Maddie looked up, remembering the first time her father took her into downtown Chicago. The buildings had retreated into the sky as though they were holding up the clouds. She found herself falling backwards from the sensation, a mix of vertigo and wonder. Ebba planted her hands on the middle of Maddie’s back and pushed to steady her.
“Are you okay?” Ebba asked.
Maddie forced a breath as she regained her balance, bracing herself as she stared through the open door.
“I’ll be fine,” she said. “I’ve got this.”
Flyboy
I do not have this, Maddie thought.
The aviary was a zoo. From the outside it was only bare layers of wood and scaffolding. Up close, Maddie was blown away by the frenzy of people and animals racing around inside. Cardinals, starlings, and blue jays the size of horses flapped and bounced on wooden perches as thick as tree trunks.
Meanwhile, enough people to staff a small hotel rushed and shouted, barking out instructions as they tended to the animals. Maddie found herself staring at the beady black eyes of the birds and their dazzling plumage as she passed. Between the sights and the sounds, it was almost enough to overload the senses.
Maddie pressed her fingers into her ears, forcing the cotton plugs in as deep as she could as she marched up the aviary’s huge central ramp. The floor rumbled as cable-driven platforms bearing food, people, and equipment rose and fell through the center of the aviary’s flying layers.
It didn’t help that the whole place was covered in bird crap. Maddie shifted a hand to her nose as she followed Ebba’s instructions and made her way up. It was certainly the most crowded place she’d been to since she came to the Veil, and the first time she witnessed male and female faeries working together.
She tried to remain inconspicuous as a chickadee the size of a small sedan hopped by, led by a boy who couldn’t have been more than 14 years old. Maddie skirted around them, shaking off the culture shock. She wondered if the faeries bothered with high school, and since his-annoying-royal-highness was being privately tutored rather than institutionally educated, she suspected the answer was no.
She was still steaming about their debate, but Maddie’s intellectual side was slowly kicking in as she analyzed and re-analyzed their interaction. She was used to being right, and she’d never met anyone she couldn’t convince. While she refused to classify the prince as a worthy opponent, she was willing to privately admit that their shouting match might not have been completely his fault. Finding someone capable of debating her on even terms was a new experience, and it was damned unnerving.
That said, she was still planning to sharpen her pens.
The floor swayed under Maddie’s feet as she approached the top floor, and glimmers of sunlight began to creep in through the cracks in the floors above. Maddie stopped as she caught a glimpse of the open air over the flight deck. It was time to ask for directions.
She walked up to a woman grooming a sparrow and asked, “Do you know where Kidhe is?”
Maddie stumbled over the name. She’d only heard Ebba say it once and the pronunciation was weird: Kee-dah, except the two syllables ran together. She was sure she didn’t get it right.
The woman’s brush stilled as she looked at Maddie. An awkward moment passed while the woman quietly took her in, then she pointed down a long line of perches.
“At the end,” she said.
Maddie gave a little bow and said, “Thank you.”
The interior walls disappeared as she neared the outer edge, giving way to open racks loaded with rope and strangely shaped saddles. Maddie passed a dozen sparrows perched in little stalls, tweeting idly to each other as they waited for their riders. On the far side, she came upon an open work area set with tables and tools, but there was no one there. Only a black, speckled starling sat on a perch near the wall.
Maddie approached it tentatively. She could hear the air in its chest as it took huge breaths beneath a massive harness that had been fastened to its chest and neck. Mesmerized, Maddie put out a hand to stroke the smooth, black feathers of its face.
“I wouldn’t do that.”
Maddie pulled her hand away and turned around as a man climbed down through a hole in the ceiling, descending a ladder on the wall.
He was taller than she was, and his broad shoulders and facial hair suggested he was a probably a little older as well. The ghost of a beard cut along a sharp jaw, framing a bright expression beneath a shoulder-length mass of windblown hair. Cords of muscle packed his sleeveless arms, though despite his frame, the man maintained the same wiry build that seemed common among faerie men. A brown leather vest, weathered and green from age and use, fell loose around his chest. His deep green eyes flashed with furtive light in the shade of the aviary ceiling.
