Stock in Trade 5

When Dyfed reached the summit, along side three other participants in the elemental training course, he was rather surprised to see that High Master Jark was - well - hardly dressed for the weather or climate outside. The big trail leading up to the estate in Stetil's snow blasted mountains was clear of debris but usually dusted with a layer of snow. Dyfed and the others dropped their supplies and satchels, and rested mostly with heaving chests and sweat showing on their varied brows.
"Well what have we here?" Said a voice, manly but with a tinge of color that hinted he was not at all interested in being masculine. "A Land Holder, a stray Animal Lord, a Slave sent by her High Master, and what's this? A Membayar... Hmn... Don't see too many Membayar managing to turn up here. No, not often at all."
Dyfed didn't know whether to be offended or pleased. He was breaking an unspoken rule about Membayar being quite boring, that he knew already. But if he was being offered a challenge, Dyfed wasn't certain. High Master Jark was for all the world wearing a slender silken dress of sorts, in a complimentary color to his pale violet skin. His blue-black hair was cut and styled sharply over his handsome face, and faintly grey-blue eyes peered out below that rakish hair. He swished by the other three, and stopped at Dyfed.
"Do you think your day job will miss you if you can handle this course, sweet Bonder?" Jark gently mocked. The Slave nearby was blushing horribly, she wasn't sure what to make of this behavior.
"I think my day job will be fine all by itself, High Master. I'm curious though - how is it you are able to wear this... lovely concoction of silk and lace in weather such as this?"
Dyfed waved his heavily gloved hand at the doorway which still had turbulent waves of snow drifting past it. The door was glass, but so thick that it would only let the barest hint of chill through.
"Why, that's how I got into this business, my sweet Membayar, survival of the finest of course."
The Animal Master present cleared his throat, and Jark got down to that business soon enough. He straightened his gown and strode with a tall sort of arrogance toward an inner hallway. "Through this portal, friends, is your training course agreement and waiver. Now that we have a Membayar present I'm sure that everyone will want him to look over their contracts..."
Jark tittered a little, and then sobered again. The contracts basically outlined that the service was to be provided only to those people who could prove they had some kind of psionic ability or mutation which allowed them to adjust to a condition environmentally. That condition satisfied, the waiver made it quite clear that while in the High Master's presence they were protected from all kinds of awful events, but the moment they strayed or some how broke their contact with him, they were subject to the whim of nature. And Jark wasn't responsible for nature - merely getting through it.
Lawgiver that he was, Dyfed looked at the contract and decided that it was fair. Perhaps a little wordy, something that the Slave present was having trouble with.
"Your HighMaster signed an electronic agreement already," said the High Master to Slave Garna. She nodded, signed her name to the bottom of the page, and handed it back to Jark. The Free Holder was a bit more hesitant.
"How do I know you're not just going to send us out into the wilderness and not come back?" He asked.
"Because that's the final test, not the start of the course, good sir," Jark smirked. "By the end of the training I expect you'll want to be out from my clutches and on your own. The only way out of here of course is to run back down the mountainside, and if there's no transport waiting for you at the bottom of the hill, you'd have to hike more than thirty miles to the nearest rest stop. And frankly," he said with a grin, "I expect you to be able to do so when I'm finished working with you."
He flipped his scarf over his shoulder and leaned back, waiting for the Free Holder to sign, as Dyfed and the Animal Lord had finished already.
When they had all gotten the formalities out of the way, and a cadre of Slaves had taken their gear on to their quarters, the foursome and their strange host were served hot tea and biscuits, as they walked toward another portion of the estate.
"Through there are the preparation rooms and kitchen, as well as a standard dining hall. I don't often entertain but if you wish to utilize my estate for the duration you should feel free. Warn the staff and buy your own food, is all I ask." Jark walked ahead a bit, his hips swishing the way that he most thought would get attention. He got it all right: the FreeHolder rolled his eyes and almost laughed when the Slave started emulating him - she stopped quickly the moment she thought she might be discovered, giving Dyfed the idea that she was a rather sharp girl.
They passed by the hallway containing the half dozen barracks - they sounded much more Spartan than they really were, they were fully prepared rooms with bed, table, bath and dressing counter, all the amenities, and for every two rooms there was one Slave or Bayaran for food service or other such things. It wasn't nearly as overdone or ostentatious as a hotel or fine breakfast estate, but it was more than adequate for their needs.
Then Jark showed off a line of clothing which they were meant to be wearing for their training. "They can be tailored if we do not have everything you require," Jark said while looking over the snugly fitting clothing. "But there will be an extra fee."
"Of course," said the Animal Lord, who had a short thick tail.
"Oh, we have tailed outfits," Jark said, nodding toward a rack with clothing for multiple-arms, extra wide, and yes, all sizes and lengths of tails.
When they had seen this, and made mental notes about which rack they'd likely have to reach for when the time came, Jark led the foursome to a double door. He threw the doors open with a wide motion of his arms and lights came on in the massive room.
"And this," he said in a hush, "is the training room."
It was a room bigger than most people's whole neighborhoods, it seemed. There were nozzles in the ceiling, fans set into the walls, some odd outlines on the floor which led the Slave to believe they were to be running obstacle courses in addition to their training. She was mostly right.
