the silvery hair slid along with the motion. “
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“” Dingus nodded, and Adeon wrinkled his nose. “
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Adeon cocked his head again and smiled; it was dazzling on his hitul-pretty face. He swept a hand covered with delicate rings through his long hair. Even the way he propped his ankle on one knee was graceful. Right now Dingus felt as oversized, as gawky, as ridiculous as he’d ever felt back home, and he hated it more.
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Stiffly, Dingus said, “
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Adeon wrinkled his nose again. “
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Dingus nodded, feeling easier. He hadn’t realized anybody even knew where Thundering Hills was, let alone what it was like. “
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Adeon was still laughing over that when Vandis rushed up, looking harried.
“Oh, good, you found him,” he said to the tulon. “Do you have anything on for dinner, Dingus?”
“I did some kidneys and taters. There’s plenty left, you want some?”
“Please,” Vandis said, and Dingus got up to fill him a bowl.
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Adeon beamed his dazzling tulon smile. “Farewell, Vandis. Try not to work too hard.”
Vandis nodded, deep in his kidneys and taters, and raised a hand. When Adeon left, Vandis chewed, swallowed, and asked, “I probably caught about one word in three of what you guys were saying just then. So, what’d you think?” He stuffed his mouth again.
“Of Adeon, you mean?”
At Vandis’s nod, Dingus considered. He raised one finger and circled it by his temple. Vandis almost choked laughing. “He’s a whack-a-doo, all right,” Vandis said when he got his food swallowed, “but he’s a good guy, never doubt it. He’s been a Knight for about six hundred years. Has to get the leaf tattooed again every fifty or so.”
“Neat,” Dingus said, grinning. “He wasn’t the way I expected. He said my blood was better than his. I never heard that before.”
Vandis’s eyebrows pulled together.
Dingus poured out a cup of coffee for Vandis and explained. “On account of Eagle Eye and Wolf’s Eye and all.”
“Ah,” Vandis sighed after a big swallow of the coffee. “Wolf’s Eye?”
“I’ll tell you the story if you want.”
“I wish I had time, kid. I’ve got more meetings, all afternoon and most of the evening. Don’t forget to tell it to me, though. I want to hear.” Vandis shoved in the last bite of kidneys and taters, swilled the rest of the coffee, and handed the cup back. “Can I get a refill?”
Dingus got him one, wishing he’d stay a little longer.
“Thanks.” He patted Dingus’s shoulder, wiped his mouth on his handkerchief, and strode off, drinking from his mug. “Don’t just bum around in camp all afternoon! Go find something to do!” he called back.
Dingus rolled his eyes and gathered up the dishes. He scrubbed them off with some water from one of the buckets and a bit of soap from the pot, dried them, and went to his pack. When he opened it, he found what he wanted right away—he kept telling Kessa that was why a pack had to be organized.
The book was right at the top, nestled up to a big ball of twine. It was a treasure of a book, and not just because it was the first gift Vandis had given him. Most of the books in the library at Elwin’s Ford had been a lot bigger and heavier; this one was the smallest, and the most beautiful book he’d seen in his life: a thick but portable atlas. It was supposed to be for studying for the Quiz Trial day after tomorrow, but he liked to think of it as a list of places he would one day go. Thundering Hills wasn’t in it, even on the detailed map of Wealaia, but he didn’t really look at those two pages much. His favorite map was the one in the middle, a color world map with the oceans, lakes, and rivers done in blue, the forests in green, the deserts in tan. He got himself the last cup of coffee and sat down on the log, his back to the camp, to look at it for a while. That way he could say he’d been studying, but it was in fact pure pleasure.
Dingus took a couple sips of the coffee, but after that he forgot about it, trying to imagine the places on the map. Every so often he’d flip the pages to look at the more detailed maps of somewhere; he had the book memorized, really, but that didn’t matter.
After a while he fetched himself Kessa’s share of dinner, since she hadn’t shown up to claim it, and kept reading. Books weren’t something he’d expected to enjoy, but then, Grandma had only three: a book of recipes she’d made herself; a copy of The Scripture of Mother and Father, the hitul holy book; and an almanac in Trader’s. She’d taught him to read with them, but they weren’t exciting, not like the books in the way station library. He wished he’d dared to ask for one of the history books, too, maybe the one about Brigh
twater-Lightsbridge relations for the past eight hundred years; interesting stuff, that, especially when he thought about their latest war, the one they’d been having for almost three years now over trading rights with the Monmouth Islands.
