I've wanted to write about the Doi ever since December, when Sapphire Blue asked what to write about (see the poll). I got a little sidetracked with three other stories (Thom/Altair. Kel/Dom and I'm still watching Namiir). But it's time this new character came into play. WARNING: contains a lot more angst than anything else I've written.

Let me know what you think of her; please ignore the obvious wildmage and Trickster's parallels, and enjoy.

***************************************

Sullenly, Kizzy stared down at the auctioneers. Her curling brown hair had been shaven; her skin hung loose around a bony body. She ached from the bruises she’d suffered after a month in the slave pits. Her tan skin had paled; her mismatched green and hazel eyes had gone hard, dull. Most of her family had already been sold, she was one the remaining members of Riverfate clan. She shot a look of unbridled hatred over at the slavers outside the pen. They’d sold her brother, her mother, her aunts and cousins. Most of the Riverfate men were dead.

“Any takers on the Doi whelp?” The captain called. “Good teeth, strong limbs, young…we’ll start the bidding at a three copper nobles, a steal.”

You’d know all about that, wouldn’t you? Kizzy thought bitterly. you filthy bas—

“Seven nobles.” A weasely looking trader called back. Kizzy felt her chest tighten. Not a man, not a man like that, she pleaded. She didn’t address her prayers to any god in particular, she wasn’t sure she still believed in them.

She tried to hold back tears of desperation. Glittering, her eyes again raked through the crowd of scavengers and swine. There was but one woman among them, and the K’mir was clearly just passing through. She led her pony with single-minded force, scowling at the men she passed. Her eyes darted quickly onto the platform, where they were caught and held by Kizzy.

The girl’s heritage took over. With a flash of Sight, she saw the K’miri woman leading a string of ponies across the mountains. She had a large dog with her, and the odd group trekked wearily onward.

The K’mir stopped. “ten nobles.” She called.

Kizzy, hating herself, couldn’t stop the small knot of hope that grew in her heart.

“Ten nobles.” The captain repeated. “Going once…twice…SOLD!” he boomed. Someone grabbed Kizzy roughly and led her down off the platform. Three weeks ago, she would have struggled. Now, she marched with the wooden gait of a simacrulum.

She watched as the K’miri paid her sum, as the “trader” explained the collar.

“Take it off.” The K’miri said in disgust. “I won’t be needing it. I’m a mage myself.” The slave mage tried to argue; slaves couldn’t be trusted, especially ones so recently broken.

Broken. Like a horse to bridle. Kizzy looked down at the rags she wore. She knew horses that were better off.

The collar came off. “C’mon, let’s get you some real clothes.” The woman grunted.

Kizzy hesitated. She didn’t know the rules governing master-to-slave protocol, was she allowed to ask the name of her owner? Once they were out of earshot of the slavers, Kizzy asked hesitantly, “Madam, may I know who I am to serve?”

The K’miri swung around, grinning sheepishly. “Call me Onua, I’m a horse mistress for Tortall. I’ll be moving ponies from this port to Corus, where they’ll be trained for the Queen’s riders.”

“Oh.” Kizzy’s voice was small. She wasn’t sure what to do with the information. Slavery was illegal in Tortall, but what did that mean for her?

“And what’s your name, lass?” Onua asked.

“Kizzy.” She didn’t add her family name or what she was. Riverfate were a dying group within the clans; and their mages had the ability to See much more than was considered natural, even by Doi standards. Not just the future, they could sense human emotions—the strongest of Kizzy’s heritage were rumored to be able to read specific thoughts.

“The slaver mentioned you were a Doi.” Onua probed gently.

“ ‘was’ bakes no bread.” Kizzy responded automatically. She cringed, preparing for Onua’s backlash. Instead, the horse mistress chortled with surprise.

“You’ve got fire in you yet, that’s good. In case you’re wondering, I’m not planning to keep you as a slave, but I need help getting my ponies back to Corus. I’m just picking up about two dozen of a new breed from Carthak; I want to see how well they work with Riders. We’ve been losing ponies in the war; this batch will mostly be replacements.”

