A Bird of Sorrow

by Shea Godfrey

  Enoch smiled. “If you are in a fight with many enemies, one sword is good but two swords are better, yes?”

  Tannen frowned. “No.”

  “Two swords are not more powerful than one?”

  “I know my sword,” Tannen answered simply. “If the second sword belongs to Rookus, the blacksmith’s son, then I say that is good. He would make me more powerful. If it is Destry, who tends the goats, I love him like my brother but I do not want his help. I would die trying to protect him. I do not think that is what power is supposed to be. No one would want that.”

  Enoch chuckled, looking happy. “And so it is the same with majik. There are things that make you strong, and there are things that make you weak. Those things are not always what people think they will to be.”

  “So not taking the Shou-ah will make me stronger?”

  “I did not say that. How can you be stronger if you become weak and sick and then die?” Enoch demanded as he puffed his pipe.

  “But you did not become weak and sick, and you are not dead,” Tannen argued.

  “The Shou-ah is like a set of clothes. Clothes hold things in and keep them in place. It is a good thing. They remind you that there are rules.”

  Tannen remembered her mother, and how she had held up her left wrist, showing her the silver cuff she always wore, or at least, most times she did. “Why do some people become sick and die, and others do not?”

  “Why is Rookus stronger than Destry?”

  “I did not say he was stronger than Destry. I said he is better with a sword.”

  “But he is stronger than Destry.”

  “Destry can beat him at white stones and black stones. He can beat him every time. He reads twice as fast, and he can read High Vhaelin and Eeasa. That is strong, too. If I had to cross a river and could not figure out how, I would choose Destry over Rookus to be at my side.”

  Enoch looked at her for a time, and she thought perhaps he was done talking. She thought of dinner, and what it might be. She thought of the day when she would have a dagger to match her sword. She thought of—

  “You speak wise words, Tannen Ahru, and it makes my heart glad. You judge a man on who he is and can see that everyone has something of value to offer that is their very own.”

  “Who does not see like this?” Tannen asked with a downward turn of her mouth. “To see otherwise is foolish.”

  Enoch made his own face. “More people than you can imagine. It is hard to think with freedom when you live beneath the heavy coat of your own influence. Even when the sun is shining, and they are sweating and confused beneath the weight of their own thoughts, men will still hate what they cannot see and do not understand. They will hide beneath the coat of what they know, even if they are wrong, and snap their teeth at the world.”

  “This makes no sense.”

  “I agree.” Enoch took up his knife and a heavy block of cherrywood. He began to whittle with the grain. “I am going to tell you two secrets now, that I have only told one other person.”

  “Why?”

  Enoch met her eyes. “Because you are the only person who has asked me about the Shou-ah, aside from young Destry. The others, I love them, and they will grow into fine, strong men and women, but they have not thought to ask the man who performs the ceremony. They trust their mothers and fathers and that is good, but they do not question at all. They will not be the same as you and Destry are destined to be. That is not a bad thing, but it makes you different from the pack. I will tell you what I told him.” He pointed his knife. “Destry will take his vows on Solstice as my apprentice. His majik is very strong, one of the strongest I have seen since I was a boy. There have been only two others I have seen that hold more majik.”

  Tannen sat back slightly but said nothing.

  “The second thing is that the Shou-ah ceremony is but a ritual. It is to celebrate the bracelet that is given to you, and to honor its power. Your cuff is what is important, for it will contain a chain of spells that will bend your Cha-Diah majik into a force less overwhelming to your heart, not less powerful. It will channel your combined majik and balance it throughout your body.” He tapped the tip of his knife against his chest. “We are a wild people inside, and in our hearts and in our blood, our majik remains untamed. It is the blood of the Dog Star gods. The Cha-Diah majik is very pure, and more powerful than all other majik.

  “Our Cha-Diah brethren choose us. They choose us, and they make us one with them. We are bound together, and so it was in the beginning with the Dog Star gods. We are still part of the earth and all the elements through this bonding, and our majik is more earthbound than even the Vhaelin. It is why we are compatible with their own particular majik.” He tapped his chest again. “We are at the heart of what they worship, and our heart is the home of our Cha-Diah power.

