by Kate Diamond
He wrenched the lid off another crate, this one too packed with straw and forged pottery. “Look at this garbage,” he scoffed. He glanced to Miris and, having found an audience, continued, “All crafted in some underpaid workshop and stamped with Master Jansa’s seal. He’s been getting complaints about it for months, been nagging us to catch the charlatans responsible before the fakes hurt his reputation. He’ll be glad to hear of this.”
Any other day, Miris would have followed their investigation with interest and no small amount of satisfaction, but today it was only a disappointment, a frustratingly mundane discovery that did nothing to aid nir mission. But perhaps the guards knew something that could.
“You investigate fraud?” ney asked, foregoing any other introduction.
“Aye, and other breeds of cheaters,” the woman said. “Just last week Roben here caught a fellow selling wine that’d been spiced with cheap poison instead of the pricey herbs ney claimed.”
“We’d heard people were getting sick, but Lita wrote it off as common drunks doing as they do. But I thought there was something to it…”
The woman snorted and elbowed him. “Next time I’ll trust your intuition. As long as it’s not like that case last year where we stood out in the snow all night long for nothing…”
Before the two could launch into another story, Miris interrupted. “I’m searching for traders providing… questionable materials to Flamesmiths. Shipments of glowing jewels accompanied by mercenaries. Unnatural lamps and charms.”
Lita shrugged. “Plenty of traders hire mercs for high-value items like that. But the clever ones hide their smuggled gems away in the corners of more ordinary cargo. We watch for both, of course. But I’ve never seen anything glowing that wasn’t supposed to be.”
“What are you after?” Roben asked. “I’ve heard the spirits can take a liking to some things you’d prefer not to have in your lungs, or your house.”
From what the Flamesmiths ney had met had said, Miris believed it. But that wasn’t what ney sought now. “It’s a sort of crystal,” Miris explained, but ney didn’t expect to learn much more. “Is there a Guard recordkeeper I can consult?”
“You’re looking at her,” Lita said. Then she shrugged. “Well, no, I don’t keep the library, but nothing about trade gets on the shelves without going past my eyes, and I’ve seen nothing like what you describe, not recently or ever.”
“We can put a notice out,” Roben added helpfully. “If we find anything, we can send word to, er…” He trailed off, having realized the issue. “How do fliers receive correspondence? I never thought about it before.”
Miris resisted sighing in frustration. “In port cities, or from other cloudships. Same as sailors.” Not to mention the ones that served as mail-carriers for their earth and sea-bound fellows. New fliers usually ran message routes for a half-year or so, to ensure they knew the map once out from under their mentors’ wings. But none of that would help if the couriers weren’t in the right place at the right time, or even knew where to find the recipient of a letter. Once Miris left Tilsa, it would be weeks at the least before any message reached nem. But it was better than nothing.
“There’s a fliers’ waypoint north of Woodwing Lake. Send word there if you find anything.”
The guards took note of this, and returned to cataloging the counterfeit pottery. Perhaps some day in the future they would intercept a slaver carting Stars to market. Certainly they would if the rest of the smugglers were as foolish about it as the ones at Northford had been. Of course, it would be far better if Miris could cut off the trade before it reached Tilsa. If that was even possible at this point, ney thought bitterly. And Tilsa was only one city, one port in a vast network where even Stars could vanish into the crowd. And if the smugglers crept around the edges, kept to dark corners where few asked questions, they could possibly avoid detection for years.
Ney stayed a little longer in the market, exchanging mountain herbs and island shells for Tilsan filigree and fabrics, but nir mind was far from the work. It was easier in the southern market than the others for a foreigner, even a flier, to pass without drawing notice, as the southern market was the one most frequented by visitors and those seeking what they brought. Which made it also often a venue for the sort of cheats that Roben and Lita sought to contain: local crooks who wished to prey on foreigners too inexperienced to recognize a con and likely to be too far away by the time they noticed their loss, and newcomers hoping to dazzle wealthy but unworldly cityfolk with foreign riches and absurd prices. Miris was well-practiced in spotting both sorts, and many others besides, though ney rarely needed to call on the skill. Few were bold enough to attempt to trick a flier, knowing the retribution that awaited them were they to be exposed in their game.
