“You don’t think your grandfather is playing matchmaker, do you?” Skye asked without any hint of his usual flirtatiousness.
“I don’t think so,” she replied, but then again, the thought hadn’t occurred to her, and now she wondered.
“He’s been so kind. I don’t want to disappoint him when I leave.”
“He’ll understand. He’ll rue being saddled with my cooking, but he’ll understand.”
“Good,” he said to himself, and Kala was touched by his concern. Finishing up, he rejoined her at the table. His eyes sparkled green-grey. “So, you go off into the forest on your own?” he partly asked and partly stated.
“Yes,” she replied, a little defensively. “That’s where the wood is,” she added, motioning to the pile of sticks beside her bed.
“No one else goes out on their own.”
“One day here, and already you’re an expert?”
“Am I wrong?”
“Well no, but I’m surprised you picked up on that.”
“I spent the whole day on your roof. It’s got a decent view of the gates and forest beyond them. You were the only one to venture out alone, almost the only one to venture out at all.”
“You noticed me leaving? You seemed preoccupied with your adoring masses.”
“Ouch. How could I not notice? Do you know the seas part for you where you walk?”
“I don’t understand.”
“It’s an expression from the fishing village I was just in. It means that people get out of your way when you’re angry. I can’t say I blame them. Come to think of it, I think they get out of your way all the time, not just when you’re angry. Or are you angry all the time?”
Kala looked at him with annoyance but mulled over what he said.
“Take me with you next time,” he said, interrupting her thoughts.
“What? Where?”
“To the forest. The next time you go out.”
“It’s dangerous out there.”
Skye cocked an eyebrow. “You don’t think I can handle myself?”
“Sorry, not even remotely.”
Skye looked more disappointed than offended, and he had just fixed her roof and made her dinner.
“Okay. I’ll do it,” she relented, “but only on one condition.”
“Great! What is it?”
“You wear a shirt.”
He chuckled, and his eyes flashed blue. “But you’ll be less inclined to ravish me,” he complained.
“You wish.”
“A boy can hope,” he replied, smiling mischievously. “Seriously though, it’s so warm here. I love not having to bundle up. They joke in our village that no one has sex because it would take too long to get undressed and no one would have the energy to redress after.”
“In my village, people just don’t have sex,” Kala laughed, thinking of the general prudishness of her village.
“Well, that’s a waste,” Skye concluded. “In my village, the rule of thumb is, ‘have sex, just don’t get caught.’”
“That’s terrible!” Kala declared, hating that it made her sound prudish too.
“I’m not saying I’m speaking from experience,” Skye defended himself. He reached across the table and touched her wrist. “What’s with the bracelets?” he asked.
Kala couldn’t think for a moment. She’d never been touched by a boy before, never mind one as gorgeous as Skye, or as intimately. She stumbled over her reply, “They sort of signify that we all belong to something greater than ourselves – a community.”
“That’s nice,” he replied, withdrawing his hand.
Some part of her wanted him to put it back, and it confused her. His casual flirtation set butterflies tumbling about in her stomach.
Skye got up and excused himself, retreating to his room and closing the door, leaving Kala to sort out her warring emotions. She abandoned making sense of them and went to bed herself.
The next morning, she found herself up before Skye. When he emerged, stretching like a cat, she exclaimed, “Aha! There you are.”
“It isn’t a contest,” he countered.
“It sure is… when I’m winning.”
He fumbled about in the kitchen for a piece of fruit. “Oh no,” he remarked, “you’re not just up, you’re dressed.”
“Disappointed?” she asked, surprised at her turn at flirtation.
“Of course, now you’re doubly winning,” he replied and wandered back into his room, munching on his breakfast. He emerged faster than he should have been able to, ready for their excursion, cobwebs banished.
“Let’s not waste the day then,” she said and snatched up her bow and quiver.
As they neared the gate to leave the village, Kala spotted Calix and waved to him. He waved back but didn’t seem very happy to see her out with Skye.
“Your boyfriend?” Skye asked.
“No, but he’s been protective of me all our lives. He’s probably worried that you’ll get me out of eyesight and have your way with me.”
“That’s an option?” joked Skye.
“Only in your dreams.” She walked up to the woods’ edge and stopped. “Why do you want to come with me?” she asked, putting him on the spot.
He paused to think about it. In truth, it was because Kala intrigued him, and he wanted to spend more time with her, but he couldn’t tell her that. “I want to learn how to survive in the world,” he replied instead. “You seem to know a thing or two about that.”
She mulled over his response and judged it reasonable. “All right then. Follow my lead. Don’t talk, just gesture.”
Skye just nodded but did so without mocking her.
“Let’s go then,” she said and headed into the trees.
Skye was surprisingly light on his feet and took his cues from her. They walked for a while, and she found a spot with cover on a small rise that had a modest view, but a view nevertheless. Kala gestured for him to sit beside her and be quiet, which he already was, so it seemed a bit unnecessary. He did, however, have the unnerving habit of studying her face while she watched for passing game.
