HorsePlay

From IMiA

Juliana arrives on the appointed day and time at the San Oceal stables (let us say day 10 of Carnival) alone but for four very capable looking guards. Everyone is mounted, everyone but the Duchess is armed.

Juliana dismounts before anyone can offer her assistance. She's wearing a tailored navy riding outfit with full, split skirts. Her hair is pulled up into a tight bun laced with navy ribbon, but some tendrils have escaped on the ride over. As it is daytime, she wears no cosmetics, but her color is very healthy. If rumor has it right, she's been out a bit more often in the last week making preparations for her Carnival parties than she normally is, but always with a contingent of guards.

The San Oceal stables are well stocked and well tended: no hand interracts with a Kerrigan without being thoroughly screened and trained by the Marquis, or his head groom. The Kerrigans are magnificant beasts, a head taller than any other horse in the Kingdom, with powerful haunches and a perfect sheen to their hair.

Varien's man has attended to the tack, and two of the finest horses present have been prepared.

Juliana pulls off her riding gloves, and begins to slowly walk her horse into the stables. One of the men dismounts hastily and leaves his horse to one of the others as he rushes to come up slightly in front of the Duchess as she clears the entrance. She smiles when she sees Varien inside.

When Juliana arrives, Varien is slapping a small riding crop against his hand and his man scuttles about, making final preparations. He is wearing a riding outfit in borgundy and white, and his gloves, doublet and boots are all decorated with stylized images of horses: rearing on the gloves and boots, just heads on the breasts of his doublet.

Upon seeing the Duchess, Varien tosses the crop over his shoulder (his man catches it without pausing) and bows deeply, removing his hat with a flourish.

"Duchess," he says, quickly. His gaze is clearly on the guard, who is largely blocking his view of Juliana. "You honor my humble stables."

Juliana lays her hand against the guard's arm. "Sim?" she says softly, although it's unclear whether she's asking if it's safe, or if she's asking him to get out of her way. The big man seems to have already dismissed Varien as not posing a threat, but the shorter man who comes up behind Juliana on her left as she steps around the first is clearly sizing Varien up.

"My Lord, let us hope they aren't humble," she smiles. "Forgive me my escort, but I fear the Duke would keep me locked in my tower if I refused them. I should not be out so much, but I could not refuse the lure."

Her smile quirks as her eyes shift to the horses. "Sell me, it should not be hard," she says, looking back to meet Varien's eyes, adding more quietly, "Let's ride, my lord."

The stablehand glances at the saddle on the horse you rode in on, makes a few slight adjustments to one of the Kerrigans and bows.

If Varian notices himself being sized up, he gives no indication. His movements are fluid, but dainty. Despite being in a stable, there is no dirt on his outfit. Likewise, his gaze does not linger on you and he barely spares the guards another glance before turning to the horses.

Varian stands and smiles. "The stabes," he says, in with a flourish that is too unpracticed not to be practiced. "Can only but be humble in your presence. The Kerrigans, however, were not bred with humility. I expect that your guard will accompany us, my lady?"

Juliana nods. "At a distance." Something about the way the canniest of the guards looks suggests it's only going to be hearing distance.

Varien nods. "We shall not be putting the Kerrigans through their paces, then," he says, somewhat wistfully.

Juliana laughs. "Don't be silly, of course we will. They're getting paid well enough to keep up."

He motions to one of the horses. Except for the final adjustments, the animals are identical - yours is not prettied up in any way. Your stable sent over your requirements in advance, naturally, and they were followed to the letter.

As you approach the Kerrigan, the differences between this animal and a "horse" become ever more clear. Larger and more muscular they are, but there is also something about the eyes. They bear none of the dullness of centuries of domestication, although the animals are more calm than your would expect from a wild horse wearing a saddle and bridle.

It is as though they are watching you, and everyone in the stable, sizing you up in the same way your guards sized up Varien, and the same way you've seen Varien size up a bottle of Port.

"May I help your ladyship into the saddle," Varien asks, with a brief sidelong glance at the guards. He does not extend a hand until Juliana replies.