The Free Holder stood with his mouth open until Dyfed shut it for him with a careful motion.
"Well you didn't think I'd be dragging you lot into the freezing snow did you?" Jark laughed, "after all, your requests said something about your requirements. This room has been fitted to provide scorching sun, burning wind, freezing rain, dry and arid conditions, high and low pressure... Anything your hearts desire to test. I mean, if you want to go out there, feel free, but remember, that waiver states clearly that you'd be out of my jurisdiction unless I was with you the whole time."
Eventually, they settled down to their routine. The four clients selected their clothing from the racks, it seemed that Dyfed and Garna were most satisfied with how they looked and felt in the all-slate colored suits. The Animal Lord and Free Holder both seemed to be less comfortable, but for very different reasons. The Beastlord's tail pinched a bit, and the Free Holder, well, he was trying to fit in a group of what he thought were far more attractive people than he.
"We can start with the fitness for extremes," Jark announced the next morning. Garna was most suited to hot and dry conditions, but she could also produce a bit of heat herself, that feature was one that her High Master wanted to exploit, to bring her on extended trips rather like a human space heater. Her range and level of heat ability would be trained up.
Beast Lord Kvaal had it in his head to learn to swim and possibly survive in deep cold, Jark suggested he might be best off in low-pressure or high altitude instead. "I noticed that you were hardly panting and heaving, like the other three, when you arrived," Jark commented. Suddenly Kvaal realized that he was right - here they were at some hugely amazing altitude and he wasn't experiencing the slightest bit of trouble because of it. He changed his mind about the water thing almost with relief.
Most Zekirans were frightfully low on body fat. And of course, since the oceans were barely salty there was very little buoyancy. Precious few Zekiran people wanted to step foot in water more than a few spans deep. He got off easy.
"Holder Lalvey... I see certain conditions in your future... Dark, cold, humid ones. What say you to a cavern run?" Jark asked, and Lalvey smiled.
"I've got Land right near a huge bat cave. I've been meaning to explore it and Hold on to it, if I can. I'm up for that."
"Good!" Jark exploded with false glee, and moved on to Dyfed. "Now you... You..." He walked slowly around the Membayar until stopping to his side. "Electrical storms. Rain, and sleet? Perhaps sticky, very sticky. Humidity is at your command, my friend. What's that other thing I sense in you?"
"Ground senses, I think," Dyfed answered. The sultry tone of his trainer hadn't gotten to him yet, and obviously that was why Jark kept using it with him. Perhaps he thought they'd be getting together later. Perhaps they would, but certainly not while Dyfed was paying the man!
"Hmmmmm, yes, I'll have to note that." Jark moved his eyes around the room and decided upon a course of action. "While I'm working with you, Garna, I expect you three to be examining the controls of the sub-rooms. Go ahead - but don't try using any of them yet. I'll show you."
The sunlamps and fans started up and the trio of men escaped the conditions of an arid desert within moments. It was a good thing too, because none of them felt up to surviving that!
There were two other rooms, off to one side with a hallway leading back up to the other side of the estate. On one side apparently was a deep-freeze or cavern simulator, and the other was a moisture and altitude chamber.
"I'll be going in here," Said Kvaal, looking at the altitude area. "I think you're going to want both this one and the main room, eh Master Dyfed?"
"That's probably on the agenda... Does he seem a bit..."
"Taken with you?" Kvaal laughed as the Free Holder stifled a smirk
"I was going to say rough with the Slave," Dyfed groaned, "but yes, I'd noticed that bit too."
"It's none of our business," Free Holder Lalvey muttered. "He did seem a bit curt. She's a nice girl, it looks like."
"And trustable, her High Master's got her out from Kiran, she said before you got on the lift." Kvaal said.
"Oh? Where?" Asked Dyfed, having relatives there. The answer was a place he'd never heard of, but even if he had, a moment later it didn't matter if someone was speaking or not.
A howling wind filled the big chamber nearby, and all three of them looked up, watching through an observation window as Garva tackled a stiff breeze. There were sensors connected to her suit, sticking out of the floor's odd boxes. Apparently, she was starting to force her body heat into the air, until she tired and Jark had to shut off the equipment.
"Fifteen spans," Jark said, with the first hint at warmth in his voice for the girl, "that's quite impressive, and you say you've not done that particular test of wills before?"
Panting, but grinning madly, the Slave said, "no High Master, I haven't."
"Then your dear High Master will love you to pieces when he hears how you're going to progress. Come along. We'll watch the boys now."
The other men got their chance to work their odd personal powers in the main room too, and finally - it seemed that Jark was always saving Dyfed for last - the Membayar was taken in and had sensors applied to the slicksuit. Slender wires hung in the air around him, all through the big room.
"You've never done this before, have you?" Jark said, smiling.
"No, but I remember as a young boy sneaking outside during a hailstorm and not getting too beat up in it."
"Try and concentrate on what your senses pick up," Jark said as he turned to use the control panel. He stepped into the nook where all the room's wonders were set up, at the touch of a button he had a slowly kicking wind brewing in the big room. He turned the temperature down first, then up.
