Flight

by Jae Waller

  In all the time we spent together, Tiernan’s heart and mind had been with someone else. The day he showed me how to write her name before his own. The moment in the shimmering turquoise light of Aeldu-yan he confessed to missing me, just because I was the only one around to drown out his ghosts. And the spring equinox, after Airedain convinced me to be more forward — only for Tiernan to refuse me the same promise Marijka asked for a decade earlier.

  Only one thing might’ve made a difference. If I never asked Tiernan to come to the equinox festival, if he never saw the burning shrine, things might’ve stayed the same. But still I would not have Tiernan. He changed his mind for Marijka, not me.

  Anwea snuffled my shoulder. I crinkled my nose. “I don’t have any food for you. I didn’t even bring any for me.” I’d left my weapons at the cabin. Not one of my smarter decisions.

  She nuzzled me again. I wrapped my arms around her neck. “So do horses feel heartbreak, or are humans the only ones stupid enough to — to fall in love with someone who doesn’t—” Tears welled in my eyes. I pressed my face against Anwea’s smooth hair and sobbed as the sun sank out of view beyond the ocean.

  •

  I awoke to rain running off trees and dripping onto my face. The ground was wet around me and dry beyond that. I stared up into rustling leaves. “Seriously?” There were some things no one ever told me about being an antayul.

  We slowly made our way back south. I foraged dandelions and peppery watercress while Anwea grazed. My hair still smelled like woodsmoke. I scrubbed it in an icy brook, brushing my fingers over the scar I’d gotten on my forehead from the drunken Sverbian in Caladheå. I slept against Anwea’s warm flank, but by morning of the third day, I knew it was time.

  Tiernan was on the porch steps, whittling a block of pale wood with his folding knife. He rose to greet me. A smile cracked across his face. “She said yes.”

  “Oh, Tiernan.” I’d never seen him smile like that, like sunlight radiating from his body. I hugged him, careful to avoid his hair. “I’m happy for you.” Some part of me truly was.

  “It will be a small ceremony in two weeks,” he said. “I understand if you do not want to stay—”

  “I’ll stay.” I tried to return his smile. “When else will I see a Sverbian wedding?”

  The days flew by. I tended Marijka’s garden while she made arrangements in Caladheå. It gave me a chance to break down in solitude behind her greenhouse. When Marijka returned, she took me into her kitchen and showed me two rolls of patterned cloth.

  “They represent the regions of Sverba our families came from,” she explained. Hers was white criss-crossed with silver lines. Tiernan’s was blood red with black lines. She fingered the soft woolen cloth. “I never thought I’d wear this.”

  “I can’t believe Tiernan made you wait ten years.”

  “Truth be told, I had given up on him. But I believe in second chances.” Her smile faded. “If we had wed back then, Jorumgard would’ve been Tiernan’s stjolvind.”

  “His what?”

  “A friend or relative who protects the groom from evil spirits.” She refolded the cloth and slipped it back into the paper wrapping. “Rhonos agreed to be Tiernan’s. In Nyhemur, a Ferish stjolvind is unheard of.”

  “That’s the way of things around here.” I handed her the packing twine. “Do you have someone like that?”

  “The bride has a stjolvehl, but I have no relatives in Eremur.” Marijka gave me a hesitant smile. “I hoped you might be mine, Kateiko. The evil spirits are just a myth, I promise.”

  My mouth fell open. I almost said no, until I thought about what it’d be like to get married without Nili at my side. I knew how it felt to be alone and far from home. Marijka had done so much I’d never been able to repay. “Of course. I’d be honoured.”

  Their wedding day dawned bright and warm. I helped Marijka lace her silver bodice over a white gown. I pinned a piece of jewellery I’d made — wire twisted into a crescent moon with shimmering water droplets — into her white-blonde hair. Her laughter filled the room when I explained how she looked like a shard of moonlight the first time I saw her.

  Tiernan was more handsome than ever. For once he’d combed his hair and scrubbed the mud from his boots. Marijka had sewn the red and black cloth into a sash that he wore draped across one shoulder with a white tunic and black trousers. A nervous smile tugged at his lips. He looked younger without his beard, softer.

