Etiquette of Exiles (Senyaza Series Book 4)

by Chrysoula Tzavelas

Oh yes.

  She croaked, “We really… really… need to stay out of the Inside. No matter what.”

  “I think that will be okay.…” said Cam uncertainly, looking around in wonder. “Is it getting warmer?”

  Zellie looked around too. The pavement was no longer slick with blood. It wasn’t even pavement. The blood had sunk into the stone, melting it into dark, rich soil. The whole courtyard was earth now.

  Something tickled under Zellie’s left hand. She moved it and a green sprout poked up. It grew rapidly: a young tree with unfurling silver leaves.

  Cam helped her move to the edge of the courtyard, just in case. The tree matured, although it stayed delicate. It wouldn’t block the light for the rest of the garden, thought Zellie hazily. That was good.

  “You were right,” she said shakily.

  Cam said fondly, « We were right. Zellie, it’s a garden for you.”

  The Wild Hunt Goes To School

  “This is home now, Mom,” I said, waving the pendant my mother haunted around the foyer of the elderly farmhouse Jen had purchased.

  A mist shivered around the pendant, and my mom whispered sleepily, “Where are we?”

  I looked around and then went out onto the porch. Boxes and crates were stacked high in front of ancient patio furniture and the accumulated garden junk of decades. “Kind of the middle of nowhere, really. But the dogs like it, and I think I do too.”

  “Are you alone?” My mom’s voice stayed wispy. She wasn’t really awake, but the more often I talked to her, the more she’d remember when she did wake up.

  “Nope. This is Jen’s house. Her farm. I’m staying with her for a while, and some of my other new friends are just down the road.” It had taken a while to find exactly the sort of place Jen wanted: with a farmhouse and pastures, and another house available a mile away, with a high school close enough for me and a college relatively nearby for Amber. But she’d managed, and now here we were.

  I went down the porch steps and around the side of the house, where Jen leaned on a pasture fence, talking on a cell phone. Theoretically, it didn’t matter where we lived when duty called—the magic that bound us together would bring us to our task no matter where we started. But we hadn’t tested that yet, and we all had reasons to stick together. The only one of our little crew who didn’t live nearby was Brynn, who, being fourteen years old, lived at home with her family in Pasadena. But she was on her way for a visit now, bringing along some pretty important cargo.

  Jen waved at me and continued her phone conversation. I put my mother’s pendant around my neck and ducked between the rails of the pasture fence. It wasn’t in any better repair than the rest of the farm, but it shouldn’t matter. We’d find out soon enough.

  My dogs sprawled in the afternoon sunshine around Jen’s feet. They loved it here. They hadn’t been sent back into my shadow since we’d first arrived, and I half-expected they’d choose to stay on the farm when I started school in a few days. There was plenty to keep them busy: the pastures, the rotting barn (first on Jen’s repair list), and in the distance an overgrown grove of fruit trees and berry bushes, with all the wildlife that implied. We’d already been over it once, and it was a perfect playground for three supernatural dogs.

  A hand snaked through the grass and curled loosely around my ankle. I looked down at Yejun, who was also lying in the tall grass. My reflection looked up at me from his new sunglasses.

  “Hi,” I said. “How’s the view?” I meant the view of the tangle of magical leylines he saw constantly, but as soon as I said it, he smiled and I blushed.

  “Nice,” he said. “How’s your mother taking the change?” He let go of my ankle and tucked both his hands behind his head.

  I closed my fingers around the pendant. “It will take a while. But she understands the most important fact: neither of us are with him anymore.”

  “Good,” Yejun said. “That’s good.” My reflection kept staring back at me. It made me nervous. I kept remembering his hands on my shoulders when he’d offered to help me kill my father. And then I remembered the goodbye kiss I’d given him before returning home again….

  I dropped down into the grass. If I was lying beside him looking up into the blue sky with its puffy clouds, it wouldn’t feel nearly as strange as looking down at him did. Plus, the dogs would get involved and stop things from being awkward. As soon as I hit the ground, Grim realized something great was happening, slid through the fence rails, and wiggled into a prime position between Yejun and me. His ears twitched invitingly.

