“Why are you asking?”
“Because I like stories too, Master.”
Riju looked at him, or maybe somewhere to the side of his head. It was hard to tell. Kit wasn’t sure if he was supposed to say anything, or what to say if he should, and Riju finally spoke.
“When I was seven, I went to the fair with Dory, but I didn’t have any money to buy her a sweet.”
He’d mentioned Dory before, so perhaps she was an old doll he'd taken around with him as a child.
“I found a piece of pastry on the ground, and we ate that instead.”
Kit almost chuckled and held it back since he didn’t want Riju to think he was being laughed at. His adoptive Uncle had yelled at him once for eating a sweet he’d found on the ground. He was sure just about every kid did something similar at least once in their life.
“I had brought pebbles from my collection, and when we watched the acrobat troupe, people tossed coins in their box, so I gave them a pebble because I didn’t have money. I think they liked the pebble because it was smooth and had colored lines. It was my favorite one.”
Riju slid off the chair to sit next to Kit who raptly listened. He drew up his knees and focused on his doll while he continued talking.
“They had two fairies who could fly, and they went up high with two others who would throw them. The ones with no wings would flip and spin, and the other fliers would catch them.”
Kit had seen that before at fairs. It always made him a bit nervous even though he enjoyed watching. What if a flier didn’t catch the other?
“Other fairies on the ground flipped and held up their friends so they could jump and land on their feet. Dory loved it. When it was over, we watched musicians play. Some of the people were dancing, but we just wanted to watch. After I put one of my pebbles in their collection box, they yelled at me.” Riju’s expression darkened. “It was my second favorite pebble.”
Kit’s stomach dropped. He imagined a tiny Riju watching the acrobats who accepted the pebble. Then he pictured the nasty musicians who only wanted money and yelled at him even though he’d been a kid with nothing else to give. He’d beencompletely unselfish in the way of a child who’s innocent and wants to share what he can, and they’d rejected it.
“They sound like terrible people, Master.”
“Red thinks so too.”
“Did your parents buy you a sweet later, Master?”
“No,” Riju said in a wooden tone.
Perhaps something happened to his parents, and that was why Trig took him on. He’d said he was trying to help Riju be better, and Kit still wasn’t sure what all that had meant.
It probably wasn’t a good idea to ask just in case something bad had happened. It would drag up memories.
Those musicians likely hadn’t been the first or last people who had been mean to him. Kit knew well enough how people might be treated badly over the dumbest stuff. Kids had laughed at him as a child because he’d been hopeless at math, and the teacher had often scolded him.
Riju tipped slightly to lean on him, and Kit took the chance to give him a quick peck on the top of his head while hoping it wasn’t too forward. Riju seemed to like it since he scooted over a little more. Kit let his weight rest on his side and spoke.
“Do you still like fairs, Master?”
“I love them!”
“Me too! What else do you tell Red, Master?”
“I make up stuff, and she likes Stumpy the Unicorn, so I tell her those stories."
“I used to like him too, Master.”
It was a storybook for human kids, and a rifter who had gone to Earth brought one back a century ago to print and distribute for fairy children. It was still popular, and Kit imagined it always would be. If only the humans knew unicorns were real.
Riju straightened up to get close to his face. “What else?”
“Uh, like books, Master? I used to have one about a chuckle chickie and all the things he laughed at.”
“Chuckie!”
