by Iscah
There was no change in the weather, but the girl pulled her coat tighter and shivered. She walked slowly as she checked the names carved into the stone. Just around the outcropping at the base of a crooked tree, she found a little round stone with the name Mortagin carved into it.
She pulled her hat off her head and dropped to her knees. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she had known this was possible, even likely. But the death of hope is always a hard thing, as is the death of a parent. The tears came slowly at first but then harder until they were sobs.
The girl had thought she was all alone in the graveyard, but a low chuckle and the sound of footsteps interrupted her sobs. "Have some pride, man. Stop crying like a girl."
The girl looked up, vision blurred by tears. She blinked and saw a young man only a few years older than she was pretending to be, stepping down from a rugged sort of natural stair of stones by the outcropping.
"Are boys not allowed to cry?" she asked.
"Oh, a man may shed a tear, but only girls and infants cry with such abandon," said the young man in a teasing tone.
The girl was in no mood to be mocked. "If I told you I really was a girl, would you leave me in peace to grieve?"
The young man walked close and stood over her. He crossed his arms and looked down at a lad's face for the girl had not bothered to change it. "I started to say 'If you're a girl, you're the ugliest I've ever seen', but I realized that would be a lie. There's a girl back in Loch High with a harelip and a unibrow. She's hideous."
The girl did stopped crying, too stunned by the young man's audacity to think about her grief. He was the handsomest, most neatly dressed youth she had ever seen, but she wondered if he even had a heart. "Have you ever lost a parent?"
"No," the young man admitted. "But even if I did, I wouldn't cry like that. My father would be ashamed of me."
"Men are strange creatures," she said. "I bet you would feel like crying, even if you didn't."
"Maybe," the young man said, relenting a little and looking out over the cliffs. "Did your father just die?"
The girl wiped her eyes. "He died twelve years ago...but I just found out about it. I never got to meet him."
"That is sad," the young man said. "But hardly anything to cry over. After all if you never knew him, what did you really lose?"
"The chance to know him," the girl said. She stood and dusted her knees off. She might cry later, but she was not going to let this boy see her at it. "Why are you here, if not to grieve?"
"It's a pretty place," the handsome youth answered. "Climb up to the outcropping, and you'll get an excellent view." They had nothing else to say to each other, so the youth walked away towards the gate.
When he was gone, the girl climbed up to the outcropping. It was a pretty place, and if her father must be buried somewhere, she supposed this was as nice as any. She sat there for a long time, trying to decide what to do next. She had no money, and she was not eager to see anyone.
The youth was long gone, the graveyard deserted, so she took off her clothes and stuffed them into her traveling pack. When she had finished, she turned herself into large bird and took the strap of her pack in her talons. She let out a cry as birds cry and jumped into the air.
With the pack dangling beneath her, she flew off between the mountains.
Chapter 15
The girl made no attempt to keep track of time or direction as she flew. She let the wind carry her where it wished, rested when she was tired, but had no appetite for food. After a while, she began following the river because she liked the smell of it. The sun rippled on the slow current as it snaked its way through the mountain valleys. The elderly trees that stood sentinels on either side kept up a steady cadence. The fish played beneath the surface, singing burbling songs like schoolchildren.
Flying was not as tiring as walking had been. She flew high and spent much of her time gliding. Birds were shaped for such things. Miles of river passed beneath her with its smell of water and fish and trees and sun.
The arrow whistled by a good three feet past her, so there was a delay in her startled cry. She dove and dodged as a second followed it, less worried about the threat to her life than the fate of her precious books if they fell into the river.
She found shelter in the trees and changed there. Back in girl form, she slipped into her clothes and continued to follow the river on foot. The arrow meant there were people nearby or at least a person. While she was not yet eager to meet anyone, she did find her hunger was returning.
She knew worse come to worst she could probably catch a fish in the river or find an edible plant in the forest, but she had no experience fishing and little with edible plants and thought she would have better luck with finding food from people familiar with the area.
Four hours up the river brought her to the first signs of settlement, a pair of fishermen out on their boat. She called to them from shore, and after a shouted conversation, they rowed over to pick her up. The boat half-full of dying fish smelled terrible, but it was nice to be off her feet. The fishermen shared their lunch, and she sorted fish into barrels for them from her cramped seat.
When their work was done, they floated back downstream, and the girl fell asleep curled around a fish barrel.
The fishermen shook her awake when it was time to unload their barrels. They would not let her help with this task, but they did share their evening stew with her before pointing her towards town. Though the sky had begun to grow dark, the road followed the river, and her nap had given her energy. So she walked on. The girl picked up a stone by the riverside and sang a chant to it until it began to glow.
While she had changed the stone to light her path, looking at it made her realize that this was the thing she could do, and she determined that she would do it better than anyone else.
Perhaps not a difficult objective, given that her father had found no trace of people like her on this side of the sea, but maybe it was better to be unique. In a place where everyone could work magic, the ability would hardly be special. More readily accepted but more readily ignored.
