by K. M. Tolan
It had been like a parade all the way back from South Watch. Qurls showered the Datha transports with flowers and sweets. Crowds gathered around the convoy during the stop at Sky Camp. Her name was often on their lips. Her popularity gained from exploits in the field made her wonder if this might avert her impending exile, or assure it. Everyone seemed to know of her trying to save Kioranna's ruler, even if few understood why. What they did not know was that the Shandi had taken her aside before the trip and told her what had happened to Shadow Canyon. Mikial had thought herself prepared.
She looked out past the blackened foundations of her home where other neighbors paced mournfully along the charred terrace. Mikial tried reminding herself that she was luckier than some. Cort Havada, her root-chewing Line Officer, died at Haken's Wall. She heard that almost four hundred Datha lost their lives in what was being called the largest land battle since the Holding's birth. Almost an entire High Strike. Three times that many Datha were in the hands of Shandi Healers.
Mikial's lips pulled back in a feral snarl as she stared through the skeletal trees. Ryan! His kind had done this as surely as if they loaded the cannon shells themselves. Is Shadow Canyon a harbinger of what humans will bring?
A rider came up her drive, wearing a tan Cothra work tunic and smudged pants. The tawny yhas kicked up ash as it was reined in. “Mikial!” Dalen greeted, jumping from the saddle. “I just heard you were back.” His brown eyes softened as they swept across the remains of her parents’ home. He stepped solemnly among the charred timbers. For a long moment Mikial let Dalen's wordless embrace carry her numbed feelings between them. “We'll bring all of this back,” he promised while stroking her grimy cheek. “All of it, Mikial."
“Nothing's going to bring this back, Dalen.” She kicked at a warped metal ring that had been part of her bed. “We thought ourselves safe here.” Mikial's eyes regarded the first stars that heralded the Curtain. “I don't think we'll ever be truly safe again."
Dalen looked around, as if searching for another subject. “Your parents?"
“Mother's staying at Healer's Ridge near her patients. My father...” She shrugged. “He's probably still at South Watch. I haven't seen much of him since the battle."
“Paleen showed me the house she chose near the river beneath Castle Ridge. It was released back to my sect after its owners moved to Sky Camp some months ago. I assume you'll be sleeping there tonight?"
Mikial gave a dry laugh. “On the floor, probably. I haven't even seen it yet. Not that it matters. No doubt I'm off to Tessana once the Tasuria has time in her schedule to boot me.” It was her turn to find another topic for discussion. “How is Paleen? I haven't seen her since this whole mess started."
Dalen pulled back a brown strand from his high forehead. “She's had a rough homecoming too, and needs the company. I'll take you over."
Concern squeezed out what little joy Mikial had mustered in anticipation of seeing Paleen again. “Now what happened to her?"
Dalen shook his head. “Her mother was setting up shop in the market when it was hit. Pella's alive, but she's badly burned. The Shandi have her at Healer's Ridge."
“Pella” Mikial's eyes closed for a moment. “You're right. Paleen shouldn't be alone."
He stared at the blackened stone foundation where the stable had been. “Your yhas?"
Mikial let out a breath. “Kikia was killed during the initial barrage near the High Keep."
“I'm sorry. I know how much a pet Kikia was to you.” Dalen gestured to his animal. “Take mine. Make the second right turn after you cross Lani's Bridge over the White River. Third house. It's back among the trees, and has lamps lining the walkway."
“And how are you getting home?"
His smile seemed pasted on. “Don't worry, I'll find a ride.” Dalen glanced at the glimmering gems in her hand. “Your dancer's necklace?"
She fingered the glob of silver and stones. “I should keep it like this. A reminder not to be so complacent."
“No you shouldn't.” His hands folded around hers and gently slid the remnants into his palms. “You go talk to Paleen. See that the both of you get some rest."
Thanking him, Mikial retrieved her pack and tied it down on the animal's saddle. Picking up her helmet, she gave Dalen a kiss. “Sorry about your airship."
He gave her hand a squeeze. “I'm glad it got you down in one piece. We're building more, by the way."
