Section 4 A

Light flickered pink over the tree tops, and Kestrel rushed back to the house. "Child!" her mother exclaimed. "Have you been dawdling? The transport will be here in five minutes."

"I have to go find Feldspar," Kestrel said as she handed her mother the basket. "Ginger's barking a lot, and I think we should go check on her."

"No time for that. I'll find him."

Kestrel only had time to shrug off her coat, swipe at her boots, and collect her bag and a sandwich of leftover bread and meat to eat on her way. No eggs today. Kestrel sighed. Feldspar would eat them for sure. "Exams today?" her mother asked, even though they hadn't talked about anything else for a week. Kestrel nodded. "Sorry there isn't time for eggs, then." Kestrel shrugged. She was sorry too, but she didn't have time to miss the transport and have to walk today.

Back outside, but without the heavy coat, Kestrel shivered. At least she could keep her mittens, but there was no where to put a farm coat in her classroom. She tore off a bite with her teeth. The bread was from yesterday's baking and dry around the edges, but her mother had warmed the meat and then wrapped the whole thing in a cloth so that not all of the heat had been sapped away by the time she ate it. She chewed as fast as she could, knowing that the transport would be there shortly.

Almost. She was almost done with EI. But she didn't want to think about that. Not yet. Because if she wasn't doing chores or going to Institute, then she didn't know what else there was.

She heard the lizzy before she saw it, the hum of motors and gears punctuated by jolts in the dirt road. Later on, when the road was snow-packed, it wouldn't make so much noise, and she would have to watch more carefully. Except, she thought, that this was her last season at EI.
The lizzy pulled up. Once it had been blue with smart white paint that read Educational Institute Zone #14, and the letters were still readable, but the cold had flaked them, and the sun and weather had faded the blue so that it was sad and patchy. No one had put the cover on the passenger bed yet, so Kestrel huddled on the floor with the other students, trying to keep low to avoid the wind. A lizzy went fast, faster than Kestrel could run--although a horse could beat a lizzy in an short race. The driver sat by himself up front, with a thick coat, mittens, lap blankets, a scarf, and every other bundled up kind of wrapping until just his eyes were peeking out. Kestrel  knew that he had a heated stone in a box of sand for his feet and that under those wrappings, he had another stone in a sand bag on his lap, too. He wasn't going to suffer from the cold. A couple of the smaller girls, Eglantine and Mousie, huddled up to her, and she put her arms around them, knowing that all three of them would be warmer for pressing close together.

"Kestrel!" called Daisy when they stopped in front of a white house with a green roof. "Can you believe that it's today?" She climbed in and wiggled her way through the pack of children until she was next to her friend. "I studied all last night," she confided, "but this morning, I couldn't remember a thing, not even what books I had opened. I'm so afraid that they'll tell me that I'm not good for anything. I don't know what will happen if I fail. My dad will kill me." She looked white with green undertones.

"They can't do that," Kestrel told her. Trust Daisy to find something impossible to worry over, even though she had a good reason. Kestrel would be nervous too if she had Daisy's father as her dad.

"I heard of someone over in Gideon's Stream who had that happen to her. It was my cousin's friend's sister-in-law. She took the exams and failed everything. They didn't know what to do with her. Finally, her mother went to the butcher's son and bullied him in to soliciting her, but I don't know if they got married or not. Maybe she just lived at home forever."

"Daisy, you're being silly. That doesn't happen. It can't happen," Kestrel said confidently as a little worm of doubt crept into her soul. Of course, she was a good student, and she had studied and could remember what she had studied, but still...or what about Daisy? Maybe Daisy really would fail her tests. But then, Kestrel reflected, with Daisy's looks, she wouldn't need to pass the test. All of the eligible men would take one look at her photo and start filling out papers as fast as they could. Daisy chatted on for a while about how nervous she was, and Kestrel tried not to be infected with even more worry. The problem was that Daisy would talk about it, feel better, and move on. Kestrel would store everything up and continue worrying for both of them. She looked at the world passing by and tried to think about something else. And as often happened, she tried to distract herself by thinking about magic.

As they passed fields and houses, Kestrel wondered again about how much magic it would take to run a lizzy. The spell cubes that powered them were large and heavy, much larger than any of the units they had at home. It would have to be to have enough magic to move a whole cart full of people around. No one person in Terraced Hill, except the Domini, could afford that much magic, and sometimes people complained about it, but it really wasn't practical to have all the children walk so far every day to and from EI, since all of them had chores to do and limited daylight to work in. So as long as the new units kept coming to trade for old ones, no one complained very much because it was the central government and not the local one paying for them.

