The Cloudship Trader

by Kate Diamond

  “That is all I know on this,” Fanrien said, regretfully. “I wish you good fortune in finding the source of it.”

  There was nothing more to be done on the matter, and Fanrien had students to return to. Miris sat and watched them at their work, thoughts still lingering on what Fanrien had told them. Belest studied the lessons as closely as if he were a student himself, asking questions here and there and nodding thoughtfully at the responses.

  Kirental came to gather them just as the sun started to set and Fanrien released her students for the evening. The two of them walked with their guests across the Aerie’s grounds to the castle gates, and then inside.

  Countless years ago this might have been a grand chamber of that ancient castle. Today the hall was open to the sky, and the wall on one side had fallen away to reveal several stories’ worth of smaller rooms, as if it were a giant’s dollhouse. Branches emerged from between stones with almost a purpose to them, as if they had meant to grow to be appealing to the current inhabitants. Even the best of gardeners could not have planned that, surely. But spirits could. Miris wondered about that. As far as ney knew, most Ruenwin regarded spirits as part of nature, something to be respected and left alone, rather than used as resources or befriended as allies. But perhaps they did work with spirits, if not in the ways most other races did. Or perhaps the Seeds simply had similar ideas of home and beauty to the people they now hosted.

  Kirental had promised a feast, and a feast they found. There wasn’t a great central table in the hall. Instead the floor was open and the food and drinks were set on little round platforms that hung at various heights from the branches above. More than one was piled high with bright objects Miris took for mere decoration until someone snagged one with a claw and took a bite of it. Pieces of fruit, carved into flowers!

  The Aerie elders poured goblets of sweet fruit wine, serving the oldest among them first, while the children passed around basket after basket of what turned out to be roasted crickets, some dusted with salt and others coated in sticky spiced honey. Ruenwin perched on stone ledges and protruding branches as they ate and talked, meaning that more than half the feast went on over Miris’s head. Much of the food, too, hung out of Miris and Belest’s reach. Ruenwin children too young to fly were carried up to retrieve treats, but fortunately their hosts were content to merely fetch dishes down for their human guests where desired.

  Unlike at meals in the centerlands, where the dishes were divided into courses, here the savory dishes and the sweets were served all at once, and people could eat what they chose. Jugs of cider and cold herb teas, replaced as soon as they emptied. Vegetables spiced and roasted and artistically arranged on platters. Steaming stews of nuts and squashes. Little breads made from wild grain and stuffed with sugared nuts. Baked fruit drizzled with honey. There was very little meat to be found, but there was a great deal of fish, prepared in a multitude of styles. Fish wrapped in leaves and cooked on hot stones, fish roasted until the skin crisped and curled, little fish fried in oil, flaky morsels of fish in sweet, sticky sauces. It must have taken days to prepare all this, Miris thought, remembering all the people ney had seen busy cooking when they arrived.

  Miris filled a wooden plate with an assortment of delicious-smelling things and found a place to sit on a section of crumbled wall. Ney spotted Belest across the hall, entertaining a gaggle of fluff-feathered children while their parents watched from above, sharing a jug of pale cider and a platter of crispy nut brittle.

  Miris was not left alone for long. Ruenwin, like most others, liked to talk, especially to new and strange guests. Most of the Aerie knew languages ney shared, but many spoke only their own tongue, of which ney could only make out snatches of meaning. The words and way of speaking changed depending on the relative age of the speaker and listener, and from what little Miris could tell, these northern Ruenwin modified some words differently than their southern cousins. Still, there were many conversations to be had, and several teachers willing to translate where needed. At one point ney found nemself talking to a young woman who was very curious about the sorts of food Miris’s people ate. Ney thought for a few moments, searching nir memory for something notable, then lifted the cup of fruit wine.

  “There’s something like this that’s popular in my homeland, but it’s served warm.”

  “Hot wine!” The Ruenwin girl laughed. “You humans are so strange!”

