Diamondsong 02: Capture

by E. D. E. Bell

  Packing to leave, she set off again into the night. No net hindered her path as she walked through the damp, musky forest, her new boots snug against her comfortable feet.

  She now understood why Ella had insisted on oiling the canvas, layer by layer over the course of multiple treatments. In Sol’s Reach, one mostly worried about what sort of rock was under xyr feet. Here, sudden patches of mud, or even gurgling puddles, popped out of nowhere as the terrain varied from step to step. It shocked Dime every time, and the chattering squips got to hear some new words as she plunked her feet from the mud.

  It would be impossible not to marvel at the trees as she walked. Though she was trying her best to maintain her declared fealty to the mountainous beauty of Sol’s Reach, she already knew that her perspective had changed: that she would mourn living in a place not surrounded by living, towering beings. Their leaves whispered as she walked, giving life to a whole system of birds and bugs and critters that leapt and bounded and crawled.

  And the sounds of night birds in the trees—she closed her eyes just to take it all in. Music was Dime’s passion. She thanked each bird for the chorus of harmony and dissonance that filled her ears as she walked in what she calculated to be the general direction of Pito.

  She took her time over what felt like at least a couple of bells, maybe three counting her stops to rest. It was hard to tell, as the dancing night shadows gave no indication. With deliberate steps, Dime took care not to injure herself. Paying close attention to the geography, she also took notes—for future reference, or in case she accidentally doubled back.

  Other sounds emerged. Percussive noises, calls, voices. Paths formed through the trees, confirming she was going the right way. She took the cloak from her bag and draped it over her head, shaking so it fell down over her backpack and trying to ignore the discomfiting feel of fabric against her scalp.

  She quieted, watching her steps and noting and tracking each sound with the instinct of an agent, ingrained through her training. Strangely, she saw no homes. No structures. Yet she followed the clear sounds of civilization, confused why they hadn’t come into view. She assessed each path, choosing those that were wider and more worn.

  The rush of water caught her attention. Not the wild sound of a stream, but a large amount of water, similar to an overflow ravine in Lodon. This was pyr-made and would lead to a city. Soon, she found it, an unassuming river.

  Not entirely unnatural, it ran through the soil, but it had been deepened and reinforced to form a smooth passage for the water to run downward toward the city. Glad for the cover of the trees—nothing felt open here in the forest—she crept along the banks.

  A noise from above startled her, and she stopped, clinging to the side of a wide trunk. Her fallacy realized, she gasped at the massive structures above her.

  They live in the trees.

  Now, Ella had discussed their homes, some of the terms, and concepts she thought Dime should know. Yet she had not directly explained that the buildings were not towers at all, but structures built to weave through the shapes of the trees themselves, their foundations nestled into the largest branches.

  Perhaps Ella assumed she knew.

  And then she saw them: fairies, zapping to and fro, their large wings flapping like butterflies in an arboretum. They, as oblivious to her down here creeping in the mud as she had been to them. Lights glowed from the tree tops—not with the flames of lamps, but a soft glow, unfamiliar to her. It was critical, then, that she continue to stay invisible, here in the brush.

  A moan sounded from the side.

  Sidling around the trunk, she saw a fairy, retching on the ground. Xyr wings smacked against the dirt with force and a lack of control. Stones scraped against xyr arms.

  No one was around, and the fairies above ignored or did not see xyr plight.

  Dime glanced in all directions. No one was here. No one would see her.

  “Hey,” she whispered. “Hey, can I help?”

  “You can killing leave me the kill alone,” the pyr snapped, before turning to xyr side and vomiting across the dirt. Dime noted with disgust xyr proximity to the canal, with its clean-looking water.

  “You can move away from the water before you do that again.”

  To her surprise, the pyr laughed.

  “Where are you from?” xe asked, rolling onto xyr side with tiny pebbles lodged into xyr face.

  “What?” Dime felt uneasy, for the pyr could see her now, see her tattoos. Though, she figured, xe was in no state to give her problems.