Fortunately, or not, there were no other interruptions to be found in the southern market, and no trace of anything unusual. When nir basket was full again with Tilsan things, and some from further afield than that, Miris followed a lamp-lit underpass away from the market. The doors lining the arched stone passage opened onto homes, not shops, and so were decorated more subtly. Subtle, by Tilsan standards, still meant plenty of bright paint and ribbons and ornaments, at all levels of society. One home was adorned with images of birds etched into metal, another with rose motifs, another with stars braided in dyed rope. An old man sweeping his front step offered a respectful greeting to Miris as ney passed; ney returned the gesture, willing nemself towards calm. It would do no good to be distracted. Answers would come, if not here, then at Kirental’s Aerie, or in the mountains.
The passage let out onto a sunny plaza where children played at make-believe from the windows of tiny castles while parents sat to rest and talk at a fountain in the center. Some of the children pointed and called out as ney passed, others were too wrapped up in their game or had been taught not to call attention to strangers, no matter how interesting they were. A little past that, Miris found a teahouse that looked out onto a garden in the fashionable style, carefully maintained to look as if it had grown wild. Ney took a seat at an empty wooden table, and moments later a Kejan woman appeared at nir side offering a bowl of rich smoke-scented tea and a round of warm, sweet bread sprinkled with nuts.
A few other people sat with similar treats. By the opposite window, a man writing in a thin journal. Behind him, a pair of Forish women talking quietly. Sisters, Miris thought, from the identical brown stripes framing both long muzzles and the matched gold chains twinkling on their twisting horns. And in the back, a few students of various races reading news-sheets or books. Every so often the Kejan or her assistant passed among them with a kettle to refill their drinks. An interesting blend of cultures lived here - Kejan tea and food, served in centerlands style to the vast array of people who called themselves Tilsan.
Miris watched the birds in the garden as ney ate; tiny hummingbirds like winged jewels, drawn here by the abundance of sweet flowers. No doubt the gardeners had planned for that, and for the songbirds perched in branches above. All around was an organized, cultivated beauty, and though Miris favored wilder things, ney could not fail to recognize the skill in it, nor the art. Years of planning had gone into every detail of this city, and the life that sprang up within it followed its pattern. There would be precious little of such delicacy awaiting them in the north, where life was harsher and people could afford fewer fanciful things. Not that there was no luxury to be found in the mountains, only that it was a rarer thing there, and treasured all the more for its rarity and resilience.
The mountains. Miris rubbed at nir tattoos, though of course Seres could not hear at this distance. They would need supplies, if they were to survive there. One of the tucked-away chests on the Dragonfly held warm clothing and blankets enough for one, but Belest had joined them with nothing but what he wore. Despite the spring warmth in the city, there would be merchants willing and prepared to provide travelers with suitable gear. Ney started tallying what they would need.
“Windsworn?”
a voice demanded.
Miris glanced up from nir tea and nir planning, focus broken. A tall man wearing lavishly embroidered green robes stood by nir table, holding a pair of envelopes in his hand.
“What is it?” ney asked, already suspecting the answer.
“I have these letters that need delivering.” He held them out. “My daughters own a dress shop in Tanhar, on Longwater Street. Take these to them.”
And you could not entrust your letters to the regular mail-riders? Miris wanted to say, but of course ney could not. Instead, ney took the letters, noting the elaborate crests that sealed them.
