Figurehead

three

They are impatient, snorting, stamping, flicking tails and tossing manes in their stalls as the stable-hands murmur to them and rub them down before saddling them. A trusted messenger strolls into the stable, green eyes bright against dark skin and framed by numerous braids of dark hair, some tied back. Nirs. Her hands are tucked into her jacket pockets as she approaches, coming to a stop beside me as she turns to eye the horses.

"How long is this supposed to take?"

I shrug, turning to one of the stable-hands as he pats one of the horses' neck and steps out of the stall to face us. "Probably three days," he answers. He glances at the horses. "You'll need to rest them each half-day."

Another stable-hand places the reins of one of the horses into my hand after leading the horse out of the stall. Its coat is glossy and dark grey, its mane as dark as my hair. "His name is Fik," the stable-hand says with a small smile. She straps my bundles of belongings to Fik's saddle before nodding to me and leaving the stable.

I look Fik in the eyes, seeing my reflection in them, a faint smile on my lips before my eyes refocus. Fik tosses his mane and snorts. "Nice to meet you too," I say with a quiet laugh. The other stable-hand ties a tightly-rolled bunch of dried grass to the bundles already on Fik's back, patting the horse's flank.

He meets my gaze with pale grey eyes. "Don't bring him past Kalsemir's border," he says, voice stern. I nod and turn to Nirs, who is in the process of swinging her other leg over the horse. She nods.

Likewise, I mount Fik, settling into the saddle, then give the stable-hand a small smile and a nod. "Thank you."

His eyebrows creased in concern, he nods back and lifts a hand as we turn, leaving the stable.

Above the treetops, the sky is silver, streaked with the faint gold of first light. The clouds are fluffy and dotted across the pale expanse. Before our feet, the dusty streets of sand and dried, cracked dirt is wide. Alongside the roads, at front doors of square, flat houses, some of the Escatin people are already awake, beginning or setting off for work. Only one or two spare us any glance at all as the horses move quietly down the road; messengers- trusted or not- are seen daily.

I glance at Nirs; her eyes follow the Escatin trudging along the road a distance before us, headed to work. I heave a silent sigh, rubbing the back of Fik's ears. His ears flick and he shakes his head. Taking the hint, I withdraw my hand.

In my peripheral vision, I see a hooded figure approach from the left and pull Fik to a stop. A moment later, Nirs also stops and turns in the saddle to look at me, furrowing her eyebrows. "What are you doing?"

I wave her off. "Don't worry about it. You keep going, I'll catch up." She frowns. I roll my eyes. "Just go. It's fine. I'll be fine." After some more coaxing, though the frown doesn't leave her face, she nudges her horse- a horse of the same coat colour as Fik- and continues forward. I don't fail to miss the confused glance she throws back over her shoulder at me.

By then, the hooded figure has reached my side, and he greets the horse quietly before looking up at me. "Well?" I murmur, sliding from Fik's back to stand before him.

"Be safe," he says eventually.

I give him a small smile, glancing back at the road ahead. Nirs is a long distance away, moving slowly. I turn back to his gaze and stifle a sigh. "I think I should be saying that to you," I murmur.

His lips press into a firm line. I choose not to reach out and take his hand. "I'll be praying."

I raise an eyebrow. "You should be."

A glimmer of a smile curls his lips. "You know what I mean."

"Yeah."

He nods once, taking a step back. "Be safe," he repeats, more quietly.

I re-mount Fik's back and nod at him before nudging Fik's flank, spurring him forwards at a quicker pace. I glance back once to see him standing in the shadows of the trees, watching before I return my attention to the road ahead. I try to focus on the soft clop of Fik's hooves instead of the crashing waves of my mind.

When we catch up to Nirs and her horse, we slow to a walk. She frowns at me, looking me up and down with furrowed eyebrows. "Are you alright?"

I nod, giving her a small smile for her sake. "I'm fine."

The creased lines fade and smooth as she returns the smile with a relieved exhalation. "I believe you." She pauses, then flashes me a small grin. "Can I ask who that was?"

I laugh; there is a glint in her green eyes not from the morning light. "You can." Her grin broadens. I raise an eyebrow. "It doesn't mean I'll answer."

It's her turn to laugh, and she shakes her head. "Of course."

Our laughter, our smiles fade. We turn our gazes to the road as more Escatin arise and walk beside, behind and ahead of us, many barefooted, many with shadows of sleeplessness undermining their eyes.

However brief, laughter is an oasis.

Osa is the name of the other horse, Nirs tells me when we let the two rest. It is warm, the sunlight glaring as it reflects off the surface of the small creek. Osa and Fik drink while the other trusted messenger refills a waterskin. I sit in the lush grass, leaning my back against a rock warmed by the sun. The road is a short distance away, on the other side of a few trees.

"Where were you before this?" I ask her, when she comes to sit beside me, leaning against the same rock with one knee drawn to her chest.

She raises her eyebrows. "Hm?"

"Before the High meeting," I clarify.

"Ah." She nods. "On the day of De- of the new king's coronation, I was in Ronseluf, helping the Advisers there spread word of it. And spending some time with family and friends."

I nod. "Do you know what the Advisers there are willing to do, to stop civilians from mutiny?"

She shrugs, sighing. "Not really." She pauses. "From what I hear, nothing too drastic..." I don't respond to this. She switches the topic. "When's the last time you visited your family?"

I think of my ama, my afa, my sister, dispersed among the people of Huistef. When did I last see them? I furrow my eyebrows and wrack my mind. "I don't know," I say slowly, distantly.

She tilts her head. "Problems?"

I shake my head, still trying to remember. "Two seasons ago," I declare. "Oh- no, no problems. Just different opinions on things."

She nods in understanding and shifts so she is lying on her back, closing her eyes. "I know it's only half-day, but I'm tired." She yawns, "Wake me up when you think we should go."

"Alright," I murmur.