by Jo Walton
20. THE TRAVELERS ARRIVE
It was the first time Selendra had traveled by train, and she found much in the first hour or so of the journey to interest and amuse her. After that, when the billowing steam of the engine and the drawing together of the tracks into the distance ceased to charm, the journey passed in a pall of tedium. Rail tracks, by the needs of their kind, must pass through the flattest and least picturesque parts of any landscape. While there are few parts of the Tiamath that are entirely flat, the route the train takes between Undertor and Benandi seemed to Selendra to pass through most of them. Conversation was not possible, because of the noise of the engine and the rattling of the carriages. Penn engaged himself with his books. Amer curled up on top of the chests of gold and slept, her head tucked under her wing. Selendra wished she had room to curl up beside her nanny. She read for part of the journey, but once she finished the novel she had chosen she soon tired of the improving book of essays Penn pressed on her.
She found it all painfully slow and wished she could soar above the train and settle back to it again as she saw some other passengers doing. This, of course, was impossible for a well-brought-up maiden, unless she had someone to accompany her, and for this purpose Penn and Amer with their bound wings were both perfectly useless.
She was delighted to reach Benandi Halt, but disappointed to discover the carriage and the drafters waiting. Penn had said nothing to her about this arrangement. “I thought I could fly the rest of the way,” she said. “It isn’t far, and my wings are so stiff. I won’t get lost, I can circle the carriage along the road.”
“There’s room for us all in the carriage,” Penn said, helping Amer up. Amer looked stiff and weary, her legs could hardly bend.
“I see that there is, but I’d rather stretch my wings a little,” Selendra said. “Oh please, Penn.”
“I’d rather not begin our lives together with a quarrel,” Penn said, and pressed his lips together. Selendra dutifully climbed into the carriage and perched herself as best she could between her brother and the chests. Amer again climbed on top of the boxes containing the dowry and immediately closed her eyes.
Felin had known the time the train was due. She had been waiting, and as soon as the smoke of its passage came in sight she took off from her doorstep and soared up high above to watch for the coming of the travelers. After a few moments of idly circling, leaning into the wind and letting it carry her around, scanning the ground for the carriage, she was joined by Sher.
“I was sitting out and I saw you up here,” he said. “Are you neglecting your hatchlings for the joy of flight, or is there some exciting purpose bringing you up here? Ah, yes, there is the carriage crawling towards us. You have come up to welcome your husband, and I shall join you.”
“Are you so bored already?” Felin asked.
Sher laughed. “I’ll greet Penn before you do,” he said, and folded back his wings in a dive. Felin did not hesitate an instant but swooped over him, catching the wind from his wings, and plummeted towards the carriage. She was less than half Sher’s length, not thirty feet, but that was no disadvantage now as she hurtled downwards. Although he had started first they were neck and neck when they finally pulled up, just above the ground wind, and landed, with no breath for laughing, beside the carriage.
Selendra had met her sister-in-law only once, at Penn’s wedding, when the only impression Felin had made on her had been as a delicate rose-pink maiden, half-buried in the lacy folds of her veil. She did not at first recognize her in this neat flame-colored vision swooping down to them. She had been looking up, and when she caught sight of two such beautiful dragons cavorting across the open sky as if it belonged to them, her heart filled with delight. Penn unfortunately recognized his wife immediately, and his old friend too. He clicked his tongue in disapproval. Flying out to meet them was all very well, racing down the wind with Sher was something else. The Exalt would not like it when she heard.
“Welcome home, Penn,” Sher said, while Felin was still trying to catch her breath. “And my deepest condolences on the loss of your father.”
“Thank you. I did not know you were here,” Penn said, quite taken aback. He wanted to scold Felin, especially since he had prevented Selendra from flying, but felt he could not in front of so many dragons. Penn was tired and would have liked to rest before finding himself in society. Although Sher was his closest friend, he had never been able to forget the social chasm between them that yawned wider every year.
