by Daniel Casey
Kira dropped Fery’s hands and immediately slouched, “Oh, no, please…not again.” She whined.
“Come.” Fery grabbed her hand and pulled her along. Kira didn’t resist much but made sure that Fery had to force her along.
“I hate this so much.”
“It will be a good way to pass the time. And besides, you need to learn to defend yourself.” Fery was playfully assertive.
Several braziers flush to the stone walls illuminated the hall. The last time Kira was in the room she was being turned over, it was dark then and she had stood not at the head of the room but in the center where Fery stood now. Kira had expected being here again to be difficult but it was turning out to be the least difficult thing about the day. She was exhausted, frustrated, and certain that Fery was sick of her ham-fisted attempts.
Fery set down the batons and stood for a moment in thought, “Well, perhaps we can try something that’s a bit more fun.”
“Has any of this been fun?” Kira was on the verge of having her pouting turn to rage.
“Come now, the rope and clubs are difficult. No one said this would be easy.”
“Yes you did.” Kira scoffed, “You said it’d be fun and that it was the simplest thing in the world to learn.”
“Well, I’m having fun.” Fery gave a wry grin, “And just because something is simple doesn’t mean it’s going to be easy.”
“Now you sound like your father.”
Fery picked up two batons with long silver ribbons attached to them, “Now this is why it’s called ribbon dancing; this is the piece most people love to see. And remember, I’ve been doing this since I was two and you’ve just seen these for the first time ever.”
She walked to the center of the hall, turned to face Kira and then bowed. She kept bowing until she looked bent in half, her arms were straight out to her sides and she released the bundles of ribbon she was holding and pointed the batons outward. She seemed painfully still. Suddenly, she flung her upper body up and did a series of backwards flips. Her legs were like scissors through the air, as Fery’s body flipped all the while she was spinning her wrists and the ribbons seemed to come to life.
They spun out wide like silvery tornados and even when Fery stopped, her legs outstretched she seemed to be writing on air as her arms entwined and the ribbons flew furiously dynamic. Still sitting low, Fery did a pirouette that slowly rose her up, the ribbons wrapped themselves around her until she was standing again, then she froze and all movement stopped.
Fery’s eyes fixed on Kira as she broke the stillness, racing towards her, making huge circles with the twirling ribbons until she was face to face with Kira encircling them both in the ribbons. Smiling, Fery then tossed the batons behind her, did two backward somersaults, caught the batons, which seemed magically attracted to her hands, and pulled herself up into the folded position she had begun in.
Kira was astounded, wide-eyed, “There is no way I’ll be able to do that.” Fery laughed as she broke her form and was suddenly just an ordinary girl again, “That was magical, Fery, I…”
“Now you know why this is our sport.” She handed the batons to Kira, who took them gingerly.
“I can’t make these do what you did.”
“Yes you can, don’t get distracted by the body movement. Did you see how I was twirling the batons?”
“Yeah, your wrists were constantly moving.”
“Exactly, the baton is a pencil. The ribbon is the line you are drawing only it lasts longer than a moment.”
Kira held the baton and casually flicked and spun it, “I don’t know.”
“All the pieces,” Fery gestured to the ball, the rope, and the clubs, “Are about precise control, balance and movement. Every gesture is deliberate but every gesture looks completely natural or spontaneous.”
“That’s the trick.”
Fery smiled, “That’s the trick.”
“I feel like a child finger painting in front of a master.” Kira sighed as she stepped aside continuing to flick the baton learning how the ribbon responded.
“Yeah,” Fery said in a playful tone nodding, “And I’m not really very good either…”
“Oh shut up.” Kira snapped as she spun around and the two laughed.
Just then, the door at the far end opened and Fery’s father entered. Kira felt safe with Consul Landis, he had spoken in her defense when she was brought here and he was the first to show her kindness and apologize for the cruelty she endured. He seemed, like his daughter, to be genuinely concerned about Kira. She had never encountered this sort of absolute kindness, one that never hid things from her or looked to get something from her.
“I see you two are training.” Wynne said.
“I wouldn’t call it that, Fery has been,” Kira said, “I’ve been making a fool of myself.”