Onua paused. Her eyes narrowed for a moment, trying to figure out exactly what it was that drew her to the girl. It was the eyes. After spending so much time with the likes of Numair, Alanna, and Daine, Onua had acquired a knack for picking out the unnatural. Kizzy had one hazel eye, one green. It was unsettling.

She continued, “Either you find a way to repay me now, or we travel together, and you work off your debt. Once we get to Corus, you may choose to join up with the riders, or maybe seek out a job in Corus. It’ll be up to you.” Onua shrugged.

Kizzy looked down and studied the ground. Right now, she badly wanted to run back to the slave pens, preferably with a sharp object, and cut the captain and his crew into bloody pieces. After that, she’d steal their ship and set out on a journey across the world and find her family. She shook off her wild schemes and nodded slowly. She let out a barely audible “thank you.”

“Know anything about ponies?” Onua added.

“Stay away from their hooves, and their teeth, if you can manage it.” That summed up Kizzy’s horse sense.

Onua laughed again. “Oh, I can’t wait until we get home.”

I'm reading LR right now, and had considered a Doi story next, but desided not to. I shall write a little on Namiir, if it makes you happy. Personally, you and I are the only people that actually post regularly. You know what I mean?

  

Yeah, I just wish people (if they're out there) weren't so shy.

okay, lots more Diane parallels in this one, sorry, I'll get somewhere new eventually.

*************

Kizzy could sense human emotions, but horses were another matter. As she finished her chores for the night, her new clothes were covered in spit and she had a welt growing on her upper arm where the head stallion had gotten in a lucky snap. She tucked the brushes and picks away in Onua’s saddlebags and wearily trudged down over to a stream for a drink. They’d been on the road for a day, and were now somewhere close to the Tortall/ Tyra border.

Kizzy had found out the hard way that her new mistress wasn’t a morning person. The Doi girl could feel Onua’s restlessness and short temper as the woman prepared breakfast. Kizzy reacted by moving around as quietly as possible—something that only made the K’mir more irritable.

“You’re a girl, not a mouse. Act accordingly.” She snapped.

Kizzy couldn’t help but wish she was a mouse. “Yes ma’am.” She replied respectfully, before disappearing off to dig the latrine.

The horse mistress had settled down by lunch and apologized for her temper. Kizzy shrugged it off with a little relief.

As they started moving again, Onua’s dog stayed on Kizzy’s heels, sniffing and growling warily at his new companion. Finally, up at the front, Onua’s overheard her dog’s rumbling and called him off. Tahoi suddenly switched from guard dog to oversized puppy, panting and wagging his tail. Kizzy still made sure to give him plenty of room.

She was exhausted by the time they reached the town of Maldon. It was nestled in farmland; and the streets bustled with farmers trading surplus crops. The two women rounded up their ponies and put them in a corral for the evening. After almost a half hour of coaxing, bribing, and threatening, the ponies were finally all in the pen.

“Sometimes, I wish Daine wasn’t so busy saving the world.” Onua muttered. Kizzy tilted her head questioningly. Onua met her eyes, and the images flooded over.

Daine had long brown curls, soft feminine lips and a smooth face. She wrinkled her nose like a badger and---

“You’re doing it again.” Onua interrupted, as she broke eye contact. “Your eyes go all hazy and you look like you’re watching a play only you can see.”

“It’s…nothing.” Kizzy stammered. “I have a bit of a wild imagination, that’s all.”

“hmm.” Onua didn’t sound convinced. “Did the slavers test you for magic?”

“Yes ma’am. They only found the flutter of wild magic that all my people have.” And they’d only seen that because Kizzy had wanted them too. Illusions were one of Kizzy’s strongest abilities. But she wasn’t about to share that with Onua. “I can do simple tricks, palm readings, but that’s more like mathematics and patterns than magic.” She shrugged easily, as if the matter was of little consequence.