  “Your accent; it’s so weird. Kill, you have brute lines on your face. Holy Sha, I’m tripping, aren’t I?” Xe clawed into the soil, moving away from the creek, where xe vomited again.

  Tripping. Tzetz.

  The symptoms clicked into place. Dime had little experience with the addictive substance; anyone involved was shooed out of the high city with a hemsa and no incentive to come back.

  She crouched down. “I’m a Ja-lal. Name’s Fe’Dime. I guess this is how I speak.” Dime was expecting the fairy’s smooth pronunciation and tilted vowels this time. Having no context who she was, Dime’s speech must sound oddly clipped.

  Her hood still in place, she looked into the pyr’s eyes. They were red and tired. “You can decide whether or not you want to believe that, but neither of us needs to let anyone know about any of this. I, uh, is there any way I can help you?”

  Dime backed away a little, for the scent of the vomit was not pleasant.

  “Ma’Uchitar. I’m a loser.” He tried to peer through her hood. “Ja-lal. Sure. My parents always told me I’d end up taken by the brutes. Sorry I told you to kill off. Seem nice enough.”

  With that, he crawled another measure away and threw up again. Collapsing back onto the ground, his arms shook against his gray robe. A little whimper escaped him.

  It seemed like a robe, a garment for wearing around home. The other fairies she’d seen had similar clothes. So, then, they wore robes in the open. His was covered in an intentional patchwork, with what she suspected would be pretty colors had they not been dragged through the dirt and grime. His hair—and yes, he had hair—was white, which she now knew to be her own natural color. Though, unlike the thin stubble Dime had shaved off, Uchitar’s long hair was tied into a large knot over his head.

  Even collapsed in the dirt, it had a distinct style to it. Then she noticed there were even bands of hair across his eyebrows. Eyebrow hair! Did he have to style them, or did they just stay that length?

  “Um, Uchitar? Can I get something for you?” Again, Dime wished she knew more about medical assistance. For her older child, Luja, it was a passion. But, Dime realized with another pang of longing for her family, Luja was not here. Dime thought about what was in her bag that might help him. She was nervous to make him worse.

  “He needs water,” a voice said.

  Dime jumped back and clutched the hood around her face as another fairy flapped xyr wings, carrying xem over the creek to where Uchitar lay.

  Xe set down a glowing stone, which lit the area around them. “Don’t be scared if you’re new. I’m Fe’Volana. Pyrsi know me here. No ties to the Seats. No judgment. Just help, as I can offer it. Please, stay.”

  Now this fairy was extraordinary. With the light gray skin of a mid-Bakh, she bore no tattoos, something Dime was accepting really was normal here. Her hair—Dime also resolved to stop being surprised by hair—swung down from her head in thin braids, like rope. White, like Uchitar’s. She wondered why the others had darker hair. Theirs had looked dyed like fabric, so maybe it was.

  Volana’s robes were made of a neutral fabric without much tailoring, but nothing about her was plain. Long strips of lace and ribbon, scraps, perhaps, were stitched to her robes, giving her the grace of a dancer as she turned. She appeared to be far along in a pregnancy, and the ribbons hung from her protruding middle, swaying over t
he ground.

  Ignoring Dime now, Volana took a copper bowl to the creek, dipping it in and returning to poor, twitching Uchitar.

  “May I touch you?” she asked. When Uchitar gave a little grunt, Volana poured the water onto a cloth, dabbing it around his mouth.

  “You can help,” she said to Dime. “It doesn’t transfer.”

  Following Volana’s lead, Dime helped pull Uchitar to a seat, and the fairy tipped the bowl to his quivering lips, allowing him to drink in small sips. “You can’t hurl in the creek, friend. You got close that time. What happened to the flask I gave you?”

  “Gave it away.”

  Volana sighed. “You can’t win. You give them anything to stay their pain, they give it away for more tzetz.” She glanced up at Dime. “Do you use?”

  She supposed the question wasn’t odd here, but given Dime’s cloaked face, and raised back that probably didn’t pass for the right shape of wings, Dime felt surprised at the fe’pyr’s lack of other questions. And Dime realized she was, right now, very face-to-face with a fairy.