Juliana all but ignores Varien, quite caught up in the horse in front of her. She waves a hand negligently at him, and says, "Give me a moment to get to know this fine lady."

Juliana's experience with horses immediately shows itself in the way she moves her hands over the animal. "What do they call you, darling?" she asks the horse, and looks up to meet the creature's eyes as if she just might get an answer. Then she whispers, "And what is your real name?"

The Kerrigan studies Juliana carefully, and then leans her head in between the Duchess's shoulder and her ear and whuffles softly, the soft hair of her mane brushing lightly against the human's skin. None of the hands presume to answer for the beast.

"Oh, you're wonderful," Juliana murmers.

Varien pulls a brush and an apple out of his pocket. The latter he feeds to his own mount, a gelding, and the former he proceeds to sweep over the animal's flank in long, practiced strokes. He, too, says nothing in response to Juliana's question.

She does have a mare, then. And the saddle is set up to be ridden forward. As Juliana inspects the tack, she finds that, while there is a bridle, her horse does not have a bit, nor does there seem to be a whip or crop in the pack which hands from the saddle. Instead of a true bit, the reins are attached to a hackamore.

"Excellent," Juliana says running her hands up the side of the mare's head. She turns and looks back at Varien. "You don't use bits? Hackamores are nice, but I've found something even better. The natives in Jenpa make these..."

She gives a low whistle, and calls, "Manly, baby, come in here. Sim, get out of the way, please. Come here, baby. David, let him loose."

Her guard lets go of the horse's bridle with a shrug, and her stallion pokes his head in and looks around. "Come here, baby. Just because she's bigger than you, sweetie, doesn't make you any less..." she laughs, "of a man." Her horse looks at the mare, and then refuses with a snort.

Juliana's horse is a crossbreed of some nature. He's got what can only be described as a buxom chest, slightly out of proportion to the rest of him. He looks like a cross between a warhorse and a prarie mare - nothing rational, at any rate, though he is clearly highly intelligent. And has opinions.

Juliana sighs and heads over toward him. "Come see," she invites, and goes to console her stallion. He lets her, but he's not budging an inch into the stable. He seems to be wanting to lead her out, but he's trying to be subtle and she's having none of it.

Varien watches the show for a moment, and then, after slipping the brush into the pack, comes outside to see. He looks the horse in the eye as he gets closer, and holds his hands out, palm up.

His attention, for the moment, is entirely on the horse. When he is a few steps away, he closes his hand, and when he opens it, it contains a pair of sugar cubes, which he keeps in his palm as he approaches, slowly.

The horse watches him approach with some caution, but doesn't come in any further when he sees the sugar. He doesn't back out anymore either, just waits patiently for Varien to bring him his treat.

Juliana's brow furrows. "He likes you," she says, as if for some reason he shouldn't. Suddenly she's looking at Varien with a bit more consideration than she ever has before. "Well, see, you'll notice, no bit."

She is, in fact, correct. Soft padded leather rests behind his ears, coming down to cross under his head. Another line of padded leather comes down to meet with a circle midway down his muzzel, while the crossed lines feed through silver rings there to become the reins.

"Like I was saying, the Jenpan natives used these, and the control is much finer, once trust has been developed. It's almost a push instead of a pull, and it lets the horse keep his head in a more natural position. I like it because there is really no way you can hurt the horse with this bridle if it's put on right. Horses are sacred to the Jenpan, you see. To hurt a horse is sacrilege." Juliana encourages Manly to lift his head up and show Varien his bridle.

Varien brings the cubes to Manly, not speeding up any, but approaching at a constant pace. When the horse has taken the treat, Varien turns his attention to the kit.

"That's wonderful," he says, running his fingers lightly over it. "I choose not to use a bit, and we never use them for first time riders. The Kerrigan don't need much guidance, a push with the knees will do. The royal family use them, but I'm told they demand more of their steeds that most owners. Even the hackamore is more for emergencies, or for a place to attach the reins. I've found that," he smiles. "A pinch of sugar does more good than a pound of force."

That earns him a genuine smile from the lady. "That's what my da always said too. He was very good at following that advice with horses and children."