“I shall. Thank you,” ney said curtly, inwardly cursing the contract that left nem unable to refuse the errand. The man bowed, though not quite as deeply as rightly befit Miris’s status, and left the shop. Miris sighed and slipped the twin envelopes into the inner pocket of nir vest. The great port of Tanhar sat on the eastern coast of Arlana, looking out over the Blossom Sea to the shores of Tansira. Far, far away from here, south of Summertooth. What could ney do now? Surely not divert nir path so far from Dawning Crest. Maybe ney could leave the letters at Kassi Waypoint for another to deliver. Pira would not have approved of that, would have scolded Miris to uphold a flier’s duties. But given these circumstances… there had to be another way.
But there was business still to be done today before Miris had to make that choice. Ney finished the tea and bread without tasting them, brought nir bowl and dish up to the teashop’s counter, and left in search of someone who could supply the equipment ney sought.
A Friend’s Hearth
“What is that?” Rubie asked, peering at the glowing charm in Brena’s hand. “And why does it have you both so alarmed?”
Arden recovered first, sparing Belest the need to explain. “It is… a rare and dangerous stone. Something we have been seeking, in fact.”
Rubie stared suspiciously at him for a few moments, eyes narrowed, but at last accepted his answer. “Keep it away from my patients, then.”
“Where did you find this?” Belest asked Brena, who had been watching their conversation in some confusion.
“I visited the village priest before we left on our journey, to ask for a blessing. She gave me this. A shard of the heavens, she said, to protect me and protect Kit, and guide us in our travels. But who am I to keep such a blessing to myself?”
Something clattered to the ground in the corner of the room - Kit had become bored with their toy and put it aside to go in search of another. Brena called to them, just as they set a hand on a basket of soaps that sat not quite out of reach on a shelf. The basket tipped over, and the child squealed in delight as the colorful cubes showered to the ground. Rubie sighed as Brena gathered Kit up in her arms again, gently scolding, and pulled a small cloth doll from a pocket. Kit grabbed it from her gleefully and started a new game.
“The Prophet tells us gifts from the gods are to be shared,” she continued once the child was calm again. “This gift has served us, and I hope it will serve you in turn.” She pushed the necklace into Belest’s hands, giving him no choice but to take it. His breath caught - for an instant he feared the thing would shatter in his hands, would burst into blinding light and burning sparks like Terthe’s lamps had done, but it only sat motionless on his palm, a ball of glass flecked in cloudy white and brilliant blue. It was almost too beautiful, he thought, to be as eerie as it was. The part-opaque glass did not shine as brightly as those lamps, but still, the light was unmistakable. He closed his hand around it and found it slightly cool to the touch, and then he realized that it was not entirely motionless, for he could feel the faintest of fluttering against his skin, as if something within the charm was moving, though weakly, beating against the wall of its prison. As if it was trying to escape. A chill ran through him.
“We don’t take gifts,” Rubie said, an admonishment. “Donations to the hospital, yes, but individual payment, no.”
“This is a special case, I’m afraid,” Arden said. His face creased in thought. “Belest, tell her we will be pleased to accept, if she will allow me to provide her with an amulet blessed by the Twins in return.”
Brena grinned at the offer. “I’ll take that gladly. With this scamp around, I need all the protection Them Above can give.” She kissed the child’s head.
“Good,” Arden said. “I’ll return shortly. Nesu owes me a favor anyway, and I’d say this is a perfect time to claim it.” He set off for the overseers’ bridge, leaving the others to wait. Rubie returned to her work, filing notes and tidying what Kit had disturbed. But she did not tell Belest to leave, and so he waited, helping her clean and watching the message-strings overhead in case anything came their way.
“Belest.”
He turned; Brena beckoned him closer, watching him with a look in her eyes that he knew all too well from years of playing and working under the watch of all the parents of his village, who took minding children as a communal duty.
“I might not understand everything you’re saying,” she began when he approached, and that was a plural that included Arden and Rubie as well, “but I do know when people are keeping something from me. There’s something more here than you’re telling. Why have I ruffled you so?”