“I came yesterday. I didn’t give my mother any warning, and yes, I know it’s shockingly unfilial of me. And while we are speaking of my sins, let me apologize for tempting Felin into that dive. But by Veld it’s good to see you again.”
Penn spluttered for a moment, but could say nothing. Felin was smiling. The drafters plodded onwards and Felin and Sher walked beside the carriage. “Exalted Sher Benandi, allow me to introduce my sister, the Respected Selendra Agornin,” Penn said, taking refuge in formality.
“Respected Agornin,” Sher said, bowing to Selendra in full Cupola fashion. She only nodded back, having no idea how to react. “We have met,” Sher went on. “But you were a wingless little grub when last I was in Agornin, showing no sign that you were about to transform into such a very lovely maiden.”
Selendra could say nothing. She had been looking at Sher, and now she saw genuine admiration behind the stock compliment, which in itself was enough to unsettle her. To most young dragons it would have been very little, but for Selendra it was quite unwonted. She had lived very quietly in Agornin and entered very little into what small society the place had to offer. She looked down in confusion. “It must have been a long time ago,” she murmured, at last.
“Felin, my dear, you remember my sister Selendra?” Penn asked, passing on quickly.
“Of course,” Felin said, smiling at Selendra. “We only met for a moment before, but I’m sure we’re going to be very good friends.”
“I hadn’t realized you could fly so well,” Selendra said, her admiration clear in her voice. “Especially considering the mountain and the crosswinds here. That was magnificent. I’m sure I could never do that.”
“Oh, I’ve lived here since I was barely more than a hatchling,” Felin said, flattered. “I know all the winds. But I’ll take you up and introduce you to them, you’ll soon get used to flying here.”
“There are only a few places where there’s anything challenging,” Sher said. “Don’t worry about Penn’s bindings, Repected Agornin, Felin and I will show you where to fly. Do you hunt?”
“I never have. There isn’t much hunting around Undertor. But I have always wanted to,” Selendra admitted.
“I should have remembered that about Undertor. Penn was longing to hunt too, when he came here first, before he was a parson. Felin and I will have to take you up with us.”
“You know I don’t approve of female hunting,” Penn said. “If Veld had meant them to hunt, he would have given them claws.”
“Do you think they starved in the days before the Conquest?” Sher asked, heatedly, for this was a matter on which he had decided opinions. “Some of the best hunters in Tiamath are female, why last year I hunted beside Grevesa herself! It was weapons that drove off the Yarge after the Conquest, after our bare claws proved insufficient. And you surely don’t mean to keep Felin in? She’s been hunting since she could fly. No, she didn’t hunt last year, and the last time I was here for the hunting before that she was increasing, but surely—”
“I have no wish to hunt now that I am married and a mother,” Felin said, smoothly. Penn looked at her with gratitude. Sher stopped, she had taken the wind out of his wings for the second time that day.
Selendra bowed her head. She had always wanted to hunt, but she could see she was not going to be given the chance. She hoped her new life would not be too terribly restrictive. She consoled herself with the thought of poor Haner, bound for Daverak. Things could be much worse.
“I think I shall fly ba
ck to the parsonage and prepare a hot drink for your arrival,” Felin said, into the little silence that had grown since she had disavowed any wish to hunt. “Will you come with me, Selendra?”
“Oh, gladly,” Selendra said. She wriggled her way free of the carriage, past the still torpid form of Amer, and rose up on the wind. Penn said nothing, having already learned the lesson of the give and take of managing his family.
Sher stayed with Penn and the carriage so Felin and Selendra were alone in the air. “I do love to fly,” Selendra said, when they were away from the others. “I wanted to fly from the station, but Penn insisted I stay in the carriage.”
“The winds can be tricky sometimes,” Felin said, flying sedately as if she wished to make up for her earlier spectacular dive. “You’ll be safe with me, but you might have had trouble alone. I’m sure dear Penn had your safety at heart, as he did about the hunting.”
Selendra looked at her sister-in-law, ready to protest Penn’s injustice, if she saw any slightest sign of alliance against him. She found none, for Felin had early in her marriage decided to hold with her promise to obey her husband, and also to support him. She hated to quarrel, and she genuinely liked Penn and did not find him excessively tyrannical. She liked to hunt, but would glory in doing without it rather than have strife in the house.