He studies the bridle closely, with the same attention to detail that a jeweler would give a fine necklace. Finally, he turns to Juliana, "Jenpan, you say? I'm not familiar with it, but I'd be delighted to hear more. They sound like my kind of people.

"Shall we talk while we ride?"

"Let's," she agrees, and pats Manly. "Be good, princeling," she whispers to the horse.

Juliana does take some help mounting - this is a bigger horse than she's used to. Only two of the four guards follow, and they do stay back out of hearing distance. She seems content to take it slow enough to talk, for now.

"The Jepans live just outside the Golden Circle - I suppose you could say on the far side of Gaiga. Their culture is still very primative, very... earth based. They have interesting social roles, decided in interesting ways, but above all else they love their horses. They're horses are a bit smaller than the average Golden Circle horse, and much smaller than yours."

"They're a complicated people who live simply. We enjoyed our time there," she notes.

"I would like to visit them, someday. Sometimes. . ." He pauses, as though searching for the right words. "They seem like people I would like to know," he says, finally.

Juliana smiles like she knows what he's thinking. It's a sad but friendly little smile.

"How does she ride?"

"She rides wonderfully. Are you still angry with me?" Juliana asks.

"That's good to hear," he replies. "Sometimes, first time riders are overpowered, used to a beast they control, rather than a partner. A Kerrigan will be a good and loyal steed, but few people can control one through force of will." He runs his hand over his own mount's mane affectionately. Still staring ahead, focused on the trail, he seems to ignore her question until she is just about to speak again, when he says. "Duchess, I must apologize if I gave offense the other night, by anything I said, or did." There is emphasis on the last word, slight but noticable. "My anger runs hot, especially when fueled by concern for. . . those I care about."

Juliana nods. "My husband's anger runs hot too, but when he feels I may be in some danger, it flames. He'll kill you Varien, and he won't even wince." She sounds completely convinced this is true. "I don't think you realize how lucky you are he didn't kill you. If you need to know something about me, or him, try asking before breaking and entering. You'd be amazed at how much of the truth people will tell you if you just ask." She seems colder now, removed, but also a little hurt.

Varien makes a barely perceptable, "hnh" noise and is quiet for a long time, running his hands absent-mindedly through his horse's mane. When he speaks, it is something of a surprise. His voice is less casual, and also colder. His eyes are locked on the trail ahead, and his jaw is squarely set.

"People, and things, are rarely what they seem. What looks like a flat field is a nest of ruts and holes. Too often, an overconfident rider, running across a clearing that looks less dangerous than it is, will hobble his horse in a snake-hole. My riding instructor spent years trying to teach my brother and I that. Nowadays, he always knows what the ground ahead holds before he crosses it. I never learned to look before I lept, but the lesson that I took away was that nothing is as innocent as it pretends to be."

Here Juliana smiles the smile of the first woman, full of knowledge, and survival.

He takes a deep breath, and when he speaks his voice is light again. "But enough talk of killing. It is a beautiful day - I hate to see it darkened by such things. Whatever happens, happens, and we shall cross that field when we come to it. Tell me of your crusade."

"My crusade? Oh, my lord," she laughs lightly. "That is no crusade and do not let your mind construe it as such. It is simply, if we are speaking of my work in the city, it is simply that I could have been your Rachel, my lord. We come to these places in our lives where we have to make impossible choices, and I was lucky enough, some would say, to have had the alternative of marriage. Had I refused marriage, I would have been disowned and I know myself well enough to follow that path to its end. I don't oppose prostitution, in and of itself, I only oppose that a woman might have no other choice, so I try to give them one. And you get to know them. And once you know them, well, once I know them I can't help but care. Who will protect them?"

Varien raises an eyebrow, but smiles. "Indeed, who *will* protect the poor, downtrodden folk, with no alternatives? If you'll forgive me, my lady, it does sound crusade-like. May I ask what you do with these women, once you have taken them away from their former career?"

Any teasing you hear in his voice is slight, and he seems genuinely interested in hearing the answer.

