Kindred and Wings (27 page)

He tried to hold on to that memory. “I can do that,” he replied, though his voice sounded weak to his own ears.

“You won’t be alone,” his brother assured him.

“But what about the other two seers?”

Wahirangi closed his eyes for a moment. “Nyree is the made seer. She studied with your mother and would have been made.”

“And the born seer?” Finn pressed.

The dragon’s head retracted, now towering over the mortals with the dying light running over his golden skin.

“Born but not yet revealed,” Fida whispered. “The real problem is the Phage. They have—”

Ysel held up his hand, and the woman snapped her mouth shut. “Before any of that,” Ysel said softly, “there is also someone you need to meet in the village. Someone who watched you for a long time. From the moment you came here as a child like me.”

The talespinners of Elraban Island had certainly a sense of theatre in how they lived. As Talyn crouched low over Syris' bunching shoulders, she caught glimpses of their homes through his flying mane.

The cliffs turned into a promontory that thrust out into the pounding ocean, before becoming a series of broken islands stuttering their way into the waves, smaller and shorter as they went.

The talespinners' buildings were strung between them; some perched on solid ground, others suspended precariously over nothing but air. A series of flimsy looking rope and hemp ladders provided access to these little islands. The major one—which was not that major—was styled Elraban. Talespinners did have a way of inflating every little detail.

The Vaerli flicked her gaze upwards for an instant to check on the progress of the Swoop. They seemed to be enjoying the chase as much as she was. The great Whitefoam eagle spun above her; Azrul was content perhaps to have the high thermals while the smaller birds of the Swoop dived around Talyn.

It was a blessed carefree moment that was about to be utterly spoiled—because now there was no mistaking the other visitor that the talespinners had. Wahirangi CloudLord, Finn had named him, and he was just as magnificent as the last time Talyn had laid eyes on him.

He was perched on one of the outer islands, his claws clenched on the crumbling rock, his wings wrapped around him, as he stood as tall and commanding as a sentinel. He had his back turned to the magnificence of the sea, and his huge opal eyes fixed on all the comings and goings of the talespinners. Without saying a word, he gave the deep and real impression that he was the guardian here—and the inhabitants of Elraban Island had never been safer.

Above Talyn, the Swoop finally saw him and scattered from their games about her. The dragon’s head turned to regard the lowly creatures. They might as well have been pigeons in his eyes, the Vaerli supposed.

It was, Talyn thought idly as the Swoop broke apart in squawks and keens, going to be difficult to get him to destroy the scroll she carried when he was isolated over there like that. All those problems lay ahead.

Syris pressed his head forward, and the drumbeat of his gallop increased in tempo, as if he too were feeling the sting of being smaller than Wahirangi. The nykur soon brought Talyn right to the gate of the talespinners’ refuge. From this angle, she was higher than the dragon, but his head was still in view, and she knew full well she had his attention. Those opalescent eyes carried a great weight with them when they were fixed on her.

One quick glance above told her that the Swoop was confused and not willing to land. It was understandable; up until only moments before Azrul had probably been confident that she was working for the most powerful being in Conhaero. It would take some readjustment.

Talyn swung down from Syris and looked about her. Talespinners might be daring with their architecture, but they were not much on defenses. The entrance to the whole complex of homes was one simple, woven doorway, leading out onto the rope bridges.

“Welcome, once-was Hunter,” a voice croaked only a few feet away from Talyn.

She leapt back, and had pulled out her pistol and aimed it in the direction of the greeting before she’d had time to think. It was not often that someone caught her unprepared, but as the features to one side of the entrance moved, she was able to discern that it was not part of the rock, but an actual man.

His clothing was perfect camouflage, blending in with the gray and brown rocks. He even wore a hat, which when tipped down obscured his face and resembled more of the cliff. As she got a closer look at him, he did not appear to be much of a guard for the entrance.

She was not a good judge of the age of the Manesto people, but she hazarded that this man was well past the age where moving was expected of him. He had the craggy features and deep wrinkles of one who had seen too much of the sun and weather. Yet his eyes, when they met hers, were gleaming with intelligence.

He had startled Talyn so thoroughly that she found herself wondering what powers he might possess. “How do you know that about me?” she demanded.

He grinned, exposing a generous band of broken and missing teeth. “By the clouds in the sky, the scampering of the ants, and the call of the fish in the sea.” He laughed uproariously, slapping his knee as if he had made a fine joke. “No, I tell a lie, I know because he told me. Your lover, Finn the Fox.”

It was embarrassing to feel herself flush at this impertinence, but Talyn did. She had fallen for that one. Still, she was not going to deny it—that would only make it worse. Instead she frowned at the man. “How does one gain entry to the city? Is payment due?”

She must have seriously affronted the man, because he rose off his perch and staggered a few steps toward her. “You dare,” he roared, before breaking into a round of heavy coughing. “You dare to speak of money, when legend itself is being born.” He waved his hand in the general direction of Wahirangi, who had not shifted his gaze one inch from Talyn.

The gatekeeper cast his eyes upwards and regained his smile. “But you have brought the scion’s Swoop with you, so I shall forgive you! What a joy to see them again!” His face creased into such a beatific smile that Talyn forgot for a moment all that was around her—the White Void, the cruel Phage, and even the dragon watching her mistrustfully over the cliffs.

“May I come in then, Master?” she asked hesitantly, wondering if her presence would break something. Though she had little respect for many of the newcomers to Conhaero, the Talespinners of Elraban reminded her very much of the storytellers of her own time. That was, she suspected, why it had been so easy for Finn to entrance her. It was ironic indeed that now she was pursuing him to ask for a favor.

