Jahrra glared at him and glanced around at all the other angry, disapproving faces. Not one of these people contained any hint of compassion or sympathy or even any sign of the ability to comprehend what it might be like to be in her position. For a brief second Jahrra felt pity for them, her hatred seeming almost selfish.
She sighed, and in a softer yet still determined and passionate voice said, “You may be my school teacher, but you’ll never, ever tell me what my worth is again. I have proven it today, whether or not you wish to acknowledge that fact. Oh, and Phrym I’ve raised from a foal. If he belongs to anyone, he belongs to me.”
Jahrra broke her gaze with the embittered Tarnik and cast her eyes upon the eerily quiet crowd surrounding her. She only saw fire behind the Resai men’s eyes, their glacial faces not able to hide how they felt. She knew she wouldn’t change the way they thought, but at least she had spoken her mind. She sat up a little straighter in the saddle and took a deep breath. Now she had to address her next challenge: facing Master Hroombra and Jaax.
As Jahrra turned Phrym towards them, she heard the beginnings of irritated whispering. She thought that the spectators were just adding their last begrudging remarks, so she didn’t bother to stop.
“That semequin belongs to my father!” someone called out over the murmuring of voices.
This time Jahrra didn’t ignore it. She turned so sharply that she spooked Phrym. It was Eydeth, and he had followed her down the hillside.
She gave him a poisonous glare and said through gritted teeth, “He does not belong to your father and you know it! You know he’s been with me for eight years now!”
Jahrra tried to control the anger in her voice, but it was no use.
“Obviously she is lying, Master Tarnik. How does a Nesnan come upon a semequin, and one of such good bloodlines, without stealing it? Did she find it? In the Wreing Florenn?”
The murmuring turned to sniggering; the crowd pleased to find some way to ridicule the disgracer of their precious race.
“Come now Nesnan, give me the animal. I wouldn’t want to humiliate you even more by forcefully taking him from you.”
While saying this, Eydeth led his own semequin over to Jahrra and Phrym with his hand outstretched. Phrym sensed the trouble and became edgy and tense. Jahrra tightened her grip on the reins.
“He won’t go with you willingly,” she growled. “In fact, I doubt that you could handle him. You had trouble with your own mount during the race. I saw how you had to dig your heels into him in order to get him to cross the Oorn delta.”
Eydeth’s eyes became an inferno and he turned to two older Resai men who were with him. “Take the stallion. My father will be glad to see him returned.”
Jahrra clung to her semequin’s back and put a comforting hand on his neck as he whickered in agitation. Phrym began to panic and rear up again as the two men drew near. Jahrra wanted to call out to Hroombra, but what could he do? It was her own fault she’d gotten herself into this mess, and she would have to get herself out of it.
The men were now only a few feet away. They reached up for Phrym’s halter, but before they could grab hold of the reins, Jahrra heard Jaax’s strong and steady voice call out, “Young Eydeth, since when has your father bred marble gray semequins? Last thing I heard was that he preferred his stock to be pure and clean of color, and his preferred color was snow white, like your fine stallion there.”
He nodded towards Eydeth’s own semequin, and Jahrra could have sworn she saw fear behind the boy’s eyes.
“The semequin is mine, gentlemen.” Jaax’s tone held a tinge of fire as he addressed the entire crowd clamoring around to see justice served. “I brought him here from the province of Rhiim and put him under the care of this young Nesnan. It may have been a foolish move on my part, but it is the truth. I ask that you never question this again.”
Jaax was always stern, but Jahrra thought she detected something more in his stance at this moment, a rigid anger she couldn’t remember ever sensing before. She looked up at the younger dragon, her brow furrowed, but he was currently looking down upon Eydeth the way a cat looks at a mouse. Or, Jahrra thought with some satisfaction, the way a dragon looks at something it wants very badly to burn to a crisp. Eydeth made no further remark, but sat back in his saddle, cowering and fuming.
Jahrra knew that the Resai never liked Hroombra, but not because they were necessarily afraid of him, but because they didn’t feel bothered enough to consider him a threat. There was something different about Jaax, however; something that demanded unquestioning respect. Jahrra took this moment of silent challenge between the dragon and the crowd to quickly calm Phrym. She whispered and hummed to him, leading him closer to the dragons before any more interjections could be made.
“And furthermore,” Jaax continued after Jahrra and Phrym were safely in front of him, “Jahrra will not be pulled from her lessons. She’ll finish her last year at the schoolhouse in Aldehren. She doesn’t have much schooling left, and I believe you can tolerate her for a few months more.”
Jahrra could have sworn there was concern in that comment, but she let the thought pass. She really wished Jaax hadn’t insisted she finish the year with Tarnik, though. The one positive outcome from all of this chaos was that she wouldn’t ever have to listen to that old buffoon preach his nonsense to her again. She could spend the entire day working on Kruelt or taking extra lessons with Viornen and Yaraa instead.
While the bristling crowd let their hackles settle, Jahrra set her face in determination and turned to the pair of dragons, one the color of a distant storm cloud, and as unpredictable as one as well; the other an emerald pillar of strength and fire, and like fire, more likely to cause harm than good.
Jahrra tried not to look at Jaax, although she was kicking herself for avoiding his gaze. I won’t let him take away what I’ve gained today, she told herself. She knew the Tanaan dragon would have something demeaning to say to her, but she was determined not to let it get to her this time. I won’t be ashamed of what I did, she reminded herself. I did it for myself and I did it for my friends. I had to run that race.
Jahrra looked up at Hroombra with apologetic eyes and was surprised at what she found there. His ancient amber gaze held pride and joy, but those two emotions weren’t enough to mask the fear. Fear for what the Resai might have done to me, Jahrra told herself remorsefully.
She swallowed back her guilt and said in a low voice, “I had to do it Master Hroombra. I had to beat Eydeth.”
There was a short silence as Hroombra turned the words over in his head, only the thrum of the surf and the soughing of the wind to disturb his thoughts.
He took a patient breath and said quietly, “I understand child, but I wish you hadn’t. How long have you been planning this?”
“Since the trip to the Eight Coves,” Jahrra answered without pretense. “Eydeth told us that his father bought the coastal land that the coves sit on and that he would soon buy Lake Ossar. So you see, I had to beat him. Lake Ossar means everything to me, just as the Great Race meant everything in the world to him.”
Jahrra ended her excuse in an exhausted huff. She felt a little bit like an eight year old again, making her apology for the justified wrong she’d done.
Hroombra gazed down at her for quite a long time and Jahrra got the feeling that he was merely thinking about what she had just said.
After some time, he lifted his head and spoke roughly, “I do not approve of such dangerous behavior, but I understand it. You’ll not do something so foolish again, Jahrra.”