Tanith Lee - Claidi Journals 01 by Law of the Wolf Tower Page B

said, “You can have a horse instead of a mule. Starting to ride will be uncomfortable at your age, but it’ll be worth it. Want to try?”
    Seeing me slipping and rolling off the mule wasn’t fun enough. Off a horse might really be a laugh.
    “No, thank you .”
    “Tronking hell,” said Argul.
    He turned his back and strode away. His hair swung like a wave. The cloak swung, and gold disks chimed on it. Musical.
    I wish I’d said yes. And what did he mean, my age , as if I were thirty or something.

    ==========
A long time has gone by since I wrote that. A lots been happening, in all kinds of ways.
    Something needs to be said about the bandits and the Hulta.
    Its awkward.
    The House depended on life being carved in stone, and the rules of life were iron. You couldn’t make changes. You couldn’t change your mind about anything important.
    But I think life isn’t about that. It’s about changing. If you grow, you change—don’t you? A kid becomes an adult. A puppy becomes a dog. You cant stay still, and you can’t stay always thinking one thing only, especially when you see it wasn’t right. It was a mistake.
    But you know all this. I bet you do.
    Its just… I didn’t. Or did I?

    ==========
First of all, I have to describe a morning, still in the floury desert, and me coming along to the fire, and there’s Blurn, stuffing himself with the nut porridge the bandits often have. And Mehmed the knife-thrower yells, “Kill it, Blurn!” And another man, Ro, shouts, “Make sure it’s dead!” And Claidi stands there, seeing for the first time that what she heard through a window wasn’t something horrible, but just a joke .
    They were joking about Blums method of eating. And then Blurn turned and made other appalling comments on Mehmed’s and Ro’s methods of eating (which, admittedly, are worse).
    So, you don’t always learn the hard way. You can learn a silly, funny way.
     
    Which, too, is another lesson.
    I’m getting tangled up.
    For example. Since leaving As wagon, I’ve slept each night in the open on a pillow with a blanket, supplied to me by the woman who’d come by with the food.
    She must have seen I was nervous.
    She said, “There aren’t many insects here.” Then, noting I was still unnerved, “No lions. But if they come around, the lookout will know.” Then , seeing me still worried, she added, “If you don’t want a man friend, no one will disturb you.” “ Ok” I said. She looked me up and down and said, “Where you come from must have been a bad place. People don’t creep up on people here. Were not leopards. If you like someone, tell him. If not, you can be private.”
    Did I believe her? No.
    I was panicky and couldn’t sleep.
    I had a man friend. I had Nemian.
    Correction. I didn’t have a man friend. Or a friend.?
    In the House, people had fallen for each other (never me). But you had to be so careful. (My parents, for instance—exiled for being in love and having a child.)
    One heard such stories about the Waste. And bandits …
    They’re all right. No one intrudes.
    Probably they just don’t notice me. I’m so bad-tempered, boring, jealous, tacky.
    I saw Nemian one evening, one twilight , talking to the bandit girl. They were gazing into each other’s eyes. I felt a sort of pain, sharp and cold-hot. I slunk off.
    Next day, a horse arrived. Blurn brought it.
    Can’t help this. I like Blurn. It isn’t just that he rescued me, he’s just… I just like him. And he’s with Argul a lot. So… I don’t know. Somehow it helps. (Blurn, by the way, has a girlfriend. She’s terrific.
    Anyway I don’t mean I like Blurn that way.)
    The horse. Let me tell you about the horse. It was blue-black, like the sky that night. And it had thinking black eyes. It stood there, thoughtful and beautiful, its silk tail swishing faintly, and Blurn said, “He says, for you.”
    “Who says?” As if I didn’t know.
    “Him. Argul. This is a female horse, a mare. She’s bred down