They stayed in an inn that evening, and Kizzy rested on a pallet next to Onua’s bed. Compared to life on the slave ship this was…Kizzy couldn’t even finish that thought. Tears stung her eyes again, and she silently cursed her own weakness. She was Riverfate, she would be strong.

Kizzy dozed off, only to be awakened several hours later by the sound of Onua’s soft whispers.

“Thayet, you’re gonna love this. I accidentally adopted a Doi girl today” There was a pause as Onua listened to someone speak. “I don’t know, she just caught my eyes in the slave market and” another pause, “no, it was more than a simple hypnosis, we locked eyes and I felt compelled, if she doesn’t have the Gift, I’ll eat the herd…she denies it, but what else did you expect? She was captured by slavers.”

Kizzy shifted uncomfortably, and Onua realized she was awake. Hurriedly, the older woman tucked a small, dark object out of sight. The females stared at each other awkwardly for a moment. Finally, Onua cleared her throat.

“How much did you hear?” She asked gingerly.

“Enough.” Kizzy’s voice cracked. “How did you—who were you talking to?” She tried to focus on a more comfortable topic.

Onua frowned, trying to answer that question without lying too much. The darking had other ideas. It swarmed up from its hiding place and glided across the floor to look at Kizzy.

“I’m Twiggle, and I’m a darking.” It squeaked. “Made from stormwing blood, I talk to other darkings like me. What one sees, we all see, no matter how far the distance. We work for Tortall—and the Kyprian isles—as messengers and spies.”

Kizzy blinked at the small creature in front of her. “You…you were using Sight to show Onua another person? A Thayet?”

“Queen Thayet of Tortall.” The Darking corrected gently. Its voice was high, but somehow dignified.

Kizzy blanched. “You were talking to a Queen about me?!” Her voice went nearly as high as the Darkings.

Onua crossed her arms and stared down at the small, frightened creature. “Thayet is a close personal friend, and I talk to her about many things. I was just thinking about how you caught my attention in the marketplace. Are you going to tell me now?”

Kizzy looked away. “I didn’t do it intentionally.” She admitted.

Onua waited for more, but that was all the girl offered. With a grunt, the K’mir settled back into bed and went to sleep.

It was Kizzy who laid awake long afterwards, trying to sort through the confused mess of thoughts and emotions racing through her mind.

Twiggle!! OK, time to pay up, Tabby. You said that if we got two more posts on Namiir, you would write about what's-their-names. I posted (1) and you posted (2) I know my basic math, (but not much else) 1+1=2

  

Another update (in case anyone cares)

*******************

The next morning, Onua decided to take some time for a small shopping excursion. “You’ll be needing shoes soon enough. I don’t know where you’ve traveled, but the winters in Tortall are cold. How many seasons are you anyway?”

“Seventeen.” Kizzy replied. She was a bit tall for a girl, and currently she looked half-starved. Her breasts were small and her arms and legs seemed too long for her body. Kinder folk described her as ‘willowy.’ Her head was several inches higher than Onua’s, so she wasn’t a giant, but she could look most men in the eye.

Onua walked over to the shoemakers stall and bought a serviceable pair of moccasins for Kizzy to wear. They wandered a bit farther down the street; turned off on a side road. Suddenly they were assaulted by a string of shouts and an assortment of unpleasant smells.

Men were everywhere, placing bets, boasting and taunting each other. Horses stood about, bridled and wearing the lighter saddles used for racing. Onua’s face lit in a predatory grin and she nudged Kizzy conspiratorially. “Watch this. A chance for some easy money; if you know your way around horse flesh.” Kizzy glanced around, willing herself not to meet anyone’s eyes. The last thing she needed was a vision right now. She followed Onua as they waded toward the nearest bet collector, and Onua began asking for names and horses.

“That one, over there, keep an eye on him.” The collector pointed over to a large white stallion. “Won the last three years, he did. I don’t bet against him anymore.”