Kestrel had heard that in the bigger zones, that magic was more common. People said that they didn't even use candles. Kestrel felt in her pocket. She always carried a little bit of magic with her--at least, it was probably magic. Her grandmother had told her that it was magic, but it wasn't anything like the quarts blocks that powered lights or motors. It was different, nicer, and today she needed a small bit of her grandmother to help her get through. If she did well, then she might be able to go on to learn to be a greenwoman like her grandmother had been--she might even be able to become an engineer and work with magic all the time. She loved the feel of magic when it flowed through her. She loved the little gathering feeling that it gave her to speak one of the words that her grandmother had taught her. It was as though her whole body was filled with thousands of little being or bits of energy or something that all stopped what they were doing and focused on one thing together. It made her feel--well not more alive, but more aware that she was alive.

Of course, her magic classes at EI were nothing like that. They were filled with equations and numbers, but maybe for big magic you had to be more careful. Maybe they had to teach you all of the beginner things so that you wouldn't cause trouble. Besides, she didn't fill anything as large as quartz blocks. She didn't know anyone else who put magic into buttons like she did, like her grandmother had. If her parents knew about it, they never mentioned it. Of course, her father wasn't likely to, and it was his mother, so maybe that was it.

So maybe she'd become an engineer and learn the proper way to do magic. Or maybe, and here Kestrel's stomach did a little somersault, maybe she would be solicited, maybe she would be married. She had written to him. She wasn't supposed to, but she had anyway--to tell him that exams were coming up and that her choosing would follow. That was as far as she dared go. She couldn't directly ask him to...but then he would know, and surely he would request her in the stack, and he would smile when he saw her folder, and then she would get a letter. Kestrel bit the inside of her cheeks and told herself not to get carried away. But she couldn't help smiling and feeling a little bit warmer all the way to the portal.

When they branched off of the main road, and headed to the wooden archway on the right, her stomach fluttered again, and not in a gentle, pleasant way. Some days she loved going through the portal, but other days, it made her feel like she was leaving home forever. After all, if something happened to it, then she'd never get home. Nothing had happened to them, ever, they were powered by their own magic source that the Founders had put into place. The philosophers and engineers had even taken one apart to try to figure it out, but it hadn't worked. In the end, they had broken the portal, and the zone--Morgan's Lake, she thought it was--had lost a portal so that now people had to go to a different zone and around. They weren't very happy, and the philosophers and engineers hadn't tried again.

Kestrel watched as the gatekeepers turned dials and slid switches. The portal hummed, and the lizzy drove through. Routine. But she still held her breath every time.
The road on the other side was paved, and they moved faster on their way to a large brick building. Other students had already arrived, and the place was churning with noise and people. The lizzy stopped in front of the stairs, and Kestrel joined the others in the press to see friends and get to classes.


Kestrel checked her watch as the lizzy drove closer to the Institute. Why did she have to have the slowest lizzy and the farthest zone in the entire district? She wound up her watch, even though it didn't really need it. Then she tried to catch Daisy's eye, but Daisy looked like she was thinking about something and wasn't paying attention.

She's probably worrying about the test, Kestrel told herself. For the last six months, Kestrel had dragged Daisy into the dining room with a stack of books whenever she could. Daisy preferred to talk about anything except books. She tried to distract Kestrel with stories about which graduating young man would solicit an introduction with her. Officially, young men from other provinces had preference. That way the bloodlines didn't cave in on themselves. It was also supposed to promote friendly relations between provinces, but it didn't really work that way. Kestrel turned her watch to look at it again without really seeing it. Matchmaking wasn't something that she would have bet her future on a couple of years ago. Until recently, she had been determined to be some kind of magic user, whether it was a humble greenwoman or a philosopher, but that had changed.

With a half grin, half grimace, Kestrel admitted that it had happened 1  year and 276 days ago. She tried to stop herself from calculating the hours, but she was so fast at it by now, that it was hard to stop. The accurate count was 1 year, 276 days, 6 hours and 12 minutes since she had met the Domini's Son, and her world had changed.

Her hand went automatically to her neck for the one button she kept on thin chain around her neck. One memory, captured by accident, but it had changed her entire life.

