| Traveling entertainers? The very idea is mocked now. Scoffed at; ever since the return of Thread. Yet traveling entertainers we are, all three of us, and we are hardly ever scoffed at. The top of our line, the best of the best. There’s Huda, the twenty-some turn old dancer. Lusty and seductive, Huda’s real talent lies in her looks. She’s tall, but not conspicuously so. She’s slender and strong, but muscles only show in the most appealing places. Her olive tan skin and rich blonde hair only add to her appeal. I would give anything to be half as beautiful as Huda. Then there’s Celsya. She’s dead now, but she was a mother to me. I was too young then to judge real beauty, but in my memory she’ll always be more beautiful than even Huda. Don’t tell Huda I said that though, ‘cause she’ll get mad and tell me Celsya was ugly. Huda’s one fault is that she can’t stand to be less than someone else. She won’t admit I’m smarter than her, or that Celsya was prettier, or that someone else might be a better dancer, or have a more vivid imagination..or, well, you get the point. Celsya was kind to me, and often protected me from the worst of Dov’s drunken criticism. We may be a crude lot, us entertainers, but we should stick together. Anything anyone in our “circles” says can create holes and problems. But why am I going into this? I don’t expect an outsider such as yourself to understand. I’ll just tell you about Dov, and what he’s like. Dov’s in charge, simple as that. Our group is his. He created it, he belongs to it more than any of us ever will. He’s the type of guy whose age you’ll never be able to place (I still don’t know it), he could be anywhere from thirty to sixty, and easily looks them both. He’s a drunk, plain and simple, and likes to think he keeps Huda and me under tight control. It’s easy enough to get around him though. The worst he’s ever done is slap either Huda or me, but as for other things, not fit to talk about with you, we’re perfectly safe from him. His preferences are, uh, strongly greenrider, although he’d never admit it. In some of his “drunker” moments, he rants and raves about how he used to have a dragon, but that’s complete nonsense. Every time he tells the story his dragon changes it’s name and color. Although sometimes, when I’m in a softer mood, and I’ll notice that he sometimes mentions a green dragons called Ravreth, and his eyes will get sad and I’ll almost believe him. As for me, well, I’m me. I ain’t much to look at. I’m shorter than average, but not by too much; and I’m stocky looking. I’ve lived with Dov and “company” for as long as I can remember, and I expect Dov originally thought I’d be another dancer. When he realized I’d never be built for it, he trained me in cards and knife throwing and doing tricks on the backs of runners when the space permitted, and he made money off me that way. But back to me. I’ve got thick reddish hair, that I think looks nice, but no one else seems to like it much. I usually wear it tied back, it’s all frizzy so it keeps it out of my face when I’m working. My eyes are brown, and Huda says you can look into them and see a good heart and laughter. I was twelve when she said it, and still young enough to enjoy a good fight, so I pulled her hair and tumbled with her for a while before Dov broke us up. Huda understood, despite her fat lip, because that was right after Celsya died. I missed Celsya terribly for a turn after she died. I always felt that someday she’d tell me where I really came from. Again, I don’t remember anything before Dov and the rest. I know I was very young; maybe four, and he and Celsya and the young Huda appeared. I remember that sort of, and I remember them taking away a rag doll I had, and throwing it away. That was my first lesson in real life, and although the child part of me longs for that doll still, I know better than to let on about it. I may be sixteen, but I’m grown enough to deal with my problems. They never told me who my parents were, or where I came from for that matter. As for my talents, aside from being smart with the customers, and good with my hands, whether it is cards or knives, I like to consider myself well learned for a girl in my position. Huda never learned to read, although she thinks she’s better for it. Dov never taught me words, and certainly Celsya never did, so I assume I knew how to read a bit before they took me in. I must have been a smart four year old to know some words, and learn the rest as I grew. I spent all my money on books for my first ten years with Dov, and only lately have I been saving it. Then there’s Champ, my runner. He’s a handsome fellow. He’s the offspring of one of our pulling mares, Bessie. Out of plain Bessie, by a champion runner of Fort blood. One night while we were up north, Dov took Bessie and snuck her into the paddocks of one of Fort’s prize stallions. Champ’s the result. At first Dov didn’t want to give Champ to a girl like me, but Champ showed the movements of a good trick horse, and I was the only trick rider, so Dov had no choice. When Champ was a yearling he was given to me, as a birthingday gift he said, although I never received a gift before, and probably never will again. I don’t even know when I was born. I just sorta up my age a turn for every winter that passes. All in all a good way to go, and none of the whole “birthing” nonsense that the spoiled holderbrat girls do every turn they get older. So for twelve turns I’ve been traveling with Dov and Huda, and Celsya before she died, around the continent. Dov takes the money, and keeps it all organized, while Huda dances and I do tricks. It’s worked pretty well so far. In the bad weather we’ll travel with the traders, and in warmer weather we take two carts, with all four of our runners, and go it on our own. Dov drives the big wagon, pulled by Bessie and the gelding Sham, Huda does the same with the pony cart, pulled by the small spotted runner Tanner, and I ride Champ, and carry whatever food, water, and stuff I happen to have. So that’s it for us pretty much. Some more quick stuff about me, and I don’t expect you to care, but I’m not mean. I can be blunt sometimes, but that’s only due to necessity. Kindness gets you nowhere, although I try my best to be nice despite it. I don’t like offending people, and I don’t like cruelty as Dov (and sometimes Huda) do. I’m quick to laugh, quick to make jokes, and slow to cry. I don’t remember the last time I cried. Yes I do. It was when Celsya died. Four turns ago. Before then I didn’t cry much either. I also hate to lie, although sometimes I find it necessary. I don’t take much account of anything not directly related to me and my business. Me and my business might not be very important to the general workings of the world, but they’re important to me and I’ve got to looks out for them. That’s about it for me, but, ah yes, I was Searched once as well. Did I mention that? No? Well, when I was thirteen a dragonrider was attending one of my shows, and he seemed interested in my riding. He talked to me afterwards, after I had cooled off the runner, and asked me how I learned to ride like that so young. I told him necessity breeds all manners of things, and he smiled and said his blue dragon wanted me to go back to their Weyr so I could Impress a dragon. Dov said no, but I ignored him. I didn’t want to go anyway, so I flat out refused to the dragoner. What did I want a dragon for? I was fine just how I was, and I still am. I think. |