by Sam Farren
Michael nodded in understanding, hand slipping from my shoulder to my wrist. He tugged me down as he took a seat, in no fit state to be standing, and said, “Well? Come on, Rowan. I can't believe you've yet to tell me all about whatever you've been doing these two years.”
I laughed, taken aback by the invitation to speak freely, and of all the things I hadn't counted on happening, this one caught me off-guard the most: Michael actually listened to what I had to say. He was attentive, nodding along as I spoke, and didn't once try to interrupt me or presume to correct me. He wasn't itching to add in anecdotes of his own; he was patiently enthralled, hanging onto my every word.
I told him about Canth, about my time in Port Mahon and the people I'd met there. He clapped his hands together, delighted to hear that Kouris was alive, pleased to know that Akela, Atthis and Katja were in a similar condition. I said nothing more of Katja, kept her out of the story entirely, and spoke too quickly for him to notice any gaps in my tale.
Michael might've kept his words to himself, but his expressions were a different matter altogether. I watched his face twist through the stages of surprise, disbelief and awe as I told him how Kondo-Kana had found me, being as blunt as I could about what had happened with Gavern. When I spoke of Queen Nasrin and the ship she'd put us on, he sensed that my story was coming to a close, and when he finally spoke up, it wasn't to ask about pirates or royalty, or about necromancers whose names had passed into myth.
“Then you saw our father?” was the first thing he said.
“I did. He's the only one left in the village. The plague chased everyone else out,” I said.
“That's... unfortunate, but hardly unexpected. You get rid of the village's necromancer and look what happens! But I'm glad you got to see him, Rowan. Glad he got to see you. I've been trying to write to him, obviously, but the Felheimish have this misguided notion that they can protect us by shooting ravens out of the sky. Something about the rebellion, as if there's a message hidden in Dear dad, living with the pane. Just wanted to let you know I wasn't set on fire with the rest of Kastelir.”
Springing back to his feet, he held out a hand to me. I took it and he tugged me against his side, slinging an arm around my shoulders as we headed into the tribe.
“Canth, hm? My sister, the pirate necromancer—imagine that. No doubt I'd have a heart attack knowing a fifth of what you really got up to. Meanwhile, here I am, rarely leaving Kyrindval itself, spending much of my time reading and writing. Novel!”
“I'm sure you've been doing more than that,” I said.
If the lecture he'd been leading wasn't proof enough, plenty of the pane we passed waved warmly, looking as though they'd like to get a word with him.
“Oh, I suppose. I've been teaching here and there. There aren't many who can compare pane records to what humanity has managed to scrounge together,” he explained. “The pane have an amazing collection of literature and historical texts. Absolutely incredible. There are volumes spanning back prior to the Necromancy War, when Myros was at its height of power. I spent over thirty years of my life believing that all records of Myros had been lost when really, humans had either chosen to bury them or hadn't taken care of them properly! Not to mention that... Sorry. I'm rambling, aren't I? Should I be talking this... normally? You're recently back from the dead, in my estimation, and I'm not sure how I'm supposed to react.”
“Me neither,” I admitted. “I've found Claire and you, and I still haven't worked it out. It'll probably all sink in later.”
“Indeed. Well, for now, we ought to get something to eat!” he decided. “I'll even let you pick the tavern.”
After the past handful of days, curling up in bed and sleeping peacefully wasn't a possibility, no matter how exhausted I was, but an evening spent at a tavern surrounded by food and drink was sure to help my mind reach a more even plateau. I chose the first tavern we came across. A glass big enough for me to drown in hung above the enormous door, garnished with a pair of dragon horns.
Inside, the tavern was busy, but far from full. The pane working there weaved around me, carrying a plate on each palm miles overhead, and though some of the patrons nodded in greeting, our presence barely caused a stir at all. The scent of roasting vegetables filled the air, and I would've let that guide me, if not for the way Michael grabbed the collar of my shirt and led me to one of the tables.
