In Which Raia Meets an Idiot

May 19, 1161

"You'll be safe here," Raia assured the pig as she peered through the trees to the exterior of the thicket, where the lone traveler passed without giving the grove so much as a passing glance. "The road's never busy here, and even if someone does come, they can't see you. So all you have to do is stay here, and then the butcher can't kill you. All right?"

The pig oinked appreciatively.

"Anyway, I promise--no one ever comes here, never. Oh, except when the duke apologized to the duchess... and then my papa takes my mama here occasionally... but other than that, it'll just be me, coming to see how you're doing. No one else ever--"

A twig snapped. Raia's back straightened abruptly; she had been wrong. Had someone followed them? Was it the butcher? Goodman Diarn? Falidor? She prayed it was the latter--Falidor never gave her any trouble.

"Funny dog you has, yes?"

It wasn't a voice she recognized. Puzzled, Raia turned around to find a strange boy standing behind her. He appeared to be a few years older than she was--ten, eleven, twelvish--with tousled black hair and eyes that looked like something out of her Aunt Laralita's jewelry box. He wore no clothing, but there was a prominent black marking running vertically through each eye; Raia had to wonder whether he had painted those markings himself, or if they were simply a part of him.

But regardless, he had already established himself as ignorant. "That's not a dog, stupid--it's a pig."

"Silly Dovan girl!" the boy scolded as he proceeded to pet the pig. "Dog is four-legged, fuzzy amnimal, yes? This is four-legged, fuzzy amnimal--pig is Dovan food, not amnimal."

"Animal," she corrected him, rolling her eyes, "and pigs are animals, you dunderhead. But the butcher wants to turn this one into food, so I took it here to hide."

Suddenly thoughtful, the boy pulled himself to his feet. "A new word--butcher. Butcher is turning of dog to pig. Thank you, Dovan girl!"

"It's Raia," muttered Raia dully.

The boy frowned. "Raia-girl... oh! Raia-girl! You is Princess Dovan!"

She'd had enough of this.

"You're an idiot!" she declared, placing her hands on her hips in exasperation. "I'm not a princess. Leara and Camaline and my baby cousin are princesses, but I'm not."

"But princess is king's girl-child, yes?" the boy asked her.

Raia nodded. "It's good to see you know something."

"And Raia-girl is girl-child of King Dovan!" he deduced happily. "So, Raia-girl is Princess Dovan!"

"Nuh-uh!" protested Raia; how on earth had he come to think that Roderick was her father? "My father is a lord!"

"He tall, bearded Dovan wearing black and blue, yes?"

"Yes..."

"Ah-hah!" proclaimed the boy triumphantly. "See? He is Dovan king in practice--the silly crown-wearing Dovan is Dovan king in name."

Silly crown-wearing Dovan. Roderick. Raia couldn't take it anymore.

She burst into laughter. "You stupid boy! You'd be funny if I knew you were joking!"

"I funny--you laugh," he noted. "Silly Raia-girl."

"If I'm so silly, then how come I'm the only one of the two of us who knows what a pig is?"

The boy sighed. "Pig is Dovan food--not pink dog."

"That's not a dog! It's a pig!"

She almost regretted saying it, as it seemed that she could not get through to him, but instead of a redundant reply, he turned around and began to walk away.

"Nice meet Raia-girl, yes?" he bade her. "Good days."

"Good day," she found herself correcting him once again. He didn't answer.

Shaking her head, Raia made her way back toward the pig, then gently scratched behind its ears. "You see that?" she demanded of it, staring over her shoulder at the spot where the boy had been. "That, my friend, is what is called an idiot."

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