by Kate Diamond
“Trouble?” Tern asked, offering a cup of something dark.
Miris shook nir head. “I don’t need any more-”
“It’s tea.”
Miris took the cup, studied it a moment, and sipped. When ney looked up, Tern was still watching. Ney sighed. “No, it’s not trouble.”
Tern raised an eyebrow.
Miris grumbled. “Nothing easily fixed,” ney said. “Only that it’ll be easier if you don’t mention Belest to Lyriam.”
“Hm. Well, I won’t ask what that’s about. And I’ll tell the others not to mention him either.”
He returned to his customers, leaving Miris to finish nir tea and study the maps hung on the wall behind the bar. Ney was well-accustomed to maps, of course, but these were of a breed more whimsical than practical, dotted with sketches marking notable buildings and ancient forests and the grassy hills where Earth spirits gathered, each a swirl of gentle color that drew the eye and lent the whole landscape a feeling of timeless harmony.
The hall showed no signs of quieting down any time soon when a child who looked very much like Tern came up to nem with word of approaching riders. Miris joined the innkeeper and Serala out front by the stables just as two riders stormed up to them, kicking up dust as they went. More followed at a distance.
The first figure leapt down and came into the light; Miris smiled at the sight of Hannen fin-Anset, mediator, poet, and heir to Haven’s Ford. He was a tall man, angular and elegant, and he was wearing his traveling cloak thrown over fine but practical clothes.
“We’ve heard you’ve encountered trouble? Your messenger didn’t tell us much mo-”
“Right, who do you need me to punch?”
“Mother!”
Behind him, Lyriam deb-Anset burst into laughter and swept the cap from her greying hair.
“It’s all right, Han. I won’t punch anyone. Unless they deserve it. Miris! What are you doing here? You’d better tell us what you’ve found that’s nefarious enough to need us.”
Miris explained, as succinctly and quickly as ney could, all that ney had seen that day, watching as Lyriam and Hannen’s faces tightened in disbelief and anger. Perhaps it wasn’t quite true to say that ney had overheard the traders rather than Belest, but the truth would take far too long to explain and could too easily lead to more trouble.
Once inside, Hannen turned to the innkeeper. “Where is this party? And where is their carriage?”
“Third room on the left on the south side. And their carriage is under the canopy past the north field, but they took two small crates and a chest inside with them.” He shrugged. “Thought it mighty odd, but then, some merchants like to keep a personal eye on their valuables.”
“Well then,” Lyriam said when he was finished, “let’s not wait around.” She strode through the inn’s doors, causing everyone but Hannen to scramble to follow. Hannen, evidently accustomed to this, fell into step beside her as they passed the dining hall and approached the traders’ room.
Lyriam paused outside of the door, waving the others quiet. Two of the retainers who had arrived after her took up positions at the ends of the hallway. She listened for several moments, eyes narrowed in focus, and then motioned to Garet, who produced a spindly iron key from an inside pocket of his vest.
Miris drew back as Lyriam twisted the key in the lock, abruptly aware that the slavers would no doubt fight, and fighting was not something ney was accustomed to or skilled in. Choosing the best goods to sell, striking a bargain, flying with Seres through a storm, all that ney knew well, but combat was something unfamiliar, daunting.
And then Lyriam shoved open the door and there was no time for contemplation.
“What in the hells-” came a voice; it was the mercenary, sitting on a bed with a torn shirt and sewing needle in nir hands which ney promptly threw aside, lunging for a knife lying sheathed on a table. Lyriam wrestled nem down before ney reached it, Hannen darting into the room behind her to grab the knife and turn it on the dark-haired woman, who scowled and backed up a few paces, searching for a weapon of her own.
Miris was pushed away from the doorway as the two retainers hurried forward. All ney knew of the rest of the fight was yells of frustration and anger, the sounds of glass breaking and wood splintering, and then Hannen and Lyriam and their guards emerged with the three slavers subdued and growling impotent curses.