It was considerably lower than all the others in the tavern, designed with humans in mind. I didn't have to worry about scaling the sides of one of the stalls and sat down opposite Michael, greeted by a pane who'd rushed out from behind the bar before I had the chance to say anything to him.
“Good afternoon, little friends,” the pane said in Svargan, “What would you like today? The little friend special, hmm?”
“That sounds perfect,” Michael replied.
“And a couple of ales,” I added.
The pane hurried off as quickly as they could, pulling clean glasses down from a shelf. Michael sat there for five, six seconds before realising something was amiss, starting in his seat.
“Wait—you understood all of that?” he asked, “Hah, don't tell me. Kouris taught you Svargan, did she?”
“Svargan and Canthian,” I said, not giving him the chance to point out that naturally, he'd had far more practice than me, and was willing to help out if anything escaped my understanding. “What is the human special, anyway?”
“It's exactly the same as the special, only they actually cook the meat.”
Our food was brought to us so quickly that I was worried they hadn't bothered putting a flame to the meat, until it was placed down in front of me. The table and chairs might've been designed with humans in mind, but the plates and steins certainly weren't. I thanked the pane who'd brought it over without taking my eyes off the food, grateful that my time with Sen had more than prepared me for this.
Michael fell quiet as he ate, the day's events already catching up with him, and I took the opportunity to eat without interruption. I caught fragments of the conversations unfolding around me without meaning to; one of the pane was bemoaning the latest hatchling to find their way into their cabin and their tendency to gnaw on everything, and another was worried about a delivery of wheat due in the morning from Jorjang. I rocked forward on my elbows, tearing Michael's attention away from roast potatoes the size of two fists.
“I need to ask you something. What you were saying about books about Myros, from before the War...” There was no need to ask him if he'd actually read them. “Before I got here, I was in the Bloodless Lands. With Kidira.”
Michael shuddered, saying, “A terrifying woman indeed. I'm hardly surprised that she'd head there.”
“Right?” I agreed. “Anyway, I think...”
A passing pane caused me to trail off, and I leant in closer, lowering my voice.
“I think we might've stopped the whole dragon-control problem. They were using a necromancer.”
“A necromancer? I can't say I'm terribly surprised. Claire said something along the lines of them being involved, though she didn't know how,” Michael hummed, tapping his fork on the table. “But if you've dealt with the problem, what's become of the necromancer in question?”
“Long story,” I said, frowning. “But they were using necromancers to control the dragons. Have you ever read anything about that?”
Michael leant back in his seat, arms folded across his chest.
“The obvious answer is yes, it's what your new friend spent much of the Necromancy War doing,” he said. “I suppose that might be where they got the initial idea from, though it's certainly been refined since then.”
“Mm.”
People had blamed a lot of things on necromancers. Failing crops, poor weather, dragons and plagues. They had to be right about one thing, I supposed.
After the meal, Michael insisted on paying, and said there was plenty of room for me in the cabin he'd been staying in for the past few years. Turning in for the night meant bei
ng alone, thoughts growing louder and louder, but I could've leapt at the opportunity to be off my feet.
The fire pit caught my eye as we passed by, but I knew there'd be other nights for that. I was in no rush; I had nowhere to be other than Kyrindval. Michael walked ahead, numbed to my presence, and I followed him closely through the streets, eyes flitting around the streams of blue and gold and green that hung from windows, the animals carved over doorways, as Sen's cabin had once proudly displayed a hummingbird.
“You'll have to speak to someone about more permanent arrangements,” Michael said, abruptly remembering I was there. “Zentha should be able to help you. But for a few nights, my place will have to do.”
Michael took wide strides to tackle the steps leading up to the cabin he'd brought me to. The door had been painted red with a weasel running the length of the arch, but something caught his eye, stopping him from make a grab for the handle.
Kidira came marching up the road, leading Charley behind her.
I'd had every intention of looking for him once we reached Kyrindval, but my brother had been enough to distract me from all that. I ran over to him, meaning to take the reins from Kidira, but she continued to stride on as though I had no right to take him from her.