Maybe, Maddie thought, animal studies won’t be such a bad subject after all.
The man jumped the last few feet to the ground and walked over. He did not bow.
“You can pet them, but you want to go in from the side like this…” He maneuvered around the bird’s head and approached it from behind, resting his shoulder against its neck. Reaching up, he stroked its feathers gently. “Instinct is a powerful thing. They’ll peck at anything that might be food. If you’re not careful, you could lose a hand.”
Maddie followed his path and came around beside him.
“Now you try,” he said, moving out of her way.
Maddie brushed her fingers across the bird’s feathers. They were rougher than she’d expected. She could feel every coarse fiber under her palm.
“This is wild,” she said, grinning from ear to ear.
The man took a step back and held out a hand, palm to the side, human-style.
“I’m Kidhe,” he said. “It’s great to meet you. Madeline Foster, right?”
His name swept like breath over the end of his tongue. The nerdy part of Maddie’s brain couldn’t help but wonder about the root language.
She stuck out her palm and shook his hand. “Maddie.”
He hopped up onto one of the tables and sat. “I’ll be handling your practicals: animal studies, wilderness survival, and botany.”
He leaned down to pick up a bag of tools, but the sack slipped out of his hand and spilled onto the floor. Scrambling, he cursed, jumping off the table as he got down on his knees to pick them up.
Maddie leaned down and picked up a pair of strange, curved pliers. “You seem a little young to be a teacher,” she said, holding them out.
He blushed green as he took them. “I thought I would use big words to make up for it. How am I doing?”
Maddie cracked a smile and crossed her arms. “They’re not that big,” she said.
He sat back on his heels. “I guess I’ll have to have a word with my elementary school teachers. Luckily, I’m a natural talent.”
“Natural talent?”
He pointed to a patch on his arm. The image was of a bird’s silhouette flying across the horizon.
“Captain of the wardens,” he said.
Maddie snickered. “And modest, too.”
“Always,” he said, standing up. “Ready to get started?”
Maddie gave a half-bow and they set off, walking past the birds until they came to a line of empty stalls.
“Most of our work will be here at the aviary,” Kidhe said, setting down his tools. “I’ve never been one for textbooks. I’ve always preferred hands-on. What about you?”
Maddie looked over the stalls. They were filthy, covered with soiled straw and shit.
“I’ve always been more of the classroom type,” she said.
“Well, I’ll try to ease you in,” Kidhe said, taking a pitchfork down from the wall. “Speaking of which…” He put it in her hands. “Lesson one.”
Practical Experience
Lesson one turned out to be bird shit.
Lots and lots of bird shit.
Maddie held her breath and drove the pitchfork into the nearest pile, lifting with her legs and should
ers the way Kidhe had taught her. She shoveled the dirty straw and crap into a wheelbarrow, feeling like her arms were about to fall off.
Her back cracked as she straightened up and tightened the knot on the cloth she wore over her face to keep out the smell. It was soaked in oil and camphor and smelled like cough syrup. Kidhe sat a short distance away, watching her work as he explained the finer points of bird care.
“A clean bird is a healthy bird,” he said. “And a healthy bird is a well-behaved bird, which we’re counting on because none of them are fully tame.”
Maddie scraped up another mound of crap. “How can they not be tame?”
“They’re wild animals,” he said, yawning as he put his feet up on a crate. “And they’re not that smart. Lord knows I love them, but you can only suppress so much instinct.”
Maddie finished with the last pile and leaned the pitchfork up against the wall.
“You love them?” she said.
Kidhe reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of peanuts. “Sure,” he said, shelling one and popping it into his mouth. “I’ve known most of them their whole lives. We raise them from birth. They’re like, I don’t know, my nieces and nephews.”
