Taking Flight

by Lawrence Watt-Evans

  "Is there a charge for the tray?" Kelder asked.

  Larsi smiled. "Well, now that you mention it, yes," she ad­mitted. "But it's only two bits."

  "We'll eat down here, then," he said. "I'll be right back." He turned and headed back to the room.

  He knocked, in case one of the girls was using the chamber pot or otherwise in want of privacy, and then entered.

  Asha was still curled up asleep; Irith was gone.

  Puzzled, Kelder looked around, but she was indisputably not to be found anywhere in the little room. He stepped back out into the passageway, but there was no sign of her there, either, and he could see no exit save the stairs he had taken.

  He had never gotten past the foot of those stairs; she could not have slipped past him unseen.

  He stepped back in the room and looked around again, and this time noticed the open window.

  They were on the inn's upper floor, a good ten feet above the ground, and it was a very small window, but Irith had her magic. Kelder doubted he could squeeze through the opening himself, but Irith was thinner than he was, and once she was halfway out she could have grown wings easily enough.

  He crossed the room and looked out.

  The wall below the window was not sheer; there was a nar­row ledge a foot or so down, but it was much too narrow for a person to stand on. From there to the ground the wall was smooth dressed stone.

  The alley below was muddy—apparently it had rained at some point in the night—but there were no footprints.

  If Irith had left by the window, she must have flown. He leaned out, so as to see past the overhanging eaves, and stud­ied the sky. He could see no sign of her, but that meant little, given his limited area of view.

  He shrugged and ducked back inside, whacking his head loudly on the frame. He swore.

  Asha was still soundly asleep. He marveled at her ability to slumber so long and so soundly.

  Irith had said he should see about breakfast, so presumably she wouldn't be gone long. He sat down on the edge of the bed to wait.

  Sitting and doing nothing, when one is recently awakened and hungry, is not much fun. Kelder looked around, bored, but there was nothing of any interest in the little room. At least, nothing except Asha. He studied her face as she lay sleeping.

  She was a skinny little thing, and he realized suddenly that the big dark area on one cheek that he had taken for a smudge of dirt was a half-healed bruise. He leaned over and looked her over more closely.

  She was wearing only a cotton shift; he lifted the sheet and investigated.

  Her arms bore bruises old and new; so did her legs, and, he saw with dismay, her throat. There were old scars on her legs, as well—something had done considerably worse than mere bruises once.

  Kelder frowned and pulled the sheet back in place.

  "Is something wrong?" Irith asked.

  Kelder started and whirled.

  She was standing by the window, looking just as if she had never left.

  "I didn't see you come in," he said. He hadn't heard wings, either, he realized.

  "You weren't supposed to," she replied, smiling.

  He smiled back a little uneasily. Marriage to Irith would probably be full of surprises. "Breakfast downstairs any time you're ready" he said.

  Her smile vanished. "Thank you," she said, "but I think we might want to skip it."

  "Why?" he asked, startled.

  "Because the caravan has already left, and I think they're already out of sight of Castle Angarossa; at least, I couldn't see them anywhere, and the stablemaster at the caravanserai said they left over an hour ago."

  "How far did you look?" Kelder asked.

  She shrugged. "I didn't go very high," she admitted. "I didn't want to attract too much attention. But I can't see them from the roof of the inn."

  Kelder frowned again. He looked down at Asha, up at Irith, past her at the window.

  "Forget it," he said. "We'll catch up with them eventually. She needs her rest, and I need breakfast."

  "All right," Irith said, with evident relief. "I didn't really want to argue with them about somebody's head, anyway." She made a face at the thought.

  Kelder noticed that she seemed to have concluded that they would be leaving the caravan alone, which was neither what he had said nor what he had intended, but he didn't bother to correct her.

  "All right," he said, "let's go eat." He saw Irith glance to­ward Asha, and added, "Let her sleep."

  Irith nodded, and the two of them walked downstairs, hand in hand.

  As they ate, Kelder considered the signs of battering on Asha's body. Had Irith noticed them? Were the bandits re­sponsible? If not, who was? Were those marks the reason she had left home and why she would not speak of it?

