A Day in the Life: Oriana

(A Pre-Game Story set in Isbrann)

Yesterday was sooo boring. I got stuck sitting around the house all afternoon. Practiced for Jacquie's anniversary party next week, but after a while my voice started getting tired. I cleaned the house, did laundry, and all those other things you can do while still sitting around the house. I didn't want to leave, in case my skates were ready early. But I finally picked up my skates from Winston around dusk - too late to go out anywhere, of course. Today was better. Much better.

I nearly leapt out of bed, I have to admit. Up, out, and to breakfast down the street at the Corner Hole. I only saw a few of the guys; Cortez sat in his usual table in the corner, cup of tea in one hand and newspaper in the other, his long brown hair curtaining in his face. I slid in across from him. "Morning, Cortez."

He nodded and kept reading the paper. "Morning." He sipped some tea. "Missed you yesterday. Lost to Dane's usual group."

I ordered my usual short stack and cold orange juice before I answered. "My skates were out of commission. And you know how it goes when I use the show-skates."

"Yeah." He chuckled and looked up at me, brown eyes shining. "Robbie broke the wall yesterday, on Dane's favorite left-winger. Bad check, but they're both fine."

"Good. How's the ice?" The waitress dropped the plate of pancakes in front of me, followed by the orange juice; I grabbed the glass before it sloshed all over the table and nodded reluctant thanks.

"The usual."

"Excellent," I said as I started eating. Cortez, knowing my habits, went back to his paper. He should know how I do things by now; he's made it a habit of being on my side for a while now. Since that time eight or nine years ago, when I pulled our asses out of a 1-5 hole in the the last five minutes of the third - he was one of my left-wingers. He took one hell of a trip-check a year back - broke his leg in five places - and he's been on line and goal duty since he could skate again, but I always try to bring my own goal judge anyway, just to keep the other side's noses clean.

The paper looked like the usual - the parliament's trying to pass another law to restrict the techies' use of the indoor rinks during summer, but it's never going to pass. None of the forty-five previous ones have, so why should this one be any different?

Kendrick and Darius showed their faces about the time I started soaking up the leftover syrup with a piece of bread. They're brothers, Kendrick the elder, but apparently each of their mom's kids has been bigger than the last; I've met the youngest, and he's got a good five inches on Darius, who has a good five on Kendrick - who has a good five on me, and I'm not short. Both redheads, both stronger than the ice (but not than me, though I try not to let on about that...), and the best two defensemen I've worked with in a long time. Their brothers Boris and Wyatt play defense with me too, but they never come to breakfast.

They slid in next to us, Darius on my side, Kendrick on Cortez's. Darius tugged on my ponytail. "Missed ya yesterday, blondie."

I chuckled and pushed my plate aside. "Bad skate day. Cortez says you lost, and Robbie took a bad hit knocking out Cliff?"

Kendrick nodded; Darius started giving their orders to the waitress. "It angered Dane; the whole team kicked it up three or four notches and backhanded their way past Byron four times at the end of the second, and we just couldn't get back up without you. Carlo and Hunter were subbing, by the way."

"Hunter?" I finished my orange juice in one long gulp, put the glass on the plate, and pushed the whole pile closer to the end of the table.

"Yeah. Just up from the kiddie league," Darius supplied. "Not bad, actually. He'll make a better winger than a center, though, and playing against Dane on his first day out wasn't a good start. In fact," he continued, standing up and waving, "there he is now."

One of the four guys walking in the door looked over, smiled, and headed towards us. Pretty average-looking, with a silver buzzcut I couldn't decide was natural or dyed. As he got closer, I could see that his eyes were a soft jade green, almost white. Not bad-looking, come to think of it, but not really what I want right now. He has an easy way of moving, but he gets some coverage out of those slow strides.

He grabbed a chair as he came up. "Good morning, Darius," he said with a nod. "Kendrick," another nod as he sat. "Cortez." Then he looked at me. "You must be Oriana; I heard a lot about you yesterday."

I laughed. "I'm sure. I don't eat rookies before breakfast, if they trotted that one back out."

"No, I didn't hear that." He smiled - nice smile, if a little crooked. "I did hear about a great many penalties for fighting and a few bad checks, though." The waitress came back, roughly deposited food in front of Darius and Kendrick, silently took Hunter's order, and snatched up my plate and glass before she left again.

"Well, I'm pretty much guilty as charged on both of those." I grinned. "Sometimes my blood gets up."

He nodded understandingly.