She swung up on the saddle. “Forgive me, Dalen, but right now I don't want to get near one of those things."
He gave her left leg a pat. “We're both tired. I'd like to come by tomorrow, if I could."
“Have breakfast with us. I'll try and have Paleen cheered up a little by then."
“I'll be there, Mikial."
She bent down and gave him a kiss before heading for the cross-tunnel. Only a few houses along the terraces had been spared. The Cothra were everywhere, setting up tents and driving lumber-laden transports down the blackened roads. On the other side of the tunnel, Mikial stared in amazement as an army of Cothra busied themselves on the courtyard where the High Keep once stood. New foundations were laid even as they cleared away a massive mound of rubble. Tall cranes swung metal beams off trucks. They lifted her heart as well. Perhaps Dalen's sect could put things back together again after all.
The road toward the sky port was clogged with transports. They reminded her of foraging insects returning from a picnic. She kept to the grass. Ahead, at least a dozen airships hovered in the twilight, their navigation lights flashing like hesitant stars. The field itself was lined with more dirigibles and unloaded crates. The air hummed with the whisper of propellers. She saw rudder insignia from both Kinset and Tessana. There were passengers too. She counted five trucks full of Datha heading southward to bolster frontier defenses. It was rare, but heartening, when Holdings worked so closely together. It also was an indicator of how scared the Eight Holdings had become.
Passing beneath the arches of Lani's Bridge, Mikial regarded the scored crest of Castle Ridge with a shudder. Hopefully the Shandi had made Paleen forget memories of talking to the dead as much as Mikial wanted to herself.
Below the ridge, her amber eyes swept across the terrace homes with brightly painted trims. She breathed in air that spoke nothing of cinders and ruin. Following Dalen's instructions, Mikial turned the yhas down a road that angled toward the river. The area was heavily wooded, small cottages nestled back within the trees. Many of the drives were lined with seashells and decorative rock gardens. Her nose caught the fresh smells of the river, its water rippling back reflections of lamps along the banks.
She spotted the lanterns Dalen spoke of. Hanging from tree limbs, they illuminated a stone walkway that led up to a circular two-bedroom house. A conical roof was covered by wooden shingles that also sheltered a verandah surrounding the building. Wary of low-hanging limbs, Mikial dismounted and led the yhas up the drive. The Cothra had given Paleen a beautiful home, its stained sheld walls adorned with generous windows. Lights were on inside. Tethering Dalen's yhas to a tree, Mikial pulled off her pack and went up to the door. She caught her image in the adjacent windowpane and sighed. She should have cleaned up at Shadow Canyon Inn first.
She knocked only twice before Paleen swung the door open. Her friend wore a gray smock and pants in little better shape then Mikial's uniform. “Mikial!” She spread her arms out. “What do you think of our new home?"
“Lovely,” Mikial said, exchanging hugs.
Paleen lifted the pack from Mikial's shoulders. “I've been busy trying to straighten things up, I just got moved in this morning. Haven't really had time..."
“We'll have time,” Mikial assured, catching the exhaustion in her friend's voice as she stepped inside. Paleen looked like a spent candle, her fine sandy hair as disheveled as the clothes she wore. There was little of the usual glow of excitement in her hazel eyes, and her ear fans drooped noticeably.
“Dalen's been marvelous. He's worked so hard to move the furn
iture,” Paleen continued, plucking at the boxes. “I've been so busy—"
Mikial barely caught her as she collapsed. “Paleen!"
“Her face—” Paleen choked out as Mikial knelt down, holding her. “They wouldn't let me see her face!"
“Easy,” she soothed, stroking her hair. “Dalen told me about your mother. I'm so sorry."
“I just wanted to see her, let her know I was there.” Paleen gave a wrenching wail. “I don't think she could see me! I don't think she has any eyes!"
“Paleen, look at me. Look!” Mikial gripped her friend's face.
“Is your mother going to die?"
She shook her head, her voice weak. “No. They said she's no longer in danger ... but..."
“Is she in pain?"
“No, they blocked her."
“Your mother's going to live, and she's not in pain. They'll regenerate her burns, restore her sight, and you'll have her back. All that's left is for you to give her your strength, Paleen. Right?"
