The Shift of the Tide

by Jeffe Kennedy

  Most Tala lived in the cliff city, which rose in tier upon tier, cut deep into the sheer wall. Roads for carts and narrower walking paths wound in and out, passing under arches and balconies, all embedded with jeweled tiles and draped with flowering vines. On the beach, Tala thronged—in human and animal form—building bonfires and setting up feast tables. In the middle tier, awnings of bright silk shaded the wares of merchants and artisans, and just beyond them the council halls blazed with light. They were ready for us, both for the negotiating and the celebrating.

  Perhaps Moranu had given me this gift, of one last evening with my people, just to enjoy life. I took Marskal’s hand, still near mine on the rail, grateful that he’d reminded me of this. He laced his fingers with mine, but had a distracted smile. He shook his head, gesturing with his other hand at Annfwn. “I can’t quite take it in. I understand more now, how you feel about this place. It’s a paradise like none other.”

  “It’s ridiculous that you couldn’t see it when we passed through before,” Ursula groused. “And I don’t like my Hawks being confined below, as if they’ll somehow sully the place by looking at it.” She tossed me an annoyed glance and I shrugged, making it extra languid.

  “Take it up with King Rayfe and Queen Andromeda,” I replied. “I don’t make the rules.”

  “Except you have all that power,” Marskal murmured for my ears alone, making me laugh.

  “Speaking of rules, why does Annfwn keep a standing navy?” Harlan asked, leaning around Ursula. “This has long puzzled me. The barrier only dropped a year ago—why invest in building and maintaining so many ships when they could sail only a few hours before having to turn around?”

  I smiled easily and held up my palms. “Just in case.”

  Ursula pounced on that. “In case of what?”

  “Attack?” I suggested.

  “Attack from what quarter, though?” Harlan persisted, Ursula nodding along. Perfectly matched, those two predators. “Uorsin was Annfwn’s greatest enemy for the last three or four decades, and he was on the other side of the mountains. What attack did you anticipate from the sea?”

  I laughed a little. “You’re asking me as if it was my idea. I have no idea what the reasoning was.”

  “But you knew about it,” Ursula said, gray eyes keen.

  I glanced at Marskal, who still stared at the beauty of the vista ahead, giving me no clue what they were driving at. “I knew we had ships, yes.”

  “And how did you think of them?” Harlan asked. When I blinked at him in confusion, he clarified. “Did you think of them as a fishing fleet, for example?”

  “Oh no! We prefer to catch fish ourselves. Much more fun.”

  “So, if not for fishing, then…” He prodded while Ursula watched me keenly.

  “I don’t know.” I threw up my hands. “It’s tradition. We have tournaments with them. Not having ships would be… wrong.”

  They nodded at each other in satisfaction, as if they’d won a sparring match against me.

  “Told you,” Ursula said.

  “No,” he countered mildly, “I suggested it first.”

  “I’d thought of it already, though.”

  Harlan shook his head. “Doesn’t count unless you say it.”

  Marskal finally tore his attention from the cliff city. “You’re thinking it was part of the original strategy by the founding Tala—embedding in the culture the tradition of keeping a standing navy, in anticipation of attack by Deyrr, knowing it would come from the sea?”

  Ursula nodded, a pleased smile on her face. “You always see clearly, Marskal.”

  I huffed in annoyance. “But nobody’s ever said that.”

  “They wouldn’t,” Ursula explained, “because it’s not something you see when you’re inside a culture. Especially for a people as … fluid as yours in terms of governance, making something like keeping a defense against an ancient enemy that could be easily forgotten part of honored tradition—”

  “With regular tournaments,” Marskal inserted.

  “Right. And tournaments—it makes having the navy a part of life, rather than some edict.”

  I laughed at them all. “I don’t know. It seems far-fetched to me.”

  “Look at your capital.” Ursula jabbed a finger at it. “I know you don’t call it that—I still think it’s imprecise that ‘Annfwn’ refers to both the cliff city and country.”

  “Like the Kingdom of Avonlidgh and Castle Avonlidgh?” Harlan asked with a pleasant smile.

