by Kate Diamond
“What is it?” Belest prompted.
“He’s offered to pay your debts,” Miris said, hardly believing the words even as ney read nem. “No, he’s insisting on it.” Ney passed the letter to Belest, who read it over with equal astonishment.
“That’s- that’s good,” he said, flipping the paper over and peering at the watermark as if he thought it might be forged.
“He believes Tiran. He believes you. This will help.”
Belest nodded, though he still looked uneasy, and folded the letter away with more care than the paper needed.
Another letter arrived two days later, this one stamped with the seal of the Tilsan city guard. It was from Lita. One of her fellows had caught a Flamesmith jewelry merchant entering the city with three strange glowing pendants that now sat in a locked vault in the Guard’s offices.
Ney penned a reply instructing Lita on how to free the Stars, and after some thought added another request: that she tell Governor Nira what Miris had found, so that she could tell others to watch.
Soon, all those captured Stars would be freed.
◆◆◆
Belest spent much of his first morning at Kassi in the waypoint’s library, reading from the histories of far-flung lands, fliers’ journals of centuries past, a book with shipwrights’ diagrams of cloudships across the ages. Many of the texts were in languages he couldn’t even name, let alone read, but enough were in Arlanan Common to keep a reader busy for months. He was deep in a volume of Forish fairy tales when the noon bell rang, calling the fliers and waypoint crew to the kitchens for a meal. He shook his head clear of images of walking snakes and underground forests and found his way to the dining hall. The book of diagrams stuck in his mind. Maybe he could be of some use here.
After the meal, he found Rilla and asked her. On her advice, he presented himself to the head shipwright, Tobin. Like Rubie, Tobin was glad to have help, but assigned Belest only the youngest apprentices’ jobs. Belest didn’t mind that. He knew his parents wouldn’t want inexperienced students working on their carts, no matter their skills in other crafts. Fliers and those who built cloudships would be the same.
Much of their work was done clinging precariously to the sides of the ships. Tobin brought out a harness from the workshop and helped Belest into it, then threaded strong ropes through and fastened them to the deck. Belest lost his grip only once, hanging out over open space to sand down a rough patch on the ship’s bow. His foot slipped, there was a horrible lurching, but the rope held him. Tobin, unalarmed, hauled him up to the deck. Belest sat on stable ground, panting, terror still ringing in his ears. Seres gusted past, softly - trying to calm him?
Tobin smiled at him, not unkindly. “Do you need to rest?”
He shook his head, still too out of breath to speak. He could continue.
“Good lad.” He patted Belest’s shoulder. “Work through it, and by the end of the day you’ll forget it ever happened.”
They worked until sunset, by which point the fall was indeed a distant memory, and once all their tools had been brushed clean and put away, joined the fliers for dinner. Belest ate heartily that night, listening to the fliers’ tales and the waypoint gossip. That piece of him that had long ago dreamed of remaining Miris’s assistant awoke. He wanted to have this forever, but he knew it was something he could not ask for. He pushed that thought down, determined to enjoy what he had.
Four days later, the Dragonfly was ready to fly. That was sooner than Tobin had predicted, but Belest was not foolish enough to ascribe the success to his own efforts.
Miris wished nir friends farewell, thanked Tobin and Rilla and the rest of the workers, and then they lifted away. A day and a half of uneventful eastward flight brought them again close to the mountains, but this time they would not need to venture to the icy peaks.
From the air, Lark’s Valley was somehow even smaller than Belest remembered. If he hadn’t been looking out for it, he might have missed the tiny cluster of buildings nestled between the slopes. But he could not have missed his parents’ workshop: a shed nearly the size of their house, its roof painted a sunny gold. Mother had insisted on that, after the first time he got lost in the mountains, wanting to create a landmark a wandering child could not miss. Beside it he could see the neighbor’s goats milling about in their paddock, and across the way the schoolteacher’s garden already blooming with early flowers.