"Close your eyes, Master Dyfed," Jark said loudly, and Dyfed did as he was told. This was all in the interest of gaining enough experience to head off to H'lan. All he really expected was for Jark to suddenly be standing there about to kiss him or something. He resisted a laugh, and then felt an odd sensation.
Artificial rain, pelting his skin. He kept his eyes closed, but then ... Dyfed could feel where the rain started. Could actually sense that it was wholly artificial, and he wanted to keep himself dry.
He let his power work for the first time consciously. When he was quite young, his mother warned him against standing in the rain. But Dyfed now kept a strange shimmering shield around himself, the rain water seemed to evaporate as it struck the air around him. Eyes still closed, then, he felt the temperature change dramatically. Hot and wet? Ah - this would be H'lan's atmosphere for certain.
The muggy stuff was a bit harder to work with, because it wasn't all in one piece like a rain drop. But soon enough, within a few minutes of hard mental work, Dyfed discovered to his delight that he could manipulate the wetness until it pooled around him at a distance. That was apparently enough for one day, as Jark called the experiment and testing over for the evening.
A large meal was served for all of his clients - Garna included - after everyone was bathed and clothed in their off-training outfits. This went on for another three solid days.
At last, then, with Garva apparently being the most wildly successful of the group, Jark announced that they had graduated their first training session. And, that if they wanted a challenge, they could come back at a discounted rate for any further - more extensive - work outs.
Over their last meal together, the group congratulated one another, and Dyfed doted upon Garna. How useful her powers were, and how strong! She got it into her head that she might even be good enough to focus her energies and become a body guard instead of just a convenience piece. She would talk to her High Master about it, when she got back home.
They would be leaving in the morning, heading back down the mountain side to the waiting transportation, which would take them to one of three stops leaving for other parts of the world. But that night, of course, Jark visited Dyfed in his private barrack.
"And so you're off to your big adventure now?" Jark asked. He was being sweet, voice low and sultry, and he'd dressed in an utterly inappropriate lacy shawl.
"Perhaps in the Spring. I've done a little research while I was here, about the Valley I intend to see. The weather is better than what you could throw at me here, I don't need to be challenged the whole time I'm away from my comfortable Homestead."
"No, no of course not!" Jark said. He was getting rather close to Dyfed who didn't exactly move him away.
"I've been meaning to ask, though," Dyfed said, perking Jark's attention up. He disappointed him slightly by saying, "how is it you've been able to move through everything you put us through, and more? I mean, the dress, the snow..."
"Oh that," Jark said, "It's nothing. I was born this way. I can barely feel heat, cold doesn't get to me, and frankly between you and me, I can also breathe under water."
Dyfed blinked, "... I don't want to know how you found that out!"
"Oh, I think you do..." Jark said, purring and sliding up next to the Membayar.
Dyfed realized that he didn't have an heir to give his family yet. And at this rate, he'd have to bloody adopt one.
"Okay, all right, I'll bite." He said, draping his arm over the shoulder nearest him.
"Will you?" Exclaimed the odd pale man beside him, a little too excited.

"I wish you'd let me handle her," Jark said, looking over his shoulder at the woman who had handed them their baggage.
"You don't like women - I figured I'd be doing you a favor." Over the years, it had become obvious that when Dyfed thought he was somewhat abusive toward Slaves, it had actually been because Garna was a woman.
"Father! Papa!" Their 'son' Sefyn ran from the steedway to the pair of men. "You're back! Did you bring me anything!?"
"Did you bring your manners?" Jark asked, and though the boy wasn't his own, he was Dyfed's heir brought on by questing his Breeder family members and arranging something, Sefyn responded by calming down and straightening up.
"Yes, papa, I'm sorry. I had the coach brought, I thought you would both like the ride home."
"I know I would," Dyfed said, tussling his son's short cropped brown-green hair. "Come on, Jark, give him a break. We've been gone almost a month."
"And a month is forever for a young boy, I know," Jark said, "so how is our little High Master?"
"I haven't passed the exams yet, papa," Sefyn said, looking away but more in annoyance than from guilt. "I mean, I've got three more years of studying."
"Well, let's talk about that later," Dyfed suggested. "We did bring you something. It's a bit fragile so you'll have to open it at home."
They traveled in the High Master's coach, and Jark had to admit that he liked the sunny climate there in Zovora much better than the constant snow fall or overcast of the Stetil mountains. He had his huge estate and booming training business of course, but in the twenty some years Jark and Dyfed had known one another he had taken on more and more outland travels to show his students that their labors wouldn't go unused.
And Membayar Dyfed was shortly to become High Master Dyfed. But that would wait just a few moments more.
When they arrived to Dyfed's small comfortable homestead Sefyn almost bounded over himself trying to get to the den where they would always open little gifties from journeys like the one his fathers had just embarked upon.
This time it wasn't in a box, it was more a scroll of something. Sefyn wondered if it was an image or a...
"A map?" He said, hushed. He looked it over. It was a beautiful hand-drawn topographical map, with colorful indicators of other items like ... plant life? A water hole? Bare cliffs? He peered at the map and saw a small marking on one side, near the edge of a trail marking.