Darius jumped in between mouthfuls of scrambled eggs. "Yesterday was Lanny's last day. He has to go to a baby shower over in Northshore today, and then he starts moving next week."

"Hm. So it'll be Carlo, Valentine, and Rubin on second-string, and Robbie and I on first-string. Hunter, want to join us?"

"Certainly." He grinned, one of those grins that says, 'Did you have to ask?'

"Right or left wing? I'm sure they mentioned I usually play center."

"Left. Although," he added, frowning now, "I have to question your choice of which string to put me in; I am an unknown quantity."

I shrugged and waved a hand. "Pssht. Darius liked the way you played yesterday. Dane's a tough nut to crack."

Darius laughed, and even Cortez grinned. Kendrick shook his head and stage-whispered, "Hey, Cortez, I think that was an understatement..."

I aimed a light kick at him under the table. "Yeah, it might have been. Anyway, as I was saying, Dane's a bastard on the ice, and Robbie knocking out his favorite left-winger probably put him out for blood." I leaned back, smiling. "What do you guys say to a rematch?"

Cortez nodded once, tightly. Hunter grinned like a fool. Darius and Kendrick whooped and started pounding the table; I stood up on the seat and yelled across the room, "Hey, Dane!"

Dane, a tiny little black-haired guy with a face like a hawk and speed to match, looked up from his table in the far corner. "Whaddya want, Oriana?" The brothers stopped pounding so that they could hear.

"A rematch, of course." I leaned on the back of the booth and grinned at him. "What else?"

"Two hours from now, at your usual rink?" He had a fierce look in his eyes now; I knew that look, and it meant the game was going to be interesting.

"You got it." I started to sit down, but something else occurred to me. "I'll have Cortez rustle up some neutrals to run the refs and the lines, shall I?"

He thought for a moment, then nodded once. "I've got my own goal-man. It's a deal."

"So do I. Deal." I slithered back down into the booth. "Well, boys, looks like we're on. I need to practice before we hit the ice."

Cortez smiled. "And I need to locate a few good officials." He neatly folded his paper, put down the coffee, and looked expectantly at Kendrick. "That is your cue to move, my friend."

Picking up his plate, Kendrick slid out of the seat and stood aside. Cortez slid out, tucked the paper under his arm, and sauntered towards the door. Kendrick slid back into place, and Darius started moving to let me out.

Hunter looked at us. "The usual rink is where we played yesterday?"

"Yeah," Darius said absently. "We'll pick you up on the way out, if you want." He was up by then; I scooted through the depression he left behind and out and up.

"That would be excellent. Thank you."

I grinned down at his seated form, then across at Kendrick and up at Darius. "See you guys in two hours." I headed for the door.

Two hours didn't give me much time to kill; once I hit the sidewalk, I took off in a run, back home. Good thing I'm just down the road. The day was shaping up nice - not too much sun, not enough clouds to say there'd be a storm before nightfall.

As soon as I got in, I headed for the back patio. One hour, singing practice; that's the norm, after all, and if I didn't do it today of all days, tomorrow would be a pain in the ass.

The boys would take care of letting their brothers know about the game, but I'd better make sure Carlo, Valentine, Rubin, Byron and Robbie knew the score, too. Cortez would probably tell them, and it's not like I don't trust Cortez with... everything... but he might not have the time. No problem.

I stepped out the back door, walked a dozen paces into the yard, put two fingers to my lips, and gave a good, piercing whistle. For whatever reason, that exact spot has the best acoustics in town.

At the count of thirty, Robbie came from around the side of the house. He's about my height, with a wild mane of chocolate-brown hair he usually braids with multicolor strings and beads. I don't think I've ever seen him completely shaved; he's usually got this five-day-old stubble that's as dark as his hair and nearly as unruly. He was wearing red today, and had a few extra beads and a nose ring to match.

At forty-five, Carlo trotted in from down the street. He's tall, he's thin, he's about as flexible as your average cooked spaghetti (and about the same color), and he's a real good guy, unless you're across the ice from him. He's a mean bastard when he hits the ice; you'd better keep an eye on him or you're going to lose the puck and your stick - and your skates and a few teeth if you've really pissed him off.

Robbie started grinning before I said a word; Carlo looked at me expectantly.

"Two hours, the usual rink. Carlo, your wingers are Valentine and Rubin; you'd better go grab them." I waited for the question I knew was coming.

"Our opponents?" Carlo asked calmly.

"Just a little rematch against Dane and his crowd." I broke into a grin as wide as Robbie's. "And Robbie, try and make sure it's the other guy that takes the bad check, not you."