  We gathered in the clearing among green grass and blooming purple and blue flowers. It was a small ceremony indeed. There were only a dozen of us. Tiernan and Marijka stood on either side of a cleric in a white robe. Rhonos and I stood next to them, avoiding each other’s eyes. A handful of their friends, including Nhys from the Blackened Oak and a woman who played the fiddle, gathered round.

  When I looked back on that day, I remembered it like pictures etched into my memory. Tiernan moving the ring from Marijka’s right hand to her left. Sweeping her into a kiss that stung to watch. Rhonos and I knotting cloth around their wrists, white for Tiernan and red for Marijka. The new couple lifting joined hands with radiant smiles as everyone cheered.

  We pulled out tables from the workshop and had dinner in the field. People stood up one at a time to tell stories about the couple. Marijka was a student at Ingdanrad when a young mage from Sverba showed up to do theological research. She taught him Coast Trader and he helped her practise Middle Sverbian. He was twenty-one and she was eighteen when they left. Nhys told a story that ended with, “Here’s to a lovely woman and her husband, who I’ve never forgiven for burning down my inn,” which left Tiernan burying his face in his hands and everyone else roaring with laughter.

  Tiernan pulled me aside that evening. “I meant to talk to you about this sooner, Kako. The cabin is yours if you want it.” He was moving to Marijka’s so they didn’t have to rebuild her greenhouse and replant her garden. I wondered how much it had to do with leaving his workshop behind for good.

  “I can’t stay here,” I said. “Thank you, but . . . this was never a home to me.”

  Tiernan nodded. “Come visit sometime. I — we both care about you.” He fiddled with the white cloth around his wrist.

  “I’ll always come back. I promised.” I kissed his cheek. “Goodbye, Tiernan.”

  It was well past dark, candles sputtering on the tables, when Tiernan lifted Marijka onto Gwmniwyr and swung up behind her. Nhys said something in Sverbian. From the way everyone laughed, I was pretty sure I didn’t want to understand. Their inebriated friends waved and called loud farewells as the couple rode off to their new home.

  I stayed more from a sense of protection over the clearing than any interest in socializing. People eventually trickled into the workshop and fell asleep on the dirt floor. I lingered outside the cabin. I’d already packed my kinaru shawl, dolphin flag, and fir blanket into my carryframe.

  “It gets cold overnight,” Rhonos said behind me. “Come join us.”

  Rhonos had been civil all day, not mentioning our spat from his earlier visit. For what it was worth, he had a part in making Tiernan happier than I’d ever seen. I felt the edge of my dislike blunt as I followed him into the warm workshop.

  Iren kohal. Rivers keep flowing. Life moved on. I had to move with it.

  22.

  IF IT DOESN’T HURT

  I stood on the edge of North Iyun Bel the day after the wedding, gazing at Caladheå. The city of white sails. Two months after Eremur declared war on Suriel, I didn’t know what to expect. I hadn’t stayed in the capital long after Montès’s assassination. All Rhonos knew was that the city guards were cracking down on viirelei.

  “You don’t have to stay,” I told Anwea. I hadn’t tethered her, but she seemed content to graze near the hollow log where I stowed my carryframe. “If you’re gone when I get back, then . . . thanks for everything.” I stroked her mane and tugged my bodice into
place. It felt odd wearing my dress without all the warm underlayers.

  Elkhounds stopped me at the bridge over the Stengar into Førstown, the old Sverbian quarter. They demanded to see my identification and asked where I was going, what I was doing, how long I was staying. I made up answers and showed them a stone dolphin token Airedain’s sister Lituwa had carved as proof I was Iyo. It didn’t actually mean anything, but the guards lowered their spears. They hadn’t given me nearly as much trouble when I arrived alone during the inquiry.

  Caladheå was quiet. Sverbian protest words flaked off the brick walls. It felt like the city was holding its breath. People hurried through the streets without stopping. They’d gotten what they wanted, but I wondered how long the military could hold back the tide.

