Plain Kate

Niki did not bow, but he twisted his hands in front of him as if he thought maybe he should.“Mother Daj,” he said.

“Daj,” said Behjet, who did bow a little, and then added something in another language. It seemed to Plain Kate like a long speech, and she was frustrated. If her fate was being decided, she wanted to understand.

Behjet fell silent. Plain Kate found the woman looking at her, her eyes small and bright as a hawk’s among her wrinkles. Copying Behjet, she bowed, but said nothing.

“A carver, eh?” the woman drawled. She used the rooster’s beak to point at Kate’s objarka. “Just fancy work?”

Plain Kate planted her feet as if about to fight.“Plain and fancy. Boxwork, wheelwork, turned wood. But mostly carving.” She took off the objarka, which her father had called a masterpiece, and passed it to the woman.

She turned the dark wooden cat round and round in her dark hands, put its little nose to her big one.“She’s a good blade, Mother,” said Niki. But the old woman ignored the baker, intent on Kate’s objarka and some internal question. At last she said, “Well, we could use a carver, and that’s sure, child.” Her head was still down, as if she were speaking to the carved cat. Then she looked up, her face soft with wrinkles. “And though you keep it from your face, I think you could use us. You have your own gear? Your own tools?”

Plain Kate nodded.

“I can’t promise you a place. But come with us to Toila. A month on the road. We’ll sniff each other out.”

A test. Plain Kate understood tests. She nodded again. A lump was tightening in her throat, but she wasn’t sure if it was hope or fear.

“Well, then,” said the woman. “I’m Daj. Or Mother Daj if that sets better on a town tongue. And you’re Kate.”

“Plain Kate,” she corrected.

Daj raised her eyebrows, but before she could say anything, Taggle sauntered up. There was a fresh scratch across one ear and a dead rat in his mouth. He dropped the pink-footed body at Daj’s feet and stood there grinning. Plain Kate winced. “I also,” she said, “have a cat.”

“A fine beast, Mother Daj,” put in Niki. “A famous mouser.”

“Well,” said Daj. “A useful pair, then. Welcome, cat.”

And Taggle nodded.

***

Plain Kate, at Daj’s gruff coaxing, swung her basket into the wagon bed, and Taggle, with no coaxing at all, sprang up beside it. “Did you see?” he said, arching his back into her hand, preening. “My gift has proven that we’re useful.”

“Taggle,” Kate hissed. She looked round. No one had heard.

The cat sulked.“One would think praise was in order.”

“Please be quiet,” she said. “Look, here.” She pulled her new coat out of the basket and spread it, woolly side up, for him to nestle in.

“Ah,” he said, stepping onto the wool like a king deigning to enter a hovel. “Better.” He high-stepped daintily in three circles, then curled up, tucking his tail over his nose.

“Sleep quietly,” she urged him, rubbing a thumb between his ears. He gave her a bleary glare and closed his eyes.

Plain Kate rushed after Behjet and Niki the Baker. Their feet had knocked down the dew and left dark prints in the silver grass, which was short where the sheep had grazed. The trail of darkness made her think of her shadow.The loss of a shadow is a slow thing, Linay had said.Find someplace to belong. If the Roamers took her in, if she proved herself useful, then there would come a moment where she could explain, before someone saw.

Niki left her with Behjet, though not without fluttering about like a bird trying to get its nestling to fly. Behjet sighed after him, then went back to tending the horses.

Plain Kate watched him work. She was desperate to be of use, but didn’t know what to do. Behjet was tending a dun mare, holding one of her hooves up clamped between his legs, and working a stone from the hoof’s spongy bottom with a little hook. The other horses milled around. Plain Kate had never been so close to horses. They were big. She smelled horse sweat, leather, and dung each time one shifted. Behjet’s dark head was bent; he murmured to the restless beast. The work looked dangerous. She didn’t even dare ask how she could help.

Behjet finished with the mare and moved on to another horse. He spoke smoothly to the animals in his own language. Plain Kate liked his voice: calm but rich. It made her a little more comfortable, and she almost missed it when he began speaking to her.“It was the witchcraft that swayed her,” he said.

“What?” said Kate.

“Daj. I told her your people took you for a witch. It is why she decided to take you in. You should know.”

“Oh,” said Kate.

“My brother’s wife—she was burned for a witch. It happens to Roamers. More than our share.” He stood up, wiping his hands on his leather apron and mopping the drizzle from his face with his green kerchief. “Stick to Daj, Plain Kate. Don’t take her for softhearted—she’s badger fierce. But if she decides to take your part, your place here will be sure.”