  "What will happen to the bodies?" he asked Irith.

  She looked up from her egg. "What?" she asked.

  "The bodies of the bandits—the caravan just left them all lying there by the highway. What will happen to them?"

  Irith shrugged. "I don't know," she said. "I guess they'll just lie there."

  "Until they rot?"

  She shrugged again.

  "That won't make that stretch of highway very pleasant," Kelder pointed out.

  Reluctantly Irith answered, "There are . . . well, you know, animals and stuff."

  That was even worse. "Shouldn't someone do something about them?" Kelder asked.

  "Like who?" Irith asked. "I mean, if they have families somewhere and they find out, I guess they could do some­thing, or maybe if King Caren decides it's a good idea his sol­diers could bury them or something."

  "What about Asha's brother?" The idea of doing a good deed, of freeing the trapped soul, still appealed to Kelder.

  "What about Asha's brother? Are you really going to try to do something about him? Kelder, the caravan is gone, they aren't there, and I don't think they left her brother's head sit­ting on a table somewhere!"

  "We can catch up with them," Kelder insisted. "They don't move very fast."

  "And if we do that, what's going to be happening to the rest of him? I mean, gross, Kelder!"

  "Maybe we could go back and do something . . ."

  "And then the caravan will get so far ahead we'll never catch it, and it isn't any of our business anyway, Kelder, so just forget it, all right?"

  "No," said an unsteady voice from behind.

  Irith turned; Asha was standing on the stairs in her shift, listening to them.

  "Oh . . ." Irith said.

  "Asha, don't worry," Kelder said quickly. "Look, we can go back and build a cairn over your brother's body to keep it safe, and then we can go catch the caravan and get his head back—they're headed for Shan, same as we are, so we're bound to catch up with them somewhere. I mean, there's only the one Great Highway."

  "Build a what?" Irith asked.

  "A cairn. Like a box made of rocks, I mean. Isn't that called a cairn?"

  "I don't know," Irith said, "I never heard of anything like that. Do they do that in Shulara?"

  "No," Kelder said, "but I heard about it in an old story about an enchanted princess."

  "What kind of story?" Irith asked suspiciously.

  "Just a story my grandmother told me," Kelder said.

  "It sounds weird to me," Irith replied dubiously.

  "We should do it," Asha said.

  Kelder nodded agreement.

  Irith looked from one to the other and then announced, "You're both crazy, but all right, we'll do it."

  Chapter 9

  Irith eyed the structure critically.

  "So I never built a cairn before," Kelder said defensively. "I don't see you helping much."

  "I never even heard of a cairn before," Irith said, tossing her hair, "and I think the whole idea is stupid. I wish I still hadn't heard of one."

  Asha staggered up holding another rock, one she could barely carry. Kelder quickly took it, then looked over the stone oval, trying to decide where to place it.

&n
bsp; "Are we just going to leave all Abden's friends lying here?" Asha asked as Kelder set the stone in place.

  Kelder looked around at the mutilated corpses, wrinkling his nose at the sight and the stink, and then said, "Yes."

  Asha shrugged. "All right," she said. "I just thought I'd ask."

  "Go find another stone," Kelder told her.

  "This is stupid," Irith said, sitting down cross-legged on the grass. "And boring, too. How are you going to make it cover him without falling in and squashing him?"

  "I thought I could make it arch over," Kelder said.

  Irith grimaced.

  Kelder frowned. "I don't think it's going to work," he ad­mitted. He looked around, as if hoping to find inspiration.

  All he saw were headless, decaying corpses and an equal number of dead horses. The horses, at any rate, mostly still had their heads attached.

  Irith, too, looked around, wrinkling her nose. "Ick," she said. "I hate to say it, but what if you used some of the saddles to cover him and then covered those with rocks? They look stiff enough to work."

  Kelder considered the matter, then nodded.

  "That should work," he said. He headed for the nearest horse. "I'm surprised nobody's taken the saddles yet."