"Well, that's my part," Dyfed admitted as his heir gazed at his handiwork. "Your papa has the other part."
Sefyn took the other scroll, which did have an image on it. A photograph of... "Father?"
"Sefyn, take a look at your first Hold," Dyfed said, grinning as widely as Jark. They had assembled a shaped stone and brick shelter among the cliffs of H'lan Valley. It was an unobtrusive observation deck fit with some provisions and living quarters enough for four people.
Of course it would help that the boy had inherited most of his father's water shaping ability, and all of his mother's plant manipulation power. It would be a perfect hideout for the boy - but first he had to earn it in his studies.
It took less than a year of those three he claimed to need, before he tackled his High Holder testing and made his fathers proud.

The blaze took days to control, even with experienced water-summoners and more conventional fire fighting techniques. Sefyn was on hand to help control the smaller fires with what little he could muster of his water power, he wasn't like that other guy who seemed to dance on the flames and douse things just by looking at them funny. Everyone was rather in awe of that guy.
The ashes in the sky slowly dropped to the ground with the aid of some weathershaping. At least two dozen of the world's strongest 'shapers had been requested to help, and they came willingly. This was a test of their skills, as well as the opportunity to meet and greet one another the way they hadn't been able to before.
Some were Breeders, a couple Animal Lords, an Owner, and even one rare Membayar, the rest were either Holders or High Holders. Sefyn was totally outclassed, or so he thought, by this group.
Out from the burnt remains of a huge old-growth tree came a woman. Well, Sefyn realized she was little more than a teenager. Her big brown-red eyes shone brightly against the ash and dirt on her skin - which might have been red-colored but today it was obscured by a sheen of wet grime. Her hair was lighter bronze, a pretty metallic glimmer could still be seen even through the mess covering it.
"I ... I couldn't protect the trees," she said, her voice was scratchy like everything around them. Sefyn looked around with his eyes, didn't see anyone else close by.
"Well, it was a big fire, no one could be expected to do that. ... I wish I'd known you were there, though, I could have helped you with this one." He placed his hand on the charred bark of the big tree. It would have towered hundreds of spans into the air, it was nearly twelve wide. "There is still a little life in this one, though, I think you kept it alive a little bit."
"Really?" The girl said, and reached out to touch Sefyn as though in a dream. She was clearly traumatized by all this.
"Did ... did someone bring you here? To help?" Sefyn asked, not seeing any Status indication on her outfit - not that you'd be able to see it among the grit and ashes.
The girl's eyes widened. "No... Oh - no I'm not supposed to be here... Not with people." She made to escape, but Sefyn stepped into her way and gently held her arm with his strong hand.
"Don't go... Are you... well, are you a renegade Slave?"
She shook her head. But she didn't look up either. "My parents are. I can't stay! I have to go, all those people will want to know who I am and -" She was getting panicky, so Sefyn glanced about, saw that there were drinks being served and towels passed out at the big hover-van that brought a number of people up there. Sefyn's private vehicle (there were no Steeds endangered by this venture - all the people there had been brought by motor driven vehicles) waited with a driver. He'd be the only one to know.
"Are your parents nearby?" Sefyn asked. She nodded - she behaved so like a Slave already, but he knew she'd rather not be. "And do they have powers to help the fire fighting?"
"I ... no, I am the only one."
"How old are you, and..." Sefyn smiled and laughed, "what's your name by the way?"
The girl introduced herself as Mariz, thirteen year old daughter of Zem and Raia. They had been escapees for nearly two decades, out in the Ka forests where this huge blaze went up. The storm that sparked it had all but passed by the time the weathershapers got there.
"Are they all right? Your parents?"
Mariz nodded, and made a little glance to the side behind her. There were two utterly grimy people, they had obviously been working hard to keep their small hovel intact. It hadn't worked very well.
"Mariz, bring your parents along. Just go with it, I promise you it'll be worth it when we're through."
She summoned them, their wide eyes and slightly angry looks paled slowly when they realized that not one of the people nearby knew who they were. They'd been gone for so long... Since only the woman Raia had a bit of plant sensing neither of them were really pursued by their old Owner, they had been allowed to live in peace.
Something deep in the back of Sefyn's mind, his ancestry, seemed to remind him that his ancestress would have done the same thing.
He told them to do as he asked, and all would be very well rewarded soon enough. They went right up to the refreshments area, doused each other in chilled water to get most of the dirt and ash off, and finally strode right up to Sefyn's coach.
"This land needs a little work," he announced, "but soon enough I think it'll be healthy. And look at it all, it's cleared enough for homesteads and shops. There's even a road now," he indicated the huge trail of flattened shrubbery that was made when the vehicles all ploughed their way through the area.
"Why is he speaking so loud?" Asked Zem, but his wife shushed him with a grin.
They heard the mutterings - even the fire fighters knew that though the land was covered in grey and muck right now, that was a tremendous boon for growing crops at a later date. Trees and vines, grapes? The possibilities were endless.
The trio got into the van, and though the Bayaran driver looked them over with interest he said nothing. His Master was well equipped to deal with strays like himself, so he knew better than to say anything. Renegades now, was it? Well, they'd soon be something else entirely, like himself.