“I was right,” she said flatly. “Half-right, at least. He was brought to Kyrindval, but went unrecognised. He was being kept in someone's garden.”
“Thank you for finding him,” I said.
Minding my manners around Kidira earnt me no favours.
“I'll take him to the stables,” she said.
Unlike Oak, Charley was more than content to follow Kidira, and I didn't want to cause a fuss. Kidira made it three steps away from me before pausing, deliberating for far too long whether she ought to turn to me.
“You said Akela is in Orinhal?” she eventually asked. “Atthis and Kouris as well?”
“They are. Akela was on a mission for Claire when I left, but she should be back by now.”
Kidira nodded sharply.
“Once I've attended to business here, I ought visit Orinhal. I've plenty to report to Claire that wouldn't do to send in a letter.”
I didn't know how to respond. Kidira was making excuses for herself, making excuses to me, and so I watched her head down the road with Charley, standing there until she was out of sight.
“See what I mean?” Michael said. “I think she just said more to you than she's said to me in two years.”
In the morning, I took Michael's advice. Not wanting to overstay my welcome, to drift aimlessly from one cabin to the next, I headed to the great lodge to see about making a true resident of Kyrindval of myself. Any unwelcome dreams that'd come to me were banished by the acceptance of the tribe, greeted heartily by the pane Michael was living with, offered more breakfast than I could eat in a week.
Kyrindval hadn't been burnt to the ground, but that wasn't to say that it hadn't changed, when I really paid attention to my surroundings. Neighbours shared news with one another – rumours from other tribes, from travelling merchants – troubled by what it would mean for the pane, once all the dragons were dealt with. Plenty there knew of Prince Rylan and spoke far more freely of the man marching through the ruins of Kastelir under the guise of liberating it than Claire ever did.
I hadn't been exactly sure how I'd go about expressing my interest to join Kyrindval – Michael was gone by the time I woke up – but there were plenty of pane gathered around the lodge. I asked one if he had an appointment and he furrowed his brow, looking at me strangely. I thought I'd used the wrong word until someone behind him was kind enough to tell me that so long as I waited, I'd get my turn.
I was there for a better part of an hour. Pane chatted about everything from needing to ask an old, retired farmer who now worked within the lodge whether it was best to expand the field to the east or west, to requesting space to set up a workshop for younger, restless pane.
A pane whose horns had yet to pierce through their forehead kept glancing at me from around the corner of their cabin. I did my best to pretend I hadn't noticed them but couldn't hold back a smile for long, and when they gathered the courage to rush over, it turned out they'd learnt a handful of Mesomium from Michael and wanted to test it out on me. They couldn't do much more than say good morning and ask me how I was, but I asked the question in return, and they told me they were very well, thank you! before bolting off, beaming.
“Who are you after?” the pane at the door who'd been directing people in asked.
“It's about housing. I was told to see Zentha.”
Humming under her breath, the pane leant back, and glanced around the room.
“They're just about ready. Go ahead, on your left,” she said, waving me inside.
Tables were set out within the lodge with plenty of space between them, chairs of equal size flanking both sides. Eight pane were there to counsel the people of Kyrindval, and all of them were taking exactly as much time as they needed. They chatted away cheerfully, some of them discussing their problems and plans over tea and biscuits the size of plates, others having clearly gone off-topic.
Zentha was shaking hands with a man who'd come to see them, and I hoped my spirits were as high as his were, once I'd spoken to Zentha.
They beckoned me over with their claws, hardly surprised to find a human amongst the pane, and I pulled myself up into the chair opposite them, feet barely dangling off the seat, once I was flat against the backrest. Zentha's horns were impressive as ever, curving back with hundreds of years of growth, ridges pronounced in lieu of lines across their forehead.
“Good morning,” I said, taking the initiative. “I'm Rowan, and I hope I'm in the right place. I came to ask about staying in Kyrindval.”
“You didn't know Svargan the last time you were here, did you?” Zentha asked, letting me know that they recognised me. “Well, you're in the right place. Biscuit?”