“It’s always difficult at first and you’re at a stark disadvantage.”
Fery came up to her father and embraced him, “She’s better than she lets on, she’s smart and she’s seeing what she needs to do.”
“It’s just doing it that doesn’t quite seem to work.” Kira tossed the ribbon batons down next to the other equipment.
“You’ll find that’s true in nearly all cases,” Wynne stepped back a bit and raised his hands, “Kira, I have something for you.”
This was a surprise; Wynne never gave gifts. In fact, he always seemed a bit too reserved for any kind of outward affection. Kira gave a wry smile, “A gift? I don’t see what I’ve…”
“No,” Wynne shook his head, “Not a gift. Not really one at all.”
His expression was serious as he turned slightly and waved in the retainers that lingered in the doorway, “Bring him here.”
The guards each held an arm of a man who had his hands bound before him and a hood over his head. He walked with ease and didn’t look hurt.
“You’re showing me a prisoner?” Kira was uncomfortable; she was remembering herself standing bound on this floor with the rough hands of guards keeping her still even though she never moved.
“Not a prisoner, a stranger.” Wynne walked over to stand in front of the man; he nodded at the guards who pressed him down to knees. They weren’t treating him roughly, yet it still felt bizarre to Kira.
“Kira, take a moment.” Wynne’s cadence was even and tender, “Don’t forget—you’re both safe here with us.”
Her mind was racing; she could hear the noise of her blood in her ears pumping faster and faster. Her eyes darted between Fery, Wynne, and the hooded figure. Fery was suddenly at her side, a hand on her back, whispering to her that she was fine, that everything was under complete control.
“We found him yesterday,” Wynne said as he pulled the hood off, “And it was decided that you needed to be the one to make the decision about him.”
He had a couple of small cuts on his forehead and was unshaven; Kira shuddered and lunged at him. She fell to her knees and embraced him.
“Found you.” Roth whispered.
Chapter IV
Rikonen
17th of Mabon
“How?” Kira asked.
Roth sat at the dining table slowly drinking the ayran Wynne had given him after they had moved to Kira and Fery’s apartment and unbound him. He wasn’t hurt, he wasn’t worn or weary, and he looked like he did when Kira had first saw him on the marsh. Only this time, the edge in his voice was reserved for Wynne and Fery, while to her he spoke in a tone that betrayed a heavy relief.
“I was able to get out of the binds but not before I blacked-out. I washed up on shore west of Arderra,” Roth took a deep drink, and then continued, “Not really on shore, a boy found me in the muck when the tide was out. His father patched me up and I convinced him to come with me here to find you.”
“That’s a lot of good fortune.” Wynne said plainly.
Roth looked him over and nodded, “Since Kira ran into me,” he laughed and Kira blushed, “I should’ve been dead a couple of times now. I’ve certainly b
een concussed more than I would’ve liked.”
“Why did you come?” Fery asked more to herself than to anyone, but Kira took it up.
“Yes, why did you come for me?”
Roth stared across the table but not at anyone, he played with a piece of bazlama tearing pieces of it off absentmindedly.
“That question would seem to dovetail with my own concerns.” Wynne assented.
Roth nodded, “Yeah, I suppose I can’t just say out of the goodness of my heart.”
“I think we all feel that a more nuanced explanation is necessary.” Wynne said lightheartedly and Roth chuckled.
“Alright, here’s what I know.” Roth looked at them all, his tone assertive, “I convinced a dear friend to take what I thought was you and your paladin to Bandra.” He pointed at Kira, “I saw you being shuffled on to the wrong ship and when I went to go investigate…”
“They bashed his head in and threw him in the brig with me.” Kira finished his though turning to Wynne and Fery.
“Exactly.”
“So…revenge?” Fery asked.
Roth shook his head, “That captain…I do owe him a good deal of hurt but no.” He gestured for Fery to pass him a dish of kofta, “I need to make sure my friend is alive. I owe her. But before I can do that…”
“You needed to rescue Kira,” Fery said plainly handing him the plate, “for what? Leverage? Insurance?” She seemed to Kira to be especially suspicious of him. Roth sniffed the plate of kofta, raised an eyebrow, cut one open to examine it further, then made a face and set the plate aside without taking any.