"Lured them away, is more like it. We teach them. It depends, of course, on his or her prior education, if there has been any at all. When we started - Janet and I - it was sewing. How to sew, tailor, embroider. Soon there was a shop. Soon it got bigger. We might have twisted the arms of a few men with secrets into hiring on more help. Now there is a network, and all sorts of work, usually. Some of them don't want out, not at all, you know. And some of them are living better and making more money than any working class skill set can beat. So..." Juliana shrugs, and stretches in the saddle.

"All we do is teach them how to do something else. Some of them don't know anything else. This is what I missed the most about Amber while we were away - these women. So real, so true in thier humor, not this fake," she makes a gesture toward Varien's outfit, "pompery."

Varien leans back in the saddle, throws his head back and laughs. There is no malice in it, just an abundance of amusement.

"Pompery, indeed," he said. "I prefer the term foppery, although I was accused of frippery the other day, and that word is growing on me. I had, frankly, wondered what you did with women who said no. They have independence, a good living and a roof over their heads. For some of them, that is better than they care to hope for. Even merchants are rarely as independant as some of the ladies I've known.

"But," he packpedals, slightly. "If they want out, then it is a service you provide. I have so many questions, I hope my lady doesn't think I'm prying. I wonder, for example, what happens to the. . . managers that these women leave behind? And what of the women who become too frail for sewing? What do you do them, then?"

"Pimps have been a problem, more than once. If you ever see me about Southside nearly always there will be a very large scary looking man with me. That's James. He helps ensure they aren't a problem... for long. I think at this point, most of them have taken the hint, and move along when they find the cow no longer gives milk. But then, you'll notice the Duke doesn't allow me to travel without guards. As for the higher end of things, I've paid off brothel contracts, before. I negotiated them down a little first," she grins wickedly.

"But you asked what happens to the 'managers.' They are not my problem. I've picked the whores and the sons of the poor to help, and that's got my hands more than full enough. Now this frailness question I'll have to think on a minute. I think they don't generally just become too frail to sew, or whathaveyou. There is a natural progression. There is a... sense of community, now. Back when..." Juliana sighs.

"I've been doing this for 350 years, you know, I just wasn't here for 250 of them," she explains, "so there is a lot of history... People form relationships, my lord. Even with steady work the money isn't always excellent. New family groups form. The older women who can't work stay with the children while everyone else is out, and like that, you see?"

"Your community sounds like the best of the brothels I've known, although more Puritan," his emphasis on the word 'sounds' is slight, but to noticable not to be deliberate.

Juliana laughs.

"I would be interested to hear more about back when. I'm surprised you never thought of the pimps, though, since what you do forces them to replace their workforce. Usually with... younger girls, someone they can teach to fear them too much to ever leave. But you've been doing this for a long time, so you must have known that."

"Oh, I thought of them. There was a time when I did not have a Duke around for protection and if I hadn't thought of them, I'd be dead. All the early girls were married with husbands who'd had a run of bad luck on jobs, usually with families. Those husbands were glad to have their wives doing something else. Glad is the wrong word. Grateful. Sometimes... obsessively grateful, like James. So, back in the beginning... I was very careful. I only picked couples, maybe triads - I'd employ the man for more than he's making off them, get the women real work. By the time girls were leaving to come seek protection from me I had enough help around to keep us safe."

"Younger girls, yes," something incredibly painful shows in her expression for a moment, and then she just looks worried. "I could and can only do what I can do. There will always be women who come to fill the gap. Some young women, some older, but always, poor. I'm a Duchess, and as such I would certainly never want to suggest that I had sent men to do bodily damage to other men in order to make a *point* about abuse, and I would absolutely never admit that back when there were times when I was glad the watch was so easily bought."

There is something a little haunted about Juliana's eyes. "I would say there is an uneasy truce between the pimps, the brothel owners, and myself. I offer, I never cajole. I do not approach girls who work *inside*. I do not accost 'customers'. And so, the Mistress of the House of Flowers begroaned that I would steal away her girls while I had the chance, and so I tried, but I haven't seen Rachel since she left with you. Is she... well?"