By evening, Kala had a brace of rabbits, and they headed home.
True to his word, Skye didn’t utter a single word until they broke through the tree line. “That was amazing!” he exclaimed.
“What would be amazing would be for you to carry the damn rabbits.”
“Hell no. You’re the conquering hero returning from the hunt. I wouldn’t steal your glory for all the world,” he said with mock seriousness. “I will, however, cook you rabbit stew.”
“It’s a deal,” she said and smiled at her perfect day.
7
Kala
Skye turned out to be a pleasant house guest. He kept the place clean and cooked foods that were unusual but more often to Kala’s taste than not. She came to see that while Skye played at being a rogue, he was a perfect gentleman. He was funny, and he put her at ease.
She’d taken him hunting a few times and given him one of her spare bows. He never quite mastered firing before giving away his position. Returning to the village, he bemoaned the skittishness of deer. “They’re not at all like the mountain goats in my village. You could walk right up to one, climb on its back, and it’d just keep on chewing grass.”
“You’ve mounted a goat?”
“Do me a favor and don’t use quite that phrasing around your friends. You’ll destroy my reputation.”
Kala laughed.
“Our goats aren’t like the wee little things you have here. They’re enormous and hardy.”
“Congratulations on your goat husbandry, then.”
“Again, maybe rethink your choice of words.”
They sat together in the evenings by firelight or candlelight, and Skye would explain his guessed-at maps, his theories about airship routes, and what he thought about the wider world. He was insightful, and his curiosity was contagious.
“Does it ever feel like there’s more to the world than we grasp?�
�� he asked her one day.
“All the time,” she sighed.
“I mean… well, let me give you an example. In my village, there’s a great hall we sometimes meet in that has a high domed roof of stone. How do you stack the bricks into a dome without them falling inward? I have no idea how you build something like that, and I’m pretty sure no one else in my village does.”
“I know what you mean. There’s a huge stone dais outside the village walls that the airships land on.”
“We’ve got one just like it,” Skye interjected.
“Well, never mind, where the airships come from, where did the dais come from? I’ve been all over the place around our village and there’s no stone like that anywhere near here.”
“The world is a puzzle,” he concluded.
One day, Skye returned home early from helping with the harvest, and he had odd news. “There was a strange sculpture of sticks in the town center and chalk symbols drawn around it in the dirt. People were whispering about witchcraft as I passed.”
“That’s not good,” replied Kala, looking rattled.
“Weird, but hardly troublesome.”
“You don’t understand. This village is a hotbed of superstitious worry, and someone has decided to fan the flames.”
“So, ignore the crazy.”
“Easy for you to say. Those rumors have been aimed at me since I was a child.”
“I did hear an intriguing story about a certain someone and a wolf or two, or three.”
“Don’t believe everything you hear. There’s always more to a story. Someone is deliberately trying to rally the village against me, and I think I know who and why.”
“What’s your theory?”
“Oh, it’s not a theory, it’s a tale as old as time. Boy likes girl… boy struts around with no shirt on… other girl likes boy… second girl stabs first girl in the back.”
“You’ve got some weird fairy tales around here, but I think I get it.” He hopped up and slipped into his room. He emerged a moment later wearing a freshly laundered shirt with his hair combed.”
“So, this crisis calls for a make-over?” she asked, bewildered.
“Precisely!” he declared and strode out the front door.
“You’re insane!” she called after him. He made light of everything, but this was serious. The village was dry tinder, and someone was playing with matches.
Kala marched to the village square, oblivious to the whispers around her. She headed straight for the strange arrangement of sticks, yanked it out of the ground, and threw it aside. She scuffed up the stupid chalk markings, glared at the onlookers, and headed to the fields to help with the harvest. Might as well at least try to look like a team player.
Kala was damp with sweat after a long day in the fields when shouts rang out from the other side of the village. What’s that all about? she wondered and ran around to see. Choking black smoke greeted her even before she rounded the village, making her eyes and throat burn.
Racing around to the village’s far side, she saw fire in the recently-harvested fields. Villagers were streaming out the gates with shovels and blankets to beat out the flames. Some carried buckets of water from the village well. Eventually, a line formed, and anything that could be found that would hold water was passed along the line from the well to the fire. The fire encroached on a field of unharvested wheat, and every able-bodied villager fought to save it.
Every time they thought they were getting the upper hand, the wind would gust, and flames would spring up somewhere new. People would break off and beat at it with shovels or throw dirt on it that they scooped from the ground with their bare hands. Kala’s throat was raw from breathing in the smoke, and her skin was coated in sweat and ash. At one point, she found herself beside Calix, but in the thick smoke, it was hard to tell, and a moment later, he was elsewhere.
A little after dusk, they finally got the fire under control. Once their adrenaline subsided, the tired villagers began to gossip, and that spread faster than the fire.
“It was the wolves,” a busybody declared.
“What are you talking about?” someone asked.
“Dire wolves!” That caught everyone’s attention. “They attacked poor Cashel.”