  “This is why some become sick and others do not. For some, the blood of the stars runs heavy through their veins, for others, not as much. Our gods were wise, though, and saw that love will go where it wants, and so they gave us the Shou-ah spells. Your great-great-grandmother of your father’s line was born in the cities far to the south. She was not of the Fox People in any way. Her family was killed traveling through the Abatmarle, though she did not die. She was but a slip of a girl when Pallay’s bloodline found her and loved her and brought her to us. It was the Shou-ah that saved her life.

  “It is a lie, that people are different. The clans and the Fox People, and the river pirates. The people from the far brick cities that kill each other over food. Even the Fakir.” Enoch spit into the fire and it flared up with his hatred, sparks popping into the air. “Even they were like us once, at one time, long ago. We are all born of the same earth.

  “But the soil of the land grows many flowers. The lotus flower that clings to the river, and the yarrow root that lives in the ground. The ferns that curl and shiver when you touch them. All different, and yet all the same.” He shook his head. “Even though the stars look different in the sky, they are all stars.”

  “Why have the Fakir become different?”

  Enoch spit into the fire. “Because they have betrayed the path of men. They drink the blood of their dead and of their enemies that fall on the field of battle, hoping to absorb their power and strength. They worship the dark moon and hide from the sun’s light. They eat the flesh of their enemies and take their women as slaves. They have broken the sacred laws of man.”

  Tannen stared at him, and though she tried to be brave, his words caused her eyes to sting and her throat to tighten. She asked her question despite her emotions. “If we are at the heart of what the clans worship, why are they kept beyond the wall?”

  “While we are the same, we are the panther lily to their shivering fern,” he explained. “They are bound to the earth and so are we, but theirs is a worship and a deep kinship, while ours is the way of our flesh. It is in our blood.” He pointed his knife at her. “Though, as I said, it is not required in order to be Cha-Diah. But to not have the blood of the Fox People is a hard thing, and they must have their own very powerful majik if they are to survive the final bonding. For most of those not of the Fox blood, it came to pass that their hearts could not withstand so much power. Many died because of this, even with the blessings of the Shou-ah. The Fox People drifted into new territories, for the sadness this brought was too great to bear. The Cha-Diah brethren choose who they will, though, even if they die for that love.”

  “Hashiki chose me,” Tannen said and felt fierce. “I knew her first.”

  “Yes. You have the heart of a desert lynx,” he said with a pleased smile. “And Hashiki’s heart might be the greatest of all hearts. She will be legend among our people.”

  Tannen sat up straighter as pride and love washed through her whole body, and her fingers tightened in Hashiki’s fur as she slept beside her.

  “Never has a lynx fought so hard to be bound to another. She crawled blind and tapped her tiny claws into you, as you cried in your basket with fever. You w
ill be great warriors, you and your Hashiki.”

  Tannen had already figured this out, and so she said nothing.

  “As for the Shou-ah, in the end, if you wish to run free, take it off!” He waved his knife in the air and made a face.

  “What about Gisa and Obo?” Tannen asked.

  “That is true, actually. Our stories may be old, but we do not lie to our children. There are other ways to scare them, if they are in need of such. Men are weak creatures in general, and they have appetites that grow and grow and never stop. They do not practice discipline or even wisdom when pleasure or power is involved.” Enoch tapped at the side of his head. “Do not become a fool and you should be fine.”

  Enoch was quiet then and went back to his carving.

  Tannen waited, but when he did not explain, she whispered, “Gisa?”

  Enoch made a startled gesture and let out a grunt. “Gisa did not forget he was a man, but he was arrogant in his strength. He thought he was the most powerful Fox warrior in the history of our people, and to prove it, he jumped the canyon at the green river gap.” Enoch let out a bark of laughter. “Or I should say, he did not jump the gap, even though he thought he could.” Enoch frowned as he dug the tip of his knife beneath a knot in the grain. “We all told him not to, and we tried to wrestle him to the ground, but nothing would stop him.”