By the time she arrived at the edge of town, many buildings had already dowsed their lights for the evening, but there was still light and noise at the local pub. She walked inside without drawing any attention and stole some bread from an abandoned plate.
While she sat there quietly chewing, a wobbly man smelling strongly of mead took the seat before her and said, "You're up late, little girlie."
Realizing how drunk he was, she decided to risk a game of her own. "I'm not a girl," she whispered. "I'm a fairy. Give me a coin, and I'll show you a magic trick."
The drunk pulled a coin from his pocket and placed it on the table. With a wobbly second thought he placed a thick finger on it before she could pick it up. "Show me the trick."
"Blow out the candle," she said, indicating the light on the table. The man did as told. With some quick words and a finger snap, she made the candle relight. It was still warm, so it was not a difficult bit of magic, but it made the drunk wobble back long enough for her to snatch the coin.
"Hey, Ma-arkrk! Mark!" the drunk called to his friend. "Come over, 'ere! Cum 'ere and seedis." But before the drunk could convince his friend to come over and turn back around, the girl had left the table and the pub.
She laughed and tossed her coin in the air. "Now, I'm a fairy," she said to herself. A moment later she yawned widely and asked herself, "Where do fairies sleep?"
That night the fairy slept on a haystack behind the barn.
She was chased off her bed in the morning by an annoyed stablehand. Picking hay from her hair, she went in search of a place to trade her coin for some breakfast. The coin bought her a small loaf from the bakers.
"Where am I?" she asked the baker, who gave her a funny look in return. "What's the name of the town?"
"Bow's Low," said the baker. "Though how you got here without knowing where it was is beyond me."
"Have you heard of a place call
ed Loch High?" the girl asked.
"Aye, you're being a foreigner I take it?" said the baker.
"Aye, that I be," said the girl, mimicking the accent. "How would I get there?"
"Fly can you?" the baker asked, which was not as strange a question in Uritz as it may have been elsewhere. The girl giggled and nodded. "Follow the river west until you come to the great lake, then head north around the shore. I hear it's all up and down the mountainside. Hard to miss."
"Thank you," the girl said and took a large bite from her loaf.
"What business have you in Loch High?" the baker asked curiously.
The girl shrugged. "It's somewhere to go. Is it a big city?"
"Biggest in Uritz," said the baker. "I'd like to see it but don't like flying personally. And the rapids are too bad to go safely by river. Least that's what I hear."
"Would you give me some extra bread for my journey if I did some magic for you?" the girl asked.
The baker sniffed. "What can you do?"
"I could change the taste of the wood in your shop to chase away rats," the girl said.
"Be off, little beggar," the baker said contemptuously. "Do you take me for a fool?"
"Suit yourself," said the girl and walked away to finish her breakfast.
Chapter 16
Bow's Low was a sprawling town that had never experienced any sort of planning with its development. It ambled here and there on either side of the river. People flew from bank to bank on a pegasus or paid a ferryman for their passage. While it was fun for the girl to watch the pegasus hop the river, it was not an occupation that would provide food for her journey.
The girl had difficulty finding any customers for her more practical magic skills. The shopkeepers in Bow's Low did not trust outsiders and assumed she was looking to cheat them. She searched through her magic book for more showy ways to demonstrate her skills that would not frighten people. While the easiest thing for her to do was change herself, she had already learned that skill made few friends. Most magic was subtle or slow working and not good for quick demonstrations, but she could light candles and make rocks glow.
She found another pub and improvised a little show of glowing pebbles and candle lighting. Most of the Urites assumed these were clever tricks, but they were amused by them. The shows bought the girl dinner and a little extra for her trip.
She was sure Bow's Low was a reasonable place to live but found it a dull place to visit. By the next day, she had scraped together enough to pay a ferryman for passage down river, stopping short of the rapids. He looked at her curiously when she disembarked on foot but said nothing.
The girl walked along the river bank until she was sure she was far from anyone's view. She turned back into a bird and flew until she came in sight of the lake which the baker had told her about and others in the pubs had confirmed. Her pub customers had also told her that Loch High was the capital of Uritz where the king, the queen, and all the princes lived. This made her more curious to see the city, and she hoped it would mean richer clients for the new trade she was trying to create.
As eager as she was to reach Loch High, the arrow had taught her caution. At the first sight of a dwelling, she dropped back to earth and resumed her girl form. It would have been a very long and tiring walk, but she was lucky enough to meet a woodcutter who was taking a load to the city by boat. He was quite happy to let her move lumber and take a turn steering. She sang a spell that helped speed the little sailboat on its way, not a lot faster but a little bit. The woodcutter was very happy to reach the port earlier than anticipated. He laughed and said, if she stayed on to help him, he would be happy to marry her. "You're just a little twig now, but I imagine you'll grow into a proper tree."
She thought this far too funny a proposal to take seriously, thanked him for the ride, and quickly lost herself in the crowd at the docks.