"She is safe," he replies. "I've arranged for her to be. . . away, for the time being. Until she has a home to return to." He pauses, for a moment. "If you'll forgive me, my lady, I am still curious about your operation. When you save them, these women go to work for you in a factory, is that right?"

Juliana immediately looks completely affronted. "A factory? Are you bloody insane? A factory? Is that what you people think?" She pulls her horse to a stop.

Varien has been holding his reins loosely in his lap, and neither the reins nor his hands move, but his horse stops a few feet beyond Juliana's and then walks backwards until the pair are side-by-side again.

"You asked for honesty, my lady. And I am merely searching for truth. Although I am not sure what you mean by 'you people,' as I am but one man."

"I mean the bloody nobility," she tells him icily, "who would love to have the likes of me cease to polute their bloodlines, not that there is much chance of that, apparently."

Juliana takes a deep breath, and speaks in very measured tones. "No. They do not go to work for me in a factory. I am not saving anyone, they are saving themselves, which they would have doubtless have liked to do to begin with. They learn a skill and we try to help them find work somewhere, with someone. Something long term, something stable, something that is constructive in their lives."

Varien closes his eyes tightly for a few brief seconds, too late to hide injury.

When he opens them again, he is all smiles. "That *is* good to hear. You can never tell, especially with the nobility, always plotting and scheming. I mean, really, for all I knew you might have been sacrificing them to some dark god." He winks jovially at the Duchess. "Many of them are my friends, after all, and what kind of friend would I be if I let something terrible happen to someone I cared about?"

The young lord gives Juliana a considering look. "I hope you take my meaning, my lady, and I hope I have not offended you impardonably. Oh, and my lady? I earn my place in the scandal sheet by my actions, not on the backs of others' secrets." If she will meet his gaze, he says this last looking directly into her eyes, or as close as Amber etiquitte will allow.

Juliana has not smiled throughout or given the least sign of caring for his jollyness. She meets his eyes, damning etiquette, and sighs. "I have no bloody idea what that means, Varien. Why don't you explain it to me, slowly."

Varien's mirth fades as quickly as it came. "It means, my lady, that although a secret shared is, generally, not a secret at all, I have no patience or time for the gossip of the rich, beyond what I need to know to sell horses. If there is, as you imply, no danger of you 'polluting' the blood, to use your words, I have neither heard of it elsewhere, nor will it go beyond me. And, Juliana, if that means what I think it means, I am sorry."

She holds her face still, and shows only a second of vulnerability before her eyes darken with hard determination. "Don't be sorry, for that is not over yet."

She moves her horse forward again. "Perhaps I've misjudged you," she says.

Varien keeps pace, a slight smile playing on his lips. "That would make two of us," he replies. "You mentioned that the Kerrigan was for your neice, is that right? Can you tell me a little about her? Each animal is different, and the more I know about the rider, the better a match we can make."

Juliana smiles, softly this time. "Well, they're actually my... cousins by marriage, but Ph... the Duke is so much like an uncle to them, I think of them as nieces. I was thinking of the youngest. She'd be making her debut, now, if she had any interest in such nonsense. She doesn't, and I expect she's going to travel soon. I think she might do well with your horses since..." Juliana makes a little worried face before she can stop herself. "Well, that thing you do, the standing on the backs of two horses; she does that. Riding at full tilt and swinging down to pick something off the ground, she loves. Jumping. All sorts of dare-deviltry. The horses love her though. They fight for her attention when she goes into the stable. And she loves them back, though I swear one day she may very well get herself and a horse both killed."

Juliana shrugs. "So there you are. A nice safe home for your babies."

"Excellent," he says, with a broad smile. "I have just the animal in mind, back at the stable. They're all strong, and strong willed, but she will need a confident beast, and a young one. I have a smart gelding of about a year who is. . . adventurous. It will travel well with her, and should keep her safe. I had. . . a hand in training it, so I know it has been put through its paces.

"However, it might be good for one of my grooms, or I, to spend a day with her, to show her the verbal and movement cues that the Kerrigan has been taught. If she can learn those, she will find this animal like no other. Some owners prefer not to learn, intending to teach the Kerrian their own commands. In those cases, well, they do still get a better than average fine horse, but I don't think they truly experience the Kerrian's potential. They are not easy to train.