  The Colonnium gates were shut. “No viirelei permitted until further notice,” a guard said.

  “What if I need to go to the Office of the Viirelei?”

  He pulled a paper from an iron box mounted on the wall. “Fill this out to apply for an appointment.”

  My eyes traced over the flowing ink script. I could read maybe a quarter of the words.

  Iannah always left the Colonnium on her days off, but since her post change I had no idea when they were. I spent two hours wandering the red-brick shops, terraced houses, and green parks of Bronnoi Ridge until I found Natzo’s noodle shop, recognizing it by the smell of broth.

  “Do you know Pelennus?” I asked the balding shopkeeper, speaking as clearly as possible. “Colonnium guard? About this tall, female, red hair?”

  “Ah! Antler!” Natzo finally exclaimed. “She come once a week. Midday. You come back two days, yes?”

  Two days. Iannah had always been one person in Caladheå I counted on to be in the same place, but the same war that kept her inside kept me locked out. So I went looking for the next closest person I had to a friend in the city.

  •

  It was near dark by the time I found the Knox Arms, a single spot of liveliness in the dead streets. Airedain was onstage drumming with as much spirit as ever, like the music shielded him from all the turmoil of the world. I found a spot along the balcony to watch, but couldn’t get into it like last time.

  “Can I buy you a drink?” said a voice next to me.

  I turned to see a brown-haired Sverbian boy leaning against the railing. “Why?”

  His eyes flickered to my forehead. I couldn’t tell if his recoil was from my scar or my question. “I dunno, it’s polite?”

  “Don’t bother.”

  “Gods’ sakes, are all viirelei so uptight?” He pushed off from the railing and left.

  No one else talked to me all night. When the music stopped, I went downstairs, weaving past loud stumbling people and sticky tables littered with empty mugs. Airedain was packing his drum away in the back of the pub. I tapped him on the shoulder. “Ai, Iyo-boy.”

  He jerked upright, dropping a mallet. “Rin-girl!”

  “What’d I say about calling me that in public?”

  “Shit. Forgot, sorry.” He scooped up the mallet and spun it. “Whatcha doing back in Caladheå? Thought you were done with this place.”

  I scrunched up my face. “Tiernan got married yesterday.”

  Airedain closed his eyes and exhaled. “Oh, fuck.” He pulled me into a hug, careful not to touch my braid. His tunic was soaked, but I didn’t push him away this time. “You wanna get out of here?”

  I tilted my head up to look at him. The top of my head barely met his nose. “Sure.”

  The night had cooled off. Rain washed ash into the gutters, rinsing the city of its usual stench. I stuffed my hands into my pockets as we walked to Airedain’s. Inside, he tossed his keys on the table and lit the oil lamp. The row of stone makiri gazed down at us.

  Airedain uncorked a clouded glass bottle. “You’re gonna need this.”

  I put my nose to the opening. It didn’t smell like the brånnvin I was used to. “What is it?”

  “Straight vodka. Alcohol is like love. If it doesn’t hurt, it ain’t strong enough.”

  I drank. My shoulders twisted and my throat burned like I’d swallowed embers. I handed it back. “Yan taku. That’s worse than your swamp water.”

  “Effective though.” Airedain held it up in mock salute and flopped onto his narrow bed. “So what in Aeldu-yan happened? I thought that man was pretty sweet on you.”

  I sat next to him, scuffling my feet. “Remember Marijka? The Sverbian who healed you at Skaarnaht? Turns out they have a history.”

  Airedain winced. “Guess people always go for their own kind in the end.”

  Something cold gnawed at my stomach despite the warmth of the alcohol. Tiernan never seemed to care I was a different race, but he never told me a lot of things. “What about you? I thought you’d be with Britte tonight. Did she change her mind about your other lovers?”

  “Nei. She left me after she found out I wasn’t playing the spring fair.”

  “Kaid. I’m sorry—”

  “Don’t worry about it.” He ran a hand over his spiked hair. “Guess I know why she was interested in me. Whatever.”

  I frowned. “Why didn’t you play the fair? You were looking forward to that.”

