“But, what about you?” I wondered, unwilling to turn away from my unexpected savior and mentor. “Won’t you come?”
The woman shook her head, her long tresses covering her face. “Those of us that are here have already been rejected by the major houses. We’re setting up our own place here in the shadows of the Pith. We should be safe enough.” Suddenly, the woman’s calloused fingers lashed out, gripping my tiny arm as she pinched the muscles. “But you—you’re tough. A half-wild hellcat like you will surely be chosen by one of the houses. You’ve got what it takes to survive what is coming.”
I never knew the woman’s name. It had always been a nagging regret for me. If she hadn’t filled my hungry belly and guided me to Omphalos, I would never have joined the House of Vultures. I owe her everything, and I never even thanked her, I berate myself, wondering how long she’d managed to live on her own.
I returned to the minor house markets only once after that day. The eyes of a child are far kinder than those of the adult. I’d viewed those stalls as a lifeline. It tore my heart to see how small the place truly was. These minor markets people live more like feral dogs than human beings. I’ve pitied them ever since.
My vision dulls as my recollection of this place grows stronger. It’s like I have no control over my thoughts. My mind focuses on the memory of the River Sangre, and I feel myself drawn to its bank, coldly observing the way the water’s channel turns sharply to the left. Pain bursts to life in my forehead, pounding with my heartbeat as I become hypersensitive to the light glistening off the water’s foamy waves.
“By the last major bend in River Sangre! That’s where we’ll find them!” Siri roars her commands to the other Ddraigs that follow behind us. Answering howls thunder through the sky, affirming that the other Ddraigs will continue to join us on the quest to find their warriors.
“You…manipulated my memory,” I accuse with a stutter, wondering if my Ddraig has used this tactic on me earlier. The pain in my head dulls to a slight throb, like the afterglow of a severe migraine, a token to remind me of the agony I’ve endured. The idea that Siri can somehow alter my mind brings a scream of terror to my throat. “How? How can you do such a thing?
“I didn’t change your recollection of the minor markets, Iris.” Siri snorts in exasperation as she angles her wings in the direction of the last bend in the river. “Everything we needed to find the marketplace was all in your feeble memory. I simply helped you focus on the important parts.”
“But at what cost, Siri?” I accuse, brushing my hand to my forehead as if I could wipe away the painful sensation that just ripped through my skull.
“Sorry,” she mutters, but her tone sounds unapologetic. “If you spent less time reminiscing over your childhood days, and more time on the information I needed, I would not have had to use such drastic measures.”
The idea that my Ddraig can affect the thoughts in a memory makes my blood run cold. I say nothing else to Siri, and I try in vain to throw a mental shield around my suspicions. What do I do when even my thoughts aren’t trustworthy? How can I be sure that what I am thinking is really just my opinion, untarnished by Siri?
“Have I given you any reason not to trust me?” Siri barks, turning a furious silver eye on me as her patience wears thin. Yet before I can answer, Siri sighs, filling the air around me with smoke. “I’m sorry; I forget that in your finite mind we’ve only known each other for a short time.”
“I…I’m sorry too,” I whisper, truly meaning my words. “Trust has never been my strongest attribute, Siri. You’ve been completely honest with me as far as I can tell. I’m just feeling overwhelmed.” We fall into an awkward silence, and I try in vain to regain my composure. Panic threatens to choke me; I can feel its fickle claws grasping at my vocal cords, crushing the air out of my lungs. It is a wild animal inside me, and no matter how hard I try, I cannot seem to cage it.
If I had been walking from the Pith to the minor markets, the journey would have taken at least a week. However, in flight it will be only a matter of minutes. “Siri, how do we get the people to listen?” I wonder, a shiver of fear threatening to rattle my vertebrae out of alignment. I can feel my terror creeping across my skin, raising gooseflesh in its wake as it travels toward my heart. “They will take one look at us coming at them from the sky, and they—”
“Tell the truth.” Siri offers her suggestion as she spots the thatched awnings of the permanent buildings in the minor markets. “That’s all you can do, Iris. The truth is your only weapon.”
Before I have time to plan a speech, Siri begins her circling descent toward the minor house markets. The other Ddraigs follow suit, spiraling their brightly colored bodies until we resemble a