  She scowled at him. “I didn’t name that one, either. Still, when I first came to Annfwn, I didn’t understand how it could be so open, so without any way to close it off. The walking paths go right past homes with unenclosed balconies and windows. One dwelling might lead directly into another. Rayfe gave me some balderdash about animal territories and mutual respect, but—”

  “Which is accurate,” I inserted. “The Tala are much more aware of territories and personal space than you mossbacks are. We don’t need locked doors because we’re smart enough, and have enough sensitivity, that we’d never invade another’s space unwelcome.”

  She stared at me in consternation, and Harlan laughed, smoothing a big hand over her short hair. “She’s got you there. But that wasn’t your point. To be fair, I felt the same, that first visit. Now, however, I see the same thing you do.”

  “See what?” I looked back at the city, the cliff now towering over us as we closed on it, brilliantly lit in violet, tangerine, and fuchsia by the setting sun.

  “It’s a fortress as far as attack from the sea,” Marskal said in his matter-of-fact way. “Access to the lower tiers can be easily cut off by destroying those ramps and rope bridges.” He pointed to them. Notice how the lower tiers have no doors and windows?”

  “To keep them cool,” I said. “They’re mainly for food storage.”

  They all nodded in satisfaction. These warriors all loved the game of picking apart strategy.

  “Those tunnels we slid down,” Harlan said to Ursula, sharing an intimate smile with her, “they could be used to drop nasty surprises or fighters on an invading force.”

  “The balconies, too,” she replied. “See how that first tier juts out farther? They’d both create a ceiling to anyone trying to climb, and provide convenient platforms to drop rocks and worse on attackers.”

  I narrowed my eyes on the balconies she spoke of. Those were shared, open to anyone to use, particularly for snacking on treats gotten from the street vendors. “Those are for dining and dancing,” I said. “Musicians play there.”

  “In peace time, sure,” Ursula replied, and put a hand on my shoulder. “We’re not criticizing, cousin. Quite the reverse. The Tala have been exceedingly clever and I was too dense to see it before. Everything is geared toward resisting the onslaught of your true enemy: Deyrr.”

  “You have it in your secrecy, too,” Marskal said, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear and smiling when I frowned. “Most of your Tala secrets aren’t that critical—except that you have a habit of not trusting information to anyone. It’s ingrained in you to conceal strategic information from an enemy, to be ready for Deyrr, whether you know it or not.”

  Trust again. I regarded him in bemusement and he gave me a gentle smile, as if he already understood the inside of my heart.

  “And we are not the enemy,” Ursula declared, leveling her hawkish gaze on the cliff city again. Her dark red hair gleamed with the dying rays of the setting sun, which also outlined her sharp, determined profile. “Which I’m going to take up with Andi—and Rayfe—immediately. We have too many enemies outside our barrier to be playing these coy games within it. Time to trust each other already.”

  I smiled back at Marskal, Ursula’s words echoing in my mind.

  Annfwn doesn’t have a pier like the harbor at Nahanau—nor was the cove as deep as the harbor there, so we had to leave the ship anchored farther out. I’d teased my companions that they’d have to swim—the Tala sailors already had, diving
or flying off as soon as they’d made the ship fast—but the staymachs had told me that Andi and Rayfe were sending a small boat so the distinguished visitors wouldn’t have to soak their clothes.

  Probably a good thing as everyone had donned the best clothes they had with them. Ursula had even conceded to wearing a gown, though she refused my offer of a lighter Tala-style silk, muttering about feeling naked in the thriced things. Her crown, a simple gold diadem that swelled to an upward point over her forehead, set with three of Salena’s rubies in a staggered line, to represent the three goddesses, the topmost cut to resemble Danu’s star, rested on her brow, shining like a beacon.

  A little staymach, in the form of a pretty pink songbird, sat on my shoulder chirping. Marskal—stirring my blood with his handsomeness in the Hawks’ formal uniform—examined it with curiosity. “It’s more intelligent than a typical songbird?” he asked.

  “Yes, though songbirds have extensive and complex memories for the songs they sing. It makes them good for carrying memorized messages,” I explained. I held up a finger and the bird hopped onto it. “Here, you take him.”