They landed the Dragonfly in the only space large enough for it: the schoolyard. Fortunately it was a free-day for the students, so they did not have to worry about excited children crowding the ship or teachers unhappy at the interruption to their lessons. From there, Belest led Miris down the familiar streets to his parents’ little house. The flowers in the hanging baskets were different, and the window-shutters had been changed since he’d been here last, but the door was the same painted wood, and hung on it was the same rabbit-eared amulet watching all who approached.
He took a breath and knocked on the door. A woman’s face appeared at the warped window, and then the door flew open.
“Bel!” Ma shrieked, hurrying across the doorstep and pulling him into her arms.
He was home.
Ma raised her head only long enough to call, “Ryn! Come here!” and drew him close again. He stayed in that embrace for a long while, letting her rest her head on his shoulder as she shook with emotion.
Mother came to the door, wearing a stained apron over her dress, greying hair escaping its knot. “Bel! What happened? We’ve heard the most terrible things.” She hugged them both, let all her breath out in a sigh. “Thank the gods that you’re safe.”
At last Ma pulled away and noticed Miris waiting patiently a few steps away.
“Oh! I’m sorry, I didn’t see…”
“It’s all right.” Miris smiled. ‘I’m glad to see you reunited.”
Belest introduced them. “These are my mothers, Terryn and Mirva. This is Miris.”
“A flier!” Mirva exclaimed.
“Ney rescued me from-” Where to start? He shook his head. “I have so much to tell you.”
“Brother! Brother!” Two young children galloped through the house to the door, nearly knocking each other over in their eager haste.
“You have sibs?” Miris asked.
“I… didn’t?” Belest said, looking between the children and his mothers in puzzlement. “Ma?” What had happened while he was gone?
“Oh! You don’t know,” Mirva exclaimed.
“This is Lin,” Terryn said, tapping the taller child on the shoulder, “and this-” she tousled the smaller one’s hair- “is Firu. We adopted them a week before we heard you were missing. So you never got our letter.”
“Come inside, all of you,” Mirva said. “It seems we all have stories to tell, and they can be told much better next to the hearth over tea and food.”
Belest would have helped in the kitchen, but Mirva ushered him down onto a worn armchair in the main room. He added another log to the fire and watched.
Terryn put the kettle on and asked Lin to serve bread and soup. Mirva even brought out a tin of cookies, the ones she kept only for special occasions. Butter shortbread speckled with lavender, the envy of all the village’s kitchens. Once they were all settled by the fire, Belest told his story, starting with Terthe’s arrival at Silverpeak. What came before that could wait until later.
The children finished their food first and returned to their games as soon as they did, every so often poking up a head to ask a question or comment on Belest’s tale. Terryn must have softened since Belest’s youth. He would never have been allowed to play like that during a meal, and certainly not when guests were visiting. Firu was by far the more active of the two, smiling face topped with a mop of curly brown hair that covered their eyes and bounced when they moved. Lin was quieter, except when something caught their interest, and then Belest found himself peppered with eager questions.
“How high did you fly? And how fast? Did you see any dragonfolk?”
“I did. A healer, at a hospital in Tilsa. I helped her with her patients.”
“Tilsa! That’s so far away!” Lin exclaimed.
“Inside voices, Lin,” Terryn reminded them absently.
“Sorry!” Lin whispered, then grinned. “What’s Tilsa like?”
“We should let Bel and Miris tell the story in order,” Mirva told them, a gentle rebuke.
With all the children’s questions, not to mention his mothers’, it took Belest at least twice as long as he’d expected to recount their voyage. But he didn’t care. He would have welcomed doing it all over again, for it meant he was away from Kela and Terthe, that he was here with his family and he knew they were well.
Terryn shooed Firu and Lin out to their chores, but not before they had secured from Miris a promise that they could see Seres and the Dragonfly when they were done. The quiet gave Belest the chance to ask the question that had been in his mind since he’d first seen them.
“Mother? You never said anything about more children. I’m happy, but it’s a surprise.”
