Flicker and Mist

by Mary G. Thompson

  My mother hated the Deputy, in large part because of the testing he had pushed for when I was a child, and she took little care to hide it. But there had to be some good in him. Otherwise, how could he have a son who not only didn’t hate Lefties, but believed I was beautiful? Thinking of Caster made me smile, and my mother noticed.

  “You find something amusing in this, Myra?” she asked. But her voice was easier now. The anger, which would have been barely visible to anyone but our family, had passed.

  “It’s Caster Ripkin,” I said. “He’s not like his father.” My smile broadened.

  “Caster Ripkin?” She raised an eyebrow.

  “He isn’t like the Deputy, Momma,” I said. “Look at them together sometime. One radiates gloom and the other sunshine.”

  “Sunshine?” The corners of her mouth turned up, just a little. She shook her head.

  I blushed. I couldn’t tell my mother the full extent.

  “We won’t tell your father just yet,” she said. “His heart couldn’t take it, I fear.”

  “Just yet?” I said. “I don’t know when would be a good time!”

  “After the wedding,” my mother said. “Perhaps after a few children.”

  We both laughed. I laughed heartily; my mother chuckled from the corner of her mouth. But she grew serious again. “You must remember, though, Myra. Caster Ripkin is still the Deputy’s son. He may seem more different from his father than he is.”

  “He is different,” I said.

  “Maybe,” she said. “But you must be careful. Do not share your secrets with this boy.”

  “Momma, I would never.”

  She raised an eyebrow. You are a silly girl, the eyebrow said. You will fall all over this boy and forget everything.

  “Really, Momma. I’m not a fool.” He wouldn’t like me if he knew, I thought. Being half Leftie was one thing, being Flickerkin another. He would see me as a freak and, worse, a traitor. “Besides, it has never happened since. I might not be like you at all.”

  “One has the Ability or one does not,” she said.

  “I’m the only one like me,” I said. “You don’t know.”

  “Why should you be the one exception?” she asked.

  “Because I’m a Plat,” I said.

  She stared at me.

  “I’m sorry, Momma,” I said. “But I am.”

  “Ti,” she said. Yes.

  “Why is that wrong, when Poppa is one and you love us?”

  “It’s not wrong, kopan,” she said. Dearest. “It’s only that I wish you could know my people.”

  I didn’t know what to say to that. She thought of her home often, and missed it. I would hear her singing softly in words I didn’t understand, staring at our closed curtains as if she were seeing something far off. And when she spoke to my grandmother, her face would lighten as if a great burden had been lifted. Yet to protect me, she had to keep me apart. She had to keep me from being made an outsider, as she was.

  She didn’t have friends here among the Council community, and it wasn’t proper for a Council Member’s wife to have too much contact with the Leftie workers. In a way, she was one of a kind even more than I. To fill the silence, I switched the radio on again.

  Sky was speaking with the captain of the Guard. They were discussing preparations for the upcoming Games, when the city would be flooded with people from around the Upland.

  “. . . but rest assured, we will be testing all those of Leftie appearance as they pass through the gates,” the captain said, and my mother immediately turned it off again. We ate our breakfast in silence, my mother’s mood having settled into a simmer.

  “Pracksima,” I said after a while. Let it pass.

  “Ti,” she replied. Yes. “Gi gos hen kin.” But these are my kin. “They make it so difficult for Lefties, as though they are all under suspicion. They tax them triple, watch their movements, limit their jobs, anything to try to force them all back to the Eye. But all the Lefties here are too young to remember the war. They aren’t Flickerkin and don’t wish to fight. They wish only to work and have good lives.”

  “Are you ever sorry you came here, Momma?” I asked.

  She smiled a little. “No, kopan. You and your father are my best life.”