He looked at Fery, “Because I know Kira needs to know what happened to Goshen.” Roth popped a bit of bread into his mouth and continued as he chewed, “She and I, there are people we care about being endangered through no fault of their own.”
“Do you think Goshen is still alive?” Kira asked.
“Jena wouldn’t have let him be killed,” Roth nodded at Kira, “I think they both are, but I can’t say for certain. I am certain they need help and I’m responsible.”
“Bandra is on the other side of the sea.” Fery whispered.
“It’s not so far.” Wynne assured her.
Roth snickered, “Cute how you make it sound like you’re going to let us go.”
Kira made a face, “What do you mean?” and turned to a frowning Wynne, “What does he mean?”
“You know what I mean.” Roth pointed a finger at Wynne.
“I think Roth is suggesting it’s time we explained why we had you brought to us.”
“Suggesting,” Roth laughed, “Suggesting.” He shook his head and poked at the food on his plate, “It took me weeks to get here and in that time you haven’t bothered to explain yourself? What have you been doing? Cozying up to her?” He turned to Kira, “Have they been weaseling their way into your confidence? Trying to convince you all this was a big mistake, they never intended to harm you?”
“They’ve been nothing but kind…”
“Because they hired smugglers to be the bad guys. Have they hid behind that?” Roth raged, he flipped the plate in front of him over and Fery jumped, “No one hires mercenaries thinking they’re not going to do harm.” Roth stood, pointed at Wynne, and in a bitter growl said, “You knew the kind of tactics they’d use, you knew but you didn’t care. You just wanted this woman hijacked. Brought to you to have under your thumb.” Roth threw his fork down onto the plate with a piercing clang, “I’m done explaining myself. It’s your turn now.”
He turned away from the table and closed his eyes. Just then, a couple of guardsmen came into the room and were about to restrain Roth when Wynne stood, “There is no problem here, you needn’t stay.” The guards looked at Wynne, hesitated, “We are safe. Please step outside.” Wynne’s voice was calm but assertive and the guards departed.
Wynne came around the table to where Roth was standing; he didn’t touch him but reached out his hand gesturing for him to sit. Roth’s eyes narrowed, but he slowly sat back down. Wynne turned to Kira, “We brought you here.”
Fery broke in, “The Alders did. We didn’t know.” She pointed to herself and Wynne. “We weren’t here…”
Wynne raised his hand toward Fery, nodding. He Sat next to Kira and let out a long sigh, “We Alders hired the smugglers to bring you—just you—to us. But we didn’t want you harmed yet we willfully ignored the fact that they would probably have to harm any guardians accompanying you.”
Kira knew this; she hadn’t heard it aloud before, and she hadn’t let herself dwell on the fact. She wasn’t shocked; she was just tired, so tired of all this and she just wanted to be home. She could feel her face reddening and eyes welling up with tears. She felt her nose begin to run and she began to heave a bit, at once covering her face with her hands. Anger, fear, and guilt were coursing through her veins, but in her mind, she just felt ashamed, an overwhelming sense of shame. She felt someone touch her shoulders and recognized it as Fery. There was a moment of relief, but it didn’t last.
Roth was silent, clearly stewing. It seemed as though he was about to lash out. When Wynne looked to him, he found a pair of eyes burning into him. He didn’t flinch but met Roth’s gaze with his own fixed, calm demeanor. Fery had given Kira a cloth and it appeared as though Kira was herself again.
Wynne turned away from Roth to Kira slowly, unblinking and continued “We need you, Kira, so we can save our city and prevent The Cathedral from taking our lands for their own. You’re more important than you know.” He reached out and took ahold of her hand, “You been used since you arrived in Sulecin. Some here mean to use you.” Wynne tilted his head toward Roth, “Some here only want to protect you. Fery and I are asking you to help us—just her and I. If you decide not to, then we’ll see you home.”
Kira’s face was puffy and her eyes raw. She took everyone in, then nodded, “Tell me more.”