The old man tilted his head, and held out his hand to her. “I am Koth, First Teller of Elraban, and all are welcome here.” He gave out a short laugh. “Indeed, were the Caisah himself to pay us another visit, we would still welcome him in.”

It was some kind of miracle that such people survived in Conhaero, but Talyn did not say as much to his face. What was more, he knew who she was. She did not have time to ask him what he meant by “another visit” before the air was suddenly alive with feathers and transforming women.

The Swoop dropped elegantly from the clouds on predators’ swift wings. Soon there were a dozen armored women facing the First Teller. He looked as pleased as if jewels had just rained down on him. Being a talespinner tethered to the island instead of out exploring the delights of the world did seem a little lonely.

“The Swoop of One-eyed Baraca!” Koth exclaimed, clasping his hands together.

Azrul made a bow to the First Teller, but did not enter immediately, and Talyn knew why. “A dragon?” was all the leader of the Swoop managed to croak out.

“Legends come to life makes for interesting times,” Koth observed in what had to be the grandest understatement Talyn had heard for a good long time. “We have had many visitors of late, but Wahirangi CloudLord is certainly the grandest.”

Talyn understood her friend’s reaction, the dragon—even when seen from a distance—did take away a person’s breath. Up close he was even more scintillating.

“Well,” Azrul said, her smile bright, but her eyes wide as she tried to regain her composure, “we will be grateful that he seems polite enough.”

It was not easy, but Talyn managed to conceal her grin. She knew it was not just the dragon. It had been a long time since the Swoop was welcomed in such a manner. They had been tainted by the Caisah much as Talyn had been.

Azrul cleared her throat. “We have come to speak to your dream sages, and share what our master has been experiencing of late.”

The cheery grin on Koth’s face faded. “Yes, we know of what you speak. Enter and take the first left into the sages’ chambers. I think they have been waiting for you.”

“Thank you, First Teller,” Azrul said, her politeness was rather off-putting since Talyn knew her for her more brash nature. Something had softened the edges of her friend.

She drew the Vaerli off to one side as Koth settled back in his spot, blending in with the rock face.

“I will perform my charge as I must, but I want to speak to you afterward.” She folded her hand over Talyn’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “I see something new and sad in your eyes . . .”

“It has always been there,” the Vaerli replied, “but I appreciate your care, Azrul. I too have my task.”

“Yes, we all have our duties that pull us apart,” Azrul said, and her voice was stained with genuine sadness. “Still, we will roost here until the talespinners have studied the dreams of the scion. It will be good to rest for a while.

It was apparent that today was not the day that they would get to share apple tea. Talyn thought of the last moments they had passed together, when they had really been able to talk in the sanctuary of the Lady of Wings. She did not share her doubts with Azrul, that they would never be able to have that again. Instead, she nodded and turned back to her mount.

She overheard the leader of the Swoop instructing her soldiers to wait for her here. The talespinners were bound to be leery of such a show of military force. Some remained in human form to perch on the rocks and take what rest they could, while a few others returned to the sky to keep an eye on the area. Talyn thought them brave souls, considering the dragon.

For herself, the Vaerli went to the nykur, who she could have sworn was irritated by the presence of the dragon. He was used to being the center of attention.

Ignoring his reactions, Talyn clenched her hand in his hair.

“Wait for me,” she whispered to him, “it could be a trap.”

The nykur tossed his green head and stomped one huge foot as if to remind her that he was his own creature. He had found her after all this time, and he was not likely to leave her behind now.

Talyn had a sudden thought, and turned back to Syris. “Oh and leave the old man’s fingers on his hands, please.”

The creature of chaos rolled his dark eye. She was not sure if that was a reassurance or not. Then she followed Azrul onto the rope bridge, which did not encourage much confidence when it creaked so alarmingly. Talespinners were not known for their abilities with their hands, and she wondered idly if the whole thing would end up tipping them into the rushing waves below.

Azrul found her junction easily enough, but seemed a little reluctant to go down it. She held on to the rope by her head and turned around to look at Talyn. “I don’t suppose you can tell me why you are here, can you?”

The Vaerli twisted her lips. “No, I am afraid not. Don’t worry, I will find you later.” She hated lying to her friend, but she would not tolerate pity from her. Every sorry thing that had happened since they parted she would keep to herself.

The leader of the Swoop gave a sharp nod and headed off in the direction she had been told to go. It was hard for Talyn to tell, but she got the impression Azrul was hurt. So be it. The Vaerli would rather have her friend angry with her, than feeling other softer emotions.

Unlike Azrul, Talyn had been given no instructions to find Finn. It was largely typical of their meetings. As she picked her way along the rats’ nest of swaying tubular rope bridges and tiny rooms with the occasional talespinner teaching a class, she caught brief glimpses of the dragon through the gaps in the walls.

The sun was beginning to set, and the light was striking every smooth, gleaming surface of him. The beast had undoubtedly picked the spot for this very reason. They might be mighty, but Talyn had heard the stories—dragons could be excessively proud creatures. There was certainly much to be proud of.

It did not go unnoticed by Talyn that Wahirangi’s head turned to follow her as she scrambled about the rabbit warren that was Elraban Island. After a while it started to annoy her instead of frighten her. She knew a little about the Naming of Kindred, and she knew more than a little about Finn the Fox. What Talyn was fairly sure of, was that he still had no real concept of what he had done. Perhaps she would explain it to him, just in case things started to take a turn. She might not have the chance when the Phage called her to heel again.

She was thinking about that, rolling the idea about in her head, when she heard his voice. Talyn stopped abruptly, swaying slightly on the rope bridge, with her head cocked to one side. At first she thought he was telling a story—maybe educating a few trainee talespinners, but then the rhythm of the speaking told her that it was a conversation, not a myth being retold.