Kizzy looked over at the horse, but her eyes were caught by a rider standing nearby. The rider was female, a slight girl probably younger than Kizzy herself. The jockey stood solidly by a small, chestnut mare. Kizzy looked at them and saw…

“Onua.” Kizzy tugged her mistress’s sleeve. “Who’re they?”

“Them?” The collector looked over at the pair in disgust. “New ‘uns, hungry for glory. Won’t last past the first stretch, mark my words. Mare’s too small, girl sits like a sack of potatoes.”

“Onua.” Kizzy’s voice was insistent. “Bet on that pair.”

The rider overheard the conversation and grinned, giving a thumbs up. Her green eyes flashed with confidence and her bravado was met with several guffaws from the surrounding crowd.

Onua looked at Kizzy as though she was daft. “You don’t know the first thing about horses, I’ve seen that myself. I recognize the need for female solidarity, but not enough to waste my coin--

“Then I want to bet on her. You against me. Double or nothing on the 10 copper nobles I owe you.” Kizzy was talking fast, breathless. This could work, if Onua didn’t suspect too much.

Onua’s gaze narrowed again. She opened her mouth, ready to pose a question when someone nearby whistled.

“Ten copper nobles, that’s quite a sum, youngling. And twenty nobles….well!” The speaker was stocky, broad shouldered man with a good-natured grin and roguish glint in his eye. He appeared to be about twenty, with a little brown stubble growing on his chin, his long hair was tied back with a string. He studied Kizzy for a moment then turned to the collector. “They say luck be a lady. Mayhap I’d better listen and leave my fortunes to the guidance of the lasses present.” He winked at the rider, who smiled back brashly.

The collected looked smug. “How much will you owe me?” He asked sarcastically.

“I’ll place a silver noble on the green eyed lass and her mare.” The stranger held out the coin.

Kizzy frowned at the gambler. He was too easily swayed by her comment. He was either a fool, a rich fool, or he knew something he wasn’t supposed too. His skin was too light to be Doi; he looked perhaps to be from Tusaine or Scanra.

He offered out his hand to Onua, who grasped it. “Onua, horse mistress for Queen’s Riders.” She said pleasantly.

“Ragnar, sword for hire, and currently unemployed. And who’s this charming creature?” His gaze turned to Kizzy, who was instantly fascinated by the sidewalk. She resisted the urge to sidle behind Onua.

The silence grew until Onua made the introduction. “Says her name’s Kizzy. I’m still figuring out what she is.”

Even though she was looking down, Kizzy could feel Ragnar’s gaze. She could feel him adding up her bruises, factoring in her shaved head and her submissive demeanor. Annoyed, she looked up at him. She was NOT submissive!

“Any particular reason you choose Sass and her mare so quickly?” He asked quietly. His eyes were a pale, gray blue with flecks of green and brown; Kizzy quickly directed her gaze somewhere slightly over his shoulder. Those eyes were a little too perceptive for her tastes.

“They look like they want it most.” Kizzy forced her shrug to look casual.

“Mirthos.” He whispered. “Look up at me again. Please.” He added as an afterthought.

Reluctantly, because she couldn’t think of an excuse, Kizzy looked back into that trapping stare. “One green eye, one hazel. Is that a family trait, lass?” His speech had an odd twang too it, almost lilting, drawing out his ‘a’s’ and skipping lightly over the ‘t’s’.

Kizzy was saved from having to answer that question, as everyone bustled toward the starting line. There were ten pairs in all. The rider and horses lined up, and a boy ran out to wave a flag. The horses were off, racing like the wind itself. There was a large amount of scuffling between riders, and two men were even thrown from the saddle.

The greened eyed girl—Sass, as Ragnar had called her—was right on the heels of the white stallion, and she was gaining. The race was short, only a few hundred paces, around a pole and then back. The stallion started to turn first, but came a little too close to the pole, knocking it with his hip. That was all the advantage Sass and her mare needed. They sped up, and Sass shoved the stallion’s rider as they passed. He stayed on, but the move had cost him.