He read the book of maps all afternoon and hardly noticed himself shifting around to stay with the changing light, but eventually he had to stop, partly because the trees blocked what light was left, and partly because it was about time to start supper. The fire had burned down to embers. He was just wondering if he should cook for Vandis and Kessa when Wallace came around. It surprised him, but the pleasure he felt at seeing the other boy surprised him more.
“You want to come by our camp for supper? We cooked too much, and Evan said I could invite you if I wanted.” Wallace beamed through his beard. “Henry’s doing up raisin pudding for afters, he does the best pudding.”
Weirdly enough, Dingus did want to. “I don’t know if Vandis is gonna want anything.”
“Oh,” Wallace said, that phlegmy sound again, “let him fend for himself. He always did before.”
Dingus grinned. Wallace seemed to have that effect. “Just let me bank the fire.”
Going with Wallace turned out to be a good decision. Lady Pearl and Francine sat around with Evan while Henry, who Dingus learned was Evan’s Junior and about to make Senior on Longday, dished up johnnycake and pork livers and sweetbreads with gravy. The raisin pudding tasted as good as Wallace’s promise: sweet and spiced, with fat raisins soaked in brandy and a soft texture just this side of mushy. It came with a generous pat of butter on top, which melted down into the crevices and spoon holes, gilding the lily. There was plenty of food for everyone, even with Wallace’s putting away two helpings of everything, so Dingus ended up having thirds.
“Good supper. Thanks for inviting me,” he said when the dishes were all cleared up. “See you guys around.”
“Aren’t you coming to the party?” Francine asked.
There’s a party? His experience of parties wasn’t exactly broad, but the ones he’d been to, he wished he hadn’t. He shrugged. “Wasn’t planning on it.”
Wallace said, “And what were your plans? There’s always a Squire party, didn’t you know that? Everyone’ll be there.”
Everyone. Arkady, he thought, and swallowed hard. “Uh, I was gonna…” Think, think fast. “…study,” he decided. “You know, for the Quiz.”
“If you don’t know it now, you never will.” The beard split in another grin. “C’mon with Franny and me, you won’t be regretting it.”
“I don’t know anybody.”
“That’s a piss-poor excuse for an excuse,” Francine said, and she and Wallace laughed over it.
Dingus tried to think of something else, anything. “I have a—” Headache, he thought, that’s a good excuse.
She reached out toward him, but he twisted just a little before her hand made contact. She drew it back and looked at him. “Come on, it’ll be fun.”
His shoulders sagged. “Okay.” Francine and Wallace beamed. He shoved his hands in his pockets, managing a smile, and followed them across the campground to the far south edge of Knightsvalley, near the foot of the mountains. Dingus sent a longing glance back in the direction of his own campsite. He’d much rather be there, pretending to sleep, than headed toward the sulky glow of the not-quite-yet bonfire that stood out of the dusk.
Dingus hung back a little, only half listening to the two others chatting in front of him. Even before they got to the fire, there was a crowd of kids all around, drinking cider and small beer, but everyone seemed a little bit subdued, not what Dingus would’ve expected from so many kids all together. He wished he hadn’t eaten so much at supper. His stomach twisted and churned, even worse than it had last night when he’d seen all the Knights who had come to camp in the valley. When they passed Kessa, he gave her a small wave—he hadn’t seen her since morning. When they passed Arkady, he made sure to look away.
Everyone clumped together in little knots, talking quietly, and his hopes of finding a shadow to stand in died. He tried to keep his head low as they approached the fire and the barrels of drink. It seemed as though everyone they passed was talking about Muscoda; it took less than two minutes to get up by a circle of logs by the fire, and he must’ve heard “Muscoda” fifteen times from fifteen different mouths.
“I thought this would distract me,” Francine muttered. “Everybody’s so miserable. I can’t stand to think about it anymore. Maybe you had the right idea with the studying, Dingus.”
“Aye,” Wallace said. “Nobody’s seen us yet, mayhap we can leave.”
“Let’s,” Dingus said.
Francine sighed. “You guys go ahead. I see Gemma, I’d better go over.”
“If you stay, we’ll not go,” Wallace said, “right, Dingus?”
“Uh, right.” He didn’t feel like arguing, and besides, he didn’t want to be a jerk, since Francine was actually pretty okay.
“Thanks, you guys.” She went around the circle of logs, mostly occupied by people about their age, and put her hand on a blond girl’s shoulder. The girl lifted a blotchy face and immediately scooted over for Francine to sit. Francine’s butt barely touched the log before the other girl glommed on to her.