“Penn’s old nanny was asleep,” Felin said, wanting to establish Amer’s status with Selendra as soon as she could. “I was hoping to speak to her about what she can do, but no doubt there will be time enough.”
“Amer? She’s been asleep almost all the way from home. From Agornin,” Selendra corrected herself quickly. “You’ll find she’s very handy with dragonets, and also in the kitchen.”
“We have a nanny, but she may well come in handy there,” Felin said, glad that Selendra had not claimed Amer as her own assistant. She was cautious generally, but she thought she already liked her sister-in-law, for which she thanked merciful Jurale, as life would be so difficult if they disliked each other. “Speaking of the dragonets, mine are longing to see you,” Felin said. “They’ve never had an aunt before, and they’re on fire to know what you’re like.”
“I am greatly looking forward to meeting them,” Selendra replied. But her heart sank a little at Felin’s cheerful claiming of Amer and acceptance of restriction, and she felt a great wave of homesickness for Agornin. She was already terribly lonely for Haner.
6
Affairs in Irieth
21. THE IMPORTANCE OF HATS
Avan woke with the sense of having slept soundly, as one does on gold. Beside him, Sebeth yawned delicately, her ladylike wing in front of her mouth. She settled back onto the gold and looked at Avan through half-lidded eyes.
Though he found her as alluring as always, Avan laughed and rose. “There’s too much to do today,” he said. “Later.”
“But I’ll be out this evening,” Sebeth said, continuing to loll, her bright blue eyes revolving languorously. “Besides, part of what there is to do will doubtless be disposing of this delightful gold.”
Avan didn’t rise to the bait and ask her where she was going. He leaned over and kissed her. “You’re adorable, and you’re right, the gold isn’t safe here. Besides, hired out it will grow.”
“Frittered away on lawsuits it won’t do anything,” she said, sighing and getting up at last. “Shall I find you a hat?”
Now it was Avan’s turn to sigh. He did not like hats. In the country, in summer, it is permissible to go about with any hat or none. Blessed parsons may be seen in battered old toppers, Respectable young ladies fly around bareheaded, and August ladies take to the skies in caps of tattered lace. Avan had been in Agornin for two weeks and hardly found occasion to put on any hat at all except to go to church. In Irieth, however, at any time of year, hats were obligatory for any dragon who wished to be thought gently born.
Sebeth opened the wardrobe, selected a hat, and offered it to Avan with a bow, like a personal attendant.
“Not that one,” Avan said, frowning at the hat Sebeth held as if it were a rival he was about to devour.
“What’s wrong with it?” Sebeth asked, turning the rejected hat in her hands to examine it. It was black leather, with a wide brim, narrow crown, and a black ribbon, appropriate for mourning and almost new. Sebeth had chosen it for Avan for an end of season promenade and he had worn it only twice.
“I need to fly, and that thing will come off in the first breeze and then where will I be?”
“To fly?” Sebeth echoed, and put her wing up to cover another yawn. “Fly where? Will I need to fly?” She picked up her own chosen hat, a confection of silken fruit with cream and lavender ribbons that looked as if it would fall off if she shook her head too vigorously.
“No, you can wear that pretty piece of froth,” Avan said, indulgently, looking at it with his head on one side. He was sure he had not seen it before, but he felt no urge to inquire where she had acquired it or how she had financed the purchase. If the bill came to him he would pay it without saying anything. Hats were a necessary extravagance. Since she was his clerk it was his responsibility to see that she was well dressed. If no bill came, he would know someone else had paid for it. In such matters, as in so many others, he had learned that it was better for domestic harmony for him not to know. “You won’t need to fly,” he went on. “You should stroll in to the office and deal with anything you can. There are four piles of letters upstairs, sorted as usual. You can make a start on the polite regrets and thank you kindlys.” Avan reached over Sebeth’s shoulder to select a dark green end-of-summer cap which he thought combined fashion and practicality.
