Starborn

by Lucy Hounsom

  As if he sensed her gaze, Nediah turned and the brightness failed. ‘It’s morning,’ he said unnecessarily.

  Brégenne’s expression dissolved. ‘We had better be going,’ she said. ‘If we’re to buy another horse, I’d like to reach the—’

  ‘What’s that?’ Kyndra interrupted. She’d turned to look at the grey shadows that still clung to the west. Ground mist shifted, parted, reformed. Nediah narrowed his eyes, body tensed. No sound reached them.

  Then a silver beast trotted out of the morning gloom. Instinctively, Kyndra took a step back. It had the look of a wolf, but its shoulders and haunches were grotesquely muscled. Despite this, it moved with surprising grace, eyes a luminous blaze of white gold. ‘Brégenne,’ Nediah said sharply, ‘it’s an envoi.’

  The wolf-thing passed from shadow into sun and its form blurred. The body shrank, legs lengthened into wings. Soon a golden bird hovered before Kyndra’s eyes, its brilliance blinding her.

  Wordlessly, Nediah held up his arm. The bird flew to it and, as it perched on his wrist, its form melted again to run like molten metal over Nediah’s skin. The man drew in a sharp breath, face tight with pain. ‘They’re not pleased,’ he said grimly.

  Brégenne didn’t ask who they were. As Kyndra gazed in astonishment, the sheen over Nediah’s hand and wrist sharpened into glimmering words. Nediah read them silently. He glanced once at Kyndra and then his gaze strayed to the west.

  ‘What is it?’ Kyndra asked. Now that the message had been read, the words faded until Nediah’s hand was once again his own.

  ‘An envoi,’ Nediah said. ‘A messenger.’

  ‘Who from?’

  ‘They know, Brégenne,’ Nediah said, ignoring Kyndra’s question. Kyndra looked at the small woman. Brégenne’s face had paled ever so slightly. ‘We’re to return as soon as possible,’ Nediah continued. ‘And we’re to take a ship.’

  Kyndra frowned. Ship? They were hundreds of leagues from the nearest coast.

  ‘So be it.’

  ‘Return where?’ she tried. ‘What’s wrong?’

  Nediah spared her a glance. ‘Brégenne broke a law when she rescued you in Brenwym, one of our strictest.’ His voice dropped. ‘How did they find out so quickly?’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘The envoi’s senders,’ Nediah said.

  ‘You’re not going to tell me, are you?’

  ‘This message must have been crafted by more than one of them,’ Nediah said to Brégenne. ‘It’s been travelling by day and night.’

  Brégenne merely nodded. ‘How much coin do we have?’ she asked quietly.

  ‘Enough.’

  Breakfast was cold and rapid. Kyndra watched as Nediah led Brégenne to her horse, placing her hands on the saddle. Brégenne nodded her thanks, but climbed up without aid. Nediah hovered nearby in case she needed steadying, and only went to his own horse once she was settled. Kyndra watched her fumbling with the reins and frowned to herself. Last night, Brégenne had behaved as if she could see perfectly well. This morning, however, it was clear she could not.

  ‘How does an envoi work?’ she asked Nediah’s back once they were underway.

  ‘It’s a construct,’ the man answered, ‘with a single purpose. The message is actually imprinted in the energy used to create the messenger and can only be read by its intended recipients.’

  Kyndra blinked. ‘… Right. What did you mean when you said it’s been travelling by day and night?’

  ‘Envois are usually created from either Solar or Lunar energy, so they can only travel during the hours that energy is active. The one we received was made with both. It reached us much faster. And it had a lot of power behind it,’ Nediah added uneasily.

  ‘Did it hurt when it melted on you like that?’

  ‘Well-constructed envois are capable of conveying simple emotion.’ Nediah paused. ‘I was meant to feel the anger in that one.’

  Kyndra shivered.

  The day brightened until a wide band of forget-me-not sky opened along the horizon. The sunshine lifted Kyndra’s spirits, but when she glanced back the way they had come, she saw only a thick wall of grey cloud. Stuck on the back of Nediah’s mount, she had little else to do except stare at the scenery and contemplate escape.