Miris watched them leave, trepidation turning to cold anger at what they had done. It took a prompting look from Tern to remind Miris of nir more important duty. At the back of the room sat an unassuming wooden chest, unremarkable in all aspects except for the unnatural cold that hung around it. The lock snapped open at the application of another clever tool of Garet’s, revealing a padded tray of softly-glowing crystals, each the size of a chestnut and edged in sharp facets. Ney cautiously brought nir hands close, and even without touching could feel the bitter cold issuing from the frozen Stars.
Below the first tray was another, and another, and another. Three dozen Stars in all, and that deepened Miris’s fury even further, that they were selling the spirits by the dozen like any common bauble.
“What-?” ney heard; behind nem Tern stood peering curiously at the chest. “What are they? Some sort of jewel?” he asked.
Miris took a steadying breath, containing nir anger. “It is better if I do not explain,” ney said. It could do no good for Tern and his family to know that wild spirits could be captured and forced unwillingly to mortals’ purposes.
Tern nodded. “Do what you must,” he said, and was about to leave the room when Miris called, “Wait. Help me take this outside.”
The two of them carried the chest carefully out to the field. The handles were padded to shield their hands from the cold, but there was no way Tern could fail to notice it. To Miris’s relief, he asked no questions, though he was clearly puzzled and perhaps a little alarmed.
Seres stormed alongside them as they entered the clearing and brought the chest to the Dragonfly’s deck. It ought to have reassured Miris, but for the Wind to be active at night, to interact with mortals after dark in any way besides keeping the cloudship aloft… it meant the situation was dire beyond imagining, involving things that went far past Miris’s contract with the spirit.
At nir distracted dismissal, Tern left nem alone with the Wind and the Stars. Silently, solemnly, ney brought up the tiny stove from the Dragonfly’s cabin and set it on the deck. When it was burning strongly and brightly, ney held the trays of Stars near the heat. For a long while, nothing changed, and then one by one the crystals shuddered and burst into near-blinding light, shooting into the sky in showers of sparks that scorched the cases they had been kept in.
When all the Stars were gone, Miris returned the empty trays to the chest. Ney would figure out what to do with the damned thing tomorrow. So much for keeping this secret; half the village must have witnessed it, Miris thought with some chagrin, though what reasoning people who knew little of spirits would come up with for the flashes of light, ney did not know.
Tired as ney was, that sense of uselessness ney had felt at the slavers’ door lingered in nir mind, as did the unavoidable thought that Belest must have felt the same way all day. No wonder he was so hesitant, so desperate to prove his worth. And Miris had allowed him few chances to do so.
Miris did not know how long ney had spent out in the dark, but the bright warmth and comfort of the inn felt almost inappropriate after such bitter work. But ney did not have much time to ponder the incongruity, as moments after ney stepped into the main hall Lyriam and Hannen entered from the front, having secured the slavers and sent them off with their retainers to be questioned and imprisoned.
Serala led them into the sitting room set off from the inn’s main hall, and Miris, knowing full well that Belest might not forgive nem for it, asked, “Have you heard anything regarding the Rilar household? I’ve heard strange rumors.”
“That mess? Oh, where to start…” Lyriam dropped heavily into a chair and
took the mug of spiced wine Tern offered her with a nod of thanks. “Only that her husband ran away in the dead of night some months ago, and then she went and sent off half the staff on top of that.” She took a long drink before continuing. “Fortunately one of the cooks used to work for us, and he brought them all down the river to our door.”
Miris listened, eyes narrowed. “Do you know why her husband left?”
“We have heard from those in her household that she was… demanding and unkind,” Hannen began, voice level as if he were choosing each word from among a host of less favorable options.
“Forced him to bed, you mean,” Lyriam interjected, much more bluntly. “I’m not going to talk nicely around it. We heard that from one of the maids. Foolish girl had the nerve to say he ought to have liked it.” She scoffed. “I quickly had that notion out of her head. If she’s yearning for her mistress, that’s her own problem.”
