Wind Magic

by Nicolette Jinks

  Because that’s criminal. Or at least punishable. And he didn’t want to be held liable.

  No, better than that was to follow the law to the letter while bending its spirit.

  There echoed in the courtyard the step-step-step of the night-guard as he finished his break and continued his patrol. A cool breeze soothed my chest, making me feel relieved of the heat the dog days of summer brought. The bottle warmed in a clenched fist, slightly sweaty and slippery. I held it gingerly. The last thing I’d want to do was drop it and crawl around in the dark trying to find it. What if I woke Mordon? What would he say then?

  As I folded the corner of my blanket up like an accordion, my thoughts drifted to Leif. Any man could break the law to get what they wanted; only the savvy ones could sidestep that law. It took cleverness, dedication, and a good deal of luck in order to catch those people. It was a delicate operation, easy to ruin. Rather like my place here. And that’s why I needed rest.

  I closed my eyes and tried to relax into the ever-elusive arms of slumber.

  Leif was right, I realized. The thing to do now was to sit tight. He might not impress Cole, after all. It could be that he ended up on the wayside of whatever was happening in the Market.

  One question still lingered in my head.

  When we saw Cole, who were we looking at? A man with ambitions? Or a man with a dream?

  It was quite some time before exhaustion finally claimed me.

  Chapter Twelve

  Our primary upside the next morning was that Caledon was still sleeping as the Elders convened at the very same table which hours ago Caledon had vacated in a drunken stupor.

  When I sat at the indicated seat, my foot struck something. Wood clattered across the floor. Nest raised her eyebrow. I picked up one half of a mug, the cup having been splinted lengthwise. It still smelled of spilt beer. Someone was setting up a raw roast on the spit, another person exchanged old candles for new ones.

  Enaid tapped her fingernail on her bench. For once, the ire wasn't directed at me.

  “Our firstborn has returned.”

  Her words felt dead as they tumbled to the ground.

  I said, “Mordon and I met him last night. Caledon is very different from Mordon—and from their sister.”

  Enaid said, “By which you mean that you do not approve of him. Tell me your opinion.”

  I resisted the urge to confirm with Mordon that his parents wanted to hear what I had to say. We were in the Elder's meeting, after all.

  “It is my opinion that Caledon is driven by a desire for self-advancement, that he cares for his own pleasures and has no compassion or regard for those around him. He uses flattery and ridicule to coerce others into doing his will. It is my opinion that should he rule, he would see that he lives in luxury while he condemns those who do not. Yet he promises the best and neglects to mention the worst.”

  Someone several bodies away said, “He would not tolerate neglect.”

  “Wouldn't he? His views are very straightforward. He believes that people deserve their station and their circumstances. He believes that those who are willing to conform to his ideals and his whims—those people who are exactly the same as he is—should have a good life as he does. However, those who oppose him or who think differently, they should not have as good a life. He is not willing to listen to a voice other than his own, and his competitive nature renders him insecure and jealous. Perhaps even envious.”

  Another person, their identity lost to the sea of faces, scoffed at me. “What does this girl know of Caledon?”

  That was a good question. What did I know of him? Only what I’d seen so far, what I’d heard about him. “It was not my intent to insult him or his family. If the Elders were not willing to listen to my opinion, then I wonder why it was requested.”

  A few silent glares were exchanged along the table. There was the crunch of a man using a knife on a cutting board, then the sting of garlic in the air.

  Enaid continued, “What is your opinion of Mordon?”

  I blushed. “I am unfairly biased in his favor. Are you sure?”

  “Yes. You said the brothers were different. How?”

  I tried not to look at him, feeling flustered. “Where Caledon boasts, Mordon praises others. Where Caledon interrupts, Mordon listens. Where Caledon demands service, Mordon seeks to serve. Caledon calls others to do his bidding, Mordon asks what others need of him. He believes in caring for those in need, that with security and a kind environment people will thrives, instead of simply survive. I ask you, which man rules with honor? Who offers the brighter future?”

