Outposts

by Vickie Knestaut

  Trysten heard Vanon whoop from the other side of the weyr. She could feel Dassod’s relief and excitement. Trysten smiled and patted Elevera’s side. The dragon dipped her head down.

  “Sorry, Lady,” Trysten said. “Maybe later. Just you and me, all right?”

  Elevera dipped her muzzle once as if in understanding. The alpha knew what was best for her horde.

  While Paege got everything together, Trysten slipped out of the weyr. She walked to the edge of the yard and stared down a lane that looked out over the east. The sun sat just beneath the horizon, ready to climb into the sky, a fiery dragon so brilliant that none could look at her for more than a few seconds.

  A few minutes later, Paege and Vanon led twenty dragons, along with their passengers, into the yard. After getting everyone into the saddles, Paege waved from the back of Sone and then ordered the horde into the sky.

  As the dragons spread their wings and reared up on their hind legs, Trysten’s breath stalled. Her hand went to her chest as she watched and felt the rush of air beneath each colorful pair of wings, and then the curious sensation in her feet as she felt twenty dragons kick off the ground while her boots remained planted on the soil.

  Wind from the dragons’ wings buffeted the straw and grass around the yard. The dragons lifted higher, over the field of ash that had recently become peppered with pale green shoots after the last rain. Up they went over the cairn and onward to the mountains as if they meant to shove them aside and keep on going.

  How she loved to see and feel the horde take the sky. She yearned to stretch her own wings, clench them down and whip them back up as she lifted off the ground. Later. For now, she was here in her weyr, in her village. And that was good too.

  Chapter 31

  After watching the horde until it was out of sight, Trysten looked to the south where the muddied sky was filling like a bowl with daylight, and then without knowing where she began to walk.

  She wound her way through the lanes and around the village, nodding and exchanging greetings with the villagers, but avoiding small talk as her mind turned over all that she had learned of the current situation. It ought to make more sense. There should be a way for her to turn one or two of the facts and get them to fit together in such a way that it revealed a clue that would help her solve the bigger puzzle facing them.

  But nothing came of her attempts to sort things out. As she approached the Fire and Stone, Cornyn emerged from within. He glanced at her, then cast his eyes to the ground and moved on hurriedly.

  “Cornyn,” Trysten called.

  The man looked up at her but slowed only a little bit.

  “Do you have a minute?” Trysten asked as she stepped into the man’s path. “I’d like to speak with you.”

  He looked past her, down the lane. “Actually, I’m a bit late for an appointment.”

  “An appointment? With whom, might I ask?”

  “It’s for the history I’m working on, of course,” Cornyn said.

  Fish and birds, the man was nervous. “Yes, but with whom?” Trysten pressed.

  “Uhm. Vanon,” Cornyn mumbled. “I wanted to speak to Vanon.”

  Trysten shook her head. “He’s gone. He’ll be attending to business outside the weyr the whole day.”

  “Oh,” Cornyn uttered. His face took on a blank look. “Well...”

  “Well,” Trysten said, then gestured at his empty hands. “Since you forgot your writing implements anyway, let’s go back to the Fire and Stone. I have a few questions for you.”

  Cornyn looked back at the tavern as if he thought it might be too far, then he nodded. “I suppose so. Yes. All right, then. Let’s go.”

  Once inside, Trysten gestured at an empty table in the corner.

  “Trysten!” Sessus said from behind the bar. “After stealing my girl away, the least you could do is show up now and then and tell me how she’s doing. Can I get you some tea? A bite of breakfast, perhaps?”

  Trysten held up her hand to Kaylar’s father to dismiss his offer. “No, thank you. I won’t be staying long.”

  “Cornyn?” Sessus asked.

  Cornyn shook his head, then held up an index finger. “On second thought, I’ll have a cup of tea. And perhaps a slice of last night’s bread, if there is any remaining.”

  “Of course,” Sessus said. “Coming right up.” He stepped out of the room.