  The longer she thought about it, the more problems she encountered. As far as money was concerned, she had only coppers to her name: a tip she’d been given at the inn on her last night in Brenwym. Even if she managed to evade the strangers, how would she get home? She doubted she could steal one of their horses undetected, which meant a whole lot of walking. And she’d never be able to afford enough food to see her back to Brenwym. Kyndra grimaced. She would have to lie low for a couple of weeks, pretend to go along with the strangers, and wait for an opportunity. Perhaps she could earn some coin once she managed to get away from them.

  Less than happy with her plan, Kyndra lapsed into brooding, and it wasn’t until the tail end of afternoon that something snapped her out of it. About half a league away, smoke curled lazily into the sky. She stared at it, gripped by a peculiar excitement.

  ‘Sky Port East,’ Nediah said.

  The smoke puffed from a cluster of chimneys, and although distant, the town looked ramshackle. None of the buildings were whitewashed like those in Brenwym. Half the chimneys perched on the slant of their roof, seemingly ready to slip down the side as Kyndra watched. She sniffed the air. Whatever they were burning, it wasn’t the wood so widely used in the Dales. This smoke was heavy and black. It drifted slowly upwards until it was high enough to ride the breeze.

  As they moved nearer, an amazing structure began to materialize above the houses. At first it looked like scaffolding, but, narrowing her eyes, Kyndra saw a web of circular platforms connected by rope bridges. It was an airborne archipelago that swayed in the wind. The great twisted ropes groaned against every gust until she thought they must snap under the strain. And here and there, thick poles rooted the larger platforms to the earth. It was a gypsy collection, each platform a different size and colour. The sky port rambled twenty feet above the rooftops, the wind blowing a tenor note through the gaps in its boards.

  ‘Why is it called a port?’ Kyndra asked of the creaking structure. ‘There’s no sea.’

  Nediah pointed westward. The setting sun gleamed on a huge chain raised high in the air. Supported by posts at regular intervals, it stretched into the distance. Kyndra frowned. ‘What’s that?’

  ‘It should be here soon.’

  ‘What should?’

  ‘You’ll see.’ Nediah turned his head to look at Kyndra, a smile on his lips. Then he steered their horse towards a small mound. The extra height afforded a better view of the chain, as it disappeared into the westward plains. Kyndra shielded her eyes against the setting sun and listened to the muttering of the grass as they waited.

  There was a squeal of metal on metal. Out of the sun came a monstrous shadow, straining against the huge chain that tethered it to earth. Two paddles spun at its rear, cutting the sunset into orange segments, and a vast inflated sack bulged above it in the smoky wind. Kyndra gaped at the craft as it whirred into port. There were figures on its deck, one holding an anchor chain ready to throw.

  ‘Can we go closer?’ she asked Nediah.

  The man said nothing, but urged his horse into a trot until they were beneath the dock. Kyndra craned her neck, watching as the craft lumbered to a halt. Two men vaulted its rail. They moored the craft to a huge iron ring set in the wooden platform and then the rear paddles slowed and stilled.

  Passengers shouted jovially as they disembarked. Men caught the hands of others who waited on the dock. A motley troupe of girls and boys scampered aboard and disappeared down a ramp into the craft’s belly. Each returned with a small crate. The boxes began to pile up on the dock and were stamped and briefly inspected by a man in a hat that was forever slipping down the side of his head.

  It was almost a pattern, Kyndra thought, unable to tear her eyes from the spectacle. When th
e dock master’s hat fell to the right, he pursed his lips and quickly put the lid back on the crate. When it fell to the left, the corners of his eyes crinkled and he lingered over the contents. The children continued their ferrying until every crate was unloaded. Then each held out their hand to receive a coin that gleamed in the last of the light. Having bitten it, they scampered away as swiftly as they’d come and the craft lay quiet, its crew dispersed into the aerial town. A few climbed down ladders and lost themselves amongst the buildings on the ground.

  ‘This is amazing,’ Kyndra said, unable to help herself. Her neck ached from looking up and she raised one hand to massage it. Brégenne’s mare ambled into view, cropping at the long grass. There was no sign of the small woman. Kyndra frowned. ‘Where’s Brégenne?’

  ‘She’s securing our transport for tomorrow,’ Nediah said. He glanced at the darkening sky and sighed. ‘I suppose we’d better find something to eat.’