  “Don’t be rude, Riyana,” an elder scolded, clicking her beak.

  Riyana ducked her head briefly in apology but continued, irrepressible, “What about festivals? What do you eat then?”

  “Lots of things. Sugared pancakes, roast pork, spiced nuts. There’s some drinks and sweets that are reserved for certain festivals. And some things that can only be found in their time. My village is by the sea, and we would have a feast of marvelfish once a year when they came to the bay to spawn.”

  A boy, barely fledged, fluttered down from a high branch to join them. “I want to hear about the Winds,” he said, and so Miris told him and Riyana of those things about cloudships that were not fliers’ secrets. The elder seemed interested as well, though she kept it hidden.

  Kirental landed next to the boy in a flutter of silver-tipped wings. He, along with the other returning travelers, had spent most of the feast being questioned in much the same way by eager friends.

  “Are you bothering our guest?” he teased, light but with enough warning in it to stem the flood of questions on the youths’ tongues.

  “All is well,” Miris reassured him, though ney was glad of the chance to fetch another honeyed peach from the rapidly-depleting hanging platter. It was good to celebrate for a while, and push the journey ahead from nir mind.

  ◆◆◆

  The celebration did not end until well past dark. Just when Belest had begun to wonder if Ruenwin tradition was to feast all through the night, the Aerie elders at last proclaimed an end to the evening, and sent them all off to their beds, warm and sated and laughing from drink and companionship.

  When the hall was nearly empty but for the humans and a few stragglers grabbing the last pieces of food, Fanrien waved Belest and Miris to the back of the hall. She led them through a curtain and up a tight, winding staircase that was no doubt as old as the ruins themselves. Belest took the first few steps with some hesitation, trailing a hand along the worn central pillar for balance, but soon found the pitted stone as stable as anything in Tilsa. Fanrien regarded his caution with amusement, tilting her head to watch him climb behind her. Why would a winged race maintain such things, he wondered? What need could they have of them?

  His curiosity must have been obvious. “For children, and those with weakened wings,” Fanrien said, in response to the unasked question. “And guests, of course,” she added, as they reached a landing and she swept aside another curtain to reveal the guest chambers.

  The entire front wall was open to the air, the stone having crumbled away long ago. A knee-high barrier ran along the edge, flat-topped and scuffed with claw marks, but there was nothing else to prevent one from flying - or falling - from the ledge. The far corner too was gone, lost to time and an encroaching oak that stretched its limbs into the room. Round lanterns hung from one of its branches; Fanrien reached out to pluck one from its hook and held it aloft, signaling to others below.

  Two Ruenwin women flew up to meet her, one feathered in deep grey and black and the other in soft browns. Between them they carried a woven hamper from which they drew lengths of fabric. These they unrolled and hung from hooks on the ceiling to form hammocks, which they piled with embroidered blankets and small square pillows.

  Fanrien watched them closely, and apparently they met with her approval, because she thanked them and dismissed them and turned to Miris.

  “Is there anything more we can provide?” she asked.

  “This is more than enough. Thank you,” Miris replied.

  Assured that her guests were comfortable, Fanrien bid them goodnight, stepped up onto
the ledge, and launched herself into the sky, grey feathers catching the moonlight as she winged away across the Aerie.

  Belest sat on the cool stone floor by the low wall for a time, watching the winking of lanterns lit and extinguished as the Ruenwin of the Aerie returned to their homes to sleep.

  “Belest.”

  He turned. He had never seen that particular look on Miris’s face before, and did not know what it could mean.

  “You should know,” ney said, slowly. “At Northford. I asked Lyriam about Kela.”

  Shock hit him like cold water, followed closely by shame. What had Lyriam said? If she had repeated Kela’s lies… But then, Miris hadn’t sent him away. Hadn’t given him up to Governor Dalen.

  “What- what did she say?”

  “She knows what Kela did, and Governor Tiran is working to make her answer for it.”

  Belest looked away. It was good news, better than he had hoped. But now Miris knew. How had he thought he could keep that from nem?