Terryn turned from her washing. “We hadn’t planned on it, but… there was sickness in the village over the winter.”
Sickness? How many had suffered? “You didn’t tell me,” Belest said. How much had happened that he didn’t know?
“We didn’t want to worry you,” Mirva said.
“We didn’t think it would be as bad as it was,” Terryn added. “Most recovered well, but Jena and Arlise… one week they were well, and by the next they were gone.”
“We couldn’t leave the children,” Mirva said. “Their nearest relatives are off to the west, but they’ve had some hard times and they couldn’t take another two. And the last thing we wanted to do to those two sweet pups after all that was send them away from home to family they’d never met.”
“I understand.” He smiled. “I’m glad you could help them. They seem happy.”
“I think they are.” Terryn said. “Of course there’s been hard days. They miss their parents, they always will. But we’re giving them everything we can.”
“I’m glad.”
When dark had fallen and Mirva had put the children to bed, it was time for Belest to tell the rest of his story. Slowly, with many pauses to gather his words and his courage, he told his mothers what living with Kela had truly been like. Certain details he left vague, to spare them the pain of knowing, but he suspected they had guessed, from the furious tension set in every line of Terryn’s face and the sorrow in Mirva’s eyes.
“I’d like to see her rot in a pit, the monster,” Terryn spat.
“We should never have trusted her,” Mirva said, shaking her head. “Not with the business and not with you.”
“The business. Has something happened?” Belest asked, fearing the worst.
Terryn’s eyes narrowed. “That viper is trying her hardest to hurt us. Not only has she claimed you’re a brute, she’s spread rumors about our carts. Said they’re shoddy, that they’ve broken and injured people or left them stranded.” She scowled at the insult.
“We’ve lost customers over it,” Mirva said. “Local people know that such a thing has never happened with our carts, but others don’t know if they can trust us. It’s awful.”
And now they had two children to care for. Of course Kela didn’t care a penny for them. He knew they would tell him it wasn’t his fault, that they’d rather face trouble and have him away from Kela than live well while he suffered, but guilt settled in his heart even so. Because of him, Kela had hurt them, would continue to hurt them.
“Does Governor Yari-”
“Governor Yari hasn’t spoken to us,” Terryn said, voice sharp-edged with barely-repressed anger. “We wrote to nem, we even went to nir door, and we have heard nothing in response.”
“It shouldn’t be this hard,” Mirva lamented. “Not after how she treated you.”
Terryn sighed. “As long as she has her governor’s ear, we have precious little recourse against her.”
“That’s not true,” Miris put in. “The Ansets of Haven’s Ford have taken up his case.” At Terryn’s raised eyebrow, ney finished, “They believe him. And they won’t rest until justice is done.”
“They’d do that for us?” Mirva asked, disbelieving.
Miris smiled. “Yes. They won’t let a wrong like this stand unchallenged.”
Terryn nodded. “Then we can hope they are successful, and help them as best we can.”
“And the Governor of Pirren wants to help too.” Belest told them how Dalen had chased them away, and of the apology he had later sent. “Maybe he can convince Yari to listen.”
“Hah. Yari’s more stubborn than Pavan’s goats. But I suppose it’s worth him trying.”
“I’ll write him a letter tomorrow,” Mirva said. “To thank him.”
Belest nodded, then yawned.
“We should let you sleep,” Mirva said, tidying away the mugs. “Will you stay a day or two, Miris?”
Miris accepted the offer, which surprised Belest but cheered him. He was home, yes, and Miris’s promise to him was complete, but he found he didn’t want to say goodbye just yet.
Lin and Firu had taken over Belest’s room, so Mirva set out bedding for Belest in Terryn’s office and for Miris in the main room by the hearth. Home and safe, with family all around him, Belest fell asleep easily, though a part of him already missed the gentle sway of the Dragonfly aloft.