  Although Kyndra’s stomach contracted at the word transport, it was also aching with hunger. Brégenne’s rations had been none too generous. She nodded.

  Nediah dismounted, leaving Kyndra in the saddle, and gathered up the reins of Brégenne’s horse. Then they started down the half-paved road into town.

  Night fell quickly. Lamps bloomed in the sky port above, strung on poles that swayed in the wind. It was like magic, the balls of light seemingly unharnessed in space. The wind brought music too; the wicked lows of an organ flute thrummed to male voices and the occasional peak of a soprano. The day’s clouds had dispersed, leaving the sky clear, and Kyndra tipped back her head to stare at the stars. They were so distant, so cold.

  The music ended and a shiver ran over her body. The thin cloak Nediah had lent her did little to keep out the night.

  Nediah stopped outside a tavern. Peeling letters named it The Shipper’s Hole. Kyndra looked at the battered door with a certain professional disdain.

  ‘Why don’t you go in and find a table?’ Nediah suggested. ‘I’ll stable the horses.’ He gave Kyndra a searching look. ‘We’re strangers here and we want to remain strangers. Understand?’

  Kyndra nodded and slipped off the animal. Her legs and rear ached abysmally. She rubbed them, staring at the tavern. Whereas The Nomos was welcoming, its shutters painted blue against whitewashed walls, this place was stolid and dark. Almost all the shutters were closed to the night, but chatter and warm light spilled through their chinks. ‘Go on, then,’ Nediah said, and Kyndra had no choice but to open the door and step inside.

  The latch clanked loudly and a few people raised their heads. When they saw Kyndra standing there alone, more heads turned and she tried to ignore the stares. The common room was large with an oversized fire blazing in one corner. The rough tables were about three-quarters full and a dozen people lined a long, chest-high counter. Servers in aprons stood on the other side, filling tankards from silver-tapped casks.

  Kyndra hadn’t seen anything like it; customers in The Nomos sat at tables and waited to be served. The people at the counter just stood there chatting, drinking and then waving their empty cups at the staff. These were refilled and coin changed hands.

  More heads turned to look at her, most of them male. Kyndra hastily shut the door and made her way towards the counter. ‘What can I get you?’ asked a big man in a brown shirt. He wiped his hands on a grimy apron and stared unabashedly at her body. She suddenly felt very exposed standing there in her shirt without jerkin or jacket.

  ‘Um …’ she stammered. ‘Do you have any Dales—?’

  ‘No,’ the man said. He thumped down a foaming mug with enough force to send froth over the sides. ‘You’ll like this better. Six coppers.’

  ‘I’ve only got—’ Kyndra began, but a brisk female voice overrode her.

  ‘Here’s ten coppers and give me a shot of your strongest. Keep the change.’

  The man seized a tiny cup and measured out some clear liquid. The stranger tipped her head back and threw the contents down her throat. She slammed some coins on the counter top.

  ‘You didn’t have to do that,’ Kyndra said, clutching her ale. The tankard was heavy and worn from countless lips. She sipped it. The taste was a little malty, but it made her think of home.

  ‘You looked thirsty,’ the woman said. She stepped away from the long counter, giving Kyndra a moment to study her features. She had a pointed chin, pale above a scruffy collar. The rest of her face was pale as well, except for two spots of colour high on her cheekbones. Almond eyes regarded Kyndra coolly. She wore a dark coat buttoned down to her knees, where leather boots met its fraying hem. Her hair was straight and brown and very long. ‘So,’ she said, ‘shall we sit down?’

  The woman led her to a table near the one unshuttered window. It was too dark to see out now and Kyndra watched her own face framed by the fire. It looked young and slightly scared. She took a deep breath and sat opposite the woman, trying to seem at home.

  ‘Well now,’ the woman said, with a small smile. ‘You seemed a little lost up there.’ She nodded at the counter. ‘First time in Sky Port East?’

  ‘No – yes, I mean …’ The woman’s eyes were teasing. ‘I guess so,’ Kyndra finished weakly.

  The woman flashed a smile across the room and the same man came over with another small cup of liquid and a leer for Kyndra. The woman nursed this new drink, rolling it slowly between her hands. ‘I see. Where are you from?’

