Strange Attractors - Kim Falconer [140]
‘Slip away, if you can.’ The girls held hands for a moment before returning to their tasks.
‘I, um…’ Shaea had no idea how to respond. ‘Thanks.’ She headed for the pub at a brisk walk.
Riding horseback was definitely something to get used to, and so, it seemed, was talking to people. When Shaea reached the double doors of the noisy pub, she halted. All her life she’d been excluded from the warmth and congeniality of such establishments. She was a street child, unwanted and uncared for. Oddly, there was a certain comfort in that. She knew who she was, where her boundaries lay. Even though the lines that marked her life were jagged—like debris that clogged gutter drains, broken glass windows in abandoned cellars, the edge of night creeping into her hiding places in the hours before dawn—she was still Shaea, sister of Xane, and she was alive.
This other world—the one where she rode horses instead of cleaning up after them, ate fresh food instead of begging for scraps, wore fine clothes instead of filthy rags—it was all new. The edges were smoother and though it attracted her, it repulsed her as well. It was foreign and she didn’t believe, no matter how she looked in the mirror, that she belonged. How could she?
Stop gawking and get in here, girl.
The familiarity of Rall’s voice, harsh and demanding, eased her mind. She pushed through the doors and into the warmth of the gathering. Her eyes were cast downward, her movements slow and hesitant. It would be far more comforting if she were hunched over a rubbish bin in some Corsanon back alley. But I hated that life, didn’t I?
Now you’re dawdling! Straighten up. Look bright. Do you want to draw attention?
No.
Then stop acting like a misfit.
She squared her shoulders, lifting her eyes off the floor. Rall was right. She didn’t want to draw attention but it was already too late for that. Heads turned and conversations stopped. Shaea swallowed the bile in her throat and searched for Rall.
The room was packed, smoky and animated. Voices talked over the music, the rhythm loud and lively. She pushed through the gathering, avoiding eye contact, until she found Rall at a table against the side wall. She kept her eyes locked on the witch, unwavering, until she caught a glimpse of the musicians playing on a small stage in the back. Her mouth gaped open at the sight of them. She whistled through her teeth.
That’s hardly subtle, dear. I do want you to tell me if you recognise anyone but try not to signal it to the entire establishment.
Shaea’s mouth snapped closed. I know that guitar player.
It’s obvious he knows you too.
Clay thrummed out his chords, standing as Shaea walked past. He beamed a smile at her.
Come and sit down, Shaea! Ignore him.
‘There you are,’ Rall said aloud. ‘Horses settled?’
‘That’s where you sent me, so of course they are,’ Shaea said.
‘Yes, Mistress’ would do better, girl.
Who are we trying to impress? If it’s those lads on the stage, it’s too late.
The word is ‘whom’, and no, not the lads. Play along.
The tone in Rall’s mental voice made Shaea lift her chin. ‘Yes, Mistress.’
That’s better.
‘The horses are well taken care of. I saw to their feeding myself and…’
Don’t overdo it.
Shaea closed her mouth to keep from snarling.
‘Do you know these musicians then? From your time at Treeon?’
I’ve never been to Treeon, and you know it. What’s the game?
The game, girl, is to seem one thing and be another. You aren’t playing well, I promise.
‘Not from Treeon Temple, Mistress, but from the quarry road in Corsanon.’
At the mention of Corsanon, even though the word came quietly from her lips, their corner of the pub hushed over. The music stopped and there was a brief silence before the crowd cheered for more. Shaea thought she could see steam coming out of Rall’s ears.
What are you doing? I told you not to mention Corsanon.
Then why did you ask me about it? ‘Is it too late for supper?’ Shaea said aloud. ‘I’m famished.’
Rall stood, her fists on the table, her black curls bouncing as she dropped her head level with