Essia, 18th of Mabon
They moved at a leisurely pace, Roth at the front, then Fery, Kira, and Wynne bringing up the rear. The road was hardly more than a cow path that cut a thin line along the hills, but it gave an excellent view of the city. Wynne was sure they could travel this route without threat from the city mobs or the rovers scouring through the dying fields. For Kira, it was just one more new vista. The hills outside of Rikonen were low, occasionally some deeply wooded coulees would appear, and soon flattened out to pure farmland. But what had once been wide, fruitful fields of rapeseed and soja with some smatterings of goosefoot here and there were now a sick ochre color with finger-like drifts of grey dirt choking them out. When the siege had begun, it was these fields that were expected to sustain the city until an agreement could be reached. It looked as though they could have, but they were quite dead now. There may have been pastureland but the cattle, sheep, and goats were gone—slaughtered to feed the city or driven out of Rikonenese reach to Heveonen.
Kira was losing herself in the fields, mulling over what Fery had told her of the city’s devolution, of surviving in burnt out and abandoned buildings, and scurrying through the alleys to escape gangs and cannibal rovers until the civics found her. It was only because of her, of Fery’s insistence that her father be found either dead or alive, that Wynne had been found and brought into the refuge. Wynne reminded Kira a little of Goshen, his conviction and steadiness, but he was still a mystery. It was clear that Wynne had his own agenda, but it was equally clear that he was entirely devoted to the city’s redemption. The other Alders had wanted to expel Roth, turn him over to The Blockade to curry some kind of favor, and probably also to mend fences with that revolting pirate. Wynne had stood ardently against the notion and had called out many of the Alders for allowing themselves to be broken by the siege. Listening to Wynne chastise his fellow citizens was bizarre. He never accused any of them, but had a queer way of stating facts that seemed to provoke shame and guilt. Yet he never exempted himself, he acted and spoke as though he himself had committed all the mistakes. The Alders tried to defend themselves, they
argued but not a one seemed to show anger at him; they all seemed to absorb deliberately the castigation. Kira had been used to seeing her guardian preach and exhort, and though those he spoke to were deferent, they weren’t like this. The esteem that Wynne held with these Alders was something she had never seen.
This made Roth such a contrast alongside Wynne. Neither were ready to trust the other just yet, but it was also clear that the two wanted to be friends. Roth had pressed Wynne at every turn in his explanation of why Kira and Goshen had been abducted. He had weaseled out of Wynne details of his time lost in the city and how the civics and Alders had plotted in his absence. Roth seemed mollified, coming to see Wynne as a kind of clean up man, pressed into service to fix the mistakes of lesser leaders. Coupled with the history Kira had told him about Fery, how the two were so entirely dedicated to each other, Wynne had won Roth’s respect.
Seeing Roth alive had given Kira hope, hope that Goshen was still alive and that they all could find some way out of this senseless drama. Nothing was making sense in Kira’s mind, there were too many times when she was simply dumbfounded. Why had this happened now? How had she been drawn into this quagmire? What could she do? In the ship’s hold, all Kira had wanted was to go home—see her stepfather the Vicegerent again, see him preach in the family chapel, and to feel the sure warmth and confidence of the congregations. She was losing that desire the more time she spent with Fery, not because of anything Fery did. Kira saw what it was like to be without ritual, her prayers were feeling more and more like burdens. Empty of effect like rote gestures. Yet she wasn’t wavering in her faith. She felt the Light in her still, but it was different now, it burned in a different shade.
Kira had always known she was Silvincian, known that her birth parents were from Ardavass, but never who exactly they had been. She had come to Sulecin and the arms of The Cathedral as a girl of three years when then Canon Sinclar Somerled had taken in not only her but also a large number of Silvincian refugee children from Carlisle’s campaign. Sinclar had made Kira a part of his family, had made sure she was taught by the most rigorous alms, and she had thrived. So much so that Kira had not only gone into the sisterhood but excelled there. The faith was her whole world. After hearing what Wynne had to say, what he had discovered in his library and through his covert contacts within the Seven Spires about her birth parent’s legacy thrusting her into these machinations, her head spun. When she looked out over the Rikonense lands, up towards the Siracenes her mind calmed but never ceased whirling.