  A woman with salt-and-pepper hair rapped quickly on the table to call attention. “It is not for us to determine the heir. We are an advisory panel. The leader of the Colony cannot be determined by a unit as powerful as we are. If we did determine leadership when it was contested, we would be robbing the colony of its ability to evolve with each passing generation. The Lord's Heir is the flower of the tree of tomorrow. We are its roots.”

  I said, “May I ask, then, why are we meeting if you do not control the heir? Why is Caledon's role not forfeited, given how long he has been gone?”

  “It was his right to take a journey from the Colony. We assumed he would not return when we appointed Mordon his role. At present, both men have the same qualifications. Unless one willingly backs down, they must challenge to break the tie. A battle challenge is not one that Mordon is likely to win.”

  “Why?”

  Mordon spoke. “Caledon learned combat at an earlier age than I, and his rank upon leaving the Colony is the one I have now. Caledon has always held the upper hand, and I did not train as hard. I chose to learn history, art, and to study foreign cultures.”

  I knew better than to argue with Mordon. If he judged Caledon was the better combatant, then I would have to trust him. I asked the Elders, “Why are you consulting me?”

  They paused.

  Nest said, “To see if you are willing.”

  There was something I was missing. “Willing for what?”

  “As advisers, we can issue a non-battle challenge to the contestants. Historically, this may be a retrieval of an item or a quest to vanquish an enemy.”

  “Alright. What challenge are you proposing?”

  They went quiet again. Someone poked at a reflection of the rainbow from the crystal chandelier, then Nest said, “The family brood-ring.”

  And this would be where I came in. “The ring currently attached to my hand and which will not be removed?”

  Enaid said, “We will not issue such a challenge if you oppose.”

  “You would rather spare me than Mordon? Why, when you could use me to save him?”

  Mordon laid his hand over mine in what I supposed was meant to be a consolatory gesture. “Fera, I knew ever since Caledon left that one day he could return. I chose not to devote all of my time to prepare for the chance he may challenge me. I knew the risks involved. You are here solely because you love me. I wish for your safety and your happiness, but I also respect your knowledge and wisdom. The choice is yours.”

  We listened to the clamor of children in the distance as they were let out to play in the courtyard. The boy finished with the candles and poured a round of brew for everyone at the table. I cupped it in my hands and mulled over my options. I sipped it, enjoying the coppery tang of the brew on my tongue. Mind made up, I said,

  “Issue the challenge.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  At a nod from Nest, one of the Elders pushed back their chair and went to a cabinet standing beneath an open window. The slap of a jump rope and a counting song came from below. He scraped open a drawer, producing a puff of pearl powder which had been spilled inside. Everyone watched as the Elder shuffled his way to the table again.

  At first I'd thought he moved that way because he was stiff, now I realized the truth: one foot was a dragon's hind leg, and his skin in places was thick, leathery hide. It occurred to me that I had not met him before—a
nd that he was one of those men who aged very attractively. When Mordon was his age, I hoped he'd age similarly. My brood-ring stirred on my finger, making me start. What had caused that?

  “I am Druidan, Mistress,” he said. “I am the Eldest. I founded Kragdomen with the drakes who survived the fall of Rome's Western Empire.”

  That meant he'd seen a lot of history take place in his lifetime. What surprised me was how he had learned to adjust to the evolution of language, amongst many other things. I asked, “Were you part of Aethel's Veil?”

  His lips pulled taut and a raspy noise emerged from his throat. I wasn't sure if he was laughing or growling. He said, “I was born after, raised in the wreckage of a world where old arts were lost and new ones found. This leg you have seen. It was human. A bear trap took it in my prime. Other dragon hunters poured on me boiling oil.”

  Enaid stifled a gasp. Druidan started at her, his eyes orange as a tabby cat's and still very keen.

  I asked gently, “It seems you do not talk about yourself very much?”