Carlo chuckled. "We will be there." He turned and walked off.

Robbie bounced on his toes a couple of times. "I feel great, Ori, don't worry about me."

I laughed. "As though I couldn't guess. Carte blanche, by the way, so long as you don't take yourself out at the same time."

I didn't think his grin could get any bigger, but it did. "Awesome. Gotta go, then; need to finish up some work. Two hours, right?"

"Yeah."

"Great. See ya there." He spun on his heel and took off at a dead run.

I chuckled, shook my head, and walked back inside. I headed straight for the music room; I gave Byron a key to my place a long time ago, and he's never been shy about using it.

Sure enough, half an hour into my practice, the door opened and Byron slouched into the overstuffed chair in the corner. He's well-built, and that slouch is intentional; the more he moves like a massive seal, the less people believe his impossible flexibility. I don't know how the hell he bends like that, but it hurts to watch sometimes. He waited until I finished the song before opening his mouth. "Game?"

"Yeah." I turned the page in my book and marked my place. "In an hour and a half."

"Opponents?"

"How's your backhand defense?" I grinned. "Cortez and Kendrick filled me in; we've got a rematch."

His lean, angular face lit up, and between that, the goatee, and hair that looks like Robbie's chin, he reminded me of Cortez's favorite devil. "Keep 'em off my back. Had more of Dane's crowd in my crease yesterday than you usually knock out of the game."

I felt a scowl forming. "Great. Well... I'll just have to do some damage if that happens again. Give me a thumbs-down, huh?"

"Yeah." He gave a brief smile that faded into a mock-serious expression. "I'll make sure to slug the nearest one."

"Please, don't." I matched his earlier smile. "I think Wyatt's getting tired of serving your penalties."

He smiled again, on and off quickly, and rose. "See you there."

"Yeah."

Byron let himself out, and I went back to my singing. Half an hour later, I gave it up, grabbed my blue bag, my skates, and my sticks, and headed down towards the summer dock. It's about a five minute walk from my place to there, and then another ten out to the usual rink - if you walk. But we keep the ice lanes clear, so I never walk.

Valentine was sitting at one of the benches when I reached the shore, lacing up his skates. He's hard to miss from the back - short, broad, and dark, with a candy-apple-red buzzcut sprinkled with a handful of silver hearts. He gets all sorts of teasing about those hearts, but he just smiles and insists that the ladies like it. Never saw the attraction myself.

He'd chosen a good spot, on a rise; we could see the rink from here, and it looked like at least two people had beaten us there. The figure skaters in the harbor rink were doing warm-ups - looked like a kiddie class today, probably Jacquie's new group of eight year olds. I dropped onto the bench beside Valentine and swung my skates off my shoulder. "Hey, Val."

He glanced up at me, then returned to tightening his laces. "Oriana. Heard we're beating up Dane's crowd today."

"Beating up?" I laughed as I took off my shoes. "I suppose you could say that. It's just a little rematch."

That earned me a chuckle. "When was the last time we had a 'little rematch' that didn't involve blood? Never mind, it's a rhetorical question." He stood up. "See you down there, sister." He stepped down onto the ice lane and started off.

I waved before I started putting on my own skates. He calls us all his siblings; I'm not quite sure why, but I'm not going to ask. The last person who asked lost his services - although that could have been the last in a long line of last straws - and he's too damned good to let run away over something as dumb as the way he refers to us. After all, I don't care if someone on my team has delusions, as long as they can play well.

Once I finished lacing up, I stood up and wiggled all the important parts of my feet. They felt good, really good. I shoved my shoes into the blue bag, slung it up over my shoulder, grabbed my sticks again, and headed out.

Jacquie waved to me as I passed, and I returned the favor. I was building up a good head of steam at that point, so I don't know how much of it she saw. Ten minutes of walking became around two or three minutes of skating - and it was a nice morning.

I skidded to a stop next to the rink. We'd built up some shoulder-high walls and benches and penalty boxes out of ice blocks and painted the ice after the first good freeze; we've build similar ones before, and they'll usually last until the big thaws start. Wyatt (Kendrick's younger brother and Darius's older, and redheaded like all six of the boys) and a little blonde guy I didn't know were trading stories about penalties when I joined them.

"...And we won, four to three," Wyatt finished as I walked up. "Morning, Oriana. This's Peter; he'll be our lineman."

I nodded to him. "Peter. Nice to meet you."

He smiled. "Nice to meet you too, Oriana."