He woke to steaming mint tea, thick links of smoked sausage, oatmeal stirred with honey-sweetened cream from the neighbor’s goats. Belest and Miris ate heartily, as did his mothers and the children, but even so there was food to spare. As they ate, Mirva asked after Miris’s travels. Ney told tales of faraway markets and beautiful festivals, of rocky canyons and rolling hills. Belest let himself be lost for a while in the stories of Trineta’s shores and the green lands of Tansira beyond. Would he ever visit such places? After all he had seen, it was hard to imagine spending the rest of his life in the mountains where he’d grown up.
Belest helped Mirva clean up after breakfast. When all the dishes had been set out to dry, he wandered into the main room and found Lin lying on the rug near the hearth, sketching on the backs of discarded papers with a worn set of pencils.
“What are you drawing?”
“Winds,” Lin answered, without looking up.
Belest knelt beside them to look. The coiled, whirling creatures on the page with their distorted faces, spiked fins, and long curling tails bore little resemblance to Seres, or to the fierce spirits that roamed the mountains, but they were unmistakably Winds.
He was so very glad to be home. But the joy of the reunion could not last forever. The next day was a school day, and Belest walked with the children to the schoolhouse door. The families of Lark’s Valley recognized him and crowded around, eager to share news of what he had missed, and to ask after the rumors they had heard of him. Fortunately most seemed to doubt Kela’s story, but he received more than a few dirty looks from those who now thought him a violent thief.
“You shouldn’t let him near the children,” Arisa, the old baker’s daughter, whispered behind her hand to her friend, just loud enough for Belest to hear.
“Or near your purse,” Kenet added in a grumble. He was a shopkeeper’s husband who had once been friendly with Belest’s family, and joked with him often when he went shopping. Now he looked at him with only coldness and disdain.
“I believe him,” a younger man said. Lirus, the animal-healer who’d tended to the goats countless times during kid season. “Bel’s not the sort who would do anything like that.” He was met with a mix of sympathetic nods and displeased frowns.
At last Belest managed to extract himself from their attentions and return home. He had gone out to the workshop to see if he could help when he heard Terryn cursing at a letter.
“Mother?”
She turned. “It’s nothing, Bel. You don’t have to worry.”
But he could see from
her face that he did. “Please. Tell me.”
She sighed, held out the paper. “Graden fin-Abor cancelled a commission for three carts.”
He winced. Graden’s shipping company was one of the largest in the region. If he refused to do business with them, that wouldn’t do them any favors in others’ eyes.
“Because of Kela?”
Terryn’s pained expression told him he was right. He walked back to the house, unease weighting his steps. He thought he had escaped Kela when he’d made that fateful deal with Terthe. But he hadn’t. He’d only changed her target. He sat by the low fire, lost in bleak thoughts. He looked up when Miris sat beside him. Ney did not speak, but he could feel nir concern.
“I can’t stay here.” He sighed, resting his head in his hands. “As long as I’m here, Kela will hurt them. I can’t do that to the children. And my parents have enough work already. They don’t need another mouth to feed. And I heard people talking in the town. They don’t trust me.”
A long moment passed before Miris spoke. “Come with me to Hart’s Peak,” ney said. “Tell your story. And then I can take you to the Ansets.”
Hart’s Peak. The fliers’ summer council. Arden would be there. The thought warmed him more than perhaps it should have.
Miris paused, and then added, “Or you can stay on as my assistant, if you want to.” His breath caught; he looked up, almost unable to believe it. A flier’s assistant? He hadn’t even allowed himself to think of that since those first half-dreamed imaginings.
“Yes,” he said, smiling. “I would like that.”
◆◆◆
They stayed another day in Lark’s Valley, to the delight of Belest’s new sibs. Though Miris knew Seres was not usually fond of children, the spirit treated Lin and Firu well, and consented to be chased after and have excited hands waving through breezes.
Belest’s parents accepted his decision, on the condition that he return before the winter, and that he send them letters.
How long would it take the Ansets to put this to rest? Miris had no doubt that they would, even if they had to do it over Ralesh and Yari’s objections. The truth would win, eventually. But reputations were harder to salvage.