They gestured to the plate in front of them and I held both hands up.
“Usually, yes, but I think I just had three meals for breakfast,” I said, watching as they picked up a biscuit for theirself and snapped it on their fangs. “Thank you anyway.”
“Some of the pane think your lot will grow if they feed you enough,” Zentha said, laughing softly. “Well, we've got room for you. You're, ah... you're the sister of Michael, aren't you? No doubt he can vouch for you. The question is, little friend, what would you like to do here? Where would you be happy?”
Zentha's ears stood up as they awaited my answer, and I tried not to reply to eagerly, lest it sound as though I had no clear direction in mind. Where would I be happy, they'd said. Not where would I be useful.
“I like working with my hands. I've done a lot of farming and fishing, but I think your tools might be a bit too big for me,” I said, humming. “Oh! I could help teach the pane Mesomium, if they wanted to learn. Or Canthian! Which might not be the most useful thing for them, but learning's learning, right?”
Agreeing with a smile, Zentha tapped their claws against the arm of their seat and narrowed their gaze at me.
“About that. Where did you learn Svargan?”
“From... from Kouris,” I said cautiously, not knowing whether the answer would draw anger out of them. Nothing of the sort flashed across their features; they'd been given the answer they'd asked for and nothing more. Before I could read too much into it, a question barrelled its way into my mind. “Why? Is there something wrong with it?”
“Oh, not wrong, per se,” Zentha said, rubbing their chin. “A little dated, perhaps... ? It makes you sound older than you are. It's no matter, of course. I'm sure you'll pick things up within a matter of weeks. You seem more than capable enough.”
Zentha left me alone with that thought, and headed to one of the cabinets at the back of the hall. Two of the pane to my right broke out into laughter and I couldn't help but glance over, eyes fixing on the statues raised up towards the ceiling as a result. I hadn't spent nearly long enough in there, last ti
me.
“Let's see...” Zentha hummed, taking their time in turning the pages of the book they'd dragged over. Just because the pane moved freely between households didn't mean that their actions weren't well-documented. “I'd probably put you in gold, with the wolves – nothing permanent, mind, but you get a feel for these things after the first few decades – and if you head to... three streets on your left, there's a cabin with a wolf for its sigil and blue banners. They've two rooms spare there. I don't see any reason why they'd object to you staying with them.”
I grinned, but it was short-lived. Foolish as it was, I shuffled to the edge of my seat, feet hanging above the ground, and lowered my voice.
“I'm a... a necromancer. Is that going to be a problem? Because other than Canth, it's been a problem everywhere else I've ever lived. I don't want to get settled down again, only to have to leave. Or run away.”
Zentha folded the book closed, took another biscuit and snapped it in half. Brushing the crumbs off the table, they popped both pieces into their mouth and chewed thoughtfully.
“It's never been a problem. Not amongst the pane,” Zentha said, holding up a hand to silence me when my mouth snapped open to protest. “The pane have had problems with necromancers, not necromancy. We've had endlessly more problems with humans of other sorts, yet we still opened our doors to your, ah... brother, did we not?”
“You did,” I said, wanting to smile for what Zentha had said and frown for doubting the pane in the first place.
“Use your powers responsibly. Use them to help us. And the next time you speak with Kouris, ask her to teach you the word necromancer in Svargan.”
Zentha used Kouris' name easily, and had they not continued to speak, I would've blurted out, wanting to know whether there was a chance of her ever being allowed back in Kyrindval. They told me how I could go about gathering students. There were noticeboards scattered around the tribe, and once I'd decided on a place and time, I was certain to be inundated with interest.
I left with a neatly drawn map from Zentha, pointing towards the cabin I was to call home, along with a biscuit they'd insisted I take with me. I didn't have difficulty finding it, wolf sat proudly atop the awning, head held back in anticipation of a moon that had yet to rise, but after knocking a few times and tentatively pulling myself up to look through the windows, I found that nobody was in.