  “I shouldn’t have asked. I’m sorry.”

  Belest swallowed, and put voice to the question that now dominated his thoughts. “How did she know?”

  “Kela dismissed some of the staff after you left. Her cook went to Haven’s Ford and told Tiran the truth.”

  So Yarul had known. Of course he had, Belest realized. The cook had been friends with most of Kela’s servants, and would have heard gossip from all corners of the house. And yet he had done nothing all those years? Belest squashed that ungracious thought. What could any of them have done? Challenging Kela would only have made things worse for all of them. The servants had always been kind to him. And then they had suffered Kela’s anger because of him.

  “Tiran’s got a few other governors on nir side,” Miris continued. “Any of them would probably give you shelter if you asked. But Ralesh is backing Kela. And apparently Dalen heard from him first.”

  The governors, supporting Belest? But why would they?

  “I didn’t tell them I’d found you. So Lyriam doesn’t know you’re with me. But she’s concerned for you.”

  “Why are they doing this? Why do they care?”

  Miris stared at him, made as if to speak, and then thought for a few moments before saying at last, “Because what she did was wrong. Because if they let one wealthy merchant get away with abusing her family, what’s to say others won’t slip through too?” Ney fixed him with a look that spoke volumes, and this time he did not look away. “The governors swear to protect their people. And if Ralesh won’t protect you, Tiran will.”

  Such fierce words, backed by hope and steel. Part of him wanted to argue further, just to see if Miris’s faith in Tiran was strong enough to withstand all his doubts, but that would be unfair, so he did not.

  “Does the governor of Bersei believe Tiran?” he asked, fearing the answer.

  “I don’t know. Hannen didn’t give me more details. But I can send them a letter. And when we’re finished at Dawning Crest, I can take you to the governor of Bersei. And to your parents, if you want that.”

  He bit his lip, looked away. “I never told my parents I was unhappy. I don’t know if they believe Kela’s story.” That was yet another thing he had tried not to think about. Did his family believe him a brute and a thief? And even if they doubted Kela’s claims, they would wonder where he was, and worry for him. Would Kela sabotage their business in revenge? It wasn’t hard to imagine her doing just that. He had thought of it, before he left. The possibility had kept him in Kela’s halls for long after he considered running. In the end, he had run anyway, and it still filled him with guilt. To his relief, Miris didn’t ask more.

  “Soon they’ll know the truth,” ney promised. “Or as much of it as you’re willing to share.”

  He nodded. Some things, he did not want to tell them. But he owed them enough to explain his disappearance.

  “Rest,” Miris told him. “It will take time, but we will make this right.”

  Something in Belest hid from Miris’s certainty, hid from the hope that he could mend his life. But the rest reached for it. A flier’s promise was worth a great deal and he would not take it lightly. He climbed into the embrace of the Ruenwin hammock, and found it far more comfortable than he’d imagined, but it was still some time before he slept.

  The Sleepless Wind

  When they departed the next morning, much of the Aerie was still sleeping, though Kirental, Fanrien, and one of the elders had woken to wish them farewell. The fishers too had set off with their nets and spears. Even after such a feast, the Aerie would soon need more food. Some teachers and artisans had also risen from their hammocks, though their students would not arrive until closer to noon.

  “These peaceful mornings are to be savored,” Kirental said. “They give one a chance to listen to the world.”

  Belest understood that. He appreciated quiet mornings, rare as they had been in his life recently. He imagined Miris did too. Waking on a cloudship, with the sky all around him? He would treasure that memory, and all the others.

  Miris gifted to Kirental a measure of fabric from Tilsa, a pale green printed with darker green leaves. Fanrien knew within a moment what its destiny was.

  “Stretched over a wooden frame, it will make a fine toy ball for Amayla,” she said. And then, to Miris, “We wish you good winds on your journey. And we hope you will return someday. You will be welcome here.” It was said to both of them, though Belest knew he would likely never have an opportunity to see the Ruenwin again.