She liked Loch High better instantly. It was the first time she had seen buildings in Uritz that took any concern over their appearance. Stone houses and shops zigzagged up the mountain side, some of them with actual glass windows and flower boxes. She walked without any particular destination, soaking up the sights and sounds and rhythm of the place.
She had been exploring the city for a few hours and had stopped at a stand devoted to the most colorful hats and scarves she had ever encountered, when she noted a ripple in the crowd. There was a young man walking down the street with four men in armor following. The young man walked casually, glancing curiously but with an air of boredom at the shops, as though hoping to spot something of interest but experiencing continual disappointment. The other pedestrians made way for him and bowed their heads as he approached.
The girl watched him curiously, but he paid no attention to her. He took his time passing, stopping to ask questions of various shopkeepers who answered him in a way that was both humbled and flattered. From their address, she came to understand that this was a prince. He was average height and lean build. His features were sharp and regular with straight brown hair just long enough to be impractical. He was dressed even more richly than he had been in the graveyard.
He was nearly to her when the shopkeeper hissed. "Bow your head, girl."
"No, I don't think I will," the girl said and crossed her arms instead. She was disappointed. Princes were supposed to be charming. The prince barely glanced at her as he passed. She almost let him go but found she could not stand the lack of recognition after what he had said to her. "I told you I was a girl," she said just loud enough for him to hear.
The prince snapped back around and looked at her curiously. He had intelligent brown eyes and a straight mouth. "When did you tell me that?"
"In the graveyard."
The prince stepped closer and leaned forward to examine her face. For a moment, he looked a little worried, but soon his expression cleared and he laughed. "Tell your brother or whoever that it's a good trick, but I'm not falling for it."
"It's not a trick," she insisted.
"Has to be," the prince grinned. "I told the boy in the graveyard that he'd make an ugly girl, and you're too pretty."
The girl felt her face flush. The prince chuckled again and walked on. Before he had gone more than a few steps, she ran to catch up to him. "Where can I find the girl with the harelip?"
His brown eyes danced with surprise and amusement. "Did no one teach you to bow to your prince?" he asked.
"You're not my prince," she said.
"A traveler?" he guessed.
The girl nodded.
The prince lifted his chin and look down his nose at her. "And who gave you permission to come to my kingdom?" he asked.
"No one," the girl said uncertainly. "Do I need permission?"
The prince raised his eyebrows. "Are you here to start an invasion?"
"No," the girl said.
He narrowed his eyes shrewdly. "Spy? Assassin? Saboteur?" The girl shook her head, baffled.
"Are you a criminal? A grifter?"
"No."
The prince exchanged his mock concern for an easy smile. "Well, I suppose then I'll grant you permission for a visit. Be sure to spend lots of money and stay out of trouble, and if you don't bow for princes, I suggest you make an exception if you see the king."
The girl felt flustered and confused but could not help smiling. "And the harelip?"
"You are a funny one," said the prince. "You came all the way to the capital to ask a prince about a harelip?" While not entirely accurate, the girl nodded. "Heh, I try not to look at her, but I think she does some of the washing up at the castle. None of mine I hope."
"Why are you so cruel?" the girl asked.
"Cruel?" the prince repeated curiously. In a low voice, he said, "I could have your head cut off for not bowing or your tongue cut out for the lie. I thought I was quite merciful."
"I wasn't lying," the girl insisted, though her hand went nervously to her neck.
"Neither was I," the prince said and continued on his walk.
; Chapter 17
The girl spent the next few days doing magic tricks in pubs to pay for food and a bed. She discovered Urites had a grand tradition of searching out an empty bit of mountainside and claiming it for their own. Property laws seemed to border on the nonexistent, though she heard the phrase "inhabit to hold" tossed about a fair bit in any conversation involving a legal dispute.
Sitting in a pub, she also came to learn of a cave recently vacated by a bear who had found the wrong end of a hunter's arrow. Since the hunter already had a nice little hut with a nice little wife, he said he had no use for it but thought it might make a nice hold for someone.
"I'll take it," the girl said.
The hunter gave her directions and walked her part way when he left the pub for home. The Urites believed trading for goodwill can prove more valuable than gold. The girl found the cave agreeable. It was much larger than the tiny one where she had left her books back in Gourlin but not so large as to be unmanageable, shallow enough to see the back from the mouth but deep enough to be a good rain shelter. There was a brook in walking distance and no shortage of trees nearby.
She spent her first evening gathering fallen twigs and branches to make a fire and exploring the minimal details of her new home.
The next day she returned to town and did her usual number of shows, but since she need no longer save her money for a room at night, she bought a thick mat and a few other little items to set up housekeeping. More chats in the pub explained that part of the "inhabit" aspect of "inhabit to hold" was to work some improvement on the land to make it more habitable, thus proving that you actually lived there and made use of the space. Claiming space you were not actively using was considered extremely tacky in Uritz and in some cases proof of madness.