The chestnut mare leapt across the finish line, prancing as she slowed to a canter, and then a walk. The crowd parted respectfully as the horse slowed. Sass’s grin was broader than ever, and she gave Kizzy a second thumbs up. The Doi girl tried to stop her annoyance from showing. Sass was good, but she was arrogant, and someday, it would cost her. Kizzy didn’t need a vision to know that.

Onua yanked her young charge away from the press of the crowd, away from the races and back to the main strip. “Are you still going to pretend you’re gift-less now? You’re either mad or you’ve got Doi sight.”

“What about that man? Ragnar? Are you going to accuse him of being Gifted because he picked the mare too? Maybe I’ve had my share of bad luck, and this was the fortune’s way of balancing the scales.”

Onua couldn’t prove anything, and they both knew it.

The K’miri sighed. “Why won’t you admit it? The Gift isn’t a bad thing to have, if nothing else, people will respect you for it.”

Unless your “Gift” is prophecy. Kizzy thought. Then, people want their fortunes read, but they get angry when you say something they don’t want to hear. They say your lying, or if you gamble, they say you cheated. Stubbornly, Kizzy refused to admit her skills. “It was a lucky guess.” She repeated.

Onua hrummphed and marched back to the inn. Kizzy followed; feeling she’d won this round.

*****************

Okay, maybe this character is just a blend of every famed Tortall woman. This chapter was distinctly bekah-ish. Especially the eyes and shyness parts. Not to mention Ragnar.

Very much Beka-ish. But, greatly enjoyed=} Oh, and I care!

  

Can anybody else picture Onua/Sarge? Just something I thought of as I was writing this...(but no, that's not what happens in this chapter)

********************

The matter of the wager was dropped; Kizzy had no place to go anyway, and Onua had never agreed to the bet. Their days on the road fell into a pattern; Onua did most of the pony work, while Kizzy handled almost all aspects of the camp. Cooking, tent pitching, latrine duty, these were all familiar activities to a girl who spent her life on the road. The only thing missing was her family.

Twiggle, the Darking, seemed to be the one creature in the group who enjoyed Kizzy’s presence. When Onua and Tahoi went off with the horses, Twiggle stayed behind. He liked to talk, to learn, and Kizzy was adding to his Doi vocabulary.

Chinner—hatchet. bok—luck. dinili—Fool. Divi—Crazy.

One day, Kizzy woke up to find two darkings where there had been one. The original Twiggle explained the Darking methods of splitting, and asked if Kizzy had any suggestions for the new Darking’s name. “Kámmoben. We can call him Kam for short. It means ‘friendship.’” She explained.

The Darkings let out little chitters of excitement; Kam still couldn’t form words. Carefully, Kizzy tucked the small creature into her pocket.

By the time they were on the road, Kam had migrated to her forehead, where he wrapped his body around her like a very thin headband. She rubbed him absently and he purred in response.

************

They made it back to Corus by the end of the week, and Kizzy couldn’t be happier to see the ponies off to new owners. It wasn’t that she disliked the beasts, but she lacked a connection with them, the way she and Kam seemed to get along. Onua tried to take the little Darking to the Crown for reassignment, but the little creature refused to go.

“Kam stay. Kam is friend. Kizzy Kam.” It squeaked.

Twiggle bobbed his head in acceptance. “Darkings have right to choose. That’s why we worked for the Crown, not Ozorne. Kam made his choice.”

Kizzy petted her little friend gratefully, now enjoying the purring warmth he sent back.

************

Kizzy was given a bed in the Rider barracks, and she nearly jumped out of her skin the first day Sarge woke up the trainees. His bellowing had a somewhat more diminutive effect on the Riders used to his methods, but Kizzy had been unprepared for the human alarm bell.

As she passed the man on the way down to the mess hall, she noticed the scars on his arms. The big black man didn’t miss her cropped hair. His eyes were, uncharacteristically, empathetic.