  “But we could have lived in the Eye,” I said. I had never been to the Eye, apart from having been born there. I wished to go someday, to see where my mother came from, but I had no wish to live there. The people were miners and farmers. They were said to be poor, their lives hard. I wished to take my father’s place on the Council, if they would let me. A man married to a Leftie was one thing, a half-Leftie another. But I would fight for my right to be a Member. And of course, there were no beasts in the Eye. They couldn’t climb the steep cliffs to reach it, and the Lefties had never imported them via their great elevating machine. They had other animals for their work—​small, lithe creatures barely larger than men. A place without beasts was no place for me.

  “Ti. But I chose my path. I married a Plat from New Heart City. It was always understood that we would live here.”

  And she didn’t go back to visit because she feared being tested at the gate. When we had first entered, testing at the gate had not yet begun. My father assured her that since she had been tested before, she would be exempt, but she didn’t believe it. She couldn’t take the risk of being discovered.

  “Are you not training this morning?” my mother asked.

  “Yes, of course,” I said, getting up from the table. “I’m glad we’re here in New Heart City, or I would never have learned how to ride a beast, or met Caster or Porti.”

  “Me too, kopan,” she said. “Go now, before you miss your arena time.” But I could see that the Deputy’s words, and her secret, were still weighing on her. I wished she could have friends and a life here the way I could now, but she had never been accepted or made an effort to fit in. She was full-blooded Leftie, and her accent and her walk and all about her spoke of her difference.

  “I’ll see you tonight,” I said, and then I was changing into my riding clothes, trying to put my mother’s fears out of my mind.

  From A HISTORY OF THE UPLAND

  The mechanism by which the oceans advance and recede is among the greatest mysteries of our plateau. As long as people have kept records, the oceans have come and gone in cycles of fifty to one hundred years. But there is evidence that in ancient times, there were instances of advances and recessions that came blindingly fast.

  From THE BOOK OF THE WATERS

  The Waters return according to their Judgment; let no man or woman live against them.

  Five

  ON A NORMAL DAY I WOULD HAVE HAD ALL THE time in the world to ride, but with the Games approaching in only a week, my time in the official arena was short. I could still ride outside the walls, racing through the plains that surrounded the city until they turned into forests too thick for a beast to run in easily. But that was recreation, and this was sport. This was for the win I had dreamed about since I first laid eyes on my beast, Hoof.

  She was pawing the door of her stall when I arrived. Her two long, healthy white horns pointed over her luminous brown-haired head, dotted with the black spots of a purebred wetbeast. She could run and she could swim and she could jump like no other beast in competition. And more than that, she was my friend, the one creature in the world whose love was unconditional, who would carry me from here through the arena and all across the plateau if I were to ask.

  “Hello, Hoofy,” I said, opening the door and sliding into her pen. I patted her head, and she mooed softly. “You act as though you have not just been for a romp around the grazing field, but I know they took you there.”

  She nuzzled my neck gently with one horn.

  “Yes, we’ll be going for a true ride now. It’s our turn to practice the full course. Do you like my new riding suit?” I twirled for her, showcasing the tan pants and jacket designed to withstand the water of the moat yet to move with me as easily as norm
al fabric. The suits were made by the Drachmans, and I had been among the first to get one. My light but robust brown riding boots were tight around my upper calves, keeping out the elements but allowing me the circulation I needed to direct Hoof. There was no outfit I felt more like myself in, and no place where I felt more like myself than right here with Hoof.

  “Come,” I said, and I led her out of the stall. A well-trained beast needs no rein or saddle, not with a known rider. Hoof and I had been together for so long that she understood my commands, and I knew her feelings as my own. She followed me into the walkway and then out to the wider area next to the arena, the space that would be filled with vendors and spectators during the Games. Now it was littered with remains of beast feed and droppings, and as we walked out, it was being cleaned by two stable boys. One of them nodded at me.

  “Good morning, Miss Hailfast.”