  Tannen narrowed her eyes at him and leaned forward, her arms landing upon her crossed legs. “How old are you, Enoch?”

  Enoch looked up in surprise. “What?”

  “I think you—”

  “I think you should take the Shou-ah,” Enoch said and changed the subject.

  Tannen shut her mouth and tried to decide which subject might be more important. Enoch whittled at his carving, the fire crackled with warmth and noise, and Hashiki’s legs moved as she slept against Tannen’s leg. “Why?”

  Enoch did not look up. “Because you are one of the two who holds more majik than Destry, and though you can withstand the final surge of your bonding easily enough, such a trial is not necessary. I would not see you suffer in any way. There will be enough suffering for us all in this life, without choosing it for ourselves.”

  “Who was the other?” Tannen asked quietly.

  “Adal de Hinsa, Loquio of the Fox People, and once my apprentice.”

  Tannen stared at him.

  Enoch chuckled. “Close your mouth, my girl.”

  “Why?” Tannen asked, her hand sinking in Hashiki’s fur. “Why was she once your apprentice and not now? “

  “She had a vision.”

  “Of what?”

  “She would not say. You must ask Adal de Hinsa that question.”

  Darry shook free as Enoch looked past the child that Tannen Ahru once was, and the hazel and brown of his eyes slammed into her body like a giant fist. She could hear the echo of his startled shout, and she could smell the cedar that burned in the fire, fading away…She could no longer feel the heat of Hashiki’s body against her thigh.

  Enoch stabbed his knife into the ground and reached out his hand to her. The child turned with wide eyes as Tannen seized her arm and pulled. The ease of that quiet place, the safety of it and the absolute trust she felt, it all tipped sideways and fell away.

  Wyatt’s voice fell from a great height and landed within her ears as she looked up. “You are better than I am,” he told her in a quiet voice and then smiled, his blue eyes bright with wonder. He held out his hand to her as she lay in the dirt of the practice yard, her wooden sword still in her hand.

  “I am on the ground.”

  “That is because I know more than you,” Wyatt answered, his heavy curls of black hair falling forward. “I will show you what I can, until I can show you no more, and then we shall find you a better teacher. We shall find you a proper sword, too, you will need one. If you fall on the battlefield, my sister, I shall fall with you.” He gave his hand a shake. “Take my hand, Darry. You must always get back up.”

  Darry gasped for air at the sound of her name and opened her eyes.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  “No, Wyatt.” Emmalyn’s tone was calm and amenable. “The current won’t help you at this point. The bulk of the Fourth must take the Green Highland Road. They’ll make better time.”

  Wyatt frowned as he leaned over her map. “But the current moves north.”

  “It does, but the flooding from the summer storms has not receded, and it will not have the chance to do so before the ground freezes. You will have to slog through a good league of swamped roadside with your equipment and supplies. For every hour you make up using the Taljah, you will spend five more digging your wagons out of the mud. It’s the Highland Road or we will lose at least a week. And the men would be exhausted when they reached the Emmerin Gap.”

  Wyatt looked up, his elbows still on the table. “There was only one incident of flooding in Mal’s reports, but they did not say to what extreme. We assumed it was nothing beyond the usual. Where are you getting your information?”

  “Where is he getting his?” Emmalyn asked with a lift of her eyebrow.

  “The Rangers near Tomms Town. And you?”

  “The Warden of Sloe Island and his roster of pilots. His reports are being sent every third or fourth day. I thought it wise considering the circumstances in Lyoness.”

  Wyatt blinked and pushed up as he glanced back down. “A week could make or break the Gap, if they face a full scale assault.” The respect in his eyes was a welcome sight. “Well done, Emmalyn, truly.”

  Emmalyn let her gaze wander down the table and found Nina sitting cross-legged upon its surface. She was dressed much like Emmalyn was, in black clothes that were a much simpler version of the Kingsman uniform. She was staring at the stack of papers not too far from the polished toe of her right boot, her hair hanging forward just a bit.