  Cornyn sat at the table with his back to the wall, and his face turned toward the door. He folded his hands before him and then looked up at Trysten. “Now. What is it that I can do for you?”

  Trysten sat across from him, adjusting the sword at her side with her left hand so that it didn’t get caught in the back of the chair. “We have a bit of a mystery down at the weyr, and I thought it might be interesting to get the perspective of a historian, especially one from the mother city.”

  “Of course,” Cornyn said. “Understandable. I love a good puzzle, a mystery. What is that I can help you with?”

  Trysten sat back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest. “What can you tell me about the Originals?”

  Cornyn’s eyes widened in surprise. His mouth parted and his pale lips glistened in the dull light from a small, dusty window near the table. “I beg your pardon?”

  “The Originals. The ones who were here before humans and dragons.”

  “Yes. I’m familiar with those stories,” he said, clearing his throat.

  “Stories?” Trysten asked, sitting up in her chair. “They are not part of history, then?”

  Cornyn nodded. A lock of thin, dark hair fell across his forehead. He brushed it aside absently. “Not history at all. Just stories, tales that parents use to scare their children into telling the truth and doing their chores and all that.”

  Trysten placed her palms before herself on the table as if about to stand up. She stared at the man a few seconds. It was impossible to keep a secret in Aerona. How could he not have heard about her visits from the Originals? Especially if it was his job to go around and speak to people. He had to be the only person in Aerona who hadn’t heard about it if he was telling the truth.

  She looked at the table top, then back up to him with a slight smile. “So you don’t believe in any of the stories?”

  Cornyn returned her smile, then shook his head. “I believe them to be only stories. People have a strong desire to explain things away. They don’t like unanswered questions, such as Where did we come from? and Why is there a bond between us and the dragons? So they invent answers that fit their questions.”

  “So where do you think we came from, then? Where did we originate?” Trysten asked.

  Cornyn shifted in his seat. “I don’t know. Personally, I’m inclined to believe that we’ve always been here. There have always been humans and dragons, and we have always lived on this land. It is, however, only recently that we’ve had kings wise enough to appoint historians to record our past. If kings had had that wisdom since the start, then we may very well have a complete history of time.”

  Trysten cocked an eyebrow. “Since the start, you say? The start of what?”

  Cornyn shrugged. “Time.”

  “If we’ve always been here, then how could there be a start? What was before the start of time?” she asked.

  Cornyn grinned and leaned forward slightly. “You do love a mystery, don’t you?”

  “You must hear a lot of things while talking to people,” Trysten said. “After all, how many people are able to stay on a topic, you know?”

  Cornyn nearly smirked. A corner of his lips lifted in a look of disdain. “Not many. That’s for certain.”

  “Have you spoken with many of the villagers of Aerona? Do they speak of the Originals?” she asked.

  Cornyn shook his head slowly in an exaggerated manner. “I try and direct the conversations as much as I can. They train us to do so. Otherwise, we spend half a day listening to things that don’t matter. We don’t have the luxury of such time. Myself and other historians that is.” />
  Trysten stared at him for a second, and then lifted her arms above her head and stretched. She debated whether or not to tell him about the Originals, show him all the evidence that she had collected.

  “How many of the villagers have you had to redirect from talk of the Originals?” she asked.

  Cornyn cleared his throat and squirmed a bit in his seat. It appeared to Trysten that he was inventing an answer to her question and not happy about having to do so.

  “Here you go!” Sessus announced with gusto as he stepped up to the table. He placed a platter of bread and cheese sprinkled with a few blueberries, a delicacy that was difficult to grow in their corner of the kingdom, in front of Trysten.

  “I—” Trysten began.

  “Nonsense!” Sessus said as he plopped down a kettle, then waved a dismissive hand. “Compliments of the Fire and Stone. Eat up! And I won’t be happy until this plate is sparkling!” He placed two mugs beside the kettle, then gave Cornyn the plate of bread he had requested.

  “Thank you,” Trysten said.