  “There’s a time and a place, Grimwhiskers,” said Yejun sternly, but he scratched Grim anyhow.

  “The others are almost here,” called Jen. I rolled to my feet again, sniffing.

  “Not that close,” I pointed out when I couldn’t detect the scent of Amber’s slick, yellow sports car.

  “Close enough that you shouldn’t get distracted,” Jen countered, an odd look in her blue eyes.

  Yejun’s voice drifted out of the grass. “We were just looking at the clouds, Jen. Relax.”

  Those stupid sunglasses. Maybe he hadn’t been looking at me at all. I was embarrassed and annoyed and irrationally pleased. This was the sort of thing I wanted to be worrying about. I was nervous about starting school again, too, and that also made sense. I was a teenager, right? These were teenage things. It was cool.

  I caught the scent of Amber’s car and, a moment later, its occupants. A bit after that the vehicle turned onto our empty road, and I ran to the long driveway. Brynn scrambled out almost before the engine was off, throwing herself at me as all three dogs danced around, barking.

  “Look at you!” said Brynn, clinging to me. “Are you doing okay? Do you like it here?”

  I gave Brynn a squeeze around the shoulders and then pushed her away. “I’ve answered that in text about a thousand times already, Brynn. And on the phone. And video chat.”

  “It’s different seeing you in person,” she said blithely. “You might have been lying to stop me from worrying or something.” She’d had a haircut since I’d last seen her, and all her clothes were brand new, including the long-sleeved shirt that didn’t fit her style at all.

  “As if she’d ever do that,” said Yejun, behind me. He was brushing grass fragments off his slacks.

  “Exactly,” said Brynn, and looked around. “This is good. This will be a good place for them.” Then, as Amber and Cat finally got out of the car and started unloading what seemed like an awful lot of luggage for a short visit, Brynn pulled her shirt off.

  She had a tank top on underneath, revealing the intricate tattoos of horses that covered her arms and shoulders and back. “Can I let them go now?”

  Jen said, “Yes. If it doesn’t go well, you might have to call them back, but there’s no reason to delay. We got this place for them.”

  Brynn nodded and walked over to the pasture. She climbed up the first two rails of the fence, hooking her knees over the middle rail, then raised her arms.

  The wind picked up, spinning in a little vortex around her. With a sound like the horn section of an orchestra warming up, color streamed off Brynn’s body and the horses of the Wild Hunt took form. When they touched the ground, they were already running, racing each other. The ground vibrated with thunderous hoofbeats.

  I held the dogs steady beside me. They were excited to see those they already regarded as old friends, but I didn’t want to make the horses nervous their first moments in their new home—and all they could possibly associate my dogs with was the Hunt itself.

  The horses didn’t smell quite like horses. There was a little of an equine scent even ordinary humans could detect, but to me they smelled more of magic. Not really a surprise, that. Even before Brynn had started carrying them around as tattoos, they’d been more magic than natural.

  But they’d started out as real horses once, long ago. They’d been born, they’d eaten grass and run and lived. Brynn had insisted they deserved that again, and Jen had agreed.

>   They reached the trees at the edge of the pasture and wheeled around. The black horse and the sunset-colored horse were in the lead, while a brown horse dropped to the back as if determined to keep everybody together. But it was only for a moment, really, before they returned to where Brynn waited at the fence, kicking up dust as they stopped a few yards away.

  Only one came forward to nuzzle Brynn’s outstretched hand: a silver mare with a black mane and heavy feathering around her hooves. The others hung back, some nosing at the grass and others watching the rest of us warily.

  “What’s her name?” asked Jen softly.

  Brynn shook her head. “They don’t have names. Not anymore. They lost them when they were made part of the Hunt.”

  A line appeared between Jen’s brows. Then the brown horse pushed through the crowd to plop his nose in Jen’s hand. He had an extremely long, flaxen mane with a matching tail and he was gorgeous, like a little girl’s toy brought to life.

  Jen’s frown lessened. “He says I can call him Earth Horse. And that the others are Gold Horse, Silver Horse, Black Horse, Red Horse and Sunset.”

