Chapter 6

They say revenge is a desert, with the only oasis under your protection. This saying has plagued me for years. I've pondered its meaning, envisioned the imagery and yet, there is something not quite satisfying about it. I much prefer to think of revenge as a winding path up a mountain with occasional drops along the way. As soon as victory over the mountain is achieved, a rockfall prevents the descent, leaving either starvation or a plunge into the abyss. Now, that can be considered revenge.

*******

Agatha peeked out of the large to make sure neither Tristan nor Tiny were nearby; she smiled when she heard their voices drift over the small hill to the west. She closed the flap and smiled at the other two. "Well? It's been almost two weeks. What do you two think or feel?" She sat, facing the other two.

Remy laughed heartily. "Need you ask? She's perfect." and Agatha indicated her wholehearted agreement.

"Hmm," Cece rubbed her lips with her thumb and dipped her head in thought.

"Hmm? What do you mean hmm? You're as taken with her as we are." Remy's tone had curiosity and accusation mingled together.

Cece looked off, not really wanting to lock eyes with either of them. "I mean, there are just a couple coincidences, and that makes me ponder, hence the 'hmm'."

"Cece! You just like to think of conspiracies everywhere," accused Remy. "Who knows," she added with a twinkle in her eye, "It may just be the works of Gods."

"Nonsense!" Cece couldn't help herself but was at once admonished by Agatha.

Agatha clucked out a tsk, "Now, Cece. You know not everyone shares your belief that Gods are inventions by men who seek wealth and power. I, myself -"

"Okay you two. Let's not let this degenerate into the same argument." Remy shook her head in disbelief, then muttered to herself "Why did I bring up Gods?" Aloud she said, "Tristan. Remember her? Wasn't she supposed to be the topic? Cece, what's your thinking?"

Realizing the truth behind those words, the other two settled back in their low chairs. Cece continued her train of thought. "As I said, there's two coincidences. One, I can accept. Two - well, the chances of that are astronomically remote. Therefore, the situation and I repeat, it's the situation, not Tristan herself, that gives me pause."

Both Remy and Agatha relaxed, knowing that even though they had the majority in the decision, things were always calmer when all three agreed.

Cece continued. "First of all, the school that we replaced. The circumstances in which their dean disappeared are pretty suspect. Lucky for us that they had to drop out, right?" Unconvinced shrugs were her answer. "Secondly, we get chosen to grant a scholarship. Us! The pariahs of all schools within the realm. That's the coincidence that boggles me." This time, Cece was rewarded by "hmm"s, which was all she wanted.

"The question then becomes, IF there is something behind the coincidences -" Agatha pondered aloud.

Remy finished Agatha's thought, "Do we let this influence our decisions. I say no. I see Tristan as exceptional. From what she describes of time, she can't be older than 7."

"Such heart she's got. Look at how she won't leave Tiny." Agatha sniffed.

"I agree. I am enjoying her questions; it has been a while since I've been challenged." Cece sat up straighter. "And Tiny? What to do about him?"

Remy spoke up. "The blacksmith is in need of a new apprentice. The last one was strong, but dumb; lasted only a month. I'll speak to him about Tiny."

"I'd like to request special training for Tristan under the Heart department," clucked Agatha with a beaming smile.

"I was going to ask the same for the Hand!" sulked Remy.

"As was I with the Head. Hmm, another quandry. How shall we solve this?" Cece looked at the two with puzzlement.

Remy beamed with sudden inspiration. "She's exceptional. We all agree. So why not make an exception for her? Let's all teach her. In due course, she will choose her own specialty, but in the meantime, let's see what's she's made of." Shouts of "Yes!" and applause were her answer.

*******

Bending a leg to place her ankle on her other knee, Tristan relaxed under the shade of the tree. Ever since Tiny woke up ten days ago, life has been bliss. If someone had told her that this had been in store for her, she would've fought harder during the competition. Thinking for a moment about the fate of the other survivors, she wondered whether Arite was among them. She shuddered off the thought. Now wasn't a time for unpleasantries; now was a time to thank the gods that they both survived.

At first, Tristan didn't talk much. She had quickly surmised that for each question she asked, it somehow signified that questions were asked of her. However, her natural curiosity got the better of her since she also quickly realized that few of the trio's actions weren't deliberate.

Questions like "Why are you changing Tiny's bandages when the blood's stopped?" resulted in questions like "How did you get to the slave camps?" No one in her young life had ever taken an interest quite like theirs and she found their queries a bit discomforting. But her instinct to learn overtook her reservation and soon she answered theirs eagerly knowing this exchange of information benefitted her.

She had told them all she could remember. She had memories of voices, of smells, fleeting images. One night, before Tiny had awoken, she had told them her first full coherent memory - the one of fire, of screams, of cries, of fear and desperation, of heartbreak. She still would wake from dreams of being scared, running away from fire, of being wrenched away from someone she needed and loved. "Your mother?" they asked. But she couldn't say for sure. They left it alone until a few nights later.

They asked what she remembered after the fire. Tristan just shrugged and said, "I just remember the slave camp after that." That of course led to what her life was like in the camps. Not about the conditions, for they already knew, but rather what she observed, what she thought of all that, her reactions. When they asked why did she choose Tiny to protect, she just said, "He made me laugh."

Tiny plopped down beside her disturbing her reverie. "How soon before we get to the school do you think?" Tristan had to laugh. "You ask me that every time we make a stop. And my answer's the same. How am I supposed to know?" She ruffled Tiny's hair.

"I think it's soon now. We've been on the road a while. Look, I'm almost healed up! And you... well, if you ever sat still, maybe your wounds wouldn't open up again." Tiny pointed to an expanding red spot on her trouser leg.

"Umm excuse me, Sir Smart-mouth. What am I doing right now?" Tristan harumphed.

Tiny pointed an accusatory finger at her. "Practicing what you've learned from Remy in your mind!"

Tristan blushed hard. She was just about to refute Tiny when she realized she had been clenching this muscle and that. "G'wan! Get away from me 'fore I tickle you senseless." She ran after him laughing.

Seeing Cece beckon both of them, they ran over. "Did you two remember to fill up your water sacs?" Both children patted the full sacs they each carried around their belt. "Okay, it should only be a half day's ride from here."

"See!" Tiny whopped Tristan on the arm. "I told you we were close!"