"Hey, wake up, Kestrel!" The voice jolted her out of her thoughts and suddenly her eyes were wide open. Chert held the back of the transport open. He waved at her and raised his eyebrows. It was his turn to help the smaller children down. Kestrel usually helped him--which meant that she did it for him--because he wasn't exactly what she would describe as a patient or gentle person. She jumped up and rushed to stand by him ahead of the little students who were lining up. She raised her arms and caught one child at a time as they jumped or flopped at her. Chert leaned on the gate and looked bored.

"Hey Chert," said one of his friends running up. He paid no attention to the pile of short people who scattered to keep from being stepped on. "You have got to get in there, my friend. There are some serious events."

"Hawking," Chert said wandering away from the transport. "What is it?"

"You'll never believe it," Hawking said, "some guys tried to break into the Domini House."
Kestrel's head snapped up. "The Domini House?" she demanded. Those riders yesterday. They really had been on the way to the Domini House. What if something had happened and she could have prevented it?

"I wasn't talking to you," Hawking said, looking down at her. He turned back to Chert. "So anyway, it was the Outliers, here. And they were, I mean, attacking the Domini. I don't know how many people they killed, but they had help. Really, help from someone inside the EI. Absolutely traitor, we're talking traitor. I couldn't believe it."

"I don't believe it," Chert said. "Look, I'm in a green house, a Green house, and my dad did not get a word of this this morning."

Kestrel tried to follow behind them so that she could listen to what they were saying on the way in, but it was just her luck that one of the smallest kids started pulling on her and asking for help to get to the bathroom.

Chert turned around to look at her. "Are you still here?" he demanded. "Why?"

"Believe me," she said, pointing at the kid, "if he hadn't slowed me down, I would be as far away from you two as I could get." She rolled her eyes, shook her head, and walked off holding the sticky hand of a five-year-old, praying that they made it to the bathroom in time, and cursing Chert for going on about his dad instead of letting Hawking get to the point. The Outliers had attacked the Domini's house? She had to find out if Boron was safe. He had to be. If anything had happened to him-- She couldn't cry, not now. Besides, she would be sorry if she didn't this little guy to the bathroom as fast as possible. Boron had to be all right. That was all there was to it.

1) Once she had deposited the sticky child and washed her own hands, Kestrel raced to the secretary's office. Her test started in twelve minutes, but she could make it. She had to know that Boron was all right, or she would never be able to pass her exam.

http://kestrelbook.blogspot.com/2012/03/chapter-2aa.html

2) Fingernails bit into Kestrel's palm as she walked quickly along the hallway. Her test started in twelve minutes. She'd never make it. She couldn't do anything to help Boron one way or the other, so the first order of business was to pass her test, and then she'd find some answers.

http://kestrelbook.blogspot.com/2012/03/chapter-2ab.html

Section 4 Thicket

Mrs. Thicket lifted the tiny pocket watch that dangled on a ribbon, bound to her enormous but tightly contained bosom. She clicked the watch open, peered at it, peered at Kestrel, and then snapped the watch shut and dropped it where it bounced twice before settling. Kestrel tried to look somewhere else, even though she was thinking, "six, no probably eight yards of cloth." She took a glance at the smocking on the front of the dress, the puffed sleeves, the gathered skirt. Definitely eight. Kestrel shuddered--but only a small shudder that Mrs. Thicket wouldn't notice. Eight yards of yellow calico-covered propriety. It didn't matter that this wasn't school, there was no way that she could escape this room without at least five demerits. She'd probably even have to stay after the interview to write lines on a blackboard. This did not bode well for her future.

"Your future," Mrs. Thicket was saying in a pinched voice, "is important to me, even if you choose to toy with your opportunities. Tardiness is not the handmaiden of efficiency."

Kestrel nodded. At times like this, it was better to just nod.

"I regret to inform you that efficiency was not one of your highest marks on the Exam," Mrs. Thicket continued. "You look like a reasonably bright young woman, which leads me to wonder if you couldn't be bothered to make the effort."

A tiny trickle of icy fire zapped through Kestrel's soul. Suddenly she was paying very close attention every word that Mrs. Thicket said.

"I did try to do my best, Mrs. Thicket," Kestrel assured her. "My score," she shook her head. "I didn't do very well?"

"My Dear," Mrs. Thicket said. "I'm sure that we can find something for you. I have never yet failed to place a young person once she or he has come of age." She studied Kestrel through her brass-rimmed spectacles.  "However, I will say that usually I have a bit more to work with."