  Brynn turned pink. “Uh, yeah, I’ve been thinking of them like that. Sorry,” she said, darting a glance at the remaining herd.

  “I’m pretty sure ‘Earth Horse’ isn’t an approved color term for horses or tattoos,” said Amber. She climbed through the fence and held out her hand to ‘Red Horse.’ He was the tallest and sleekest of the bunch and looked like he’d match Amber perfectly.

  Then Gold Horse edged over to where I was. He lowered his nose to each of my dogs, who were all sitting by my side vibrating with excitement. Finally, he lifted his head and looked at me with topaz eyes. I held out my hand, but he didn’t touch it.

  I remember you, said a voice in my mind, strange and sweet as a harp. The magic of the Horn bound the whole of the Wild Hunt together, including the horses, and through it we could hear their voices, if we chose to listen.

  The previous Huntsmen hadn’t listened. I was determined to do better.

  We hunted down the old masters together. You didn’t fall off.

  I was trying to decide if I ought to explain myself, when he went on, And the dogs are part of you, as we are part of the Horn. But now we are all its slaves together.

  My open hand curled closed. Gold Horse lowered his head to snatch a mouthful of grass, then came up again. The grass is fresh and real. Is this your place? Will we stay a while?

  “Yes,” I managed, still trying to pull my reeling thoughts together. “Quite a while. There will still be work, but also playing.”

  At that, Grim gave on being a good dog and leapt forward, barking sharply once and wagging his tail furiously. All of the horses looked at him, then returned to communing with their chosen riders.

  Will you learn to ride? Gold Horse’s sweet voice became plaintive. I didn’t like having a lump to balance on my back.

  I covered my face with my hands, which had to substitute for running away to find a bed to hide under. “Yes. I’ll learn to ride.”

  “I know how to ride,” said Amber, apparently having the same conversation with Red Horse and irritated by it. “I had a horse for three years.”

  Cat was gazing into the eye of the mare called Sunset, his hands clasped behind his back. “They have discriminating standards.”

  “They’re entitled,” said Jen. “They’re our elders and our teachers in this job we’ve taken on.”

  “Well, yeah,” said Amber. “Obviously. But you’re not supposed to let horses think they’re the boss….” She trailed off, biting her lip as Cat touched her elbow and shook his head. Then she pulled an apple out of her bag and offered it to Red Horse. He ate it sedately.

  “At least I know how to be a good apple-fetching monkey,” she said, resigned.

  You will train soon? Perhaps after I’ve enjoyed the grass? It will take some time and it would be good to be ready before duty calls.

  “How often does that happen?” I wondered. No supernatural calls had disturbed the day-to-day rhythms of life since we’d accepted the obligation, and I’d wondered if it might be years between Hunts. Technically the Wild Hunt existed to hunt down corrupted ghosts: souls of the dead that had become twisted and destructive. I’d spoken to ghosts all my life, and I’d never met even one of those.

  Soon, said Gold Horse, just as Yejun said, “She says she can hear something coming on the wind.” He had both his hands on the black mare’s head. Only Brynn looked as comfortable with her mount as he did. I was jealous, because I knew he had no more riding experience than I.

  I reached out for my dogs and our shared sense of smell. Together we could smell the color of Amber’s lipstick, the rain coming next week, and Cat’s controlled yearning for Jen. Scenting corrupted ghosts was right up our alley.

  But there was nothing like that around. Just ourselves and the horses and the farm.

  “Their sense of time is a little messed up,” Brynn volunteered. “’Soon’ could mean anything. Anyhow, why don’t we let them run and you can give me the grand tour?”

  “Yeah,” I said, still uneasy. “The grand tour.” I’d hoped it would be longer before there was even a hint of our duty. I’d liked the thought of having a family around me, for no reason other than being a family.

  I wrapped my hand around my mother’s locket. Then Brynn caught my arm and Yejun smiled at me and I remembered that they’d liked me before the Wild Hunt bound us together. I did my best to push down that old voice that told me how alone I was. It had always sounded like my father before. But these days, I was slowly starting to recognize that, while he may have put it there originally, the voice now came from far closer. And it was still a battle, every time.

