* * *
She was running through a practice pattern in the garden just as the sun set one early spring evening, not concentrating hard, just enjoying the flicker of the dying light on her blade, when she noticed her father. He was standing in the portico, not doing anything, just watching her. When she lowered her sword, he sighed.
“Rough day, Father?”
“Not at all. I was just thinking. Normally, a man of my station is pleased to enter the garden in the evening to find his daughter playing music, reading poetry, or arranging flowers.”
“I see. Am I a great disappointment to you, then?”
He smiled, but slowly. “No, just a bit of a surprise, sometimes.”
Sheathing her sword, she took his arm and turned him towards the house. “Well, just to show you that I haven’t lost my feminine skills, I will serve you a beautiful pot of tea, just the way you like it.”
“With jasmine?”
She shook his arm. “I said I was showing my feminine skills, not practicing to be a tavern cook. I will make you tea the way I think you like it. If you want something else, make it yourself.”
He shook his head. “So much for normalcy.”
“Oh. Sorry. Excuse me a moment, dear Father.” Drawing her sword, she flicked it out, beheaded an assortment of blooms and gathered them. “There. Flower arranging. After the tea, I will read you a poem.”
“I feel so reassured.” Then he looked at her more seriously. “How are you, Aleria? How are the dreams?”
She rocked her hand in front of her. “Still there, but not the same.”
“In what way?”
She considered. “Raif is no longer in them. They are less specific to actual events, now. More undefined terror. I don’t know whether that’s progress or not.”
“I’m sure it is. I hope you have told Raif.”
“Oh, yes. It wouldn’t be fair not to.”
“So that plan is working out? Seeing him, talking to him.”
“That part of it is fine. You know, it’s strange…”
“Yes?”
“I like him.”
“You do?”
“I’m sure you’ve heard me complain about the boys in my class. How they’re…you know…”
“Young, immature, callow, weak, boring, not serious enough…”
“I guess you have heard me.”
“Now and again.”
“I know. And again and again. Because it’s true. But Raif isn’t like that. He’s mature, he’s serious, he’s capable.” She shivered. “A bit too capable, perhaps. He’s been out there in the real world, and he knows what it’s like. And he survived.”
“And so did you.”
“Mostly. And I have a suspicion he’s not completely unscarred either.”
“So he sympathizes, and it means something.”
“Now that I’m past the point of blaming him – not that I meant to, but some part of me obviously did – I realize what he went through as well. And he understands how hard it has been for me.” She grinned. “When he’s not traipsing off doing something completely hammer-headed, he’s quite a decent sort.”
She thought a moment. “And he treats Mito like a person.”
Her father grinned. “What does that mean?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s just something I have noticed with people. The girls at school, of course, but also the teachers and other adults. It’s because of her family problems. They are mostly over now, but when she came to school they must have been quite serious. People looked at her with a sort of calculation, and you could see what they were thinking. Would she be a problem? Could she be used to some advantage? Was she an easy target? Raif isn’t like that. He just treats her like…well, like he treats me. Or anybody else. He even had sympathy for Slathe’s soldiers – the poor ones with no other choices.”
“Good for him.”
“But if you always look at people as if they were tools to be used, and treat them like that, then they will treat you the same way. You never get to see anyone as a person. You never get to know if that person could be a friend. So you never have friends, just people who are convenient to you. What an empty way to live your life…why are you looking at me like that?”
“Because you have never said anything that makes me as proud of you as I am right now.”
“Hmph. It was rather naïve, now that I heard myself say it.”
He put an arm around her shoulders. “Well, you just keep being naïve, then. You’ll live a much fuller life.”
“If being naïve means not knowing about all the things there are to be afraid of, I wish I was.”
“So you have solved your problem with Raif, but your dreams are still there.”
“They come and they go, but yes, always there.”
“Then all your training has not been the solution you hoped.”
She shook her head. “It didn’t solve my predicament completely. But as I say, the problem has changed. I always think change means progress. Maybe this is a stage I have to go through.”
He tightened his arm. “I wish I could give you some fatherly advice at this point, but I’m afraid you are quite beyond anything in my experience. Would you like to talk to the doctor again?”
She smiled. “He did a marvellous job of stitching that sword-cut I got last month, but I don’t think he knows much more than you do about bad dreams.”
“Then someone else. I hear there is a doctor at the University who is making a study of…”
Her scornful snort stopped him. “I am not about to let myself become the subject of some doctor’s experiments.”
“But it might help you.”
“I’m doing fine, father. Has it ever occurred to you that many people must have this kind of problem? Lots of people have lived through all sorts of horrible experiences, and they seem to be able to cope. They don’t weep and wail and wring their hands about their bad luck. I don’t intent to, either.”
“But your mother and I …”
“…worry about me. Of course you do. You’re parents.” She returned his one-armed hug as they entered the house. “And I expect you to continue to worry. You can ask me about it just as much as you need, to feel that you’re doing your parenting job right.”
“This hasn’t anything to do with thinking…”
“She’s got you going again, hasn’t she?”
Aleria grinned over at her mother, who was sitting in the family lounge reading the newspaper. “It was so easy, Mother. I couldn’t resist.”
“Well, don’t take advantage.”
Her father pushed her away, but not without a small extra tightening of his arm first. “Thank you for the timely rescue, my dear. She was playing the ‘overanxious parent’ gambit.”
Leniema patted the sofa beside her. “Come and sit down and commiserate. She used it on me yesterday.”
“Did she? Did you fall for it?”
“Only as much as I felt she needed.”
“Good for you. I didn’t have the same strength tonight. I happen to be rather pleased at her at the moment.”
“What a nice surprise. I hope you’ll save it and tell me some time when I need to hear it.”
Aleria stood, hands on hips, glaring at them. “You two are ganging up on me again.”
“It seems a fair match, what with your advantages.”
“Advantages?”
Her father joined in. “Yes. You know. The parental worries, that sort of thing.”
“Ah. Those. I’ll keep them in mind for the future. What’s for supper, Mother?”
“Enough for even your appetite.”
“Good.” She half-drew her sword. “Need any help in the kitchen?”
“Not of the sort you would prefer to give. I’m sure the cook can keep all the cutting implements under control until suppertime.”
Aleria slid the sword back. “I’ll be there.”
She swung down the hall to her rooms, grinning. The next time
she had a bad dream she should try to focus on the happiness in her life. Not many had what she had, and she knew it.
On the topic of happiness, she was pleased with how she was mastering that new circular riposte. She went through the complicated motion in her mind, feeling the slide of steel on steel when the contact pressure was right. It wasn’t exactly right, though. She must work on that some more tomorrow.
Out of Mischief: World of Change Book 1 Page 11