She lifted a set of papers from her desk, pointed one thick finger at it. "History, deportment, magical abilities, spelling--I must say, your spelling." Really, there is often an area where a young person shines. We can then find a focus area for specialized training or appropriate placement. Other times, scores are more uniform, and we rely on the candidate's interests and preferences to guide his or her passage into adulthood." She lowered the paper and peered again,"Are you interested in anything? I do have a few entry-level apprenticeships that might suit you if you showed some kind of--" she waved her hand vaguely in the air.

Kestrel was busy melting into her seat--or rather wishing that she could. This was like one of the nightmares she heard people had before the Exam. People joked about what they would do if you turned out not to be fit for anything. It hadn't occurred to her that it would actually happen. She couldn't say anything. What she wanted, what she had told herself to come here for, to insist on--she wasn't used to talking about it aloud. If she said things aloud, then they became flat and ugly. And now to have this fat woman wave her hand and demand--it was all wrong. Maybe she should turn and run. But she'd have to come back. There would be nothing to do except come back. Kestrel cleared her throat and tried not to look like a wet kitten. "I was hoping that something magical," she began.

"Oh you did, did you?" Mrs. Thicket interrupted. "Magic is one career where people think that life will all be sparkling lights and glamor. They don't realize how much work, study, and talent goes into it. No, I think not magic. Not with your scores. Your baking and general homemaking scores aren't quite abysmal. Maybe I'll transfer you to the matchmaker..." she drifted off as she turned to her desk for the telephone. She lifted the earpiece from the tall, black stand and slapped down the handle several times in quick succession.  "Hello, hello? Marigold? Can you switch me over to Mrs. Quartz? Thank you. Hello, Rosie? Yes, Dear. Fine. Thank you. But I wonder if you might be able to stop by for a moment? Yes, a candidate. Yes, difficult case. I would appreciate it, Rosie. Thank you, Dear. Yes, see you in a moment."

Mrs. Thicket clinked the earpiece back onto the stand, turned, and folded her hands. "Mrs. Quarts will be joining us momentarily. Let me see, there is a form for that." She pulled open a desk drawer, selected a sheet from a folder, and fed it into a typewriter.

Thwack! Thwack! the keys pounded against the paper like hailstones. Kestrel opened her mouth, but she couldn't imagine her voice breaking through the downpour. The matchmaker? Not that Kestrel was opposed to being married, but she had hoped that she could make her own arrangements about that. This was going the wrong direction. It would still be two more days until Boron got home. Even if he didn't send her a note, she would have to go see him.

"Knock, knock." A fiercely cheerful, round wrinkled face poked around the partition wall. It was surrounded by a nimbus of short, tight curls. "I heard that you had a candidate for me?"

"Ah, Mrs. Quartz, so good of you to come," Mrs. Thicket said. "Got a tough job for you, I'm afraid." She held up the sheet with Kestrel's scores. "See here, and here," she continued, pointing her finger at the paper.

Mrs. Quartz tut tutted and then shared a knowing look with Mrs. Thicket. Together they turned to look at Kestrel.

"How much time do you spend on your hair?" Mrs. Quartz began.

Kestrel reached back to touch her hair, and then told herself to stop. Her hand dropped. "My hair? I don't know. A little while, I suppose."

"Hmmm...how long is it when you don't have it all tied up and half strangled?" Mrs. Quartz demanded.

Annoyance was seeping through the thick layer of confusion and embarrassment. Mrs. Quartz didn't even know her name, and she was already criticizing her hair? "About to my waist," she said curtly.

Mrs. Quartz pulled out a tape measure. "You don't paint your face yet, but we can give you the seminar on that. Stand up, let me see what size your waist is."

"She's not overweight, thank goodness," added Mrs. Thicket. "But she's the wrong shape. More like a rectangle or even a bag than an hourglass. If only she were taller. The best suitors want candidates who will keep their figure after having children. What do you think?"

Mrs. Quartz was nodding. "Dowdy, but not hopeless. Oh, after she's had a child or two, she'll be a mess. But if we send her to seminars 1A 1C and I think 4M, then there's a chance that we can bring out a piquancy in her looks that will be attractive enough to do the job if we don't expect too much. No one above the Yellow tier, say, but she probably could consider a Yellow, and of course with a miracle or two could dream of Orange. But still, the most likely option is a nice young farmer with a good start." She looked at Kestrel and tipped her head, "unless you'd prefer someone wealthier? A widower perhaps with one or two children who need a mother with lots of energy?"

Kestrel took a step back as Mrs. Quarts reached with the tape measure to circle the girl's middle. "Now wait?" Kestrel asked. "A farmer?"