  ‘Who are you?’ Kyndra blurted and then worried it had sounded rude. ‘I mean—’

  ‘My name is Kait,’ the woman said. She sipped her drink and considered her. ‘You look like someone with a story worth hearing.’

  Kyndra didn’t know what to say, so she drank some more ale. ‘I’ll get you another,’ the woman said, and, to her surprise, Kyndra realized that her tankard was almost empty. Before she could stop her, Kait had slithered from her seat and made towards the counter.

  Kyndra tried to pull herself together. Where was Nediah? She couldn’t work out how long it had been since they’d parted and looked suspiciously at her tankard. She was used to ale, but this was a lot stronger than the pale drink they brewed in the Valleys.

  ‘I grew up in an inn,’ she said, as Kait placed another tankard in front of her.

  Kait smiled. ‘And where might that be?’

  These tankards were larger than the ones back home. The taste she’d earlier found strange was now quite pleasant. Talk washed up around Kyndra and her head felt light. She smiled back at Kait. ‘The Valleys. But I had to leave.’

  ‘Why?’

  She was aware of a sensation in the back of her mind urging her to keep quiet. Kyndra swallowed it in another gulp of ale. ‘I broke something,’ she said, wiping her mouth. ‘Something valuable.’

  ‘Is that all? Things can be replaced—’

  ‘No. This couldn’t. It made people angry.’

  Something intense sparked in Kait’s eyes and her red lips were slightly parted. Kyndra remembered Brégenne’s impassive face and drew back slightly. Kait re-crossed her legs and took a sip of her drink. ‘How did you escape?’

  ‘I had help,’ Kyndra said evasively.

  ‘A man in white? With black eyes?’

  Kyndra choked on her mouthful of ale. ‘What?’

  ‘The man. Did he speak to you?’

  ‘No,’ Kyndra said, unnerved by the fire in the woman’s voice.

  ‘Listen,’ Kait said urgently. ‘If you value your life, stay away from him.’ She ground the last four words between her teeth. ‘If he can, he will—’ She looked up, startled by something behind Kyndra’s chair. Then, between one breath and the next, she disappeared. Kyndra just caught the ends of her long coat whipping through a side door before a hand clamped down on her shoulder.

  ‘There you are,’ Nediah said, his voice falsely bright.

  6

  ‘Who were you talking to?’ Brégenne demanded. Kyndra blinked at her, shocked at Kait’s sudden departure. The blind woman’s eyes glowed silver in the dim
tavern. She’d pulled up her hood to cover them.

  ‘No one. A woman bought me a drink.’

  Brégenne rounded on Nediah. ‘You let her come in here on her own?’

  ‘She hasn’t been alone very long.’

  Was Brégenne worried about her, Kyndra wondered, or about what she might say? Heads were beginning to turn again and Nediah made swiftly for the counter. Brégenne regarded the chair Kait had just vacated with some suspicion. Then, muttering under her breath, she sat down and fixed her glowing eyes on Kyndra.

  Kyndra tried to clear her mind. The ale had fogged it to the point where everything seemed exaggerated. She wasn’t sure what would come out of her mouth if she opened it.

  ‘This port ale’s strong stuff.’ Nediah put two tankards on the splintered tabletop. Kyndra was a little relieved to see that she had been left out of the round. She’d probably had too much. Then, in one smooth motion, Nediah placed a cup of wine in front of Brégenne, hooked a leg over the bench and pushed one of the tankards towards Kyndra. ‘Careful,’ he warned. ‘It’s probably more than you’re used to.’

  What did it matter? Kyndra thought, picking up the tankard and taking a long swallow. She was starting to like it here. The light seemed warmer, lending the room a red cosiness. The fire crackled affably and people were laughing. One man leapt off his bench to perform a drunken quickstep before collapsing forearms first onto the table. A snorted gale of mirth hid him from view. She smiled.

  ‘What a pleasant place this is,’ Nediah said, avoiding Brégenne’s gaze. ‘Ah, thank you.’

  A woman set three bowls of stew on their table and waited while Nediah retrieved some coins from his pocket. Kyndra ate a few mouthfuls and grimaced. The best she could say for the food was that it was hot. She took another swig of ale to banish the taste.

  ‘I think I should decide where we eat from now on,’ Brégenne grumbled, stirring her stew unenthusiastically. ‘You have an unerring instinct for the disreputable.’