  “Thank you. For all that you do for our village. And, all that you have done for me, personally. You will never pay for or prepare another meal again if you will only stop in here at each mealtime. I can’t thank you enough for the honor you have done me by choosing my daughter as one of your hordesmen. And furthermore...” Sessus leaned in a good bit as if to share a conspiratorial rumor, “I hear there is a caravan coming to help set up the second weyr, and once they get here... Oh, ho, ho!” He rubbed his thumb and fingers together to insinuate he was polishing a coin.

  Sessus clapped Trysten on the shoulder, gave it a hearty shake, and then went back to the bar.

  “You’ve really made quite an impression on these people,” Cornyn said. He poured himself a cup of tea, then placed his mug next to his plate.

  “Strange times,” was all that Trysten responded with.

  “As you were saying...” Cornyn rolled his wrist, inviting her to continue.

  “You were about to tell me how many villagers you spoke with who mentioned the Originals,” Trysten said.

  “Oh, yes. Well, all of my notes are in my room, and I don’t remember the details. I’d be happy to get back to you with that information the next time I see you,” Cornyn said.

  “I see,” Trysten said. “How many villagers have you spoken with so far about anything?”

  “You must understand,” Cornyn said. “First, I seek to speak with the more educated members of the community. You, your father, Galelin, the hordesmen. This helps me decide which topics to bring up with the villagers. Then, I will widen my interviews to include the people of the village. My time here is limited, so I do my best to stay focused on the subjects most pertinent to the village itself.”

  Trysten opened her mouth to question his approach, then paused. He was up to something, she could tell. It would serve her best to observe him without making him any more wary than necessary.

  “What do you think about Adalina?” Trysten asked, the words out of her mouth before she realized what she was asking.

  A sly grin spread over Cornyn’s face. “Really? Come now, Trysten. I know that in the mother city at least, the outlying villages have an unfair reputation of being backward and unenlightened, but I didn’t think you of all people would put stock in myths and fables.”

  “Myths? You were sent here by King Cadwaller, right?” she asked.

  “Of course,” Cornyn said with a sharp nod.

  “King Cadwaller’s own son has provided me with a book filled with stories of Adalina, as well as copies of actual documents and sketches of artifacts that came from her court.”

  Cornyn blew some derisive noise past his lips as he rolled his eyes, but he could not hide the flush of color that passed over his brow and cheeks.

  “Really? Well, let me tell you, I have, in my travels, come across people willing to show me all kinds of genuine things. From an Original who was nothing more than a boy in a dark tent covered with discarded dragon scales, to a lock of a pheedris’s hair that was nothing more than a braid from a horse’s tail.”

  “Pheedris?” Trysten interrupted.

  “You never heard of the pheedris?” Cornyn asked as if finding it hard to believe that Trysten could be so ignorant.

  Trysten shook her head.

  “A monster of myth,” Cornyn said with a wave of his hand. “This world is full of things that people claim to be true, but aren’t. And that is why historians are necessary.” He dabbed the tip of his finger at the chest of the faded, scarlet tunic he wore. “It is our job to separate fact from fiction, history from hysteria, and present the world as it is, not as people want it to be. Otherwise,” he said as he sat back and crossed his arms over his chest, “I’d be merely a bard or a loathsome storyteller.” His face twisted into a sneer of disgust at the last.

  Trysten plucked up a blueberry and placed it between her teeth and bit. It was tough and bitter, but her eyelids dropped slightly all the same. It had been so long since she’d had a blueberry of any quality that even a hint of the fruit’s true flavor was decadent.

  “Look,” Cornyn said. He picked up his tea cup and took a sip. “I am sorry. I didn’t mean to complain.” He looked Trysten straight in the eye. “The fact of the matter is that people like to use history as a sort of iron hook to hang their arguments on. Is Cadwaller the rightful heir to the throne? Is Sebastian responsible for The Wastes? People have preconceived ideas about things, and instead of looking to history to educate themselves, they come to me and nearly demand outright that I support their crackpot theories whether they are fact or otherwise. And so I get a little suspicious when people ask me about odd things, like the occult.”