  Gold Horse nibbled on the top of my head. You will learn to ride, he said, as if offering a comfort. And, unexpectedly, it helped.

  We gave Brynn the tour, and Jen talked about her plans for various parts of the house and the farm. Then she said, “No time like the present,” and set all of us to work. I wasn’t quite sure what she was doing with Cat and Amber and Yejun, but she ordered Brynn and me to sort through the junk on the porch.

  “So what’s up with everybody?” asked Brynn as she knelt down to carefully pick up a box of nails that had spilled out years ago.

  I found an old toolbox to investigate and wondered what exactly Brynn was really asking. She was almost as up to date on our lives as I was.

  She didn’t leave me at sea long though. “And by everybody, I mean you and Yejun. What’s up with you and Yejun?”

  The toolbox was crammed full of old, good tools. A hammer. A set of screwdrivers. A mallet. I picked up a crooked wrench. “Cat and Yejun live down the street. You can get the grand tour there too, but it’s a lot smaller.” It wasn’t really an answer, but I wasn’t sure how to answer her.

  “Yeah, why is that? It seems very Girls Dorm, Boys Dorm. It’s got to be cheaper and easier to have everybody in one house, and you’ve got the room here.”

  I shrugged. “I guess Jen is old-fashioned. She didn’t really explain herself. She doesn’t, usually. She just announces something in that quiet way she’s got, and we all do it.”

  “Hmm,” said Brynn, and tugged at a nail rusted to the planks of the porch. I rolled a screwdriver over to her and she used it to get the nail free. “What about her and Cat? They definitely had something going on before. Do they, like, go on dates now or anything?”

  “Usually Yejun and Cat come over together and go home together, but we haven’t exactly been here long. And we’ve been busy. Nobody’s been thinking about dating.” That was a big, stinky lie, and even Brynn could smell it. She gave me the exact same look my dog Nod gave me when he thought I was being an idiot: kind of patient and resigned and exasperated. And like Nod, she didn’t actually call me on my bullshit.

  “Well, the Boys’ Dorm is probably for the best. It takes the pressure off. Boys need to go brood sometimes. Or at least my brothers do.” She looked at me directly.
“So what’s going to happen?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. I wasn’t really used to being in a position where I liked a guy, he liked me back, and there was nothing really to stop us from having a relationship. It was as uncomfortable as Gold Horse demanding I learn how to ride. They were both new territory.

  “Do you want to spend time with him?” Brynn asked carefully. “Look, I can’t read your mind. I can’t even read your scent.” Then she looked self-conscious. “Actually I maybe could read your mind. According to the horses. Because of the Horn. But they think it’s a bad idea for mortals. But I wouldn’t, anyhow. That means you have to talk to me.”

  “Yeah,” I admitted. “I do. Want to spend time with him, I mean.”

  “Okay,” she said. “Where can I get rid of these nails?” And just like that, we were done with the topic.

  After dinner, we went out to work with the horses. There’s something about getting riding lessons from your own horse. Every mistake and every correction made me cringe, because I was worried about hurting him or being a useless burden. I had trouble with the idea of being a rider, a passenger. I was used to moving on my own feet. Relaxing on Gold Horse’s back was a challenge.

  Brynn sat on Silver Horse, watching the rest of us. She’d clearly already been taking the lessons we were getting. She sat on Silver Horse like she’d been born there, and the last time I’d seen her riding, she’d been almost as awkward as I was. That was hopeful. I’d take it.

  “Apparently you’re all divided between ‘lumps’ and ‘masters,’” she shared as the sun dipped below the horizon. “Neither of those are a good thing. But it’ll be easier tomorrow.”

  “What are we supposed to be?” asked Yejun. He was sweating, which made him smell even better than usual. (What can I say? I share my soul with some dogs.)

  Brynn hesitated, then said, “Partners. You’re an extra pair of eyes on the horse’s back, higher and more mobile. You’ve got to learn how to move and communicate like you’re part of the horse.”

  “That should be easy via the Horn,” Yejun grumbled.