On the way back to their temporary home, a big shared mansion which served the firefighters as well as many travelers along its two-hundred year history, Sefyn got the story from his new little friends. They'd run away from a neglectful Owner, who had wanted to split the Slave pair up even though they had been legally wed by their prior Holder. Usually the convention was to keep them together, socially as well as emotionally it worked best, and Sefyn knew that. He'd seen it close up, as his fathers bickered about which Slaves to sell off that year or which to buy up. 'Can't have them, they come as a pair and we only need one,' or 'couldn't we just get the brother instead of the pair?' Mostly it was Papa talking then.
He wouldn't be too pleased. But then, it wasn't much of his business now that Sefyn had broken out on his own business and made a bit of a name for himself among horticulturists. Dear passed-away Grandmama Yfe's best friend and companion to Dyfed had been one, apparently, and the skills just seemed to pass right along. Especially what with Sefyn being encouraged to get out and stretch his powers out to their maximum.
"I'll bet you haven't been tested yet," Sefyn said of Mariz. He looked at her parents. They were middle aged, their daughter probably a pleasant surprise after years of being paired together. Mariz looked and acted more mature than her short life would indicate, but ... Sefyn found himself hoping that she held on to her childhood while she could. And after all, he'd be offering her a real one - not one of hiding in the shadows and lurking in the woods!

"I swear couldn't you see this one coming?" Papa Jark said, rolling his eyes. "What next? Little herds of the creatures?"
"Papa, she's -"
"She's obviously perfectly matched for him, Jark, don't start with that. Just because you don't like women and couldn't sire a child if you wanted to you've got to act like this?"
"You didn't have to go there," Jark pouted, and flounced away to another part of the mansion.
Mariz, now just barely twenty, gazed at Sefyn for approval. She wasn't sure what to make of his parents. He'd rather kept her and her family a bit of a secret while he helped them establish a Hold in the Ka ashlands. As long as he kept their secret they'd be safe - and he had no intention of saying a word. Especially not to his fathers!
After being brought to a Breeder's for the first time, Mariz was noted as a plant-manipulator, with a bit of an odd mental clouding power thrown in - perhaps her parents didn't even know it was there. Though the Breeder was curious, the look that Sefyn - along with the dec of plat he handed her - made sure that she wouldn't ask too many questions about where a teenaged girl had just shown up on a doorstep all of a sudden. There were dozens of untested and unBred homesteads scattered everywhere one looked, few and far between in the higher reaches, but surely a population of them had never even been exposed to real Zekiran society.
Mariz's appearance was pleasing, not remarkable. She had lightish red skin, dappled here and there with darker orange markings - which Sefyn thought to be very pretty on her. Her hair was extremely shiny in the sunlight, a rich bronze metallic shade that caught every hint of light. She behaved herself as a more well-trained Slave would, but people presumed that was because she was a very attentive girl and didn't want to miss anything that her big eyes could see. She learned quickly, but had her limits. She wasn't very good at maths, but didn't really require it for what she wanted to do. She and Sefyn would become known as a Homesteading consultation pair. They helped build, where trees and good ground were involved, it was made quite easy by their combined power.
So when they became lovers, no one doubted that if Mariz was even slightly fertile - which she was - they would some day have a wonderful child who might just exceed anyone's expectations.

That child was named Zafram. She was a pale peachy color, with lovely dots of yellow and red across her arms and shoulders. She held herself proudly, after all she was the daughter of the premier plant shaping businessfolk of the area! Her eyes were dark, almost black with a bit of brown dancing through them, and her hair was a wild mess of metallic shaded hazel green. She looked as though she belonged in the woods - a lovely dryad wild and comfortable only among the leaves.
She nestled into her wooden nook, and watched her woods. Something was going on, just beyond her Holdings, and when she realized what it was, she sprang back into action.
The Steed races were coming through! Since just after her birth, the world-wide Steeding championship races were being held. Every eight years, the big circuit cut a swath of betting and bonding through every Area of the world. Though tiny towns like her own Astan would get a bit of action, this year it seemed it was much bigger than normal. There would be people to host, parties to give, and most of all, showing off to do.
Zafram put her hands to the trunk of the gigantic redwood she had lived in or near for most of her childhood, and asked it to please tell her how many people were landing their Steeds on the grassy glens nearby.
Amazingly to anyone but her family, the tree responded. In an almost out-of-body experience, Zafram saw three dozen Steed company workers begin setting up their camp.
They were doing so on her land, with rather less permission than she'd given. She didn't much mind, but they ought to be paying their way, right? Of course. So she donned a more formal sundress and sandals, and headed quickly down her plot of land toward the brightly colored tents and people.
When she was in sight of the camp, one of the sturdy workers lifted his arm and waved, calling, "heyo! Come to help out?"
As Zafram drew near enough to speak comfortably, she smiled patiently at the man and asked, "who hired you to set up here?"
"Eh? Oh, that'd be High Master Quin. He's in the black, by the dappled Steed." Suddenly the man caught on and stopped lashing a pole down. His companions were about to chide him, but his hand waved in the air as a warning stopped them from saying anything stupid. Zafram neared the tall painfully overdressed man and cleared her throat.