"But I go on. I could talk about them for hours and never say a thing. Ah well, at least I love them. I imagine I'll still be training them when I'm five hundred and my brother has taken over the reins from my father."

He stares at the path ahead for a moment, and then says, quietly. "The Duke has nothing to fear from me. Not that he ever did, mind you."

Juliana looks on Varien with a touch of pity before she hides it. "I think, because of the way my husband was raised, any violation of the sanctity of his home, he considers a threat to his family. Threats to his family are not tolerated. I believe you've gotten your second chance, my lord, but I don't think there would be another, if he felt threatened again."

"No one responds well to threats to their family," he replies. "Whether it is their family by birth, marriage or choice. No matter whether the threats are real or imagined. An imagined threat, or one that comes from bad information, must be treated just as seriously as a real one, especially by the head of a House. I respect that, and I won't try to gainsay the accusations. As I said: he has nothing to fear from me."

"I'm glad for you then," Juliana says, but doesn't exactly sound convinced.

"No one knows about Rachel, no one but you. It would be best if it were to stay that way. I am a young man about town, and the women who work with her know me well. You might call them my family away from home. Any threat to them, real or," he glances at the Duchess. "Imagined, must be dealt with. Firmly.

Juliana gives him a curious eyebrow.

"I won't ask how the Duke came to the conclusion that I was a threat, although I am extremely curious." The jovial tone returns to his voice, with a slightly conspiratorial undertone, like a schoolboy planning to cut class. His words are tight, almost a babble, allowing no space for interruption. "It's probably a very interesting story, though. I would bet that we all have interesting stories: the Duke, my lady, myself, even, I don't know, the sisters whose company I enjoy so much. Why, my father used to tell a story of a young man who so loved horses that a great wizard gave him the power to command them with his voice, even to become one when he needed to, a gift that was passed down in the family like a fine sword. But my father loved to tell stories, and I think that maybe I inherited some of his talkativeness. Not to people, mind you. He hates just about everyone on two legs, but he would spend hours in the stables telling stories to the Kerrigans. Sometimes, my brother and I would sit outside the stable door, just out of sight, to listen. It was the only time the old man played storyteller for us. But, ah, how I love a good yarn."

His smile, when he pauses for breath, is genuine and free of worry or any indication of a heavy heart. Even his eyes, now, sparkle with mischief.

Juliana's eyes reflect that. "Do you want a story, Little Varien?" she asks.

It is Varien's turn to raise a curious eyebrow, although he allows the epithet to go unremarked upon. "By all means, Madame," he says, deliberately elongating his "a's." He motions for Juliana to go on.

"There once was a little girl who adored her father. She was intelligent enough to take horrible advantage of his propensity towards spoiling her, giving her nearly everything she desired in an attempt to distract her from her mother's contempt toward her. The girl was too smart not to know her mother hated her, but also smart enough to play along with her father's game."

"Eventually, the little girl grew up into a spoiled, beautiful, selfish woman. Her mother saw the opportunity to make a good deal of money and be rid of her presence by selling her off into an advantageous marriage. The woman, still really a girl, wanted to leave as badly as her mother wanted her gone. Her father resisted this duo hunt for a husband, at first. He didn't like watching his little girl dressed up and paraded about and flirting."

"Most of the men the woman found interesting saw her for what she was - a spoiled girl with a difficult, entitled attitude. She got no offers until after the season ended, and then only one. Her father immediately accepted it, overwhelmed by what he might do for his tenants, who had lived poor much too long, with such a generous bride price. The young woman refused, because this man was old, much too old, much too traditional."

"Her mother locked her in her room, and would occasionally come to lecture her about the merits of such a marriage. A title. The money. Duty to one's house. The promises of a short marriage and an early widowhood. Freedom from her parent's home - a place of her own. When none of that worked, her mother informed her she would do her duty to the house, or she would be disowned."