  With a look of bemused wonder, Marskal held out his index finger and the little bird hopped onto him, singing a series of trills. A delighted smile creased the man’s face, with none of his usual reserve in it. He glanced up at me, the sheer pleasure lighting his eyes. “What is it—he—saying?”

  “It’s not really like that. It’s more like I hear the thoughts in his head, than that the song means anything.”

  Marskal nodded in understanding. “Like with Kiraka.”

  “I hadn’t thought of it that way.” I studied the bird, thinking. “It’s the same and not. Like the difference between listening to birdsong and having a giant condor sit on you and peck a hole into your brain.”

  Marskal laughed. “Has that happened to you?”

  “No,” I replied primly. “But I have a vivid imagination.”

  He caught me around the waist, the little bird squawking and leaping to his shoulder in an indignant flutter. “And you are vividly beautiful, just like your home,” he said against my temple, kissing it. “I’ve realized why you always smell like flowers. It’s Annfwn, in your skin and in your blood.”

  “Stop that, you two,” Ursula commanded. “Have some dignity—the skiff is here.”

  “You’re in Annfwn now,” I replied cheerfully. “Dignity doesn’t exist here.”

  She would have retorted, but Queen Andromeda and King Rayfe had arrived. He leapt from the boat, flashed into the shape of a raptor, then landed on the deck and shifted back to himself and leaned over the rail to give the queen a hand over from the rope ladder. I ignored the painful stab of envy at his casual shapeshifting. They were in formal regalia also, deep Tala black, and even wearing their crowns, too, albeit far less rigid and fancy than Ursula’s.

  “King Ray—” Ursula had inclined her head and began her formal request for entry to Annfwn, but Queen Andromeda launched herself at her sister, nearly knocking the taller and stronger woman over with the force of her embrace.

  “Oh, skip that, Essla!” she cried, clinging to the high queen, dark hair rising around them and swirling with the force of her magic and strong emotions. “You nearly died! How could you do that to me?”

  Ursula, clearly bemused and seeming uncertain where to put her hands, awkwardly hugged her sister back. Harlan watched her, amused, and not helping in the least, even when she looked to him appealingly. It made me feel a little better about my awkwardness with strong emotion to see Ursula also struggle with it. Perhaps we shared that trait.

  “I’m fine, Andi,” she said, finally relaxing into the embrace and rocking her sister. “I’m really fine. It’s all right. I would never leave you.”

  Queen Andromeda at last released her fierce hold, though only far enough to grasp Ursula’s forearms. “Promise.”

  “I already promised. And look, here I am.” Ursula said it gravely, with all the certainty in her.

  “Yes. Well.” Queen Andromeda blew out a shaky breath, then glanced back at King Rayfe, who broke his stern expression to nod at her, mouth curving with affection. “I promised Rayfe I’d be dignified, but that flew out the window with the hatchlings.”

  He stepped forward and offered her his forearm, which she took. “Not dignified,” he corrected. “The Tala don’t care for such things. I—” he broke off, glancing at Marskal who seemed to be suffering a precipitous coughing fit.

  I shook my head at the man. Always so reserved and then one little joke puts him over the edge. “King Rayfe. Queen Andromeda.” I bowed deeply. “Greetings to you.”

  “Welcome home, Cousin.” Queen Andromeda gave me a light embrace, kissing me on each cheek. She smelled of the flowers of Annfwn, as Marskal claimed I did, making me suddenly and fiercely homesick. Which made no sense as I was already home. “We’re so proud of all you’ve done.”

  “Done?” I echoed, feeling as if she’d thumped me between the brows.

  “Representing the Tala,” King Rayfe added with a smile and a nod of recognition. “Your exploits have been much discussed and celebrated.”

  “Not only did you save the Star from the high priestess of Deyrr, you saved my sister’s life.” Queen Andromeda took my hands and squeezed them. “Nothing less than what I would have expected of Salena’s blood. My mother would be so proud of you.”

