brushed futilely at the snow buildup on her sleeve. Snow that didn't melt, snow that wasn't quite white— not snow . Wood shavings. Wood shavings that ought to have been in one of these stalls.
Halfway down the aisle, a groom staggered out of a stall, cleaning fork in hand, completely covered with shavings—but looking more bemused than alarmed or injured.
"What happened?" Carey said, meeting the young woman halfway. Klia, the niece of one of the senior riders and a cheerful girl with a middling work ethic and not much in the way of goals for her life . . . not someone Suliya could understand in the least, though she liked her well enough. "Are you all right?"
Klia swiped an ineffective hand over her short curly hair. "I'm not sure," she said, looking dazed enough that she probably wasn't sure what time of day it was, never mind what had happened a moment earlier.
She stuck a finger in her ear and wiggled it, making a face. "You sound a precinct away."
"What," Carey said, trying for patience and almost making it, "were you doing?"
That, the girl could answer; her face cleared with relief. "I just finished this row of stalls, and since we've got so many horses out, I thought it would be a good day to run a drying spell on them all."
Suliya nodded to herself; no matter how clean they tried to keep the stalls, in the winter there seemed to remain an underlying dampness. The drying spells took care of that, but couldn't be done when the stall was occupied. Made sense. More initiative than the girl usually showed, in truth.
"Interesting drying spell," Dayna said, mild amusement in her eyes as the floating wood chips thinned.
"More like a recipe for sweeping practice."
Hurt protest showed in the girl's face. "But I run that spell all the time. This has never happened before."
"Does it always work?" Dayna went down to the stall in question, peered inside, and shook her head. "I suppose it worked in a way, this time. It sure is dry in here. Easy to tell, too, with all the shavings out of it."
"Always." Klia tried again to clear her hair, and finally bent over to shake her head like a dog, sending wood shavings flying.
"That's not true," Suliya said, gaining Carey's sharply attentive gaze. "Sometimes she has to invoke it a couple of times before it works." She'd heard the muttering often enough; Klia was like that with all her small personal spells.
Dayna returned to them. "There's your answer," she said, as though it were self-evident. Carey lifted an expressive brow, amazingly similar to the expression Suliya felt on her own face. Dayna looked at them both—looked up at them both, by far the shortest of all three of them—and said, "Oh, come on . When it doesn't work, she's introduced a wrong element."
For her impatience, she got only blank stares, but Suliya saw a surprising gleam of humor in Carey's eye at the whole situation—one which made her think perhaps he understood after all, and was actually teasing Dayna. For one so focused, she'd expected anger, not humor, at such a mishap.
But no one had been hurt. The cleanup was simple enough—push brooms, hand brooms, perhaps a dusting spell or two, and in that moment she was struck by the potential of what his friends saw in him, what Jess saw in him . . . someone other than the head courier doing his job.
Whatever humor he'd gotten out of the situation, it vanished with Dayna's impatient next words. "She introduces a common wrong element, one there's a checkspell against because this is the result. But the Secondary Council is responsible for overseeing checkspell management, and all of a sudden they're filling the role of the Council . . . the checkspell has failed. Carey, it won't be the only one ."
And Carey's hazel eyes grew darker as his eyes narrowed; he seemed to have forgotten that Klia and Suliya were there as he matched Dayna's intensity, staring back at her. "The changespell," he said, his voice low. "We could find out what happened to Arlen . .
Halfway down the aisle, a groom staggered out of a stall, cleaning fork in hand, completely covered with shavings—but looking more bemused than alarmed or injured.
"What happened?" Carey said, meeting the young woman halfway. Klia, the niece of one of the senior riders and a cheerful girl with a middling work ethic and not much in the way of goals for her life . . . not someone Suliya could understand in the least, though she liked her well enough. "Are you all right?"
Klia swiped an ineffective hand over her short curly hair. "I'm not sure," she said, looking dazed enough that she probably wasn't sure what time of day it was, never mind what had happened a moment earlier.
She stuck a finger in her ear and wiggled it, making a face. "You sound a precinct away."
"What," Carey said, trying for patience and almost making it, "were you doing?"
That, the girl could answer; her face cleared with relief. "I just finished this row of stalls, and since we've got so many horses out, I thought it would be a good day to run a drying spell on them all."
Suliya nodded to herself; no matter how clean they tried to keep the stalls, in the winter there seemed to remain an underlying dampness. The drying spells took care of that, but couldn't be done when the stall was occupied. Made sense. More initiative than the girl usually showed, in truth.
"Interesting drying spell," Dayna said, mild amusement in her eyes as the floating wood chips thinned.
"More like a recipe for sweeping practice."
Hurt protest showed in the girl's face. "But I run that spell all the time. This has never happened before."
"Does it always work?" Dayna went down to the stall in question, peered inside, and shook her head. "I suppose it worked in a way, this time. It sure is dry in here. Easy to tell, too, with all the shavings out of it."
"Always." Klia tried again to clear her hair, and finally bent over to shake her head like a dog, sending wood shavings flying.
"That's not true," Suliya said, gaining Carey's sharply attentive gaze. "Sometimes she has to invoke it a couple of times before it works." She'd heard the muttering often enough; Klia was like that with all her small personal spells.
Dayna returned to them. "There's your answer," she said, as though it were self-evident. Carey lifted an expressive brow, amazingly similar to the expression Suliya felt on her own face. Dayna looked at them both—looked up at them both, by far the shortest of all three of them—and said, "Oh, come on . When it doesn't work, she's introduced a wrong element."
For her impatience, she got only blank stares, but Suliya saw a surprising gleam of humor in Carey's eye at the whole situation—one which made her think perhaps he understood after all, and was actually teasing Dayna. For one so focused, she'd expected anger, not humor, at such a mishap.
But no one had been hurt. The cleanup was simple enough—push brooms, hand brooms, perhaps a dusting spell or two, and in that moment she was struck by the potential of what his friends saw in him, what Jess saw in him . . . someone other than the head courier doing his job.
Whatever humor he'd gotten out of the situation, it vanished with Dayna's impatient next words. "She introduces a common wrong element, one there's a checkspell against because this is the result. But the Secondary Council is responsible for overseeing checkspell management, and all of a sudden they're filling the role of the Council . . . the checkspell has failed. Carey, it won't be the only one ."
And Carey's hazel eyes grew darker as his eyes narrowed; he seemed to have forgotten that Klia and Suliya were there as he matched Dayna's intensity, staring back at her. "The changespell," he said, his voice low. "We could find out what happened to Arlen . .
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