  “Sebastian?” Trysten asked as she plucked up another blueberry.

  “You have not heard of Sebastian either? The Southern Wastes?” He seemed shocked that she was unaware of his examples of questions he endured from the unenlightened villagers of the kingdom.

  Trysten shook her head. “I’ve heard of the Wastes, but not Sebastian.”

  Cornyn waved his hand again. “Never mind. My point is that—”

  “I understand your point,” Trysten said. “Apparently you feel like a lot of ignorant and uneducated villagers throughout the kingdom want to use you to make themselves feel better. Well, I’m not one of them. I’m trying to get to the bottom of some problems we are having, and I expected that a man appointed by the King to be wise in our history would have some historical perspective to offer me.”

  Cornyn’s face flushed, and the color of it clashed terribly with his tunic. He sat back and brushed his hair aside again with the tips of his fingers. His lips twitched slightly, and he stared at Trysten’s plate for several seconds before his eyes ventured up to hers, slowly and cautiously, like a rodent peeking around the corner for a cat.

  Trysten picked up a slice of bread, took a bite, and watched Cornyn as she chewed. After she swallowed, she asked, “So what have you learned about the dragons of Aerona weyr?”

  “A very prestigious line,” Cornyn said with a nod, as if happy to change the subject. “Aerona is a special place.”

  “Oh? Tell me more,” she said, her frustration with him growing. She took a sip of her tea to hopefully hide her annoyance.

  Cornyn stood abruptly and brushed imaginary crumbs from the front of his tunic. “As much as I would like to continue our conversation, please do excuse me. I have a lot of work to do yet before I return to the mother city and I have wasted enough of your time.”

  Without waiting for a response, Cornyn walked away from the table and up the stairs at the back of the room. Trysten popped another blueberry into her mouth as she listened to his boots pass down the hall over her head, her eyes tracing his steps across the ceiling. He entered one of the rented rooms above, and then nothing. He was right about one thing — he was wasting her time.

  The man had been asking a lot of questions since his arrival about the dragons of the weyr, but it seem
ed he had no interest in Aerona at all. Further, she was sure he was lying to her about something.

  Trysten motioned to Sessus, who bustled over to her table. “Trysten! Can I get you something else? Anything I have is yours,” the innkeeper said.

  “What do you know of our friend?” She pointed to Cornyn’s empty chair. “Has he been out around the village much? Meeting people in here to interview them maybe?”

  Sessus shook his head. “You’re the first person I’ve seen him talk to in here. He doesn’t have much to say to anyone from what I can see. He’s an odd one.”

  The innkeeper wiped the crumbs from Cornyn’s place and picked up the empty plate and cup. “And another thing — he doesn’t want us in his room. My wife leaves clean linens and his meals in the hall. He said he has to be very protective of his work but to be honest, I’ve yet to see him work at all.”

  Another patron pounded his mug on the wood of the bar. Trysten stood from the table and gave Sessus a quick hug.

  “Thank you for everything, Sessus,” she said. “I appreciate your help and hospitality. And to tell you the truth, I’d be lost without Kaylar. It’s an honor serving with her.”

  Beaming, the innkeeper returned to the bar. “Fish and birds, man, it’s still the morning hours! Keep your trousers on,” he chided the noisy patron.

  Trysten looked back to the ceiling. If Cornyn wasn’t collecting information for a village history, then what was he looking for? Instead of getting answers from the man, her list of questions had grown again.

  With a wave to Sessus, she left the inn and headed back to the weyr.

  Chapter 32

  Trysten was in the weyr chatting with her father when Vanon returned later that afternoon. Work on the second weyr had come to a halt because of the shortage of available tools. It seemed waiting for the caravan to arrive was Mardoc’s main task now, in addition to worrying about Caron which he’d never admit to.

  Vanon slid to the ground from Dassod’s saddle and jogged to the weyr entrance, where Trysten and Mardoc waited. The hordesman caught Trysten up in a hug, spun her around once and planted a sloppy kiss on her cheek.