Belest hesitated. Should he tell her? Miris had not wanted to tell the innkeeper’s family at Northford. And Arden hadn’t told Rubie. But surely Brena had a right to know, after carrying the Star for so long.
“That charm…” Finding words was hard, all the more so in the less familiar tongue. “It is a piece of the heavens, but not in the way you were told. It has a frozen Star inside that wants to return to the sky.”
Brena’s eyes widened, and she shook her head in dismay. “How unhappy it must be, all alone in there! And you can help send it home?”
“Yes.” Or at least, Miris could.
“Then I am glad twice over to have found you.”
True to his word, Arden reappeared not long after and handed Brena a small pouch of warm orange fabric. She unlaced the ties and withdrew an amulet in dark, polished wood, flat on one side and faceted on the other, each face set with a silver symbol: the fire, the flower, the knife, the water jug. Brena studied it, smiled, and gently fastened it onto her Naming necklace.
“I thank you again, and wish you good fortune in your travels.”
“And good fortune to you,” Belest replied, and at Rubie’s nod led her to the main doors.
Their work, of course, was not over when she left, far from it. Belest spent another couple hours alongside Niro helping Rubie with the rest of her patients, aware all the while of the restless Star in his pocket waiting for freedom. When Arden at last came to collect him, he was not surprised to step out onto the street and find the sky turning dark.
“It’s a pity,” Rubie had said when they left. “You could have been a suitable assistant, with a little more training.” And Belest had considered, for a brief moment, asking Arden to let him stay here where he could do some good. Where he would be wanted. But all too quickly he knew he could not abandon his duty to the Stars or his debt to the fliers, and dismissed the idea, scolding himself for thinking of it. He would not run from this like he had from everything else.
He would have stayed quiet while Arden led the way back through the streets and tunnels and courtyards to the island where the cloudships waited, but Arden wanted to talk, not as much about the patients he had seen as about the stories and gossip they’d told him. Belest listened as they passed lamplighters preparing the streets and towers for the people heading home from work. Though he had no reason to be interested in the construction of a new tower in the third district, or the play a troupe from Larwen was staging for the next month’s festival, Arden had a way of making such stories compelling, and by the time they arrived, Belest wished it could have gone on longer.
Miris was waiting for them by the Dragonfly, frowning at something Belest could not see. He had only just stepped onto the island when Seres surged forward, sending leaves an
d pebbles skittering across the stones. The Wind spiraled tight around Belest, engulfing him in twisting fingers that pulled at him from all angles like living hands, seeking the Star he held. He tried to reach for it, but he could not move his hands to retrieve it - he stood frozen in the cold grasp, certain that the spirit had at last had enough of him, would throw him from the tower or tear his skin from his bones…
“Enough,” Miris yelled, voice all but lost to the howling in Belest’s ears, calling the Wind to nir side with a touch of a glyph. The storm abated, evaporating all at once, leaving Belest to regain his shuddering breath. He stumbled back, and might have fallen over the edge, if not for the strong hand Arden held at his shoulder.
“Breathe,” Arden whispered. “You’re safe.”
“You found something,” Miris said, ignoring his distress. It was not a question but it demanded explanation all the same.
“We- yes,” Belest gasped, “at- at the hospital, there was-”
Miris scowled at his stuttering and turned to Arden. “Well? What happened?”
“There was a patient at the hospital who gave us a gift of a pendant containing a Star,” Arden told nem, his voice sharp with anger. “But if you want the whole story, you ought to ask Belest. He discovered it, not me. He knew the woman’s language, and he might have saved a life today.” He was embellishing, surely, but why would he do that for Belest’s sake?
At last the terror faded and he could hold a thought again, could reach into his pocket and withdraw the glowing charm. Seres growled like thunder and lashed the stones, but did not rush forward again. Miris snatched the charm from Belest’s hand and studied it a moment, then set it on the ground and smashed it with a rock. Belest flinched - the pendant shattered, sending sparks dancing as a flash of light darted into the sky.