We didn't have much else to say, he and I, so I went to our bench and sat down while he and Wyatt continued to chat. I was a little earlier than usual; we usually try and squeeze some practice in before the other team shows up, but I was early even for that. I took off my sword and left it on the bench; the boys know better, and anyone else will deserve a stick to the head for their trouble.

Right on time, the rest of the boys showed up, along with Cortez and the other lineman, a dark-haired man I've seen before but never worked with. Rubin already had his helmet on, as usual; come to think of it, I don't think I've ever seen his hair. If he's not helmeted, he's got a set of hats he'll rotate out. His eyes are green, his nose is bent, and his face looks like the glaciers up east of Northport. The brothers had made a stab in the dark and had on blue sweaters - not a bad guess, since Dane prefers black, but I'd rather they waited until I checked with him. But I shrugged and dug out my own blue sweater and started putting it on.

As my head popped out of the neck, Boris, Kendrick and Darius's eldest brother (and only a few inches taller than me...), slid over and spoke up. "Hey, blondie. I brought some paper today."

"Paper?" I frowned at him.

"Well, yeah. It's a rematch, right, and we got trashed last time. So I figure you and Carlo are going to be out for blood this morning. And I thought that maybe the other guys would appreciate it if I didn't carve up the penalty bench playing paper games." He grinned. "Besides, Cortez got Silver to score-keep again, and last time she forgot to bring paper. That score's still carved into the ice between the boxes."

I laughed and slugged him on the shoulder. "Sounds like a plan, then. But did you bring a pencil?"

He nodded. "Yup."

"Guess you'd better get set, then." I grabbed my helmet and a stick and stepped out into the rink, ending the conversation. Mostly because he was right; it was going to be a rough game.

We got in a solid ten minutes of practice before Dane's crowd showed up. It looked like everyone was on their game - Byron had actually practiced deflecting backhands before he came, the brothers were in high spirits, and Carlo and the boys were in clockwork-magic mode. Robbie was up on his usual high-as-a-kite trip, and Darius was right about Hunter - the kid was good, and he was keeping up with me just fine and looked like he still had enough power to keep up when I really get going.

Dane's crowd showed up right on time, with the ref, Silver, and Dane's pet goalman. The ref was someone I didn't know again: a little dark girl with a mane of black hair and a sweet face that Cortez introduced as Cacie. The goalman is probably her brother; he goes by Doc. Dane's goalie is the only lady goalie I've seen on the south coast; she's a jittery little woman who jumps on pucks like they've done some personal injury to her. His second-string is a set of triplets from over near the mountains; I've never heard the actual names on them, but they're called Red, Blue, and Green, and their hair is dyed accordingly. Red had a black eye today, and from the looks he was shooting at Wyatt, I know whose fault it was. Green had some scabs that look suspiciously like tooth-marks on one ear, but I know who is girlfriend is, and it's hard to bite someone in-game anyway. Dane's defensemen looked like they'd been through a war; Carlo was looking smug, so I can only imagine what happened at the end of the game yesterday.

Then there's Dane's wingers - Cliff, a big bald sonnuva bitch, and this guy we jokingly call Fairy-boy. He's tiny, delicate-looking, and dyes his hair this shade of pale lavendar that you usually only find in fairy stories - and to make it worse, he's been known to go as a fairy to costume events. So we call him Fairy-boy. I think his actual name is Chad.

Anyway, we got started with the game. I'll spare the details of play and just do the highlights. Halfway through the first period, Byron gave me the thumbs-down, and I gave Robbie the go-ahead to knock Cliff out of the game again. We had to break while Cortez and Doc hauled Cliff's unconscious ass over to the penalty box so that Silver could do some triage; nothing was seriously broken except his pride, although I think he has a concussion. He didn't come back into the game; Robbie got a misconduct and major charging and got stuck in the box for a while. We jerked Boris in to fill once the major was over. That got Dane's dander up, but I can play with the big boys - and he's the only big boy on his string, even with his enforcer/defenseman filling in. The fights started after that, and I think I had someone in the box the entire time. Even Byron got involved. Dane's boys weren't much better, but they were down one man and the enforcer couldn't catch Hunter or Robbie - and he quickly found out what happens when some fool decides that I'm a good target for a few punches. Carlo and his boys gave them the same treatment; I think they had less trouble than my boys and I were having with the triplets. We almost took out Fairy-boy in the second with an accidental hook that sent him head-first into the wall. He got lucky and hit the section that Robbie and Cliff knocked out yesterday; it hadn't frozen solid yet and gave way, saving his neck and giving him nothing more than some bruises and maybe a little burn from the rough ice outside the wall. Finally, in the last two minutes of the third, I managed to peg a lucky one around the goalie while Hunter played decoy, and that was the winning point.