"Now now I hardly have the time to entertain children, please head to your-" He started, but with a serious look Zafram stopped him.
"And do you have a permit signed by myself to build upon my Holdings, sir? While I respect your work, and I certainly won't stop your people from finishing their tasks," Zafram said with a tiny but noticeable smile, "your Steeds will be using my grassland as a stomping ground, and I'd far rather have known in advance. I do have a modest Hold in the hills nearby, and I would be happy to host any events you have planned, but you really - really - ought to have given me some warning."
To his credit, Quin didn't say something inane like 'oh, so this is your Holding?' but instead he did look annoyingly perturbed to hear this news. As if he didn't, as a Holder, know and respect the rights of those Holders everywhere. He'd neglected to learn whether someone actually Held this area. He'd assumed it was empty, no one had been there in the past.
He hemmed and hawed of course, but never tried to back out of his position as a race coordinator. Abruptly, he arranged for someone to bring a standard contract form, which Zafram pleasantly agreed to sign. So long as her Lands were intact at the end, and any damages were cleaned up by Quin's company, his only fee would be to send a modest amount to the High Mistress' accounts.
The "showing off" part of Zafram's timetable had come and gone. Now there were parties to plan.

"Have you been to the Astan Steed deck?" Someone asked, and his companion shook her head. "Well you must go. I swear it is absolutely perfect to watch this race course! I got in early, last Circuit, and I'm hoping for a spot this year."
Conversations quite like that one were spreading through Astan and the racing circuits. The big wooded area was slowly but surely becoming known as a Steeding paradise, if only for the racing and training. No one really knew how many Steeds would be able to graze properly on the meager grasslands between tracts of huge forests.
Up on the hills, where the last break in the woods showed a brilliant green strip designed for racing and boarding Steeds of any type, was the Observation deck. Zafram had expanded greatly on her smallish estate, attracting Animal Masters and Holders year round to discuss the next year or decade's circuit.
Zafram was an ideal hostess for such things, though her reputation was as a quiet yet sharp-tongued woman. She did not bet on races, at least no one in her group had seen her do so. Her Bayaran were allowed a certain stipend away from their debt when the Circuit flew through her Estate, and she often awarded her best behaved Slaves a little betting money as well. But her favorite activity was hosting elaborate parties.
Somehow she could get the spring flowers to bloom in deepest winter, coax water from what appeared to be bare rock, and it was almost as if she could make music out of the wind through trees. When the Steeding left the area, the village of Astan would become more like its old self - no more than fifty people during the off season blossomed into thousands overnight and vanished again within a week.
This ritual was repeated five times before Zafram met a young Worker and his half-hearted attempt at a Steed entry.
He'd somehow won the sorry creature in a contest or a bet, but naturally as a Worker he was just about ready to bond into Bayaran keeping it fed and sheltered. One can't keep a Steed in an apartment, really.
The edgy and wide-eyed look on the Worker's face compelled Zafram to almost chase him through a crowd. Others were laughing at him as he tied on what appeared to be home-made tack and bridle to his semi-cooperative Steed. The Steed herself was out of her prime by several years, but far from old. Her feathers were still coming in strongly, and she had all the spunk of most younger Steeds - just in a more or less underfed way.
"Why don't you just sell the old nag!" Called someone, echoed by another cruel taunt of "because she's still probably worth more than he is!" And laughter followed.
Zafram pushed her brows together and scowled. This was not a good way to start a race season. She promptly went to the betting station and put two hundred creds on the 'old nag'. At the odds she was currently running, Zafram would be able to afford another whole plot of land out here, if the Steed could even place. But that wasn't an option, was it?
The party goers up in the observation deck party house wondered where their usually genial hostess was. They spotted her with spy glasses, she was wandering up and down nervously near the starting gates of the race.
"She's... got a betting receipt in her hand," said someone. They were stunned. Was this true? Could it be that the High Mistress who simply never bet was down there among the rabble ... really?
The groups up there managed to locate the bet she'd made and were even more confounded. What in the world was she thinking? Surely she knew better than to blow any money on that half-tamed ... "Well it's her money," someone sighed as the race was announced. The Steeds and their riders were shown to the gates along with cheering for each as per their popularity among the crowd.
The announcers of the race were stunned when they saw the amounts of money being put on different Steeds. Normally there would be a bunch of contenders, which this race had twelve, a clear winner and placing group, which there were three, and a clear - very clear - losing bunch. This time there was one clear loser, and that was Kelkey's Toss the Bones. Ridden by, none other than Kelkey.
Kelkey was a lean man now, because he'd often had to go without proper meals just to keep his Steed and to take her to races at all. But he was built to be muscular, and still had a wiry strength to him - especially his hands, which were used to working knots and textiles rather than holding reins. He was clearly unstable on the Steed's back, he wasn't a professional rider in the slightest. His blackish-grey skin was marred with scars, some new which he'd obviously gotten in the time he'd had Toss the Bones. He'd tied his silver hair back into a rough tail, but it would come loose during the race. He didn't wear expensive silks for the race, he had none.