“It's not that simple, Mikial.” She looked away. “I'm not like you. I can't stand to see her like this, to even think it."
“When was the last time you slept? Two days ago? Three? How do you expect to even stand up, let alone help your mother through this? Is your father with Pella now?"
“Yes.” Paleen wiped at her eyes. “Mother was just putting out some necklaces at her shop in the market. That's all."
Mikial held her shoulders. “Then tomorrow we'll scour the Holding to find her another necklace to keep for herself. You can place it in her hands. Tonight you sleep. Your mother's in good company, so stop worrying."
Paleen took a shuddering breath. “I'm sorry. The place is still a mess.” She gestured to where boxes lined a small living room to her right.
“Didn't know you had so much stuff,” Mikial remarked, helping Paleen to her feet. She edged her down a hallway narrowed by more boxes. Hopefully there was a bed somewhere to put Paleen into.
“A lot of it's yours, actually."
Mikial paused where the hall split into a bathroom and two bedrooms. “Paleen, all I have is what you saw me walk in with."
“Not after everyone heard about your house burning. First your family, then the entire neighborhood, brought things over. So did my family. Finally, your sect came up with a wagon full of furniture around noon.” She pointed briefly to the room on the left. “An entire bedroom set is in there."
“Let's just get you in yours,” Mikial said. She wrapped an arm around Paleen and helped her into the adjacent room.
“I want you to kill them for what they did, Mikial!"
She eased Paleen onto the oval-shaped bed. “Hush. I've done too much of that already. Sleep. Tomorrow we'll both visit your mother."
Pulling a green blanket over Paleen, Mikial moved some clothes from an over-stuffed yellow chair and sat down beside her. From her memories, Mikial brought out a purring evening song her own mother often had soothed her with during storms. Within a chime, Paleen stopped tossing, her breath settling into a deep rhythm that soon closed Mikial's eyes as well.
* * * *
The first thing Mikial introduced herself to the next morning was the bath. The tub was smaller than what she would have preferred, but up to the task of scrubbing away days of travel and battle. Paleen seemed closer to her usual self, having left for an early swim in the river before breakfast.
Stepping inside her own bedroom for the first time, Mikial regarded the large bed with a patchwork quilt laid out over a thick mattress. It would have made a far better resting place than that chair last night. A set of sheld cabinets with large silver knobs stood against the wood-paneled wall. They looked and smelled like they had just come from the Cothra factory. She saw a stack of clothing piled near by. Few of the outfits looked like they would fit without some work, the only exception being several combat dresses sent by her sect. An ornate lamp jutted out of a box that sat on an ironwood end table near the bed. Slipping into loose camouflage pants, Mikial wondered just how she was going to express her thanks for all of this. And to whom?
“Good morning,” Mikial said as she sensed Paleen return.
“Water's cold,” Paleen returned with a grin, passing by in a wet blue thong. Her pale skin was beaded with droplets. “What happened to your hair?” she called from her own bedroom.
“It didn't fit in the new helmets,” Mikial replied bitterly.
“It could start a whole new style. What do you think of your room?"
“I suspect I owe half the Holding my gratitude."
Paleen entered the room, rubbing herself with a thick towel. “I think I saw Dalen crossing Lani's Bridge. Breakfast for three, then?"
Mikial winced. “That's right, I invited him over this morning and forgot to tell you. Hope you don't mind."
“We've spiced sausages and a fresh loaf of bread.” Paleen dashed into her room, to reappear in a simple brown dress. “There's fruit and cream in the cooler if we want to make a salad."
“That should do,” Mikial said, heading for the kitchen. It was smaller than the one her parents had. A semi-circle of cabinets embraced an oven with two glowstone disks on its surface. A white ceramic cooler sat to the right, the wooden block across the top serving as a cutting board. The other half of the tan-tiled floor was reserved for six wooden chairs and a table that overlooked the verandah. Smiling with approval, she found a pack of sausages in the cooler and set them to cook over a glowstone as Paleen started the salad.