  Unexpectedly choked by that, the words rose in my throat to explain what had happened to me, how I no longer carried on the proud tradition, but my moment’s hesitation was enough that they moved on, discussing logistics with Ursula and Harlan, ordering priorities. It gave me long enough to catch my breath.

  A tug on my hair and I glanced at Marskal, watching me quietly. “Steady?”

  I nodded, realizing I was. Ursula and Harlan were climbing down the rope ladder to the skiff, she bitching about her long skirts. Queen Andromeda still had an echo of laughter in her smile when she looked to me. “Will you shift to meet us on the beach?”

  And, just like that, I lost my equilibrium again. Moranu bless him, Marskal stepped in. “I’ve asked the Lady Zynda if she’d stay in human form and translate for me.”

  King Rayfe frowned. “You’re going ashore? I thought it odd enough that you’re on deck, but…”

  “I vouch for him,” I said, and they both relaxed.

  “If I have to climb down that thriced ladder,” Queen Andromeda said to her husband, “especially in this getup, you have to also.” With a good natured grin, he helped her over the rail again and quickly followed.

  “I take back any remarks I might have made that cast aspersions on your power,” Marskal said, his tone so deliberately admiring that I threw him a look. He raised his brows at me. “What? The king and queen of the Tala immediately accepted your word without question.”

  I rolled my eyes at him, then went to the ladder. “Because I vouched for you.”

  “What does that mean, exactly? Shouldn’t I know the rules?”

  “Just stick with me and you’ll be fine.”

  His hand drifted down my back and patted my bottom. “An assignment I can enjoy.”

  After the short row to shore, all chance for conversation ended. As soon as we set foot on the sand of Annfwn, I was whirled into embraces, kisses, and impromptu dances. The king, queens, and Harlan strode off to the lighted council chambers, having settled on business first, but Marskal stayed with me. Apparently—likely after her sister’s emotional greeting—Ursula had decided I wasn’t needed to help parley. Hopefully it would stay that way.

  It was good to be home.

  And any time I looked up from another breathless conversation, or spun out of a hug, Marskal was there at my shoulder, a quietly bemused smile on his stern mouth. Next I looked, he held a mug of wine, flicking suspicious glances at it, then scanning the jubilant crowd, watching for danger. I sashayed over to him, borrowed the mug, took a long drink of Annfwn’s flowery wine, and handed it back with a smile. He warded me off with
upraised hands. “You keep it,” he raised his voice over the music.

  “Don’t you like it? It’s just wine. No one will poison you.”

  His mouth quirked in a half smile. “I’ll keep on the alert just the same, thanks.”

  “Always on guard,” I teased.

  He tugged on a lock of my hair. “Yes.”

  I lifted the mug again, but it flew from my hand. And I went crashing to the sand, the huge black panther rolling me several lengths toward the water, teeth at my throat. I shrieked—mostly surprise, but also infuriated—which was a mistake because Marskal dived into the fray, sword drawn and swinging in a lethal arc for the cat.

  “Marskal, no!” I yelled, which fortunately stopped the downward strike, especially since I then dissolved into laughter as the cat had me pinned, licking my face raw with its raspy tongue. “Gah! No, stop!” I pushed at him ineffectually. “I mean it, Zyr.” I managed a much sterner tone, mostly because Marskal still stood over us with sword in one hand and short blade in the other, looking murderous.

  The panther leapt off of me, kicking me with a spray of sand, and became my brother. His eyes, sparkling with triumph and merriment, shone blue even in the twilight, and his hair hung nearly to his knees. He put hands on hips and sneered at me. “The time among mossbacks has made you into a wimp! Once I could never have surprised you like that. Why didn’t you shift?”

  That pang of misery stabbed at my heart. I’d wanted to ask Zyr for his help, but hadn’t gotten around to envisioning how that conversation would go. Marskal held out a hand to help me up, but I ignored it, struggling to my feet on my own. Zyr observed with a dark look that he pinned on Marskal.

  “Why is this mossback here, blades drawn?”

  “She vouched for me,” Marskal replied evenly, sheathing his blades but not losing his ready edge. “And I drew my blades to protect her, as it’s my honor and duty to do.”