Melianarrheyal

by G. Deyke

  ~*~

  Mel cannot say she is a noblewoman any longer. Ty is right – she would be caught, if they even believed that she is truly noble. She asks at the servants' entrance. We stand a ways behind her, out of sight from whomever opens the door, where we can listen without being seen.

  The door opens and I hear a woman's voice: “Yes?”

  “I am looking for someone,” Mel says. Her voice is calm, determined. All her fear of faces in the dark is gone. “Perhaps you know of someone who moved here from Saluyah, maybe some three years back, with a young child?”

  “Two years,” corrects the servant. “Yes, that was Rillik Shiaran, and little Therrin. Her husband was a cook, I hear, but I never learned what House he served – but Rillik was a singer, and she came around and sang for all the nobles in Qualin. Therrin looked a bit strange, very pale, but she was the sweetest little girl I ever met. She so loved to watch us work...” she stops, a little suddenly. “Why do you ask, stranger?”

  “I have private business with Rillik,” says Mel. “Where might I find her now?”

  Of course Mel can do this, can come up with a story that will lead her to the child, but I am nevertheless amazed. So quickly, without time to think about it, she has quieted the servant's fears.

  “Her husband is cooking for another House now,” the servant says. “House Alyar, I think it was, in Quiyen. They moved thither some three seasons ago – perhaps almost a year.”

  Quiyen! Why must it be Quiyen? I said I would leave, and I left, and now I must never return. I must never see my family again. I mustn't. I am older now, so the noble who caught me stealing there and tried twice to kill me may not know me – and it is a large city, by the sea, so perhaps he won't even see me. But I said that I would leave and that I would not return and I don't want to return now. What if Yuit sees me, or Silwen, or Kiltha, or my mother? What if the kretchin children who always teased me see me and know me? I mustn't go back.

  But I am too afraid to say anything to Mel. I will follow her, as I have always followed her.

  “Thank you,” Mel says, and the door closes, and she rejoins Ty and me. “We go to Quiyen,” she tells us. “We shall need steeds. I cannot walk there now.”

  I try to feel her with my nature sense. I think she is walking away, leading us. But here in the city there are so many lives, and there is so much pain in my eye and hunger in my belly that I am always distracted from my talent.

  Ty passes me something dry and flat and rough. “Eat,” he says. “You've had nothing for days.” He walks away as he speaks, and I follow the sound of his voice, and put the thing in my mouth and chew it. It is dried meat, I judge by the taste and feel of it in my mouth. It is good. It is not enough to stop my hunger, but it occupies my mouth and perhaps it takes the edge off the hole in my stomach.

  I follow Ty silently. Whenever I begin to grow uncertain, he touches my shoulder or my arm, and so leads me on.

  The city passes by me unnoticed. I always liked darkness better than light, but now in this utter blackness I am afraid. I can see nothing at all. I assume that we are in Qualin, looking for steeds; but we could be anywhere, anywhere at all, and I might never know the difference.

  At last we come to a stable, and Mel takes three steeds from their stalls. “We shall have to forgo saddles,” she says – I do not know why – but the steeds are bridled, and I am given the reins to one of them. I cannot see the beast, but I can feel its presence beside me, and I stroke its great soft nose and its forehead between its horns. It snorts softly and licks my hands.

  I have always liked animals, all but insects. Perhaps it is because of my nature sense, but I find their presence comforting. I am glad to be with this steed now.

  “What are you doing?” Mel demands. I cringe, thinking she means me.

  “Leaving money for two of the steeds,” Ty says from some distance. “If you wish to steal a steed that is your affair, but I will not take mine without paying.”

  “Don't be foolish,” she says. “We must be on our way, now.”

  He doesn't respond.

  His voice is a little closer when he speaks again: “Shall we rope his steed to one of ours?”

  “We must ride fast,” she reminds him. “We cannot be slowed by ropes. We shall have to hope that Arri's steed follows ours.”

  I shiver, afraid that it won't. Ty says: “Steeds travel in herds, when they can. With luck, it may follow ours without guidance. But if you wish to use your nature sense –” (he must be speaking to me, now) “– t o urge your steed to follow, do so.”

  I nod. I doubt that I shall be able, but I will do the best I can. Certainly I cannot steer the beast using its reins, not without seeing the path.

  Suddenly he lifts me and places me on its back. I am startled at first, but then I am glad to be riding the steed, so near its benign presence. I lean forward and twist my fingers into its mane, keeping only the slightest hold on the reins.

  “Which way is Quiyen from here?” asks Mel.

  “This way,” says Ty. “Toward the sea.”

  I hear hooves striking the street, and then my steed surges forward beneath me. I whistle to Snake, quietly, and hold fast, and hope that it knows where it is going.