  “Words have power, and these words are easy, too easy, to rally a cry for revenge.”

  “Why tell me?”

  “For you to begin to understand the pain which has been inflicted, and for you to understand those who would vent their pain on you. A human amongst dragons. This is you. A murderous, vindictive slayer who dares to taint our noble bloodline with your filth.” He bared teeth, surprisingly good ones.

  “That is inappropriate, Master Elder Druidan,” Mordon said. “Your sentiments are ill-conceived and misplaced.”

  Enaid said, “Mordon, do not speak to the Master Elder in that manner.”

  Aeron said, “Yes, when he speaks he does so with a purpose. We would be unwise to not consider his statement. Fera is a newcomer, and we shouldn't forget her upbringing.”

  Druidan continued. “Humans are raised to think we are evil. They will come for us again, and she will have to choose her alliance.”

  The hubbub began, and continued for some minutes as I listened, confused. He had started a debate, and I was on the losing side of it although I didn’t dare to speak a word. The arguments grew louder and angrier, but I stopped listening and reflected on Druidan who had not said a word in fifteen minutes.

  When the table fell silent again, I asked, “Master Elder Druidan, when you find yourself surrounded in blind hatred and fear, what do you do to combat it?”

  “Spread compassion and love, and govern yourself to be true.”

  Folding my hands, I steadied myself and tried to appear calm. “If I am not wanted here, I will go now, and not waste time better suited to others potential mates.”

  “Fera.”

  My fingers tightened in their grasp. “Mordon. If there is this much fear of me, if there is so much of it that I can't exist without being seen as a taint, I will leave. It's better that I know now rather than later. I appreciate your support of me, but I can't force others to do the same. Nor can you.” I held out my hand to the center of the table. “If you want me gone, remove your brood-ring. I know this involves stripping the flesh from my bones, disenchanting it, putting it together again. I know I stand to lose spell-casting with my hands. But you may do it all the same, if your concerns are heartfelt.”

  Mordon stood abruptly, paced to the cabinet, to the far wall, and back again. He and I were the youngest in this room, and we held the lowest rank accordingly. He knew he could not force them to do as he wanted, and the frustration radiated in his every movement.

  One of them gulped their brew, reached to the clear glass pitcher, and poured even more as the sun brightened to a painful intensity. The Elders reached a soundless decision.

  “We will not. The practice is barbaric.”

  “Yet speaking so ill of me is not?” Anger flared through my veins, adding to the heat from the sun shining through the window, rendering me irritable. “If you continue to spread this discontent, these lies about where I come from, then you are giving strength to whomever it is that will think I deserve the barbarism you expressed. If the advisory council, a powerful force here, will not speak of me as an equal, then you cause harm. I deserve better than to merely be tolerated or endured.”

  Druidan said, “When you speak, I hear only human entitlement demanding, pushing, strangling our rights.”

  “If that is what you hear and if this is how I am to be treated, then this is not the colony I could ever hope to represent, far less lead and govern. I was raised to value life, to value curiousity and courage. To embrace kindness. To seek out knowledge, wisdom, and truth. What I heave heard in this room is the same willful fear and ignorance that caused Driudan to suffer.”

  The room fell into contemplation. Druidan said, “Who are we to give in to the whining complaint of a foreigner?”

  Mordon snapped, “If this council does not see the truth of what she has said, then it is a rotted root to a dying tree. I ask the council to reach a decision. Do you feel master Elder Druidan's statement is good, or does it make you uncomfortable? This is a question I will have an answer for.”

  Enaid said, “Why does this matter?”

  “I agree with my mate. If she will not be treated o the same standard as everyone else, and is indeed treated worse and expected to contribute to a higher standard—if this is to be her life, then I see it as the right thing to remove her from a poor situation.”