“Is he…?”
“No. He’s okay. The guard saw them stalking him and raced out with a torch to scare them off. There were so many. He yelled and waved the torch at them. The chaff caught fire, and that’s what finally scared them off.”
“It’s the girl, Kala… they came to settle their score with her.”
“She called them with her spell, the sculpture in the square.”
“She could’ve killed us all!”
A crowd of angry villagers started to move toward Kala.
Calix stepped in front of her. “She didn’t start the fire, and she sure as hell didn’t summon any wolves.”
Councilor Claudius strode up, remarkably unblemished by ash. He surveyed the crowd until they quieted and waited for his judgment. He seemed to relish the moment. “We’ve had quite the ordeal, but now is not the time for rash action.” He turned his attention to Kala. “Kala, go home and report to the Council tomorrow at dawn.” Then to pacify the crowd, he added, “We’ll decide her fate then.”
Kala’s heart sank. He hadn’t said, ‘we’ll get to the bottom of this’ or ‘we’ll determine her guilt.’ No, he’d assumed that she was responsible, and tomorrow was just a formality, an opportunity for him to play to the crowd and solidify his standing in the community.
The crowd grumbled for immediate justice, but Claudius stared them down. Torin stalked up behind him, looking extra frightening covered in soot, his eyes smoldering, and his presence chilled the crowd. Claudius thanked them for their valor and dispersed them to their homes to wash and rest.
Councilor Sayer organized a fire watch while a few people, Calix among them, stayed to smother the patches that still smoldered. Guards circulated among them as no one liked to be out past the walls after sundown, even less so with the threat of dire wolves.
Kala slumped in on herself. Calix watched her hopelessly as she wandered home. Her grandfather returned from helping fight the fire and he had heard the news. He pulled her into a long hug, and she buried her cheek into his chest. They stayed that way for several long moments.
She knew that her place in the village was at stake. If the Council deemed you a threat to the community, the result was always banishment – the village came first. Unless someone died or was killed, the punishment was rarely death, but it didn’t matter because banishment amounted to the same thing. The banished would meet their end in the forest, slowly or quickly, and the villagers could ignore that unpleasant fact. There were rarely lighter punishments as only the most significant issues were judged by the Council.
There were no restrictions placed on her movements before appearing before the Council – the village served as its own prison. What could she do and where could she go? If she fled, it would amount to the same as banishment and probably be preferable to the Council as it would be taken as proof of her guilt. Instead, she simply took stock of her meager possessions and prepared herself for the worst.
She laid her roaming outfit beside her on the bed. She smoothed out the supple leather. She lifted her cloak to her face and breathed in a mix of pine, moss, and a faint hint of wild jasmine. It calmed her. She placed her sturdiest bow atop the pile and took out every arrow to examine it for trueness. One at a time, she put the best of them in her quiver and added a few more than she’d usually take hunting. She laid her knife in its sheath beside her clothes. She added her flint, waterskin, sling, salve, bandages, warning lines, snare wire, and everything else that would fit in her pack after a slow inventory. She’d done this a hundred times, but there was a finality to it this time that had her examining every object as though seeing it for the first time.
Her grandfather gave her space and puttered morosely about the kitchen, laying out dried meat, fruit, and har
d bread that she might choose to bring with her in the morning. He was similarly under no illusion that the Council would seek justice. Their primary concern was the village, themselves being their only other notable concern – to hell with Kala as an individual. He held out a faint hope that it would be recognized that she was a net asset to the village as its best hunter, but there would be politics at play. The Council enjoyed nothing more than exerting its power, and while the trial would provide spectacle, an absence of punishment wouldn’t fit their agenda. He’d opened and re-opened every cupboard and drawer until he concluded that there was nothing more that could be done. He headed to his room and placed his hand on her shoulder on his way by. She held onto it fiercely, and it broke his heart. She released him, and he was able to make it to his room before she saw him cry.
As the light beneath his door went out, Kala surveyed the sum of her existence. Everything that mattered fit on her back or in her heart. She blew out the lone candle and lay back on her bed. Sleep wouldn’t come tonight, but she felt her spirit drift like candle smoke as she took stock of her life. She couldn’t ask for dearer friends, and it was the thought of never seeing them again that terrified her the most.
It occurred to her that she hadn’t seen Skye since the morning. She hoped that he was okay but couldn’t spare any thought for him at the moment. Eventually, a soft light crept into the room through the window, and she rose from her bed. She washed up, forced herself to eat what she could despite having no appetite, got dressed, and placed all her worldly possessions on her back. She left her wolf-tooth necklace on her pillow for her grandfather but didn’t want to disturb him. She feared that seeing him would break what little resolve she had to face her fate with dignity. She hid the stranger’s dagger under a floorboard as its discovery would upset the village too greatly. She looked herself over in the tiny mirror by the washbasin and judged herself presentable.
She stepped out of the cottage and, as quietly as she could, closed the door behind her. She held her head high and walked purposefully to the Council hall and her fate.
Raven's Wings Page 6