  “Some new fucking law against viirelei performing in public. I’m lucky to keep my job at the Knox. Emílie knows I need the money, but she’ll get in trouble if the Elkhounds find out.”

  “That’s ridiculous. Does the Council think you’ll start a riot with a drum?”

  “Dunno.” Airedain picked at his rumpled caribou fur blanket. “I think they just don’t want us giving the pigeons any ideas.”

  I pulled the bottle from his hands, took a swig, and shuddered. “Why do you put up with living in Caladheå?”

  “’Cause I don’t know what else to do.” He leaned against the wall. “Liwa wants me to move back to Toel. ‘You dress like an itheran, you drink like one, you even swear like one,’ she says. Easier to deal with strangers thinking you’re a freak than your own family.”

  “I’d prefer no one think I’m a freak.” As I recalled the boy in the Knox Arms, an idea struck me. I put down the vodka and peered at my reflection in the cracked, cloudy mirror above the washstand.

  “You’re prettier than Marijka, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

  I laughed. “What? Nei, I just . . .” I unbraided my hair, pulled a section forward, and sliced it with my hunting knife. Long brown strands fluttered into the washbasin. I adjusted the length until it fell just below my eyebrows, concealing the scar.

  Airedain studied me for a moment, then thumped the bed. “I approve.”

  “Good. I got this stupid scar because of you.” I looked into the mirror again, running my fingers through the short strands. I’d never cut my hair in my whole life. Isu would be furious.

  “You gonna . . .” Airedain gestured at the basin.

  “Ai, yeah. Sorry.” I gathered up the strands and tossed them in the iron stove.

  “Where are you staying tonight?” he asked as I flopped on the bed.

  “No fucking idea.”

  “You can sleep here, but one of us has to take the floor. Jonalin’s in town this time.”

  I glanced at the other still-unmade bed. “I’m not convinced your cousin exists.”

  “He works as a dockhand. Even weirder hours than my jobs.”

  “Mmm.” The last night I spent there felt so long ago. So much had changed, yet I was still drifting with nowhere to land. I sat bolt upright. “Oh, shit.”

  “What?” Airedain paused with the vodka halfway to his mouth.

  I squirmed. “I told Tiernan I slept here once, and he gave me such a weird look after I talked to you on the spring equinox. Dunehein had been teasing me about you. I think Tiernan thought we — you know.” My cheeks felt hot. “Slept together.”

  He thr
ew back his head and laughed, his spiked hair crumpling against the wall. “Of all the wrong ideas to get—”

  I punched his arm. “The thought of tapping me is funny?”

  “Ow. Nei, I just never — aw, fuck. It’s gonna sound bad no matter what I say.” He rubbed his neck and squinted one eye shut. “I’d never make a move on a girl who’s hung up on someone else. I called you into the shrine circle so Tiernan would have to pay attention to you.”

  “That’s sweet. Too bad I ruined the moment by passing out.”

  “Probably didn’t help his confusion that I jumped offstage as soon as I saw you go down.”

  “Aeldu save me.” I gave a shaky laugh to hide the tears that wanted to emerge. “Well, it doesn’t matter what Tiernan thinks. I never had a chance with him.”

  Airedain stared into the vodka. “Maybe it’s better this way. Getting involved with itherans just complicates shit. We got enough to worry about.”

  “Ai, thanks for sticking up for me, by the way. With Tokoda.” I drew my knees to my chest. “You never mentioned you’d — you know, seen things that shouldn’t exist.”

  “Only once. Heard it first, actually. The echo sounded wrong.” He shook his head. “We gotta look out for each other, Rin-girl. No one else will.”

  We stayed awake until the bottle was nearly empty. I didn’t trust myself to make it to the latrine behind the flats, so Airedain looked away while I peed into a ceramic pot. “You’re a city girl now,” he said with a laugh when I dumped it out the window into the rain.

  I eventually gave up on staying upright and slid onto the floor. Airedain lay next to me and tapped out rhythms on the floorboards. I sang a Rin song about Imaidu, the first person to attune, messing up the words so badly I gave up and curled into a giggling ball.