  Just before they lifted off, Seres swept through the clearing. Had the spirit too enjoyed the visit? From Miris’s content expression, and how ney waited a while before touching the glyph that asked the spirit to raise them into the sky, Belest could easily believe it.

  The Dragonfly floated away from the Aerie, first slowly, and then faster once they’d cleared the trees. Within minutes the overgrown ruin was once again hidden within the forest. They could fly higher now that they did not have a Ruenwin escort. Unlike that first day, the sky was mostly clear, and the world below peeked through the few clouds that drifted across the sky. Their journey carried them over streams, hills, villages. Here and there Belest spotted a trader’s caravan, or a messenger astride a fast horse. Once, he thought he glimpsed another cloudship in the distance, but it did not come close enough for him to be certain, and Miris did not comment on it. He reasoned that fliers were not so rare that to see a fellow was a remarkable thing. What was the fliers’ council like, he wondered?

  “Honestly, these days it’s mostly a reason for a party,” Miris said when he asked. “When it began it was about sharing newly-discovered Windscript, improvements in ship construction, things like that. News from around the world, reports of how fliers were received in various places, tales of success or misfortune that others could learn from.” Ney shrugged. “That was long before my time, but I’ve read some of the records our archivists keep. There are two of them.”

  “Records?”

  “Archivists. Both travel the world looking for knowledge that might benefit fliers, and they meet up every two years to exchange it. So there’s two copies, in case anything befalls one or the other.” Ney sighed. “It’s a grim thought. But better to be prepared than lose all our history to a disaster.”

  “I know merchants who do that, or something like it. Keep two copies of their records, in different places, so if one is lost or destroyed, they still know where they stand. There’s a story the baker in Lark’s Valley told me, about her cousin who lost his workshop and logbooks to a fire. And then just as he’d managed to recover some of his business, one of his creditors showed up with forged papers saying that he owed a lot more than he’d actually borrowed.”

  Miris nodded. “And of course he couldn’t prove it, when he’d lost his own copy of the contract.” Ney grumbled. “I can’t abide cheaters. It hurts everyone, to lie like that. Not only the victim, but those around them, who suddenly don’t know who they can trust. Markets with too many t
hieves don’t last long.”

  Nor did those thieves fare well themselves, Belest thought, remembering Terthe in the ruins of nir smashed merchandise. And the trio of smugglers at Northford, no doubt hauled off by the Ansets’ guards.

  And he knew someday he would have to answer for his own acts.

  ◆◆◆

  Miris realized too late why Belest might have fallen silent, and regretted nir vehemence. It had not occurred to nem to associate his act of desperation with the sorts of liars that prowled crowded markets. But it was something that was certain to make Tiran’s case in his defense all the more difficult. That, Miris would leave to the Ansets, who knew far more of legal matters than ney could ever hope to learn, at least not without several decades’ worth of training.

  “I still enjoy the council,” ney said, by way of steering the conversation back to lighter topics. “It’s always good to see friends again. And to hear their stories. I haven’t yet had a journey entered into the book of records, but my mentor Pira did, when she flew food and medicine to Firestone Island after they were struck by a storm. And I’ll bet that Arden’s winter with the Chefir in Arenset will earn an entry. Maybe even half a page’s worth. That’s a lot, for us.” Ney laughed. “The archivists write small!”

  “They’d have to,” Belest agreed. More seriously, he added, “Do you think this would… would be recorded? Seeking the Stars?”

  Miris truly hadn’t considered it. Until Arden had mentioned it, the council and its archivists had been far from nir mind. But the thought, once sparked, was impossible to dismiss. “It might,” ney said. “Depending on what we find. We’ll have to tell them what we learned in any case. Perhaps someone else has seen something, and can help us.” We. Ney did not realize until ney’d said it that ney had included Belest in nir vision of the great hall at Hart’s Peak. Perhaps traveling with another was not so great a burden as ney had supposed.