He was up against fifteen or more professionals - even though a portion of them were Slaves, at least they had the benefit of training and real food now and again. There was only one other Worker in the bunch, and he wasn't in nearly as poor condition as Kelkey. He'd been hired on because of his slight tuning for Steed powers, he'd surely become an Animal Master if he won this race.
The trio of 'best in the pack' gazed at this ... loser... and sneered to one another. If anyone would be passing their noses it would be only another year before any one of them would get their title back anyway. Kelkey obviously wasn't a serious threat.
When Kelkey's Toss the Bones was announced, there was a spattering of polite applause and a riot of laughter. Kelkey obviously almost ran out of the race right there, but by this time, his pearlescent white Steed with golden tipped wings had gotten herself in the mood to race.
Somehow, perhaps it was a long-latent telepathy creeping up to the top of Zafram's mind, or perhaps it was just that she was standing among Workers and Bayaran and Slaves wearing a formal party dress and no hat to shield her from the sun, Kelkey turned to see Zafram clutching a betting ticket.
Of course he knew who she was, her face appeared on the viddies televising the event all smiles and polite bashful looks. Come to the Astan Betting Deck. Her voice was in his mind, whether it was imagined or not. She mouthed the words, 'I've bet on you - do well!' but all Kelkey heard was the blast of the starting horn.
"We've got ourselves a race!" Called one announcer. "Proud Walking Darkness is in the lead on the ground, his pacing as usual is going to be the quickest among this bunch." He listed off several others, until the second announcer broke in.
"There seems to be something a bit amiss with that ... last Steed entered. Toss the Bones is um, well, she seems to be trying to use a vertical take-off to start her race!"
"That is rather odd, isn't it?"
Toss the Bones had not begun running frantically with the whole rest of the Steeds to get speed for lifting off. The course was a relatively short one, but it was over a steep hillside and sharp cliffs near the middle. A fall there would mean sure death for a rider. There was precious little running space left for the half dozen Steeds who hadn't gotten into the air yet, the rest of the racers were already beating their wings and heading off over the trees. But Toss the Bones was hovering. She snorted loudly, kicked her heels behind her, and winged into the air with powerful strokes. The wing edges snapped loudly, and Kelkey clutched on to the reins as well as hugging on to her neck for dear life. They soared over the last straggling galloping Steeds, making it all but impossible for one or two of them to even get into the air.
"Toss the Bones has upset Mile Rider and Wick's Gentle Burn! They aren't even going to start flying! What an upset this is already!"
With the crowd turning from half cheering to a disappointed groan for the two racers, they looked into the air for the flock as the race began in earnest. Over the deep green treetops, the baker's dozen plus one gained altitude and speed. The first leg of the race was up and over the hill itself, then leveled out over the wide valley and a lake, turned with the cliffs at the waterfall and ran along them for another two miles, then finally headed back to the finish line which was already filling up with new faces from the Observation Deck party.
"She can't possibly win," some Holder called. "She's not even properly ridden! Can he even qualify?"
The announcers kept up on the moment by moment changes in the lead. Another Steed pulled from the race when his wing tip clipped a tall tree and he almost spiraled down into the lake below. Proud Walking Darkness was still in the lead, but his rider was glancing back more frequently than she usually did in a race like this. There should be no question - it should be Pillow of Dreams and Handsome Blue Dano following Darkness. Not two complete unknowns - and worse one of them was that white-gold Bones! Beast Mistress Elkain growled and urged her Darkness into a steeper climb than necessary over the ridge near the waterfall, banking sharply and...
"Elkain's almost lost her grip on Proud Walking Darkness' saddle! That girl is crazy!"
"She's doing a good job of intimidating newcomer Wood Side Rough, that's for sure," said the second announcer, "but she's being bold enough to keep the lead. Over those cliffs, though - that's a ride for the history books!"
"Toss the Bones is following Darkness' lead, going unnecessarily high over those cliffs. Now, I want to say that the waterfall here at Astan Lake is more than sixty spans high - and they're at least doubling that height over the ground itself on those Steeds!"
The crowd seemed to hold its breath - including Zafram. The determination in the pearly golden 'old nag' was going to give way to a faltering gate in the air, most of the experienced riders in the audience, including the announcers, said so. They were convinced of it. They just hadn't clued Bones in on that fact. She drove herself with spittle splashing along her neck and flanks, getting into Kelkey's face as well. He could barely see - but he didn't need to. The Steed had this in her blood, and she was bound and determined to finish this race.
Over the cliffside, the pair of leaders flew. Both angry Steeds, black and white, snorted and nickered at each other with their long ears pinned back and eyes fierce. Elkain heard Bones' labored breathing, and knew from experience that this race might kill the old Steed. But the race was almost over - it would be close, and it would actually be a race worth having run!
Kelkey realized that the end of the race was near, when Bones flew in ever-weakening flaps over the treetops. The strip of bright green grass awaited them, the finish line was a brilliant stripe of orange across it pressed onto the ground. Tall poles with photographic equipment would clip shots of the winner.
