Page 24 of Xel: Broken Bond

As he was talking, a new car came around the corner of the reception building and wove its way slowly up the lane. “This’ll be the vet,” my master said. “I think Huckleberry’s worst problem now is lack of nutrition, but I’ll rest easier knowing if there are any other serious problems.”

The car, with a veterinary logo plastered on the side, pulled up at the side of the barn where the farrier’s car had been just minutes ago.

A human woman got out of the car, looking stern and serious, and a touch past middle-aged, based on the way her hair was starting to grey at the edges. She pulled a medical kit out of the car and headed towards us. “Good afternoon, sirs, I’m Noleen Perez. I’ve just started working for… Oh.” She came to a sudden halt as she took in the pair of us; me, obviously Vangravian, with my sky-blue scales, and my master, doing his very best to appear confident, his scars on full display. She seemed to be trying to figure out who she should report to – and assuming that she knew enough about dimari to recognise what I was, it was rather concerning that my master didn’t become the obvious choice.

“I’m Cole Jenkins,” my master said, once he’d let her stew in her uncertainty for a moment or two longer. Perhaps it was cruel to be deliberately making her feel uncomfortable, but after the farrier’s visit, I was starting to sympathise with my master’s dislike of meeting strangers. “I take it you’ve been hired by Zed Torrent?” He came forward and held out his hand for her to shake.

“Yes, I have,” the woman replied, reaching out to shake my master’s hand… and then she recoiled as she saw the burned skin on his hand. My master was apparently accustomed to this sort of behaviour, as he stood there, his hand outstretched, his gaze meeting hers dead on.

Noleen reached forward again, letting just the tips of her fingers touch my master’s skin, as she gave him the weakest handshake she could possibly manage.

I was not prone to losing my temper. Dimari were taught from a very early age to manage our emotions in pursuit of flawless service to our masters. But the disgust in this woman’s gesture lit a fire in my chest that caught me by surprise with its ferocity. I stepped forward, unbidden, and held out my own hand. “My name is Xel,” I said, in what would have been a gross breach of protocol, had my master been… well, if he’d been myreal master. In this case, I felt a brief twinge of embarrassment at my own actions, but a much deeper indignation at her treatment of him.

“Hello, Xel,” Noleen said, reaching her hand towards me with far less hesitation. But just before she could touch me, I recoiled in much the same way she had done, then grimaced down at her hand, and resolved to pinch my fingers around just the edge of her jacket sleeve, giving the fabric a token shake to complete the gesture.

Noleen seemed taken aback by my actions, and I could see two unique and divergent paths that she could take from here. She could apologise for her rudeness and mumble something about having been taken by surprise. That option, while not entirely excusing her initial reaction, would at least allow us to move on with a basic level of respect.

Or, she could do what she actually chose to do, which was to brush the entire incident under the rug and pretend it had never happened.

Wrong answer, bitch, I thought blackly. Fine. If she wanted to play it like that, then I could fight fire with fire.

“Zed said you had an injured donkey?” she prompted my master, lookingnearhim, but notathim. She managed to look just past his shoulder, though not in the sort of way that indicated she was looking for the donkey. She was just trying to avoid looking at his face.

“Huckleberry’s over here,” my master said, leading the way, with a look of cold resignation. No doubt he’d had to fight this sort of battle hundreds of times before. But today, he would not be fighting it alone.

As we headed for Huckleberry’s pen, he filled Noleen in on what we knew about Huckleberry, the conditions we’d found him in, and the fact that the farrier had already trimmed his very overgrown hooves.

“All right, let’s take a look at him, then.” Noleen let herself into the pen, then firmly closed the door before my master could follow her through. I saw him tilt his head back and mutter something silently, as if requesting patience from some deity. I stepped up beside him, placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, and gave him a subtle nod. Then I let myself into the pen with Noleen, without asking her permission.

Huckleberry was prancing about at the sudden arrival of this new person, but he settled down when he saw me, and sidled up to me, as if asking for protection.

“It’s okay, you big sook,” I said to him, rubbing his nose. “The silly lady is just going to take a look at you. It’s going to be fine.” For all that I disliked Noleen, we did actually need her assistance this afternoon. And if she took offence to my description of her as 'silly’? Well, I was just talking nonsense to a frightened animal, that was all.

Noleen began her examination of Huckleberry, starting with his eyes, ears and teeth, while I held onto his halter and rubbed his neck to keep him calm. “Do you know if he’s been eating willingly?” she asked, as she assessed the way his ribs were sticking out.

“No, sorry,” I jumped in, before my master could reply. “We only picked him up this morning. We really don’t know much more about him than you do, at this point.”

I glanced over my shoulder at my master. He frowned at me quizzically, so I shot him a quick grin, then winked at him. He’d said almost those exact words to her, during his initial explanation. And after nearly twenty years of being taught how to coax, seduce and influence people, I also had plenty of skills in delivering subtle criticism and sly condescension.

“Fair enough,” Noleen said, continuing her examination. She checked his hooves, seeming satisfied with what she found there,and then spent a few minutes listening to his heart, lungs and abdomen.

“Zed said you wanted him wormed,” Noleen said, focusing her gaze firmly on her bag of equipment. “Do you know when he was last wormed?”

“No, sorry,” I said again, in the exact same tone and rhythm I’d used before. “We only picked him up this morning. We really don’t know much more about him than you do, at this point.”

Noleen glanced at me momentarily, a faint glare on her face, but she continued on with her job, shoving a syringe of worming paste into Huckleberry’s mouth and squirting it inside. As she pulled away, her hand brushed mine. I snatched my hand away, wiping it conspicuously on my pants, while I looked her up and down with a withering glare. This time, she had the good grace to blush, but said nothing more about it.

“What about vaccinations?” she asked next. This time, she actually managed to lift her head and look at me. At me, but not at my master.

A flicker of a smile tugged at the corner of my lips. “I’m sorry. We only picked him up this morning. We really don’t know much more about him than you do, at this point.”

So far, I suspected I was only succeeding at being annoying, rather than conveying the true nature of my reprimand. Sure enough, she looked up at me, her lips pursed, though her expression seemed conflicted. She wanted to tell me off, but wasn’t sure she could get away with it.

Right, then. Time to raise the heat a little. I looked her in the eye, gestured vaguely towards her right cheek, and said, “You seem to have a mark on your face. Were you aware of that?”

Finally, I had hit the right nerve. Noleen flushed bright red, unable to meet my gaze as she stared at the ground for a long moment. “It’s just…” she stammered, as tears gathered in her eyes. “It took me by surprise that…”

“He was injured in a fire,” I said – as brief and respectful an explanation as I could put together. “And all he wants now is to be treated with dignity and respect. The same as you. The same as Huckleberry.”