Mikial glanced out the windows. “Dalen's here. Looks like he found another yhas. Hope he knows more about where the plates in this kitchen are then I do."
“He should, since he unpacked them,” Paleen answered, opening up the cooler.
Mikial went outside to meet him. “You're looking formal this morning."
Dalen plucked at the long cinnamon tunic tied by his brown belt. “Design reviews.” His eyes brightened. “Speaking of new designs, I have something for you."
“Please don't tell me that's another cannon,” she implored as he pulled the cloth-wrapped object from the saddle. “Most males bring flowers or pretty gifts, Dalen. You do know that, don't you?"
Dalen shrugged. “I think it's pretty ... in its own fashion."
Her eyes widened as she held the door open for him. “You mean it is a cannon?"
“Still not unpacked, Paleen?” Dalen laughed, pushing aside a box on the round kitchen table. He sat his burden on the cleared space and pulled back the folds of cloth.
“A ... cannon,” Mikial stated hopelessly, giving a diluted smile at the revealed weapon. The last thing she wanted was another prototype. “All right, Dalen. What are those bumps along the barrel? More batteries?"
"My batteries this time,” he corrected, tapping at one of the olive rings that curved around the muzzle. “Take a look.” He glanced over at Paleen's frown. “I'll help with breakfast."
“Did you even sleep last night?” Mikial grumbled, picking the weapon up by its camouflaged stock. It was lighter than it looked, and the barrel had been reasonably counterbalanced. Adjusting the leather shoulder belt, she saw a string of red weepers engraved in the brown strap. They spelled out her name. She smiled. “Flowers after all."
“Just don't use the thing in here,” Dalen said, cutting slices from a loaf of sweet bread. “It would make this beautiful little cottage disappear."
“Better to make the humans disappear,” Paleen said, with a venomous look.
“Don't worry, Paleen,” Dalen said, patting the barrel as Mikial set the weapon down in the hallway. “See what happens when the Cothra and Datha get together? We're unbeatable!"
“Only until someone beats us,” Mikial murmured. She pulled the sausage links off the glow stone, drawing their savory sizzle into her nostrils.
Dalen shook his head in wonder. “A short while ago the Shandi were going to throttle me for using Taqurl science. Now everyone's scrambling to use it."
“I wish them well,” Paleen added. She set
three dishes on the table with a loud clatter. “Now sit down and eat, please."
It was a pleasant meal. Dalen opened windows to let in the low moans of field hawks along the river. He filled Mikial and Paleen in on the latest news, focusing primarily on the restoration efforts underway.
“There's something else I brought you,” Dalen said as they cleared the dishes.
“What? A Taqurl pistol to go with that cannon?” Mikial asked, catching Paleen's grin out the corner of her eye.
“Come, and I'll show you."
Intrigued, Mikial followed him outside. Dalen stopped at his yhas to pull out a leather sack, then proceeded across the road and down a narrow path to the river.
“Dalen?” Mikial asked. She followed him out upon a small wooden pier.
Dalen's brown eyes regarded the gossamer wisps of fog that glided silently across the waves. Turning, he pulled out the contents of his bag. “I'm sorry, but I didn't have time to make this one myself.” The rising sun shone across intertwining rows of brilliant winter crystals wrapped around the stem of a silver chalice. Carefully, Dalen set the cup at her feet.
Stunned, Mikial watched as Dalen produced a small bottle of deep red wine from the sack. He worked its round cork loose and poured some of its contents into the chalice, and stepped back, expectantly.
Mikial gave a small cry. “Love cup?"
“I believe that's what it's called,” he replied with a grin. Dalan's voice quieted to almost a whisper. “Would you care for a drink, Mikial Haran?"
“First Promise,” she said with wonder, unable to halt the stream of tears down her cheeks. Crouching down, Mikial held the cup to her breast. “They're not going to let me stay in the Holding, Dalen."
He knelt down and folded his arms around her. “I always wanted to see those mountains Tessana boasts about.” Dalen gave her wet cheek a kiss. “You won't be alone there."
“I don't want either of us to go,” she choked out. “This is my home! I've fought and bled for it. I deserve to live here."