Grabbing a bucket and towels, Tamra began to sop up the blood.
Raia helped Trainer Verlas clean the stable, while the others hauled away the dead kehok. Neither of them spoke. When the blood was mopped up, she helped repair the broken stall. Again in silence.
She spent most of the day chasing the same set of thoughts around her head: Her kehok was deadly. All kehoks were, but hers was worse than most. How was she supposed to ride him in a race? And how was she supposed to win? It had taken three grown trainers and a batch of students to subdue the beast. If I try to ride him, he’ll kill me.
This was a foolish, impossible plan.
By the time the repairs were finished, Raia had convinced herself to quit. But she couldn’t say the words. Not with Trainer Verlas so silent.
Growing up in her house, Raia knew how to read silences. There were peaceful ones, where you were content inside the warmth of your own thoughts. There were waiting silences, where you watched time stretch and lengthen. And there were silences like the sky that expects a storm, where the air quivers with unshed lightning—angry silences that you don’t dare break. This was one of those, and Raia knew better than to break a quivering quiet.
Tamra spoke first. “You’ll stay with me and my daughter tonight.”
“I . . .”
“I’m not leaving you here with him. Not tonight. Or any other night. It won’t be luxurious, but we have enough spare blankets that you can set up a pallet on the kitchen floor. At least you won’t have to worry about your kehok breaking through the wall while you’re asleep.” She glared at the kehok.
Tell her you want to quit, her mind whispered. But Raia couldn’t bring herself to say the words. Especially not if speaking up meant she’d lose the offer of a safe place to sleep tonight. She glanced once at the black lion, pinned beneath his chains. She hadn’t relished the thought of another night near the monsters, not with the image of what he’d done so stark in her mind, but a night in a real house, safe and warm . . . It was too much temptation. She told herself she was being practical, not cowardly, though she was glad there was no augur around to read her aura right now. I’ll tell her in the morning.
Leaving the stable, she trailed Trainer Verlas across the sands and toward the city. The sun had begun to set while they were cleaning up from today’s catastrophe. It painted the sky with streaks of rust, and it made the Aur River look like liquid gold.
It was only a couple miles before they reached the cluster of houses and shops on the northern shore of the river, the poorer area of Peron. Raia noticed that a lot of the shops were boarded up, and all the homes looked worn-out, as if they’d weathered too many people and too many years. Up close, the white walls were stained from age, and the blue roof tiles were chipped. By doorways, statues honoring the ancestors’ vessels were cheap stone carvings, roughly in the shape of herons, turtles, and hippos. Well-loved, she corrected, not worn-out. Still, she hoped it was safe to be out after dark here. She’d heard rumors of riots in some cities. Even a few deaths.
As they walked between the houses and shops, she watched her trainer brighten when she saw a soft amber glow through some curtained windows. Her pace quickened, and Raia hurried after her.
Raia checked her hands. She’d scrubbed the blood and dirt off of them at the stables. She couldn’t do anything about the speckled grime on her tunic. She hoped she was suitable enough to meet her trainer’s daughter. She always got nervous meeting new people. She thought of Silar, Algana, and Jalimo, and how she’d felt when she met them—that hadn’t been her finest moment, convinced they planned to pummel her.
“Shalla!” Trainer Verlas cried.
Following her inside, Raia saw Trainer Verlas hugging a young girl who was hugging her back just as happily. She looked to be about ten or eleven and reminded Raia of the kind of bird that pecked for bugs on the riverbank—all quick movements and alert eyes. When they broke apart, the girl asked, “Mama, is that blood? Are you hurt?”
“Not mine, and nothing for you to worry about,” Trainer Verlas said. “It was a difficult day, but