"The young woman shoved her mother aside and made the unlocked door, stepping into the hall to find her father and confront him. But there he was in the hall, arms crossed, and his eyes speaking the truth of this betrayal. The girl raged and screamed and threw hate words and anything that might break. And sobbed. She refused to eat. None of it mattered. No tantrums would change her father's mind, no begging made any difference. When she'd weakened herself too much to fight anymore, her father came. He pulled her into his lap, held her gently and explained the alternatives."

"But what alternative does a young lady with no skills have? Only one. So in the end, because she was afraid of being alone in the world, and because she was afraid her parents would kill her before they let her go, she did her duty to her house. Being sold to one man seemed a better option than being sold to many. Many girls would argue that it's true, especially a titled man with land and income. She regretted the choice. She came to believe she would have been happier running away to the City, supporting herself, even if that meant prostitution."

Juliana speaks just like she's telling a story she heard, whose moral is, sometimes the wrong thing to do is the right thing to do. The horse, though, reflects a little of her inner agitation.

Varien listens to the story, nodding at the right moments, his face not betraying any emotion other than polite interest.

When the horse starts to twitch, Varien hums a soft melody, almost under his breath, and the animal calms, slightly.

When Juliana pauses, he waits a moment before speaking, in case she is going to continue.

"It seems to me," he says, his voice soft. "That the girl's father may have been selling her short. I know very little about being a woman, but I imagine it is a bit like being a second son. No land. No title. No money of one's own. It has been hinted more than once that I, myself, would do well to join the priesthood, like so many other sons have. And that, if my lady will pardon my blackened soul, is just another kind of prostitution."

Juliana smiles at that, but makes no comment.

"But if someone is strong willed enough, the world will bow to them and they can make their own path. Maybe I'm young and idealistic and have read too much about self-determination. The girl, and if you know any more stories about her I would love to hear them, reminds me a lot of myself. Headstrong, impulsive, passionate. Words thrown my way as curses so often that they became as much a title as Lord. But I found a book in our library, a gift from one of my father's clients, and I will never forget what it said. 'The will is by its nature so free that it can never be constrained.'" He shrugs, slightly, as though dismissing his own thoughts."

"I wonder what the young woman of your story would have accomplished on her own, had she not been shackled so."

Juliana sighs. "One does wonder. Sins beget sins, Varien - where lies redemption? If I ride fast enough, will all the bad things blow away?"

He can tell she's about to move her horse into an unconversational pace.

"I've been trying for years, my Lady, and haven't managed yet. But that only makes me more determined. Shall we give it a try?"

His posture changes, as well, and while he is clearly following Juliana's lead, he is ready to race.

"Indeed," she says, as she sets off. The Duchess likes speed, but she's an extremely good rider. If she didn't have such incredible instincts one might think her self-destructive. She might actually be fleeing demons, but for the joy in her face. She is certainly testing the horse, and if the horse fails it will be at her own peril.

However fast the she rides, Varien keeps up, although he lags enough behind that Juliana can't see his expression.

The Dutchess discovers two things about the Kerrigan: It is immediately apparent that it is (most likely) faster than any horse she has ever ridden. After some time and distance, an experienced rider will notice that the Kerrigan won't get tired for a long, long time. The Dutchess might begin to suspect that she could ride this horse to Jenpa and back, at speed, before it became winded.

Then Varien gets to watch her fall in love by degrees. She's certainly not a quiet rider - she's loud in her praises and encouragement. Juliana doesn't stop when she's tired, but only when she glances back and realizes she's lost her guard. Then she pulls up and slows the horse by degrees, and then keeps her walking, but back the way they came.

Her color is high and her hair wrecked, but she blushes even more. "Well, now I'm going to hear it," she pants.

Varien smiles, broad and real.

"Magnificient, isn't she?" When he begins talking, his eyes are on the Dutchess, and by the time he finishes his statement, they have shifted to the Kerrigan.

"Consider that one a gift, if you want her. They are trained without a name - that's the first bit of imprinting we suggest that a rider do. And, as I said, I'd be happy to give your neice a couple of lessons. I'm sure she has a regular riding instructor, but the Kerrigans require some special training, especially for younger riders."

He pulls up next to her as he speaks. His voice is even: not a hard sell but a polite suggestion.