“Lost her boyfriend, she did,” Wallace said quietly.
Suddenly, Dingus didn’t feel so itchy about being a stranger. Better that, than hurting the way they all were. “Well, most everybody must’ve lost somebody. It was a lot of people.”
“Aye,” Wallace said. “Look there, it’s my friend. Let’s sit. Tony!”
“I met him before,” Dingus said, when the boy with the shaved head from Elwin’s Ford turned around and waved. The firelight glanced off the boy’s head; Dingus could swear he’d polished it for the occasion, it was that shiny, and he was all dressed up in bottle-green breeches and jerkin, a loose, blazing yellow tunic, and crimson boots.
Tony slid over on the log when they got there. “Hey, Wallace.” The two of them clasped wrists. Wallace sat, and Tony looked over his head at Dingus. “Hey, man, you look better.”
“Heh. I hope so, that was last year.”
“Who’s that?” a girl with a mass of curly hair and about a gross of bangles asked from the next log, the tone of her voice saying she didn’t really care, and in fact would prefer it if Dingus went away.
“Dingus,” Tony said, when Dingus’s mouth dried out in horror. “He’s Vandis’s guy. Remember, Francine, from Elwin’s Ford last summer?”
“I remember,” said Francine, and the blond girl, who’d mostly sniffled herself out, looked at him.
“I remember you, too. You were all beat up though.”
“Yeah,” Dingus admitted. He felt sick of the subject, even more so when Arkady strutted up behind her and Francine.
She gave him a watery smile. “Ready to tell the story yet?”
“No.”
“Maybe someday you’ll tell me,” she said.
“I don’t think so.” He tried not to sound mean. He didn’t want to hurt her feelings or piss her off. He could tell Wallace a little, sure, but a girl? A girl he didn’t know?
“Don’t mind him, Gemma.” Arkady leaned in, draping an arm around her shoulders. “Boys don’t like to talk about their defeats.” He glanced up at Dingus, smirking.
Dingus inhaled slowly, taking in the smoke smell of the fire, the weak alcohol in the cider, the confused body smells of everyone around. He wouldn’t rise to the bait.
“Stop being a dick,” Francine snapped, and Dingus shut his eyes, pained. Please don’t defend me, he thought, but she kept on. “What reason do you have to be horrible to him? You don’t even know him.”
Arkady snorted eloquently through his mustache, all the answer he needed to give. This was exactly why Dingus hadn’t wanted to come.
“So!” Wallace put on that infectious grin. “Who’s standing Trials, then?”
“I am,” Arkady said.
Gemma sniffled. “So am I.�
�
“I don’t know why they’re even having them this year,” said Bangles. “It’s stupid! Like any of us is going to be able to concentrate. Besides, there’s barely anyone left who’s old enough.”
“Waived that, though, didn’t they?” Wallace said. “I’m standing, and I’m only seventeen last month.” For some reason, Dingus had thought Wallace was older than he was. Must have been the beard.
Arkady snorted. “They shouldn’t let anyone stand who hasn’t done six years,” he said, and Bangles nodded.
“Well, I have. I was eleven,” Wallace said.
“If you can do it, you can do it, so who cares how long you been in?” Tony waved his hand dismissively. “I’m eighteen, but so what? I’m not threatened.”
Francine rolled her eyes. “Nobody’s a threat. It doesn’t matter how anybody else does, just you.”
“Unless you got money on it,” Tony said, grinning, and everyone laughed except for Bangles. Even Gemma wiped the tears off her face.
Bangles shook her head, earrings flashing inside the mass of hair, her mouth a pinched purse. “How can you guys be so callous? They shouldn’t even have Trials this year! There’s no way I can focus. There’s no way anyone could do as well as they should.”
“Why don’t you just ask Adeon to keep you back?” Francine asked her, sounding a little annoyed. Dingus didn’t much care for the idea of Trials being cancelled, either. He’d worked hard for this—hadn’t everybody else? Didn’t she see how much it mattered?
She folded her arms under her breasts. “I did. He said no.”
“Yeah, well, Adeon’s a hardass. You didn’t think he’d say yes anyway,” Tony said.
“I didn’t think he’d be that callous!” she snapped. “You’d think he was Vandis the way he yelled at me! Well, I hope he’s happy when I flunk!”
“You can’t do that,” Dingus blurted. “If your Master thinks—”
“What would you know? You’re not even standing Trials,” she said, looking him over, her eyes lingering on kid face, knobby knees.
He bristled. “Yes, I am.”