  “No,” she answered. “I’m sorry. I need to go.”

  “Be well,” Volana said, helping Dime lower Uchitar back onto the ground. Dime scanned around her, determining the safest path, as three fairies swept down from the skies, landing just in that direction. Detailed robes, colorful hair pulled into elaborate shapes—she guessed they held some rank or class. She was grateful for the dark, a heavy darkness in the cover of the forest once away from Volana’s light, and reminded herself that they could see no better than she. She stepped backward, as far as she dared without checking what was behind her.

  “Look, the cleaning pyr can’t stop cleaning the garbage!” One of the fairies laughed. Volana stood tall, her white braids swinging into place and the copper bowl cupped in her hands over top of her rounded middle. The light emanating from the stone cast her in a spotlight amidst the darkness, and Dime was transfixed by the image.

  “Sha’s waves,” one said, making an unfamiliar gesture. “Xe was puking in the creek. That’s disgusting.”

  “That’s a crime, you know,” another added. “Guess we should go get a marshal. Give xem some time in the caves. Xe can puke there, then Volana can go clean it up. Marshal! Marshal!” Xe mock-called the words but not loudly enough to really call anyone.

  “Leave him alone, please,” Volana said. “You’ve had your tease, now fly on.”

  Dime noticed the third fairy hadn’t said anything. This didn’t impress her; hanging out with jerks was no accomplishment. So, apparently fairies were just regular pyrsi. It was settled now. Maybe she’d been hoping for more.

  The jerk fairies were positioned right where she wanted to go. She could cross the creek, which would certainly draw attention to her lack of flight. She could turn around and head back the way she’d traveled, which would draw attention to her back. Or she could stand here like an odd statue and hope they . . . what was it? Flew on.

  “Whoa. What’s that?” A fairy pointed right at Dime. “Is xe carrying another one on xyr back or something?”

  “Look,” another said. “What’s wrong with xyr wings?” They stopped laughing.

  They hadn’t used any valence, that she could see. She didn’t know if they would. Yet, Ella said the Violence was just as abhorred here as in Sol’s Reach, so her worst danger was capture.

  Capture.

  It was why she was here, right? Volana looked as if she were about to speak. No, she can’t be involved in this. She straightened up.

  On my terms.

  “I am here to see the High Seat. I’m submitting to his call for my arrest.”

  Remembering Ella telling her about Suzanne’s lack of fear in talking to the Light, she added one last detail. “I will speak to no pyr except to the High Seat himself.”

  Volana dropped her bowl, hitting Uchitar in the side. She squealed, leaning down to check on him.

  “Marshal!” one of the jerks called, this time meaning it. “Marshal!” Xe flew off, screaming. Xyr companions stayed, glancing at each other and avoiding Dime’s gaze.

  She felt a little light-headed, and reminded herself to breathe evenly.

  Other fairies swept in from above, hearing the commotion. Soon, Dime was surrounded by curious onlookers. Trying to keep her attention on the pyr facing her, she couldn’t absorb all the detail, but it was impossible not to stare at the pyrsi who surrounded her, eclipsing any sense of style purported by the Ja-lal.

  Ja-lal wore tailored lines, bold adornments. Well placed juxtapositions of color. Fo-ror already surpassed this with their sea of iridescent wings, covering every shade of blue, indigo, and violet. Their hair rose and fell in sculpted shapes. Elegant robes swayed around them, cut to allow their wings freedom of movement. Jewels, chains, and baubles reflected the light of Volana’s glowing stone.

  Seeing the growing crowds, she thought that maybe she should have done this a subtler way.

  And they were all watching her. Whispering. No, she couldn’t let them see her running away, fleeing into the night. No more of that. Yet, she held her cards as she could, keeping her cloak and hood in place. The crowd grew, pyr by pyr, but no one approached her, even as Volana wrapped Uchitar around her like a huge limp sack and did her best to drag him back into the trees, out of sight of the arriving marshals. Dime wished she could help, but at least her presence kept all eyes off them.