Mrs. Thicket tipped her head and let impatience slip into her voice, "Well yes, Dear. What else would we be talking about? You're from a farming family, aren't you? So staying at your level should be no problem."

"My father is a farmer, yes, but my mother is from a Yellow House."

Mrs. Thicket raised an eyebrow.

"Was she an illegitimate child?" Mrs. Quartz asked. "Or possibly damaged goods that needed to be disposed of? There are ways that these things happen."

Kestrel had had enough, "My mother was NOT illegitimate! And she certainly wasn't a...a..."
She couldn't bring herself to say it.

The two ladies exchanged glances.

"Look, I appreciate your help, but I didn't really want to take Route A. Couldn't you find an apprenticeship for me?"

"You know, Dear, just because it's the A route, doesn't mean that it is in any way inferior. We all have our places in the world, and it would be much kinder to you to put you somewhere that you fit rather than trying to force you into a mold where you don't really belong."

"We just want to find the best life possible for you," added Mrs. Quartz. "If we found a place for you as a musician or a gardener, you would be miserable. You would be expected to begin with some kind of ability and training that you...just don't have."

"Yes, it's all about qualifications." Mrs. Thicket nodded. "You may have fanciful dreams of being a greenwoman or even a philosopher, but really, when you're raising children on a nice farm somewhere, you'll thank us."

"Now I think it will calm you to fill out some nice paperwork for a little while," Mrs. Thicket said, handing Kestrel a thick stack. "I'll show you to a desk where you can work on it. The secretary will help you if you have questions, and take your work when you are finished. Rest assured that Mrs. Quartz and I will do our utmost to find an apprenticeship or a nice introduction if at all possible.

Mrs. Quartz waved as Mrs. Thicket shooed Kestrel down the hall. "Your future is in good hands!" she called.

Kestrel found herself seated at a small, worn desk with a fountain pen and a stack of papers. She blinked at them and told herself not to do anything stupid like cry. If only her grana were alive, then Kestrel could run away. She'd have somewhere to run to. Her fingers strayed to the inside of her coat pocket. She had slipped two buttons in there for just in case. She shouldn't, she really shouldn't, but she turned a page or two of the forms and groaned. Even if she got caught, how much worse could it be? Besides, no one would think to look for magic in a button.

Kestrel took the wooden circle out of her pocket and looked at it. This one was a song. She looked around again. While she listened, she wouldn't be able to pay attention, but no one would come looking for her any time soon. She held the button between her palms and blew into her hands. "Effro," she said softly. Warmth spread from the center of her hands. It felt like she was holding a warm mug on a cold morning. She could hear notes, a few notes on a violin. She could almost see them, traveling along her arms, working their way inward. The music should have been a happy song, but there was a tiny thread of something sad underneath it. She let herself close her eyes, and the music grew louder as she focused on it. If she didn't know, she would have believed that there was someone right in front of her playing. Her Dad had played this just a few days ago. She had been pretending to take a nap on the couch, but really, she was making a button, so she captured the song along with it. She felt the tension in her head and shoulders ease a little. And then the song ended, and she opened her eyes. The stack of papers was still there, but at least she had the equivalent of having been upset off by herself somewhere, followed by a nap. It was still bad, but she could face it now. She lifted her pen and stared with question #1. This paperwork was her last chance to convince them that she should get Route B instead of Route A.

Continue on to Chapter 3

Section 4

Getting to School


Kestrel jumped when the ringing began. Her alarm clock jiggled back and forth as the tiny hammer whacked first one bell and then the other. Kestrel's hand flew to smack the switch to turn it off, and as she did, she told herself for the millionth time that she shouldn't jump. It was just a way to wake up in the morning, but it didn't matter. With a yelp, the black and white farm dog jumped off of the foot of the bed. Really, it was her little sister, Mallee's dog, but if Mallee kicked too much in the night, Ginger inevitably made her way to the foot of Kestrel's bed. Only a six-year-old would name a black and white dog Ginger, but she had, and now the name was stuck to the animal. Ginger waited until Kestrel had left the bed before she crawled back in and stretched out in the warm spot that Kestrel had just left. She would be up soon so that she didn't miss any treats that she could scrounge during milking and cooking breakfast, but she never jumped at the alarm clock, not the way Kestrel did.

Even though she always woke up sitting and with her heart pounding, usually she was able to calm herself quickly. This morning she tried to slow her pulse, but telling herself to calm down today, to breath carefully didn't help. Today was the Exit Exam.