“She should find someone better to set her eyes on,” Hannen said.
“Someone with sense,” his mother agreed. “And a heart.” She took a swig of her drink and went on. “I only wish we’d done something sooner. I’d suspected Kela was trouble for a while, but Tiran and Kari didn’t want to hear it. Her parents were great friends of ours, especially after that sorry mess with her brother, but I’d never trusted Kela.” She leveled an intense stare at Miris. “Talk to anyone else, and they’ll tell you she said he attacked her and fled. But I happen to know she thought that man of hers was good for nothing more than getting her with an heir. And that she’s not above lies and threats to get what she wants.”
“Enough, Mother,” Hannen said. “It’s not nir problem.” He turned back to Miris, shaking his head. “We’re working with the other governors to censure her, but it will take time. Her family controls most of the trade routes through the region. And they’re in deep with the governor of Silverpeak, which is making things even more difficult.”
The rest of their conversation wasn’t nearly so fraught, drifting from Miris’s travels to the news that other fliers had brought to Haven’s Ford to Kariela’s newfound interest in fighting kites. They did not talk for long, but even so it was past midnight when Hannen stood and thanked their hosts, and he and Lyriam bid farewell and rode off along the dark trails towards home, leaving Miris nothing left to do but return to nir room.
Belest at first appeared to be sleeping when Miris stepped inside, but he raised his head as ney passed.
“All settled,” ney told him before he could ask. “Lyriam’s people arrested the smugglers and we freed the Stars.” Ney said nothing about the conversation after.
Belest nodded, not meeting nir eyes. “I should have helped you.”
“We handled it,” ney reassured him, then added, not entirely sure why ney felt the need, “I will need your help at Dawning Crest.”
Belest nodded again, but did not seem convinced.
Miris settled into bed, expecting to fall asleep at once, but nir thoughts lingered on what Lyriam had said of Belest’s past. Ney had needed to ask, ney told nemself, to be sure ney was not harboring a criminal on nir ship. And to know what might await them, if someone recognized him. Might Kela attempt to reclaim him, if she learned where he was? Or would the prospect of challenging a cloudship flier cause her to back down?
Ney had needed to know. Surely the intrusion could be justified on those grounds. Uneasily, Miris put those concerns aside. They could wait for the morning.
The Windsworn Healer
It was the strange color of the light falling through the curtains that woke Miris early the next morning despite the late night, that and the faint sounds of pots and knives in the kitchen below. Shaking off uneasy dreams of aimless drifting with Seres nowhere in sight, ney sat up; a glance across the room found Belest still asleep, curled in tangled blankets.
Traveling with him seemed like it would be far less trouble than Miris had expected. He was almost uncomfortably quiet; though Miris disliked idle chatter, ney expected some level of conversation when spending near an entire day in someone’s company. Maybe that would change in the coming days.
Ney decided to let Belest sleep and headed to the bathhouse, hoping nir bathing would be less eventful than nir companion’s had been. Downstairs, ney found the innkeeper’s husband Tern at the counter. He offered nem another cup of dark tea, and as Miris drank they engaged in a friendly debate on the merits of that blend compared to the sweeter drinks Garet and Serala preferred. By the time ney set the mug aside and departed for the bath, ney had decided what ney would leave as the customary flier’s gifts for nir hosts.
Even this early in the morning, there were a few other people in the bath. They kept to themselves, and Miris ignored them. Ney washed quickly, and on the way back from the bathhouse, ducked under the ropes lining the path and strode across the field towards the Dragonfly.
The slavers’ chest still stood on the cloudship’s deck, no longer unnaturally cold but no less chilling to the sight. Miris ignored it as best ney could and climbed below to retrieve three small tins of tea from nir collection of items suitable for gifts. Once these were secured and ornamented with a bit of green ribbon, ney emerged into the morning light again.
