Taking Flight

“Well,” Kelder said, considering that, “maybe we could do something about that, the three of us. We could go back and build a pyre for him.” The prophecy was running through his head — a champion of the lost and forlorn, honored by the dead. “We don’t have a theurgist or a necromancer to guide his soul, but at least we could set it free.”

“No, we couldn’t,” Asha said.

“Why not?” Kelder asked, puzzled.

“Because,” she reminded him, “they took his head.”

Kelder had completely forgotten that unsavory detail. Asha was quite correct; as he had noticed, the caravan had taken all the bandits’ heads, impaled on pikes as a warning to other would-be attackers. That was standard procedure for thieves, Kelder knew, but he had never before considered the religious consequences.

If someone died and nobody burned the body, the soul would be trapped for weeks, or months, or even years, unable to fly free and search for a way to the gods of the afterlife. It would be prey to ghost-catchers and night-stalkers and demonologists, who respectively enslaved souls, ate them, or used them to pay demons for their services. That wasn’t just theory; there were enough ways for magicians to communicate with the dead that the exact nature of ghosts was well-established.

And one established fact was that you couldn’t burn a body properly unless you had at least the heart and the head. It was better to have the whole thing, but the heart and head were the absolute minimum.

Cutting off a thief’s head and posting it suddenly seemed like a rather nasty custom.

It also, it seemed, offered an opportunity to do something that was a very clear and definite step toward achieving his promised destiny. If he were to champion Asha, who was undoubtedly lost and forlorn, by freeing her brother’s soul, he would doubtlessly be honored by that dead soul; that was a good part of his fate right there.

It would also impress Irith, which he wouldn’t mind at all. He could be a hero to this little girl and her dead brother, at any rate, and without slaying any dragons or doing anything else all that dangerous.

“Maybe,” he said hesitantly, “maybe we could get his head back somehow.”

“Are you crazy?” Irith said, even as Asha looked up at Kelder with dawning hope in her eyes.

That was not the reaction Kelder had hoped for. “I don’t think so,” he replied, a bit defensively. “I mean, why couldn’t we? They don’t need them all, just for display!”

Irith frowned, opened her mouth, then closed it again.

“You are crazy,” she said.

Kelder glowered at her — this was not at all the reaction he had expected, but he was not about to back down now in front of Asha, after getting her hopes up — and especially not with part of the prophecy at stake. “It wouldn’t hurt to ask,” he said. “What harm could it do? You know that the caravan is here in town, we both saw it...”

Asha suddenly became very attentive indeed, and Irith sighed.

“Listen,” she said, “the whole thing is insane, but if you’ve just got to try it, take some time to think it over, all right? You don’t want to be roaming the streets of Angarossa at night, and I’m not going to tell you how to get there from here. Let’s just wait until morning, and if Asha’s still here and you still want to try it, we can talk then.”

“All right,” Kelder agreed. The idea of dashing out into the night was not very appealing, once he stopped to consider it, and this sounded like an excellent compromise.

“But what do I do tonight?” Asha wailed.

Kelder looked down at her, then across at Irith.

Irith’s hair was gleaming golden in the lamplight; her white tunic had somehow managed to stay clean on the road, and that and her pale skin made her look like an island of light against the dark wood paneling behind her. He and she would be taking a room at the inn, of course — it would use up almost half of his remaining funds, he estimated, but that didn’t seem important. He had been looking forward to sharing a room with her again.

The shapeshifter nodded slightly. Kelder sighed. There were, he now saw, some serious drawbacks to being a champion of the lost and forlorn.

“You can stay with us tonight,” he said, reluctantly.

Chapter Eight

There were times during the night when Kelder seriously considered trying to approach Irith, despite the little girl curled up beside the sleeping shapeshifter, but he resisted the temptation. He woke several times, as he was unaccustomed to sleeping on a wooden floor; there was only one bed, and Asha and Irith were sharing that. Each time he woke, he thought over the situation and stayed where he was.

It was easier after the candle had burned out, and he could no longer see the graceful curve of Irith’s body on the bed.

When he awoke for the day, not particularly well rested, Irith was already up and dressed and gazing out the window. Asha was still asleep, curled into a tight little ball on the bed.

Judging by the light, it was an hour or more after dawn — Kelder felt vaguely guilty about sleeping so late, but since he had certainly not slept well, perhaps it balanced out.

“Should we wake her?” Irith asked in a whisper, gesturing toward the bed.

“No,” Kelder said. “Let her sleep. The poor girl must have been exhausted. She should be safe at home, not out walking the highway.”

Irith nodded agreement. “It’s awful about her brother, isn’t it?”

Kelder nodded in return. “What about breakfast?” he asked.

“I haven’t done anything about it yet,” she replied.

“I’ll go see what’s to be had, then,” Kelder suggested.

“Do that,” Irith agreed.

Kelder found his way downstairs. In the dining room a dozen people were eating — most of them, he noticed, just finishing up. Larsi spotted Kelder as he looked around. “Are you and the Flyer ready to eat, then?” she asked. “I suppose you worked up an appetite last night.”

Kelder started to make a defensive answer mentioning Asha’s presence, but thought better of it. After all, when they had taken the room they had said it was for two, not three, and an extra charge was not inconceivable.

Instead, he simply said, “No, we didn’t.” Almost as an afterthought, he added, “But we’d like breakfast, anyway.”

“Well, you’re in luck; the chickens were laying well today, and I’ve got four eggs left. There’s salt ham, and pears, and plenty more. Eggs, ham, and tea for a copper round. Do you want a tray for your room, or will you eat down here?”

“Is there a charge for the tray?” Kelder asked.

Larsi smiled. “Well, now that you mention it, yes,” she admitted, “but it’s only two bits.”

“We’ll eat down here, then,” he said. “I’ll be right back.” He turned, and headed back to the room.

He knocked, in case one of the girls was using the chamberpot or otherwise in want of privacy, and then entered.

Asha was still curled up asleep; Irith was gone.

Puzzled, Kelder looked around, but she was indisputably not to be found anywhere in the little room. He stepped back out into the passageway, but there was no sign of her there, either, and he could see no exit save the stairs he had taken.

He had never gotten past the foot of those stairs; she could not have slipped past him unseen.

He stepped back in the room and looked around again, and this time noticed the open window.

They were on the inn’s upper floor, a good ten feet above the ground, and it was a very small window, but Irith had her magic. Kelder doubted he could squeeze through the opening himself, but Irith was thinner than he was, and once she was halfway out she could have grown wings easily enough.

He crossed the room and looked out.