"That would be the second horse you've given me, Varien. I'm not sure I can accept that, much as I love her. I have to talk to the Duke," Juliana says, and looks past his shoulder again for the guards that should be coming any time. She seems suddenly quite nervous, although, again, the horse is betraying it more than she is. She leans down and pats the mare's neck and whispers to her.

"My neices are all grown women, at any rate," she smiles. "Although if the Duke will allow, they may gang up on you for riding lessons."

Varien turns his head to follow her gaze and nods.

"We should be getting back," he says.

"Yes," she agrees, and the edge is there. She's afraid now, and even though she gives no outward appearance of it, it's in her voice. She glances around, and talks more quietly, as if someone else might hear her. "I hope it doesn't offend you, but anyone might take advantage of your property and my propensity to throw caution to the wind once on horseback."

Take advantage to do what, exactly, she leaves unsaid. "And I should not have left them behind." She starts her horse back the way they came, but at a walk. Juliana seems to be on high alert, paying attention now to everything, as if she does not know what to look or listen for.

Varien keeps pace with her, but gives no indication that he's joining in her paranoia. He doesn't chatter to her, but hums a quiet tune and pets his horse. He has the quiet confidence of a person who has nothing to fear from the world, walking along beside her, and he petting the animal's mane.

Juliana seems slightly calmer as they move, and eventually, one of her guards come riding up. She actually looks a little guilty, not like a schoolgirl caught out but like someone who has done something very bad, and knows it.

She apologizes to this one, named Robert.

"No need to apologize to me, your Grace," he pants, winded. Something silent passes between the two of them, and she looks down. The guard tips his hat to Varien.

After a quiet moment she asks, "So everyone went off in different directions."

"Seemed like a plan, milady. A man can't track at speed."

"No, I suppose you can't. Well, they'll come back to the stables?"

"Yes," he agrees.

Juliana doesn't ask him to hang back and he doesn't offer. She seems to pull herself together, hidden behind a mask once again, to smile at Varien.

"All the drama that is my life, my lord. I will speak with the Duke and send you a note. She certainly proved out her speed." Juliana meets Varien's eyes, but the diplomat's face is definitely on, for some reason.

When Robert first looks at Varien, the young lord meets then man's eyes, his face stern and serious, not challenging so much as communicating, man to man, that nothing untoward took place.

Through the rest of the Dutchess' conversation with her escort, Varien politely feigns a deep interest in the state of his saddle.

When he looks up and meets Juliana's eyes, his face, too, is a mask. "I am relieved that you find her agreeable, my lady. If you would care to return to the stables, I can have refershments brought out while we wait for your men. And, naturally, we should have their animals fed and watered before sending you on your way."

He waves away any objection before it can be voiced. "If they are out beating the bush for you, it's the least I can do. No one could have predicted how outmatched their horses would be."

Juliana smiles, that little bad girl smile again. "Oh, no, I knew better. There are few things in life I refuse to deny myself, and riding full out is one of those. If it gets me killed someday, well, I shall have lived, at least. At least that much."

Juliana doesn't argue with any of his assertions, but seems, while guilty, quite content. When they get back to the stables she takes help dismounting, and then goes to whisper to the mare she's been riding again. She's at this quite a few minutes, her arms up around the animal's neck, petting her. Juliana's eyes are closed and she doesn't seem to care in the least what anyone around thinks of her.

The first of the guards comes back in, glances at the lady, glances at the other guard, and bows. He doesn't look happy, and he's having a hard time suppressing it. Juliana ignores him, quite pointedly, and goes out to visit with the stallion she came in on. She lets Varien's people refresh her guards, but she doesn't take anything for herself. She instead seems happy to have some mysterious conversation with her horse. He is, again, trying to get her to leave, and she's teasing him, again.

As the last of the guards trickle in and get rehydrated, Juliana comes back over to smile at Varien sheepishly. "My stallion thinks there is something wrong with your horses. I suspect it's because they're so large. Can you tell me where they came from, or how you got them like this, without giving away the family business?"

-- Main.LizTrumitch - 07 Dec 2004