  “Good morning,” I said, leading Hoof to the set of portable stairs I needed to reach her back. It was humiliating to be unable to mount one’s beast without help. Indeed, I could do it at a flying leap if in a hurry, but there was no need to subject either of us to that today. I stepped off the stairs and over her back, and I was on top of the world. Hoof mooed softly, showing that she was in complete agreement. And then, through the gate of the arena, Caster appeared on his beast, Monster, followed by Orphos on Shrill. Shrill gave a deep screeching hello, living up to his name. Hoof mooed back but shifted her head sideways, pointing one horn at him. I had a feeling those two had a relationship much like that of Orphos and Porti.

  “I thought you were scheduled for this evening,” I said, unable to contain my smile as Caster rode up. He may seem more different from his father than he is, I heard my mother saying. But she didn’t know him. She was wrong.

  “I know somebody,” said Caster, winking. “We thought we might have a little competition. A friendly battle of the sexes, if you will. Since we aren’t to face each other in the Games.” A point that tried me, since I was convinced that a male rider had nothing over a female, nor was a male beast stronger or faster. Yet we were forced to ride separately, the ladies on a shorter course.

  “Are you sure you want to risk it?” I asked. “You might find yourself on your backside.”

  “Perhaps the lady will slide off in the moat and splash about like a wet fowl,” said Caster.

  Hooves clopped on the turf behind me. “It wouldn’t be fair for our sex to make the race two against one,” said Porti, riding Nice Boy (who was not a boy beast, but female). Curse me, I had forgotten we shared a practice time. She smiled broadly at the three of us, looking more radiant than ever in her riding clothes. The suit—​exactly like mine—​showed off her rail-thin figure. We practiced together often, but now that the Games were nearer, I had been avoiding her. We had agreed to remain friends always, but it was still a competition.

  “Why, the lady is right,” said Caster. “Welcome to a fine humiliation, Porti.”

  Porti only smiled back. “Are you ready to send these two boys home?” she said to me.

  “Let’s do it,” I said. Not adding, of course, that I intended to place first among us all. Here and in the final contest. If she was going to observe my practice, let her see that I could win.

  After our warm-up, we rode into the arena to find a smattering of spectators in the stands, as was usual for practices so near the Games. Porti’s guardian, Member Solis, sat in the front row of the Council box with Bricca. The Council box was high above us, so I waved broadly—​at Bricca, not her cold-fish mother.

  “Ride for our honor, Miss Hailfast!” Bricca yelled down.

  “Hey, what about me?” Porti asked.

  “And also Miss Vale!” Bricca called.

  Member Solis said nothing but gave a small wave to all of us.

  “What, you’ll not root for me?” called Orphos, in mock surprise.

  “Perhaps at the Games,” Bricca called.

  “But what if I never make it there?” he cried. “What if I die first of a broken heart?” This sent little Bricca into a fit of giggles, but Porti merely smiled.

  “Ah, a smile,” said Orphos. “There’s hope yet.” He made a tipping-the-hat gesture at Bricca.

  On the far end of the stands, away from the rest of the spectators, I noticed the Drachmans. I wouldn’t normally have conversed with them outside their shop, but I hadn’t yet thanked them for their fine work on my suit. With the slightest twist of my body, I directed Hoof toward them.

  “Good morning,” I said.

  “Good morning, Miss Hailfast,” said Mrs. Drachman. “A fine day for a ride, isn’t it?”

  “Every day is a fine day for a ride,” I said. “Now that I have my new clothes, I never want to take them off. I must thank you for your work. It’s the finest I’ve seen.”

  “You honor us,” said Mrs. Drachman. Mr. Drachman merely nodded.

  I assumed they were here to watch their son practice. We were in front of the grassy mound from which the stone throw event was performed. I followed his parents’ gaze to see Nolan entering the arena, rolling a cart full of practice stones behind him. He didn’t look in our direction or acknowledge us but positioned himself on the mound and began warming up. I didn’t know if he really had been robbed the year before, but I hoped he would win this time. He practiced daily all year round, and this made him stronger even than the Lefties who traveled from the Eye to compete, people over whom he had no physical advantage. I could admire someone who worked for his achievements.