Dane snarled at me when I tried to tell him it was a good game. That's all right; it just means I'm looking forward to another rematch when his boys are all healed up again. It didn't quite look like our usual grudge match war-zone, but that's only because no one bled on the rink this time. Cliff took off like a scalded cat as soon as Silver yelled out the end of the game; Dane and the rest of his buddies only stayed long enough to exchange polite small-talk before they followed.

After a quick cool-down and assuring Hunter that he was welcome any time, I headed back townwards. Jacquie was just finishing her class when I passed, so I stopped and waited. She's a tiny thing, with long, straight russet hair and a pretty smile, and she was laughing as the last student left and she saw me. Her skating is a delicate, lovely thing, where I've been told that I skate like the ice is going to escape from under me, but I like her anyway.

"How'd the game go?" she asked as soon as she was in speaking range.

"Oh, the usual."

She laughed again. "I saw it was Dane's group, but you didn't send anyone back to town this time. Are they getting better, or are you getting worse?" There was a wicked twinkle in her brown eyes.

"No, they were just lucky. I think they got away with only one concussion, and no blood this time." I nodded towards town. "Shall we?"

"Yeah."

We started skating back to the summer dock; I had to temper my speed to hers, so it took a good five minutes to get back, but we chatted the whole way back, about her anniversary, and her students, and the game. As we sat down to take off our skates, she asked, "You did remember we have to go over to see Dawn's new theater at two, right?"

"Uh... yeah."

She looked over at me with a grin and tossed her hair back over her shoulder. "You didn't until I reminded you. I'll come over and saddle up your beastie while you shower, shall I?"

"Thanks."

We jogged back up to town, and I ducked into the house to shower. My skates and the blue bag stayed by the door, and I just shed stuff as I crossed to my room. The game was over; Byron doesn't drop by unless he's got game info to pass on, and no one else has a key. Offsides (my horse) knows Jacquie, so she'd be fine saddling him. I grabbed clean clothes and hurried.

It took longer to dry my hair enough that I wouldn't be growing icicles on the ride than it took to shower, but I made it out to the stable in under half an hour. Offsides was saddled, and Jacquie was already mounted up on her big grey. I think she does that just so that I don't see her scaling his leg, or whatever she does to get on.

It was a quiet ride over to the theater; it's in the next town, and we had to stop so I could grab some munchies on the way, but we were on time. I'm one of the backers, so I sort of needed to be there; Jacquie's one too, but I was a major backer and she was a minor. She'd rather invest in more permanent arts than theatre, but I'm not picky like that. I suspect she has an ex or two in the industry.

The theater is an annex to Dawn's inn; it's all covered over, which is a vast improvement over the old one, but she didn't have the heater working yet. We spent the afternoon at her place, doing the whole tour-the-theater thing and the be-polite-at-the-reception thing. It was all phony, but I didn't expect anything different. I only went because it's too close to my place to be able to weasel out. At least they gave us refreshments - cheese and wine during the tour, and a light buffet during the actual reception, which was in the common room of the inn. Dawn had called in a local group to run a short one-act play before we left; to my considerable surprise, Byron was up there playing a part. I made a note to kid him a little the next time I saw him.

It was almost dinner-time by the time we got out of there, but I convinced Jacquie to go the long way so that I could look in on Mom's estate. Well, I guess it's technically mine, but I was in my place long before Mom died, so the estate hasn't been Home in a long time. I've been renting it out, and I wanted to give it a once-over to see if anything needed repair. It looked good, though, so Jacquie and I headed on into town; we stopped at the Corner Hole and ate supper, heckling the waitress behind her back the whole time. Turns out that Jacquie knows her, and she really is a bitch. After that, Jacquie and I parted ways. I headed back, stabled and fed Offsides, and headed inside for the last set of practices for the day.

I took a few minutes to clean up part of the main room; after being stuck inside all day yesterday, the place looked worse than usual. I moved enough stuff to have space to fight my own shadow for a while, so I did. Took probably two hours to do that - not straight through, of course, since I stopped for water occasionally, and I had to make a couple of restroom breaks, but it was still a good solid two hours. Then I did another run-through for Jacquie's party tomorrow, showered, and sat down to read for a while. Not heavy reading; a couple of books I'd picked up the last time I went Elsewhere. I'd finished all the heavy ones yesterday anyway.

That killed another three or four hours, at which point I decided that I was going to have something else to eat and go to bed. So I did.

It was a good day.