A startled cry truncated to a whimper within his chest, the smell of singed hair and the whoof of burning fabric. Face against the heat, mouth lax and eyes wide, he stared into the flames as if he couldn’t believe what was happening.
Inhya fell upon him, knotting fingers in his hair and tunic, hauling him back. Tokela slammed against her and they both went sprawling, flailing, rolling to douse what Fire remained. On his back beneath her, Tokela struggled. Inhya gripped tighter and he gave a tiny, panicky moan, kicked out. His heel caught her thigh and Inhya released him with a grunt, watched in disbelief as he scuttered back on his hind end, holding his burned arm tight against his body. The ends of his forelock fell across his cheeks, a tattered and singed curtain. His breath came in a thin, wheezy pants. Again, she started for him, but he cowered like the lowest cur in a pack, retreating until he backed into the same weapons pillar against which the wyrhling had lounged.
Inhya gritted her teeth. It was not going to be pretty, but she needed to see just how severe his burns were. She scooted closer, reached out. “Tokela—”
Another wheeze, and he jerked away as if her touch burned him more than Fire had. Grim, she caught his fingers, held firm as he tried again to shrug her off, retreat.
“Tokela!” It was sharp as she yanked his arm towards her. “Let me help y—”
Her voice stuttered to a halt.
The tunic sleeve had burnt away half up his arm. The scorch of the woven fibres lingered in her nostrils. She could taste, acrid, the scant fur of his arm all singed. But…
No flesh had burned. His forearm was whole, unmarked. His skin was cool, with the pallor of a dead thing. And the gaze he flung against hers…
Inhya witnessed it, plain: shadowling sparks of ghost-mist, with scattered clouds and rain and jagged poles of hot silver, StarFire against indigo night.
And he kept staring at her: the babe she’d pulled from both his dam and River, who’d taken Wind without a sound and looked at her with dark eyes that kenned all she was, and how. And even now as then, try as Inhya might, she saw nothing of Lakisa, nothing of Talorgan who was the only father Tokela had known… nothing of their People.
A wail built within her chest, strangled itself into a small whimper. She scurried back on her haunches like to frightened rodentKin beneath a winged shadow.
“You have been with them!” she stammered. “With Chepiś. That is what you were doing at the forbidden place. How many times have they seen you, touched you?”
StarFire flickered, faded. “H-how?” Tokela husked, too shocked to dissemble.
“You are not the only one who has seen Other,” Inhya hissed, and rolled to her feet, and fled.
17 - Shelter
“Ai, wyrh-chieftain! I thought I might find you hereabouts.”
So close! Just a matter of a few more strides and he’d have made it. With a gusty sigh, Našobok turned from the beckoning hide of Palatan’s and Aylaniś’ tipo. He knew his expression was less than pleasant; neither did he care.
But the little Kin of Skybow cock just puffed all the more. Well, Galenu had guts, Našobok had to give him that.
“I thought to find a bed, a meal, and two lovemates to share both thisdark. You, Galenu stone-chieftain, are none of those.”
The Skybow cock deflated slightly—but then, Našobok knew just where to wing him. “Not all of us have more lovemates than we know what to do with—”
“Now you’re just jealous.”
“—or even wish to have them.”
Našobok snorted and let his head fall back to contemplate the dusky Sky basket, just starting to fill with Stars. “Tell me another, old one.”
“You did say you were interested in my cargo?” Galenu reminded.
Poke the old one sideways, but he was right. Našobok sighed. “How dangerous?” Despite himself, a tiny tickle of anticipation flowered in his belly. First Running had another brace of Suns, and then it would be time to depart. A break from normal trading routine would be welcome, not just for himself but his shipmates.
Instead of answering, Galenu chuckled. “The oških wearing you out, is he?”
“Is your oških the outwards cargo? I could wrap Mordeleg in a very tight bag and troll him overboard. He’d make lovely bait.”
“You tempt me.” Galenu shrugged. “Mordeleg is under the eyes of two of my most trusted bondlings. They’ve no liking for him, believe me, and they’ll see he—and his message—are delivered starting nextSun.”
The old khatak was quite serious. Still, Našobok couldn’t resist one last jab. “Meaning you don’t want to face his dam when she hears.”
“Of course.” Galenu’s teeth gleamed. “Have you met Mordeleg’s dam?”
Našobok’s bark of laughter echoed sharp against the trees. “Well, old khatak, you mentioned danger?”
“I did.” Galenu’s face lost any levity. “I wasn’t exaggerating, either. You’re the only one I know who’ll dare Serpentback and Mirror Cove.”
Našobok frowned. Serpentback was a Riverling, true, but only slightly smaller than the great She who’d spawned Her and aptly named, twining treacherous through mountain passes. Many thought it easier to go the coastal route and around—except “around” held tricky currents and fierce grandfather Winds, was laced with Matwau slavers, pirates, and thieves, and for good measure dotted with places twisted and tainted by ancient Chepiś Shapings.
Mirror Cove was itself a Chepiś place.
“What could possibly be worth that journey?” Našobok queried. “What do you want so badly, old khatak?”
“An instrument common enough to Chepiŝ. But to us it could have immense value. I tried to obtain one from my friends, but they refused the first time and I’ve not seen them since. I had to widen my search.”
“So you’re buying contraband.”
“I wouldn’t say that.”
“I would. This new source of yours is willing to trade in something others have refused. By any definition, that’s contraband.”
Galenu was puffing up again. Nothing more