  Irith shrugged. "Looting corpses isn't much fun," she said. "Probably most people who pass this way have better things to do. Besides, they might be worried about getting cursed or something. But even with the smell, and curses or not, I bet you won't find any purses here anymore."

  Kelder looked up from the cinch strap he was tugging at. "Do you think there might really be any curses here?" he asked.

  "Don't be silly," she said. "Why would anyone curse us for trying to help a little girl give her brother a proper funeral?"

  Kelder had no answer for that; besides, he was discovering that pulling a thick leather strap out from under a dead horse, even a mangled one, takes a great deal of strength. Being a champion of the lost and forlorn wasn't much fun, so far. It didn't seem to impress his intended bride, either.

  "Um . . ." he said, as he lost his grip and fell backward, "could you give me a hand here?"

  Irith gave a loud sigh, then came to help.

  Together, they freed the saddle; Kelder then carried it over and fitted it across his half-built "cairn," like a barrel-vaulted roof.

  It fit just fine, and looked strong enough to serve as a frame for a stone covering. He turned to Irith. "Thank you for the help, and for the suggestion," he said.

  She waved away his gratitude. "I just didn't want to be stuck here all day while you were finding out how hard it is to build arches," she said.

  Three hours later the job was done; Abden's headless re­mains were entombed in leather and stone. It had taken three saddles to cover the cadaver.

  "You're sure it's the right body?" Kelder asked, looking around at the others, still lying scattered across the grassy verge.

  Asha nodded.

  "Good," Kelder said, straightening up and rubbing his lower back. It was stiff and sore. "Then let's get going." He looked up at the sun. "I doubt we'll catch the caravan today, but we can at least get started."

  Irith shook her head. "No, we can't," she said.

  Kelder glared at her. "Why the hell not?" he demanded.

  "Because it's more than four leagues from Castle Angarossa to the town of Sinodita, and there isn't a decent inn anywhere in that four leagues," Irith said. "We've taken more than half a day on this stupid job, and I don't want to be walking around here after dark."

  Kelder looked up at the sun again, then back at Irith. "It's not much more than an hour past noon," he said. "How far is it to the Angarossan border?"

  Irith thought for a minute. "About two leagues, I guess," she said.

  "Are there bandits all over Sinodita, too?"

  "What do you mean?" Irith asked, eyeing him warily.

  "I mean, is the King of Sinodita as crazy as King Caren of Angarossa and letting bandits run wild there?"

  "Queen," Irith told him. "Sinodita has a queen. And no, she's perfectly sensible and there aren't a lot of bandits."

  "Well, we can reach the border well before sunset, and we should be safe enough on the highway in Sinodita; I know it will be dark by the time we reach the town, but the greater moon should be up tonight, I think, and if it's not we could stop somewhere until the lesser moon rises, or carry torches, or something. We don't have anything bandits would want, any­way. I say we go on."

  "Maybe you don't have anything bandits would want, Kelder of Shulara," Irith said, putting her fists on her hips and glaring at him, "but I don't care to risk getting raped!"

  Kelder glared back rather wearily. She did have a point, he supposed, and he didn't want anyone bothering his destined bride—even if she didn't yet know anything about her des­tiny. "Then you, Irith the Flyer," he said, "can fly on ahead and meet us at the gate when we get to Sinodita."

  "There isn't any gate," Irith said. "It's not walled."

  "Fine. Then you pick a place that a couple of fools like us can find, and we'll meet you there."

  Irith continued glaring and chewed her lower lip. Then she turned and called to Asha, who was waiting for them several paces up the road to the east, "Do you want to walk another four or five leagues today?"

  "No," Asha called back, "but I will if I have to, to catch the caravan."

  Irith frowned, looked back at Kelder, then threw up her hands in disgust.

  "Oh, I give up," she said. "I just give up. You two are hopeless. I can't let that little girl walk that far, after she's spent the whole morning hauling those rocks around! She's about ready to fall over right now!" She pointed.

  Kelder looked and realized that Irith was right.