  “I hope we will stand together at the final ceremony,” I said. “He will make the city proud.”

  “Thank you, Miss Hailfast,” said Mrs. Drachman. “Between you and me, the lady from the Head stands no chance.” Mr. Drachman nodded his agreement. Though he was round now, one could tell that he had once been strong and musclebound like his son, and they had the same light blue eyes, eyes like my mother’s.

  “Myra!” Porti waved. “Are you ready?”

  “Always!” I called, and I rode over to the starting marker. Hoof pawed the turf impatiently. She was annoyed that I had stopped to chat when we could have been on the run. I patted her head. “Almost, Hoofy.”

  The four of us lined up at the starting point, the center of the main arena.

  “Shall we do the whole course, then?” Caster asked. “Just as if it were the Games?”

  “The men’s course,” said Porti.

  “So it will be easy,” I said.

  “Well, then.” Caster looked over at me and smirked. The whole rest of the world seemed to disappear, and I flashed back to our kiss again. “Four, three, two, go!” he cried.

  We took off at a gallop; the course was arranged so that it was a sprint nearly all around. There was no need and no space for holding back. The instant we began to move, Hoof and I became one. I leaned over her back, my head over her head, between her long, beautiful white horns. Her fur melted into my skin; we breathed together. One, two, three, four, our hooves pounded. The other riders were on the edges of my vision; I saw only enough to keep from colliding. Though we were competing, they were not important. All that mattered was Hoof and me together, fast as we could go. No one could beat us if we were at our best; I was not concerned. Despite our speed, we breathed in a rhythm that came easily.

  We made a tunnel through the air as we ran, pounding the grass but not jolted, powerful but smooth. We neared the edge of the arena, covered the last patch of clear grass, and dove under the padded wall that led to the moat obstacle. There was space enough for both beast and rider, but only if the two were perfectly in tune. One mistake and the rider might go flying off backwards while the beast dove forward into the moat. That had happened to us many times in practice over the years, but never in competition, and it didn’t happen now. We slid under the barrier, my back an inch below the bottom, Hoof’s front legs forward, her back legs pushing. I took a breath in and held it, and we slid into the moat. Our heads slipped below the water, and Hoof’s powerful back legs p
ropelled us under it.

  The moat water was clear and pure, drawn from the Lower Scar River and blessed by the Deputy himself so that the Waters would not be offended by our swim. It cleaned me, sliding over my riding clothes and slicking my hair, and we rose for a breath and swam forward, rose for a breath and swam, until Hoof’s front legs hit the sloping edge of the island and we lifted from the moat like the mythical mermaid on a whale, becoming again wetbeast and rider, shaking the water off and climbing the sloping hill.

  We took the path through the trees at a gallop again, water flying off of us. I was ahead, but only by a little. Porti was to my left, less than a foot behind me, and I leaned even closer against Hoof, screening Porti out of my vision, until we reached the other side of the island and slid into the moat again.

  A wetbeast appears too large to swim; a novice might think Hoof would sink to the bottom. But she is buoyant and graceful, and she carried me through the river water to the edge. By that time, I had three feet on Porti, and the boys were splashing another yard behind us.

  After the moat obstacle came the jumps—​another opportunity for Hoof to show the grace that goes with her great strength. There were four jumps, each higher than the last, with the final jump being a test of the strength of any beast. This was another spot where we had fallen in many a practice; the turf outside the approach was lined with padding for just such a blunder. We had not fallen yet this entire season, though. Falling was behind us; winning was ahead.

  We pounded the turf, but Porti was not behind us—​she was nearly even with us, horn to horn. We took the first jump together. Caster and Orphos gained, too, and we went over the second jump in quick succession, Porti and me together, then Caster, then Orphos.

  Faster, I thought. And Hoof felt me. On the third jump, we gained inches. She flew over the wall, her legs reaching, her horns pointing, the air swooshing around us. We landed solid, ready to take the highest, final jump before the homestretch.