She picked the clock up, twisted the key in its back, and set it down again. Right now the thing she wanted most in the world was to put her head back on the pillow and close her eyes, just for a minute. And she couldn't. She sighed and lit a candle. Her mother didn't like her to have a candle in her room because of the danger of fire. But Kestrel hated to get dressed by the light of a magic cube. The light made her face distorted with harsh shadows, and with a candle flame, she could hold her fingers close and pretend that it warmed her a little.

Even though the snow had melted, the early morning air was still cold enough to freeze a skim of ice on her water basin. The water chilled her hands and made her flinch when she splashed some on her face. Cold made her feel tight and incapable of moving. All of her muscles pulled in on themselves, trying to keep warm. She wished that just for once she wouldn't have to get up until the sun had warmed things up.

At least her EI uniform was thick, though it was scratchy and uncomfortable. She looked at it for a moment. How many more times would she wear it? As awful as it was, she wasn't sure that she was ready to give it up.

She tugged her gray shirt over her head. She pulled on the long, thick socks, the ankle-length blue jumper, the waist-length jacket. The boots were black and heavy because shoes weren't part of the uniform, so everyone in Terence Hill had the same kind of boots that did not match the EI uniforms because they were also boots that you wore to muck stalls and tromp over fields. Kestrel didn't think about them except to reflect that she would have to leave time to clean off the farm mud and muck before she left. She picked up her light cube and blew out the candle.

Downstairs, she went to the pegs by the back door for her farm coat, a big, heavy thing made of home-carded wool that her mother had woven the cloth for. It had been dyed--first with tobacco leaves and then with years of mud and grass stains. It kept her warm, and kept her uniform clean while she did her chores. Her mittens were more of the same--big heavy things of wool yarn, made to keep her fingers warm when she went outside in the cold rather than to look beautiful.

Outside, it was still dark, very dark because no stars peeked out from behind the cloudy sky. Overcast skies should have made the morning a little warmer, but not today. A breeze that felt full of ice flecks tried to bite its way through her coat. Kestrel felt for the grooves in her light cube, flicked the switch, and was suddenly surrounded by a white-blue light. When she draped the strap around her neck, it felt like the world tipped drunkenly until she adjusted it to shine forward. She lifted the big bucket of slops in one hand and the empty water bucket in the other with the basket up over the crook of her arm. Trying not to feel too lop-sided, she headed for the barn.

Her father was already there, sitting on a low stool next to a cow. Kestrel lifted the blanket cover off of the big milk can. It looked like he had already finished with two cows. She dipped the ladle into the milk and pulled it up. She took a long drink and then hung the ladle back on its hook. If she waited until after EI, then the milk would be skimmed and cold. In the summer, she could drink all the fresh milk she wanted because she was in charge of milking, but in the winter, her father had less to do in the fields, and so he took over more of the chores at home and in the barn so that the children could learn and their mother could weave cloth. Next summer, though, Wren would be in charge of the milking instead of Kestrel. Next summer she wouldn't be there. She didn't say it, not even in her own head, but next summer she could be married with a home of her own. And if life came to pass the way she hoped, then she would never milk cows again.
She walked over to the fat brown cow. Her father smiled at her, and she smiled back. They rarely talked early in the morning, but they were both there, and somehow that togetherness was a good thing--though Kestrel would have liked it more if he talked. She didn't mind milking, on the whole, but it wasn't what she wanted. If she had to give up the warmth of the barn and the smell of hay, and milk, and animals, then it was a small price to pay for the life and the husband that she would be getting in return. Her father tipped his head. She nodded. Enough chat. Time to get to work.

Each of the three horses got a flake or two of hay and a scoop or two of grain. She checked their water and used the end of a trowel to punch through the ice.

The pigs got their slops and fresh water too. Ducks and geese got grain, and the chickens got feed as well. She pulled off her mittens to dive under the warm feathers and pull out breakfast. Fourteen eggs was a good day, enough for everyone to have two eggs with enough left over to make the biscuits for dinner.

Outside, the Ginger started barking. Last time Ginger had started barking like that, she had somehow managed to tie herself to the fence with an overlooked clump of bailing twine. On the other hand, there were a couple of times when most if not all of their ducks would have been lost if they had ignored her. And either way, Mallee would be upset if anything happened to her dog. Kestrel looked at her basket. She couldn't go chasing the dog with a basket full of eggs, but setting it down, seeing what Ginger wanted, and then coming back for the eggs would take a lot of time. Maybe she should just go to the house and ask Feldspar to run out and check.