It wouldn't be a nose to nose finish - in fact it was a wonder that Bones even made it that far. While she was tiring, another Steed had come from behind to reach shoulder to shoulder, and no matter how she tried, Bones just couldn't get going faster again. When they reached the finish line in third however, there wasn't a dry eye or open mouth on the mountain.
Literally hundreds of thousands of credits had been thrown away to this ... old nag. With unsteady gate, she walked toward the winners circles, and Kelkey gratefully got off her back and unloaded the half-broken tack. The bridle came off when the Steed shook her head, and Kelkey nearly fainted. Though his skin was graphite-grey, he'd paled and perhaps aged a decade or more over those cliffs. Everyone knew it. No one knew the right thing to say.
"Congratulations," Zafram said quietly, "I knew you could do it."

"Congratulations," the Breeder announced happily, "I knew you could do this."
The results were in for Zafram's testing, and sure enough the proud father nearby had a mixture of wonder and fear on his face. How would he possibly afford a ... ah, but that was silly. He was a Free Holder now, the winnings from Bones' one race had been more than enough to pay back all his debts and put a plot down in not only his home Zone in Lendau Port, but also have a little bit of land right here in Astan where he boarded Toss the Bones.
The new Free Holder gazed at the woman who'd practically held him down in celebration, and had continued to do so over the next few months. Her pregnancy wouldn't be showing until late in the year, but the Breeder predicted a late summer birth.
When Zafram and Kelkey left the clinic, both were still beaming with happiness. It would be time enough for Kelkey to set up proper housekeeping perhaps in his Lendau Hold and certainly enough for Zafram to bring a bit of happiness to her parents and aging grandpapa. Grandfather Dyfed had passed on just a few years after Zafram's birth, so he would not see his great-grandchild.
Of course, grandpapa wouldn't really be all that pleased to have yet another girl in the family, now would he? Zafram grinned to herself and parted with Kelkey at the transport station.
"You have a safe trip home," she told him, and looked at the big hover jet. "You know I can't stand those things."
"I can understand. Take good care of Bones."
"I will. See me soon."
The hoverjet took off within the quarter hour and Zafram was left with the task of bringing the old Steed out for her daily graze. It was a shame that the Steed hadn't ever been bred, her coloration was truly beautiful once she was sleek with good feed and care. The pearly fur mixed with white feathers, tipped in a brilliant and almost shining metallic gold. Her mane and tail were similarly dotted with gold flecks, but it was clear that the Steed had reached her old age already. She showed no interest whatsoever in the stallions as they came near her, less so than even a young female in estrus would - as they were well known for snubbing their mates until the very last moment.
She wasn't going to be ridden again, and certainly not raced again. But she had become something of a local attraction. Here was the old nag who took third at the big Astan Circuit, blowing everyone out of the water. The highest current winnings on a long shot - after all, the Steed had been flying at 300 to 1 odds! The winnings that Zafram had taken away from her very first, and very last, bet were set aside immediately. She hadn't been sure what to do with them at first. She had thought about giving it to Kelkey, after all he did deserve it. But his winnings proved to be more than enough for him. He might not even know how to manage that kind of money.
So now she had a goal. Her winnings, already earning interest in her account, would be set aside for this child of theirs. She would never need to worry about heading into Bayaran like her father had once or twice before. He was a sensible man, a hard worker, who had just enough gumption to hold on to the Steed when everyone thought he ought to just sell her. A man who had had a couple bad spells of less work and had maintained his dignity while bonded. Zafram didn't love him, but she liked him immensely because of these things.
Zafram's friends thought that she was insane, when she started telling them the good news. Having a child with a Worker? Her? Muddling her fine Breeding with ... him? Well, he was vaguely fertile and she was happy - and perhaps their offspring would be lucky. Even though they didn't want to admit it publicly, several of her close friends wondered just what their union was going to produce for the world at large.
More than ten months later, when Zafram's summer pregnancy came to term, Kelkey was present and worried. Her slender frame was so delicate, and the Breeder had said something about the position of the child's head being all wrong. The heat of the Astan woodland was overbearing for Kelkey - he was used to the Lendau winds from offshore, cool breezes with fog dappling every nook and vale.
In another room of the clinic, the sounds of a struggling birth brought a stone knot into Kelkey's gut. A squealing cry erupted from a child, his, and did not let up until many minutes later. But there was no one coming out from the room - the Breeder and his staff had not taken the child to her father, and had not beckoned him in.
Within half an hour, Kelkey was given the worst and the best news of his life. His daughter was fine. His mate, Zafram the High Holder who gave brilliant parties and was the only one in the world who believed in his Steed and he, had died of exhaustion and blood loss.
Kelkey's dark grey skin went ashen, as he held his pale brown skinned daughter in his arms. He stared at her, sought out the features that might remind him of the woman ... Lost, Kelkey knew that the Breeder's fees had already been paid. He knew that there would be legal riots and books of paperwork to be done.
Let someone else do it, was what he decided.
When his daughter, Zekrel, was of Inheriting age, he knew she'd be wealthy enough to remain a Holder, or perhaps even a High Holder like her mother. Perhaps, she might even Inherit parts of the estate where Bones was boarded. He didn't know, and at the moment that the vision of his daughter was lost to a swim of tears, he didn't much care.