Mavrish was a scarred man with a wooden foot strapped to his right leg. From the little they had been able to wrangle out of him, it sounded as though his foot had been caught in a trap laid out by Terra’s, probably aiming to snare a deer but it caught him instead. His foot had developed an infection and had to be removed but you wouldn’t know it to look at him. Even his limp was concealed as he strode around the breaking circle, the space set aside for newly captured mounts to be broken in. He barked orders at the youth on the horse’s back, a golden brown stallion that was furious at being ridden. It bucked and wove, danced and kicked, reared and even flung itself onto its back, the young rider scurrying away to the safety of the fence even as the horse thundered towards it, whinnied indignantly.
Judd didn’t need an extensive understanding of nomadic language to know that Mavrish was not impressed. He swore at the youth, striding across the breaking circle. The horse turned and glared at Mavrish, angry and violent. It pawed the earth, splintering rock with its hoof as Mavrish stood his ground. The horse bolted towards him, thundering across the circle in the blink of an eye. Mavrish didn’t move and those watching could not turn away, sure he was about to be crushed.
The horse skidded to a halt in front of Mavrish and reared, flailing its forelegs through the air, each blow able to crack Mavrish’s skull if they connected. Then they struck the ground and the horse whinnied and pawed, huffing furiously at the horse breaker who did not move.
Judd thought he saw Mavrish speak, his lips moving but the words so soft he couldn’t make them out.
“Any chance you can read his lips?”
“I can barely understand them when I can hear them.” Caste retorted.
Mavrish took a step towards the horse who stepped backwards. Mavrish moved again and the horse backed up until it was against the fence. Then, after a flare of its nostrils and a final protest, it lowered its head in submission. Mavrish grabbed a handful of its mane and heaved himself onto its back. The horse stood still. Mavrish urged it forward, able to control it with a press of his legs or a light tug on its mane. Finally, after a lap, Mavrish dismounted and faced the horse. He rubbed its muzzle and tutted kindly to it. The horse bobbed its head and he chuckled, slapping neck gently. He looked at the youth who had recovered from nearly being crushed in the death roll. He said something scathing and the young man nodded.
“And I hope we all learned that lesson.” Judd whispered.
“What lesson was that?”
“Don’t disappoint Mavrish.” Judd straightened. “Here he comes. Mavrish!” The man waved his hand, shaking his head at them, muttering something. Judd jogged beside him, unwilling to let him go. “Sir, please…we just want to know where the unicorns are. The unicorns!” Mavrish ignored him and Judd looked at Caste. “Do they have another name in ancient Terra like how minotaur was known as asterion?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Emeri would know.” Suvau said and Caste’s expression became stricken. “You ought to ask her.”
“Go on, Caste,” Judd urged, “the sooner we know where the unicorns are, the sooner we can leave.” Caste held his ground, reluctant and resistant. “I don’t want to have to mime a unicorn again! I swear they’ve nicknamed me the ‘horny Terra’ from my first attempt to get through to them.”
Caste pulled a face, turned and stomped off, muttering in ancient Terra.
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Emeri was not at the tent but Yolana said she had gone with some of the younger women to collect food from the corralled animals. All Caste had to do was follow his nose as cows, pigs, sheep, chickens and one cantankerous goat were unavoidably smelly when contained together. Emeri was talking with the young women, holding her apron out, probably balancing eggs she had collected while the other girls held squawking chickens and pails of milk that would probably be turned into curds and whey, buttermilk and cheese, heavily salted to keep from spoiling.
Emeri expression was bright and she was smiling until she caught sight of Caste hovering near the edge corral. Immediately her smile dropped and he took a step back in apprehension. One of the young women whispered to her friend and they giggled, Emeri’s jaw tightening at the remark though Caste could not hear what they said let alone translate it.
“Did you want something?” She asked, unable to avoid him but not stopping to talk.
“Not if you’re occupied…”
“Don’t you know a woman’s work is never done.” Emeri retorted bitterly. “They prepare the meals, they tend the livestock, they give birth and raise the children, they do the weaving, the cloth making, bring in the harvest and still need to have the energy for their husband at night should he demand it. Oh, no…there’s no need…he’s not staying…”
One of her companions held out a basket and quickly unloaded the eggs into it with a saucy wink to the young Maul girl. Emeri sighed as they left her and Caste alone. Caste rubbed the back of his neck, wishing he’d drunk himself into a stupor the night before that Aalis wouldn’t have been able to cure.
“Well?” She demanded tersely.
“Judd…he sent me to ask about the translation of a word.” Caste said dismissively. “It’s not important…”
“What’s the word?”
“Unicorn.” Caste shook his head. “Judd thought maybe the reason we’re not getting anywhere with where unicorns might roam on the steppelands is that we’re using the wrong word.”
Emeri put her hands on her hips. “Are you not an officer of the Order? Isn’t ancient Terra second nature to you?” She strode away and Caste had to jog to keep up.
“I know how to read it with help but you have had more recent exposure to it.” He had to dart around in front of her to stop her flight. Emeri put her arms around her body like a shield. He stepped back. “You…know your ancient Terra. I know you do.”
“I don’t know anything.”
Caste was stunned. Where had the knowledgeable, even incandescent librarian gone that had challenged every assumption, theory and doctrine he had declared? Emeri was acting like an uneducated daughter of a commoner rather than the educated young woman she had shone as when she stood amongst her books, her tapestries and manuscripts.
“But…in the library…all your translations…”
“And I had to leave it all behind!”
He recoiled from her snap, as sharp as a slap upon his skin. Her brown eyes glistened, exposing the grief she kept hidden. Caste stared at her, shocked, stunned…unable to see that she was exactly the same. They both turned away from each other, wrestling internally with hurt neither could understand.
“I’m sorry you had to leave your library,” he offered gingerly, frightened of another verbal slap, “if it’s any consolation, you won’t easily forget all the precious stories and accounts…”
“You don’t understand,” she shook her head, “I have left everything behind in that library that happened to me,” she looked at him, her gaze guarded and frightened, “everything…”
Caste swallowed and nodded, stepping back and allowing her to flee his presence. His nails bit his palms and he had to force his fingers to relax before he drew blood. Without being able to think of a thing to say or do, he wandered through the campsite to find Judd.
He found him leaning against a barrel with a frustrated expression on his face.
“Judging by your expression, you had about as much luck as I.” Judd muttered.
“My luck soured the moment I was nominated to be your cleric.” Caste returned bitterly.
“What’s eating you?”
“Nothing.” Caste hugged himself, sick and tired of the cold and the savage conditions and translating ancient Terra that had morphed over the years into a slurred incomprehensible version of its noble self. “I wish I was back in Astaril.”
Judd huffed, frustrated. The clouds were thickening. Either rain or snow was on its way. The air was sharpening, the taste of lightening on the tip of his tongue and the heavy oppression of thunder overhead.
“Let’s go back to the tent.” He muttered, standing straight and striding in its direction.