1) Kestrel tightened her grip on the basket. She wasn't the only one waiting for breakfast, and even if they lost all of the ducks, it wasn't as bad as missing her exam. She would get the eggs to her mother and send Feldspar out to make sure that Ginger and the ducks were safe.

http://kestrelbook.blogspot.com/2012/03/chapter-2_03.html


2)  For a moment, she bit her lip and considered. The dog's barking grew more insistent. "Stupid dog," she muttered as she set the basket on a shelf in the tack room where it wouldn't get stepped on or investigated. She tapped her lumicube to brighten the light, and went out into the cold to see what was wrong with Ginger this time.

http://kestrelbook.blogspot.com/2012/03/chapter-2b.html

Section 3B/A/B/B

After waiting another minute to make sure that they were far enough ahead of her, Kestrel continued on toward the Domini House. She didn't see anyone on the way, and she began to think that she had misjudged where the riders were going or even that she had recognized Barium. They could have just been people who were out traveling. It happened. It could be. Perhaps it was more important at the moment to worry about how to find Mrs. Plover rather than Greystone when she got to the House.

This time, she didn't hesitate about going to the back door. Mrs. Plover answered it, and Kestrel tried to contain her impatience as they chatted about the weather how Kestrel's mother was feeling. Kestrel had tried to rush conversations with the aging cook before, but it was like trying to convince a tree to grow faster. She knew that she would get where she wanted to go eventually, but that if she tried to hurry, then reorienting Mrs. Plover to a new direction in the conversation as well as new ideas would take twice as long. She was as good a woman as ever lived, but she had been running the kitchen the same way for nearly thirty years, and she wasn't about to change the way she thought.

In spite of reassuring herself, Kestrel really did feel that she ought to bring up the horsemen as well. She didn't expect that Mrs. Plover would do much about it, but it would ease her conscience a little. Really, Greystone was the one who would know what to do, but how could she possibly tell him? She certainly wasn't going to go looking for him.

As it turned out, she didn't need to. She was just turning the conversation toward her visit so that she could relay her meeting along the way when Greystone walked in. "Mrs. Plover," he said, "I have a request that--"
He stopped when he saw Kestrel.

"What are you doing here?" he said coldly.

"I-I was just trying to tell Mrs. Plover about some strange people I saw on their way, well, on my way--" she began.

"The point is not whether or not you had a pleasant journy here, but that you felt obliged to come at all," he informed her. His spine was stiff, and he looked down along his beak-like nose like a bird of prey trying to decide if she were worth killing or not. "You would please absent yourself at once."

"But I have another reason for coming too," she told him. "You see--"
"I do not see. Nor do I wish to see. At once," he barked.

Fine, Kestrel told herself. When bandits rob the house tonight, then we'll just see how hoity toity you are. And when I am the mistress of this house, then we shall see just how long you last. She stood up in as haughty a way as she could manage. "Good day, Mrs. Plover," she said stiffly. Then she turned and walked to the door without looking back.

But she ran most of the way home, fuming to herself the enitre way. And the bread dough she made for dinner had a thorough beating.

During dinner, she had to listen to her mother fuss about exams that were coming, which did nothing to cheer her up.  Kestrel had been studying for those exams for what seemed to be her whole life. Of course Daisy was coming over to study. How could best friends get through the last night before exams without one last night of cramming together? But Kestrel had to admit to herself that while she wouldn't sleep well that night, she wasn't sure which reason would play the biggest part in keeping her awake.

Continue on to Chapter 4

Section 3B/A/B/A

Kestrel puffed out her cheeks, exhaled, and looked around. Her mother was right. She did have exams coming up. There wasn't anything that she could do about Boron at the moment, and now it looked as though chasing after her grandmother's letter was a bad idea too.

She really didn't like the look of those horsemen. She had a bad feeling about following them. It wouldn't make much difference really. She would just ahve to wait an extra day or two to get her letter. She would see Mrs. Plover about it tomorrow. Today, she was running out of time. She had to finish helping her mother get dinner put together--as it was, she would have to make scones instead of a bread that needed rising, and hopefully her mother wouldn't be upset about that. Then she could fit in a little bit of study before dinner since Daisy was coming over to study after dinner.

As much as she hated to admit it, her mother did have a point about studying with Daisy. It took a lot of effort to focus the girl on studying, and then when that was done, it took Kestrel so long to explain even the basic concepts that they didn't get very far. But Daisy had been Kestrel's best friend since they were four years old, and she wasn't about to abandon her now.