  “Mordon, that is not at all reflective of—”

  “This council has already mocked and belittled her heritage, her culture, her reputation, and her herself. What tone does that set for the colony?” He laid a hand on my shoulder. “If this council echoes Caledon's values and not my own, I will do the fair thing and leave governance to him.”

  “Mordon!”

  He held up a hand to cut off his mother, spoke a phrase quickly in his ancestral tongue, and translated, “We all must stand together, or together fall apart. If this council has values opposed so irreconcilably with our own, then we will leave peacefully, and seek to attract others of a like mind in a new settlement.”

  Following this announcement, everyone went so silent that we could hear adults scolding children for putting mud into their hair. There was little doubt that Mordon meant what he said. His fists were closed and he looked entirely ready to walk out the door with or without me. To my amusement, several people faced me, as if to urge me to speak sense into him. As far as I saw it, I agreed with him. So when the stares persisted, I simply shrugged.

  In front of a stunned council, Druidan said, “We have little choice but to admit the truth of your words and the folly of our own. A nation which seeks to condemn those who have caused no harm will turn in on itself and leave only bitter resentment as its legacy. Mordon Meadows, Feraline Swift, if you can face other foes as steadfastly as you have faced me, you have my blessing in both your union and your leadership. Will you permit me to give advice as recompense for the trial I have put you through?”

  Mordon's hand curled into a fist. “This was a trial?”

  “I wondered why he turned hypocritical,” I said. “Please, Druidan, what advice do you have?”

  “There are two forms of flight, open and closed. If you hold an open flight, you must accept the last male you flew with, if only temporarily. Occasionally, an open mating flight results in an incompatible couple, which is why the brood-rings are a preferred method of finding mates followed by a closed mating flight. With a flight closed to all but eligible Meadows males, you will return to Kragdomen with the victor and the defeated will be banished. With an open flight, you could go with your mate to his home, or yours. The ring will remove itself from your hand. However, a dedicated pairing can and will outmaneuver other competitors. But you must practice your flight.”

  The way he was saying this sounded like a lot of risk for little gain. Surely there was more to it than what I’d been told. I could see some appeal behind it, on a very instinctive level. And I remembered hearing about Enaid’s mating flight having lasted for we
eks, apparently with a fair pursuit.

  “What is the advantage to an open flight?”

  “It is a celebration and a chance to level the field between Mordon and Caledon as other males will be competing. A mating flight is an opportunity to strengthen the ties between drakes. Kragdomen has not participated in an open mating flight since Enaid, and the colony’s ties with other settlements has suffered. Fly with them and you will be remembered as diplomatic. They will remember who was greeted, who was slighted, and who was preferred. An open mating flight is no chaste affair, and it should not be treated as such. However, its ending may be ensured with practice and strategy. I will help, as will Agnes.”

  Nest grabbed the box Druidan had retrieved from the cabinet. She eased it open. Inside was a set of flowers, two roses. A blush-gray and a bright red, each one pressed flat and dried.

  They’d been taken from Nest’s gardens, I was sure, but how far in advance, and why? There was much about her that I had come nowhere near close to uncovering. The longer I was in their colony, the more I realized I had yet to learn. Nest leaned in close, and whispered something about the flowers being ceremonial.

  Nest laid them against my forearm, holding the tissue-thin layers against my skin until they felt damp and clammy.

  Nest asked, “Do you swear to hold the ring, to be the guardian of it, and to forfeit it to the heir after your mating flight?”

  “I do.”

  As with so many other pledges before, this didn’t feel real or binding, or particularly powerful, even though I knew that it was to be taken seriously.

  For the minute or two she pressed the flowers to my skin, I wondered at what I’d committed myself to. That I was burning up with curiousity had swayed my answer. Perhaps also a desire to put Caledon in his place.

  When Nest removed her hand, she left the flowers behind; they’d blended into my skin. Not bright and vivid like a tattoo but dimly outlined like a well-faded scar. I ran my finger around their forms, amazed at how it had happened.

  Nest said, “Keep your promise and it will keep you.”