She caught a glimpse of his life before Tortall. She winced as a whip cracked in her minds’ eye. A sweat-covered, younger Sarge toiled through a tropical marketplace, part of a team moving stone blocks for a building project. Blood mingled with sweat, the stench—

“Onua mentioned something was strange about you.” Sarge’s voice was deep, but quiet. “Your eyes; you’ve seen more than your share, haven’t you, youngling?”

Kizzy blinked. Tentatively, she reached out to pat the big man’s wrist. It was like patting a good-sized tree. “Not as much as you, I’m sure.” She replied with a weak smile.

Sarge grunted, then turned to yell at a couple loitering trainees. “The Crown has seen fit to give you breakfast, not dinner and a show. MOVE IT!” The trainees disappeared instantly.

Kizzy watched the soldier stride away, feeling a little less sorry for herself. Sarge came through worse and still made it this far in the world. She felt as if an invisible weight on her chest had inched off just a bit.

****************

She wandered through the streets of Corus, several coppers clinked merrily in her purse. Onua had given Kizzy a tip for her services. At the moment, those coppers could be counted as Kizzy’s life savings. Kam had wrapped himself around Kizzy’s neck, today he was pretending to be a string of black beads. Kizzy had worn a headscarf to hide her short hair, and the Darking wanted to be in a place where he could see everything that she did.

Kizzy had been to Corus before, and she made her way through the crowds with ghostly familiarity. She remembered the last time she’d visited. Her whole family had been alive and together; happy, even though times were rough. People at war had little use for the intricate baskets and weavings that were the Riverfate’s trademark.

She stopped for a drink at the well, sidestepping a group of shrieking children. The little ones darted around the city square, chasing each other in a chaotic game of tag the leader. Kizzy smiled. It was good to know some things never changed. She drank deeply, feeling a new sense of peace. She was free again; soon she would find a way out of the city and seek her family. She would use every ounce of her gift to track them down and free the remaining Riverfate people.

She glanced around and her eyes picked up a familiar jaunty grin. A hundred paces away, Ragnar was staring at her. Kizzy’s instinct said he’d been staring for a while now. He started to move toward her, and Kizzy turned on her heel and headed in the other direction. She didn’t want to know if he’d found her by coincidence—or worse, if he’d followed her all the way here.

She turned down a dark ally, realizing too late what a foolish move she’d made. Hands reached out to pull her further into the shadows; someone pulled her close and held a knife below her ear. Malicious intent streaked across her mind, this mugger didn’t intend to leave his victim alive.

Something in Kizzy rebelled. She called her magic, sending the mugger images of stormwings and hurroks clawing out his face. The criminal cursed, pushing her away as he tried to fend off invisible attackers. In his haste, he pricked the side of Kizzy’s neck as he threw her away.

Wind roared in Kizzy’s ears, followed by a sense of pressure over the wound. Kam had wrapped himself tightly over the cut, saving her from losing too much blood. She rose shakily, turning to get a glimpse of her attacker. Mid-thirties, blond-haired, thick build, a rough, abusive personality. She slammed him again with a new set of visions, adding spidrens and dragons. The man’s scream resounded in the alleyway, until he blindly ran into a wall. There was a loud crack as his head met stone. He collapsed to the ground.

Kizzy stared down at what she’d just done. Even when the slavers had attacked her family, she hadn’t used that kind of power. What had changed?

As the adrenaline receded, she began to feel dizzy. Kam still covered her cut, but she needed a healer, fast. She stumbled back into the street, leaning on the wall for support. Strong arms caught her as she tripped and almost fell on her face. She readied herself for another round of attacks, but then she caught the resonance of person holding her. It was benevolent, whoever it was. Healing fire coursed through her. Relieved, she sank into unconsciousness.

I would say that your style has changed, too.

  

Love it. Got to go now though.

Come back soon=}

  

I'm back! No update.

I really like this story though. The vague Daine and Aly parallels seem pretty much gone now anyway. And it is fanfic.

ETA: I meant to say before, I LOVE the name Twiggle.