  “Nina?”

  Her cousin did not look up.

  “Nina, are you well?”

  Nina blinked and her eyes focused as she sat back. “Yes.”

  Emmalyn smiled a bit, hoping to let her cousin know she was not alone in her fears. It had been a fortnight since their message went north to Ballentrae, in search of Darry and Jessa. “You were a thousand leagues away.”

  “I’m all right, Emma.”

  “Where in the seven hells is Jacob?” Wyatt grumbled and grabbed a hunk of cheese and some bread from a plate on the table. He stepped to the side and held it out. “Please eat something, water rat, you’re wasting away before our eyes.”

  “Don’t call her that.”

  Wyatt turned back to Emmalyn and Nina’s eyes came up.

  “Please don’t call her that again, Wyatt,” Emmalyn told him quietly, and Nina’s eyes filled with emotion. “She likes to swim, so what of it? There are no children here anymore. She is the Lady Nina Lewellyn, and she is beyond deserving of the title.”

  Wyatt’s cheeks colored just a bit and he looked down at the food he held. After a still moment he bent the bread over the cheese and stepped close to their cousin. He leaned over, his hand in her hair as he kissed her forehead. He held out the food. “I’m not much of a cook,” he whispered. “Please eat, Nina. I won’t call you that again—I’m sorry.”

  She took the food and tipped her face a bit. “Thank you, Wyatt.”

  There was a soft knock upon the door and Emmalyn turned, stepped, and slid. “It’s Jacob.” She threw the bolt and he stepped into the room, tossing back his hood as Emmalyn locked the door behind him.

  “It’s them.”

  Emmalyn grabbed the edge of his cloak. “Are you certain, Jacob? If you are wrong in this and we go in, we are thrown into the endgame without the evidence we need.”

  Jacob gave a nod. “Yes, I’m certain of it. The house is owned by Madame Dubassant, past the Circle and the markets, and into the wharf district. She uses it to store her goods, for the most part, but it’s been used for other things, as you shall soon see. Most of what she smuggles in from Lyoness is kept there. They ar
e there. My man has seen them.”

  Emmalyn met Wyatt’s gaze. “Your men are ready?”

  “More than ready, and at your command. I’ll check on Malcolm and keep him occupied.”

  Emmalyn smiled as Nina dropped to her feet beside the table. “Are you done with your dinner then, cousin?”

  “I am more than—”

  Emmalyn watched as Nina’s eyes became wide and Nina took a step toward the shelves that went back into the room, draped in darkness beyond the spiral stairs. Her hand went to the dagger at her waist, and she walked toward Emmalyn as she drew the blade.

  Jacob grabbed Emmalyn by the shoulders and spun her to the side, stepping in front of her in order to shield her with his own body, his own knife coming out. The sound of Wyatt drawing his sword filled the room with the sly echo of steel against steel.

  The room was still as Emmalyn saw the cloaked figure in the shadows, just beyond the wrought iron of the staircase. How long they had been there, she had no idea, that was her first thought. Her second thought was recognition.

  The High Queen of Arravan walked out from the shadows and let her hood down as she stepped into the lamplight. “Perhaps you should tell me what is going on here,” Cecelia said in a quiet voice.

  Emmalyn squeezed Jacob’s shoulder and moved around him in order to face their mother. Her heart was racing from the fright of the intrusion, but more than that, she felt dread at the words she knew must now be spoken. She touched Nina’s shoulders from behind as her cousin sheathed her dagger, then stepped around her, as well. Emmalyn stood before her mother as Wyatt moved about the far end of the table and sheathed his sword.

  Cecelia’s eyes were shrewd as she looked at Emmalyn, and then beyond her, taking in the others. “You seem very well protected, my daughter.”

  “I checked the room earlier this evening, and I have not left since,” Emmalyn replied. “How did you get in?”

  “There’s a secret passage behind the last shelf on the east wall. It locks from within. I have the only key that will match the spell that locks it.”