It made her feel small.
And a fraud.
When so many revered her, and there was so little to truly admire.
“Aye,” Edgard agreed. “That she does. Should have seen her when our first little one was set to be born. Never could you imagine how quick her fingers worked, the trunk soon full to bursting with all that a babe might need.” He chuckled to himself, the memory clearly fond. “She still likes to remind me that we needed almost all of it. Messy things, youngin’s. Sure you know that, though.”
Penryn bit her lip and nodded, not wanting to voice a falsehood aloud.
“She’s married now, our first that is. Had her first babe quite a while back. There’s nothing like being a father, but nothing like being someone’s Pap either.” His smile was wide, his eyes a little distant, like he was already imagining a homecoming.
She hoped he valued the simplicity of his life.
Yet one glance at his expression, and she knew that he did.
And envy prickled, hot and unwelcome, yet potent all the same.
The path before them took a gentle bend to the left, the trees thinning quickly. Nothing had changed much, yet she found her hands straying to her hood, pulling it upward.
Hiding.
She could not do this. Not as she was. Quavering and timid.
She pulled on reserves she was not certain she actually possessed, sitting up straighter in the cart. They had yet to see another person, but the wood was clearly coming to an end, and she was uncertain of what lay beyond.
And she had to be ready.
The quilt she folded in three neat turns and set to the side of her. Edgard glanced at her often, but said nothing, his own posture improving as hers did.
And then a chime, bright and sharp when it met her ears, followed by others when time enough had lapsed with the first.
“Ah, we’ve been spotted then,” Edgard explained with a strange hint of remorse. “Our time is coming to an end.”
She glanced at him, and wondered how long he had kept watch for her. He wore his garb and pin with pride, a part of something meaningful, even if she was certain his days were filled with as much tedium as hers had been of late.
But there had been wonder too.
Perhaps that was true for him as well.
Edgard sounded almost sad at the prospect, and she glanced at him quickly. He was the first of his kind that she had ever spoken to, and she would remember him. There would be little cause for them to interact henceforth, and he had been kind, even if she had not truly been able to appreciate his manner, too caught up in her own thoughts and beating back feelings too big to truly hide. Eyes once blue were now a watery grey as they regarded her in turn, lines crinkling about his mouth as he gave her a hasty smile, suggesting through the creases and crevices that he had known a life full of such expressions.
She was glad, for his sake.
She wanted to thank him, to even enquire how many years he had devoted to this service, but the words were lodged firmly in an unwilling throat. Despite her desire for civility, there were greater holds on her attention, ones that could not be ignored.
The fortress of these sages was not like the one she had known. There was no wall surrounding it, the wood opening to reveal a stretch of buildings, no propped upon crossings of wooden ties to elevate them, but stationed firmly upon the ground. They were taller than she had imagined, however, although she could not immediately see how the upper floors were accessed.
She bit her lip, considering.
If she tilted her head just so, if she imagined them in differing shades of stones, reddish in hue rather than the earthen colours of brown and grey, it was possible they resembled her previous dwelling.
Which meant stairs, for legs and feet rather than wings.
People like her.
She would never see the winged folk again, and the knowledge of that settled into a tight knot in her belly that threatened to sicken her.
So she pushed it away, allowed the cold emptiness to creep through her that she had nursed and fostered so well when she thought she might despair, withering in the waiting at the sages’ keep.
They continued down the road, the clatter of the wheels turning from hard-packed dirt to one of stone startling her greatly.
She stared straight ahead as the people emerged, some with fledglings clutched to their sides, others holding tightly to small hands as if to ensure they did not run boldly into the street to examine the happening more closely.
And still, the chimes rung out.
The faces of the men and women they passed were sombre, yet curious, and she was heartened, if only a little, that there was no great hostility to be found there.
At least, not yet. Not until she was forced to confront them for their wrongdoing, for a bargain struck long ago that had been broken.
The knot in her stomach tightened and she drew in a calming breath.
The keep here had no walls, and was not sequestered at the border of the lands. Instead it appeared suddenly at the centre of the town, strangely invisible despite its great height once they were truly upon it.
She was not certain she had ever seen a structure so grand. She could barely make out the full span of it, and it took a great deal of self-control to keep from craning her head to see just how high it went into the sky.
The time it must have taken to create such a thing.
The waste.
But what captivated her attention most were the figures lining the walls of it, nestled into crevices and keeping careful watch.
Not of flesh, but of stone, although so