Sebeth blinked. “You’re not going to the office?”
“I’ll look in later,” Avan said, settling the cap firmly between his ears.
“But what about Liralen and Kest? They’ll be expecting you.”
“Tell Liralen I’ll be in towards noon,” Avan said, adjusting the strap. “It’s none of Kest’s business where I am, so let him wonder.”
“Don’t you think it would be wise to go in first?” Sebeth asked, her eyes beginning to turn more rapidly.
“No,” Avan said. “I need to arrange for the gold, right away.”
“Hathor?” Sebeth asked, turning to the bronze mirror and pinning her hat carefully at a jaunty angle.
“Of course,” Avan answered. He didn’t say anything further about the lawsuit. She had already expressed her disapproval, and it wasn’t her business.
She turned from the mirror to look straight at him. “There are those in the office who will seek to take advantage of your father’s death,” she said.
“Meaning Kest?”
“Not meaning anyone in particular, just that everyone will be reassessing where everyone else is standing now. It’s a change, and a change that makes a real difference to your position.” She looked away, closed the wardrobe and picked up her office bag.
“I know,” Avan said. “And that is a good reason for coming in nonchalantly late, a dragon with business to settle. If I scurried in the moment I was back in town, eager to catch up with whatever they’ve piled up for me to scratch through, they would see that as weakness.” Avan smiled.
“You’re right,” Sebeth said. “You have the touch for making your way, you know how to behave. If I were to try it, I should be eaten up on the first day.”
Avan laughed. “You know your way and I know mine. That’s why we get on so well together.”
Sebeth laughed, and rubbed her snout caressingly against his. “I’ll see you in the office when you can make it in, o busy one.”
“Don’t forget the letters,” he reminded her. She rolled her eyes once deliberately, mocking his cautions and reminders, as always.
He opened the back door and left. Sebeth stood still for a moment after he had gone, waiting and listening. Then she opened the wardrobe again and took out another quite different hat. This one was made of black lace, folded and pinned with a comb, so that it would have been
difficult for even the most charitably inclined to call it anything other than a mantilla. This hat she slipped into her bag, then she made her way up the slope to collect the piles of letters.
22. EXTENDED CLAWS
Hathor’s offices were in the Migantine quarter. This was convenient for most of his clients, and for the City, but it meant that Avan, who lived within walking distance of his office near the Cupola, had to cover almost the whole length of Irieth to reach him. There were other attorneys nearer at hand, many of them more fashionable, but Hathor’s father and then Hathor himself had served old Bon, and Avan felt he could rely on him as he could never have counted on a stranger. Accordingly, as soon as he was safely out of the house he blinked his middle lids over his eyes to protect himself from the morning sunlight, made sure his hat was seated safely on his head, and rose straight up on the early morning winds.
Flying in Irieth could never be the joy it was in the country. Many dragons refused to fly at all in the capital, saying it was dangerous as well as unpleasant, because of the unpredictable winds caused by the buildings and the heat of so many dragons living together. They walked the streets, or hired drafters and carriages. Avan thought of them as soft. He had flown from Agornin back to Irieth, and he would fly to see Hathor. In his secret soul he liked to think that if he had found himself one of the solitary dragons of the heroic age, relying on his wings and his claws for his life, he would have made a good showing.
He rose rapidly, not stopping until he had gained enough height to be safe from the worst of the unpredictable low winds. From up here, the city looked beautiful. He could see the patterns made of the tiles on the rooftops, and the accidental patterns made by so many rooftops together. He swept by the six towers of the Cupola, taking care not to fly directly above them, and glimpsed children playing down in the courtyard. The houses were silent, but the streets were full of early commerce—here a market selling fruit, fresh from the country, there beeves and swine being driven from the railway to their final market. The silver shining lines of the railway led from the grand arches of the Cupola station across the city. Avan followed them, swooping along, with the sky almost to himself. He descended at last only when he had come to the region of squat stone hemispherical buildings that marked out the Migantine quarter.