Kestrel turned and started walking back home--hopefully for the last time today. She hadn't even had time to register her disappointment about Boron. She had hoped to be able to announce to her family tonight that she had a future, and a better one than they would have expected for her. Now she would just have to rely on her self to make sure that her test scores were what they should be.

Not that things wouldn't work out with Boron eventually, she told herself sternly. It was just that without a ring on her finger, she would be a fool to not do everything she could to make sure she had a back up plan.


Continue on to Chapter 4:

Section 3/B/A/B

Kestrel paced back and forth. She couldn't lose that letter. She just couldn't. The bed creaked as she sank down onto the coverlet, but she immediately stood up again. If she stopped now, if she let herself sag in any way, then she might never get up again. Now, before she could change her mind, she had to go back and get it.

When she went downstairs, her mother was in the kitchen chopping carrots. There was already a big bowl of diced potatoes in water. "Kestrel," she said, "come to lend a hand?"

"I'd like to, but I have to run a quick errand," she said as she took a carrot slice and bit into it.

"You're not just going off to waste time with Daisy are you?" her mother asked.

"No, Mom. Though I should be spending more time helping her study."

Her mother snorted. "It's a good thing I know you've spend a good bit of time studying on your own, that's what. I wouldn't give a penny for the time you've spent with her doing your test scores any good."

"Oh, she's all right, really," Kestrel assured her. "She's just not as interested in doing well at the EI as I am."

"She's not interested in school at all if you ask me. But that's neither here nor there. Go run your errand, but then do you think you can watch Mallee while I get the rolls shaped and help me with the mending?"

Kestrel nodded. "Of course. I'll be back soon." She took one more carrot slice and disappeared out the door.

She ran quickly in spite of the clumps of grass or flowers, abandoned lumps from prairie dog tunneling, and occasional rocks jutting out of the ground. She was used to twisting and even jumping as she ran, and she enjoyed it.

Her running slowed to a more lady-like walk when she noticed someone up ahead of her. She was pretty sure that she knew him. She stopped walking and looked hard to make sure that she was seeing the right person, but she was sure now. It was Barium, and he was holding some kind of box or small crate. She didn't know him well, but she always had one or two classes with him at the EI. She had just made up her mind that he would think her rude to pass so close without saying hello when she heard the sound of horse hooves hitting the ground. She turned toward it, and found that there were three young men, all the same age or a little bit older than Barium riding towards him. They were moving too quickly to be sure, but she didn't think that she knew them.

They rode right up to him and then dismounted. All four began talking, heads bent together. Kestrel wished she could hide. There was something about the way they talked, the way they looked over their shoulders, that said that they didn't want anyone to see what they were up to. There wasn't anything very close, and she knew that the best way to stay hidden was to hold still. If she made a quick movement, they would see it for sure. So she stood frozen, trying not to wobble or to scratch her nose. She reasoned that if they saw her, she could always tell them that she was just on her way for a walk when she had run into them by accident. And actually, she reflected, that really was the truth. So why did it feel like she needed to get her story straight?

Kestrel tried to make the faces of the riders be Barium's friends, but they weren't. She wanted to step closer, but she didn't dare, though she couldn't say why. Two of them got up on their horses. One took the box and then Barium climbed up behind him. The third rider put a foot in the stirrup, and just for a moment, Kestrel got a clear view of his face. It was the driver that Boron had sent for her.

The four of them rode off unmistakably toward the Domini House, leaving Kestrel standing all on her own, wondering what to do. 


1) Kestrel puffed out her cheeks, exhailed, and looked around. Her mother was right. She did have exams coming up. There wasn't anything that she could do about Boron at the moment, and now it looked as though chasing after her grandmother's letter was a bad idea too.

http://kestrelbook.blogspot.com/2012/03/chapter-1baba.html


2)  After waiting another minute to make sure that they were far enough ahead of her, Kestrel continued on toward the Domini House.

http://kestrelbook.blogspot.com/2012/03/chapter-1babb.html

Section 3 B/A/A

 Kestrel sat down on her bed and dug the fingers of both hands deep into her hair. She should be crying, but she wasn't. She felt flat, tired. lost. Boron was gone. Anen was gone. She couldn't go back to the house, not today. In a little while, when she'd had some rest, she would write a letter to Mrs. Plover asking her to look out for it. If she did it now, she would make a mistake, say or do something wrong. She could afford that, not when she had already made such a large mistake already.