“Aww, that’s kind of sweet.”
“I do my best,” Kidhe said as he popped another peanut into his mouth. He tossed Maddie a broom. “Sweep. Once we’re done here, we’ll wheel it all downstairs. The staff will take it to ground level and bury it.”
“Bury it?”
Another peanut. Another crunch. “To prevent the spread of bird-borne illness.”
“How clinical,” Maddie said. “I’m surprised.”
Kidhe raised an eyebrow. “Why?”
“I don’t know. This whole place just seems so low tech.”
“I guess it’s a little counter-intuitive,” Kidhe said, “but our way of life is something that we choose. It would be pretty difficult to live alongside humanity and not learn to care about germs.”
“Fair enough,” Maddie said, wincing as a spasm shot down her back. She limped to a crate and sat down. “I think I’m done with this one.”
Kidhe pointed. “Missed a spot.”
Maddie fixed him with a death glare and stood back up. “You know,” she said as she swept up the last scraps of straw, “if it turns out that you used our class time to make me do your chores, I’m going to be really upset.”
Kidhe laced his fingers together behind his head and leaned back. “We all start at the bottom.”
Maddie brandished the broom and said, “I’m armed, you know.”
“I’m petrified.”
Maddie dropped the broom and grabbed the pitchfork. She lifted a huge lump of shit from the wheelbarrow and dumped it into his lap.
“Hey!” he exclaimed, standing up.
Maddie stood in front of him and stared hard into his eyes. “You were saying something about the bottom?” she said.
He stared back at her for a long moment before something softened in his eyes and he stepped back. He took the pitchfork from her.
“Fine, I’ll help,” he said, brushing himself off. “I should give you detention, you know.”
Maddie was a little surprised at his reaction. She’d expected him to at least raise his voice.
She squared her shoulders triumphantly and said, “You can’t. You’re too young.”
He laughed at that, and they spent the next hour cleaning a dozen more stalls. Maddie’s spine was ready to snap by the time they finished and put their tools away.
“Why do I smell pine needles?” Maddie said, massaging her back.
Kidhe sniffed his armpits. “That’s me. Sorry.”
“Your sweat smells like a car air-freshener?”
He gave her a wounded look and said, “Don’t make fun.”
Maddie chuckled. “It’s weird. My whole body aches, but I don’t feel winded at all.”
“It’s the heart,” Kidhe said, thumping his chest.
Maddie’s eyes flicked over to him. “You know?”
“Maeve told me. The magic is strong. The replacement is probably tougher than the original. No offense.”
Maddie looked down at her chest. “None taken, I guess.”
His face suddenly fell and he put his hands behind his back.
“I should apologize,” he said, staring at the floor.
“Why?”
“I’m the captain of the wardens. Keeping the forest safe is my responsibility. The attack should never have been allowed to happen, and I’m sorry…”
Maddie felt a surge of anger rise in her chest. Images of the attack flashed across her vision and she clenched her jaw.
Kidhe must have seen it on her face. “If you want another teacher, I can arrange it,” he said. “It just didn’t feel right not to tell you.”
Maddie crammed her feelings down. “No,” she said, forcing calm into her voice. It wasn’t fair to be angry with him. “It’s alright. I’m sure you did your best, and I was rescued, after all.”
Kidhe kept his eyes on the floor and said, “Thank you.”
He hefted up the wheelbarrow, and they headed for the elevators.
“There just aren’t enough of us,” he said. “We’ve got the whole Veil to look after, and it’s a lot bigger than the surface of the earth. It makes true law and order impossible, and the Erlkin have been more active in the last eight weeks than in the past five years. Theresa’s convinced they’re planning something big. She’s got all the wardens on high alert.”
“Except for you?”
He gave her a weak smile. “I guess I drew the short straw.”
Maddie put a hand on his shoulder as the angry chemicals in her brain slowly disbursed.
“Well, thanks for your help,” she said.