The clear sky and the morning air cool on Miris’s damp skin promised good flying weather for at least the first part of the day. That could change in moments, Miris knew well, especially if they ran into any of the wild Winds that roamed the north. Usually the spirits took little notice of humans, but the storms they left in their wake could be deadly even so. The last time ney had tried to cross beyond the northern mountains, carrying herbs and inks to exchange for furs and bone beads, a group of furious spirits had surrounded them with storms and would have broken the Dragonfly against the rocks had it not been for Seres’s clever maneuvering. That encounter had left the Wind so drained - barely able even to keep the Dragonfly aloft - that Miris had begun to fear that they might drift endlessly when at last the spirit had recovered and taken them to safer lands. Dawning Crest, at the southernmost edge of the range where the mountains dipped down to meet the centerlands, tended to be calmer, and fewer Winds roamed there, but much further north than Silverpeak travel quickly became difficult.
Miris brushed away those thoughts, let the sun warm nir skin and dry the drops from nir hair. Seres swooped down from the treetops as ney approached, flowing around nir neck and through nir hair, setting nir tattoos tingling, and the Wind’s touch made the day feel somehow more normal, more stable.
Gifts in hand, ney returned to the inn to find Belest sitting at a table in the main hall eating a bowl of honeyed oatmeal, as was common for breakfast in this region. He greeted nem with a rather subservient duck of his head. And after last night, ney had an idea of what underlaid his timidity. Somebody who had spent years terrorized by a demanding, violent family couldn’t be expected to throw it all off at once. Still, it was an attitude that would not assist in capturing the Star slavers. That, Miris thought, would need to be addressed. But not now, and not here.
As Miris found a seat, Serala’s assistants entered, one with a fresh pot of oatmeal, which he placed on a woven mat on a side table and carried off the old one, and one with a pot of tea ney served to Miris and Belest in two mugs taken from just under the table. Miris took a few pieces from the offered platters meat and fruit, and Belest did the same, though Miris suspected he might have taken more had the circumstances been different.
The food was good, just as their supper had been, but Miris still thought longingly of the rich, spicy soups ney had grown up with by the southern coast, and of the roasted fish and baked fruit ney had enjoyed in the western islands.
The flight ahead of them would take them far from both of those places, past rivers and lakes and green hills and into the plains that spread wide across the land, growing steadily colder until they met the northern mountains, and, if all they had learned was correct, the slavers’ outpost.
◆◆◆
Belest slept better on the
floor of the inn than he ever had in Terthe’s dubious care and even more dubious lodgings, but it was not enough to completely shake the shame of having been useless to help the Stars and the lingering fear that Miris would send him away at the first opportunity.
Miris said nothing to him over breakfast. That did not surprise him. In a way, it was a relief. He had taken too much of the flier’s time and attention already, and for so little in the exchange.
As they ate - and while simple, the meal was many times better than the scraps he would have gotten days before - he watched the other guests who came into the room. A couple wearing land surveyors’ sashes, eating with their children. The pair of men from the bath. A lone third carrying a baby. Had they been kept awake, he wondered, when Lyriam deb-Anset and Miris captured the slavers?
The innkeeper came into the room just as they were finishing. Miris presented him with a set of tins, which he accepted with a grateful smile.
“We hope you return someday, Windsworn,” he said, to which Miris replied, “I shall try. And bring less trouble with me when I do.”
“We were glad to assist,” he demurred.
“Next time, I will be seeking some of that honey.” Ney smiled, and Belest was startled to see no merchant’s hunger in it, only friendship. “I believe we can work out a fair exchange.”
Flying across the world, landing in different places every day, seeing countless fascinating things? That sounded like a life in paradise. He entertained a brief fantasy of earning his keep by assisting Miris in the upkeep and repair of the ship, and then pushed the half-formed dreams from his mind with a bitter vehemence. That life was not for him. He might have been able to keep Terthe’s caravan in good condition on the road, but he couldn’t expect anyone to trust him with anything greater. All he could do now was stay out of trouble and provide what help he could for as long as Miris would allow him.