  He had not considered that, but it was true. Asha was just a child, after all; she was not strong enough, really, for a jour­ney like this. Kelder was about to surrender, to agree to stay another night in Angarossa, when Irith turned into a horse.

  Kelder blinked; Asha stared, then grinned, then burst out laughing.

  Irith had transformed herself instantaneously into a horse, a fine white mare, and she was just as remarkably beautiful as a horse as she had been in human form. Her mane was long and flowing, her tail came within an inch or two of the ground; she was long-legged and graceful, slim and splendid. Her white tunic had become a saddle blanket, recognizable by its blue and green embroidery; her other garments had van­ished.

  "I didn't know you could do that!" Kelder exclaimed. He wondered where the other garments had gone, and whether they would reappear when she changed back.

  The horse snorted and gave him a withering glare. He had had no idea a horse was capable of such an expression.

  "Can you talk?" he inquired.

  The horse shook her head.

  "This is so Asha can ride?" Kelder asked.

  The equine Irith nodded.

  "Should we both ride?"

  Irith tried to kick him, but he dodged in time. He noticed that her hooves were not shod. That made sense; after all, she went barefoot in human form.

  "I guess not, huh?"

  She glared at him again.

  "Asha," he called, "come here!"

  The girl approached, very hesitantly. Irith lowered her head for the girl to pet, but Asha shied away.

  "Come on," Kelder said, "it's just Irith."

  "But she's . . . is she a horse?" Asha asked, almost whis­pering.

  "She certainly looks like one," Kelder said.

  "I never rode a horse," Asha said, still standing back. "I've never even touched one."

  "Well, this isn't a real horse," Kelder said reassuringly. "It's just Irith enchanted to look like one."

  That did not seem to reassure Asha very much, but she took another step toward the magical beast.

  Kelder picked her up and lifted her carefully onto Irith's back. "Lift your leg over . . . higher, don't kick her . . . There!"

  Asha settled uneasily into place.

  "Hol
d onto her mane," Kelder advised.

  Asha did, but she was still not particularly steady.

  "I'm sure Irith will walk slowly at first," Kelder said, pat­ting Asha's hand, "and you'll get used to it. You'll see."

  Irith took a step; Asha, frightened, grabbed the mane more tightly. Kelder kept a steadying hand on Asha as the three­some started walking.

  "Maybe we should get a saddle," Kelder suggested, seeing how Asha swayed.

  Irith turned her head and glared at him.

  "No?"

  She shook her head no.

  "I'm all right, Kelder," Asha said, "really!"

  "All right," Kelder said, and walked on. "There's at least one good thing, Irith," he said, when they had gone a few steps farther. "At least this way you don't need to worry about being raped."

  She tried to kick him again, and Kelder had to dodge, then duck quickly back to catch Asha as she lost her balance.

  Chapter 10

  Kelder had remembered correctly; the greater moon lit their way into the town of Sinodita. Even by the moon's dull orange glow they had no trouble in following the highway—and no trouble in noticing the changing terrain.

  The countryside had grown steadily and visibly flatter since they passed the Angarossa/Sinodita border, and the soil had grown drier and sandier. They no longer passed trees of any sort, and the farms on either side of the highway were far from prosperous. They seemed to raise nothing but goats and horses; the coarse, sparse grass would not feed cattle, and the sandy soil would not support crops.

  Twice they passed grazing stallions that looked up and whinnied at Irith. Fortunately, there were solid fences be­tween pasture and highway.

  Irith plodded along, head down, ignoring everything, except when she turned to glare at Kelder.

  Kelder did his best to ignore Irith's annoyance; his own feet were aching and swollen, and the thought of removing his boots was approaching obsession. To distract himself he concentrated on his conversation with Asha, who had pains of her own to try to forget, ones far more lasting than sore feet.

  It was as the sun was setting, in a spectacular display of color, that Asha finally admitted why she had left home.

  "My father makes oushka," she explained. "He has a still out in the barn, and he grows corn and makes oushka out of it. He sells some of it—maybe you've heard of him, Abden Ildrin's son? Abden the Elder? He's supposed to make the best in Amramion."