Kidhe set the wheelbarrow down and lifted up a rickety gate that sealed the lift. They stepped inside, and he grabbed a little cone on a wire.
“Down, please,” he said. The lift shook into motion.
“You’ll get used to the Veil,” he said. “We’re all pulling for you. With the vote coming up, you could end up being very important.”
“Vote?” Maddie said.
Kidhe leaned up against the wall. “We’ve always had trouble with our neighbors. Never know when one of them will come poking around, trying to stake a claim on our territory. Amaranth is a new nation, relatively speaking. It’s only a hundred years old. Not all the other nations are prepared to recognize our independence, and at least one of them thinks we should still be paying them taxes and tribute.”
The lift shook. Maddie steadied the wheelbarrow. “How many are there?” she asked.
Kidhe did a quick count on his fingers. “Lots,” he said, giving up. “Faerie nations are more like the city states of ancient history, with systems of fealty and homage tying them together. The largest on this continent is Aster, in eastern Pennsylvania. Their influence covers the eastern seaboard all the way into Canada. Amaranth used to be a part of it. We’re the first city to seek independence in hundreds of years, and we’re still waiting to see how it turns out.”
Maddie tilted her head. “You make it sound like you’re under threat.”
“I suppose we are. Rose asked for independence a century ago. Aster didn’t want to do give it to us, but Rose is one of the oldest faeries alive, which in our culture means what she says goes.
“Aster decreed that she could rule Amaranth independently for a hundred years. After that, representatives of the city-states would all meet here to review our progress and vote on our claim. Rose took the deal. The centennial is in a little over a month, and some of the ambassadors are already here.”
The lift clattered to a halt.
“What if they vote you down?” Maddie said.
Kidhe lifted the gate. “There’ll be a war, I suppose. I doubt the people here will be willing to give up their freedom. That’s why you’re so important. Demonstrating that we can care for our people is a big part of the politics.”
; Maddie blinked. And here she was, thinking that Gwynedd and a wooden heart were all she had to worry about. She was about to ask what their chances were when a woman came rushing down a nearby flight of stairs.
“Captain,” she said, saluting.
Kidhe saluted back. “Yes?”
“They’re back. We need you on the deck.”
Kidhe pulled the wheelbarrow out of the lift and pushed it up against the wall. “Alright, we’ll take the lift up,” he said, returning to the elevator as he shot a grin at Maddie. “Want to earn some extra credit?”
Maddie heard boots thumping and looked up at the ceiling. The cries of birds rose as excitement built in the air. Maddie felt a tremor in her chest, and her shoulders tensed.
“Do I have to?” she asked. “We’ve been working for hours.”
A look of disappointment flashed over Kidhe’s face.
“Nah, you’re alright,” he said. “You can head out if you want.”
Maddie felt her muscles ease as Kidhe reached up to close the elevator gate, shoulders straining as he lifted his arms. They’d been breaking their backs all day and he was out of gas, but he was still going back to work.
It had been a long time since she’d felt that kind of dedication. She used to feel it every time she stayed up all night to finish a calculus assignment, and wondered how long it had been since she’d really forced herself to do anything. Kidhe reached for the little cone to call the lift attendant before Maddie grumbled and ran up to the gate.
“Alright,” she said. “Count me in. What kind of student would I be if I let my pint-sized teacher do all the work?”
“Pint-sized?! I’m taller than you!”
“Whatever you say, peach fuzz.”
Kidhe lifted the gate and let her on as the elevator rumbled into motion. “I’ll have you know most faerie men can’t even grow a beard,” he said.
The wind whistled over the top deck, and Maddie gasped as they emerged into the glow of the evening sun. She stared, watching a drift of cloud pass over the forest, which extended out in every direction for miles. The sunset bloomed across the trees, a wash of orange and red dust shifting in the wind. Far in the distance, the dim outline of Chicago rose into the sky, barely visible through the amber haze of the Veil’s fading light.
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