  Dime assumed two fairies to be marshals as soon as they flew toward her. They wore plain robes and small pins, of a different shape than she’d seen—and these without the sparkle of diamonds. Dime spoke before they reached her, wanting to control the interaction as best she could. “The Seats have called for my arrest.”

  The marshals scanned the ground around where Dime stood, sniffing in disgust. “Look, pal, the Seats don’t call for the arrest of pushers. And what’s with the weird voice? Someone’s got a little fancy with xemself. Just come along with us.”

  “If you’ll promise me you’ll take me to the Seats. No other judge or forum; it must be the Seats.”

  “Promise you,” xe sputtered. “Or what?”

  Dime approached, taking deliberately slow steps, and leaned toward the marshal, whispering close to xyr ear. “A secret? I am a Ja-lal. Look at the shape of my cloak, it’s not quite right for wings, is it? My accent. I can show you the markings on my face.” She paused.

  “I will speak to the High Seat myself, or you will be the one to explain to him why you let a whole crowd of onlookers witness the return of the Ja-lal to Pito. Again. I want your promise that I will go directly to the Seats. Also, we’ll need to walk, so, however you want to handle that with this crowd. But first, before they leave, you promise.”

  Pushing her dramatic flair maybe a little, Dime held her face near his for one extra-long stride, then backed away, tugging the hood forward another time. Xe held up a hand, giving xyr partner a look that indicated to stay back.

  “I promise I will take you to the Seats.” It was said low, so only Dime could hear. Ella had told her the strength of Fo-ror honor. She hoped it would hold. “Sha, pal,” xe added.

  The marshal waved at the crowd, raising xyr voice so they could all hear. “Everyone, leave the area. This prisoner is unstable, and we need space to deal with xem. Shoo. Go on.” The crowd lifted back into the air, clearly not wanting trouble with a marshal. Xe whispered something to xyr partner, and after a quick but intense conversation, the partner flew off.

  From where Volana and Uchitar rested in the darkness of the trees, Dime realized they had been staring this whole time at her back. Hoping the gesture conveyed here, she fanned her fingers behind her, in their direction. Then, toward the marshal, she fanned her fingers over her heart. “I am ready.”

  The marshal still looked stunned. Xe glanced again at her shoulders, then jerked his head away. “Normally I’d introduce myself, but to be honest,
I want nothing to do with you. Don’t show me that stuff you talked about, and let’s just go. It’s a long walk.”

  “Thank you,” Dime said.

  Together, she and the uneasy marshal took a surreal hike through what she now understood were the underpinnings of Pito. A couple of times, pyrsi saw them, but recognizing the marshal, flew away.

  Dime wished she could take in all the creaks and sounds she heard above her and see what sort of dwellings could be built among the trees, but the drawn hood blocked her view of anything but the path in front.

  The marshal’s breaths were heavy to her side. She wondered if walking was more tiring for fairies. “Do you need to rest?” she asked. “I won’t leave. You have my word.”

  “No, thanks. I’d rather get this over with. You can understand that.”

  Dime smiled, though xe couldn’t see it.

  The agent in her tickled at this opportunity—a long walk with a government official, and the ability to ask questions that might help her later. Two things stayed her. First, the marshal was clear xe wanted nothing to do with her, yet xe was honoring her request, which could get xem in trouble. She wanted xem to know she respected both aspects of that, to keep xem on her side. Second, and more importantly, she’d declared—wisely or not—that she’d only communicate with the High Seat. Now that she’d played that card, she wasn’t ready to discard it.

  It felt like at least a bell that they walked together in silence, the marshal slowing as they went. Rather than worry about what the next turns might bring or watch the dull dirt path bounce before her, she listened to the sounds of Pito. Water, wind, and a chorus of bird calls around her—forest sounds. Creaking, flying, and distant laughter above her—what she supposed were city sounds. For a while, the noise above grew louder and more chaotic, then, as the ground grew rockier under her boots, it grew quiet again.