CYRIC:
The next day was somehow easier than the previous ones had been. No matter what I did, Ellia acted the same. I could be cruel. I could ignore her. I could laugh at her. I could stare at her. Nothing made a difference. She rode close, and she talked endlessly, and she made open cases about how foolish it was to follow Lox, but always in a fleeting way that made it impossible to argue with her.
But since nothing I said or did mattered, I stopped having to say or do anything. I wouldn’t let her speak badly of Akadia in front of the soldiers, but she didn’t much try to. They were giving us space since last night .
We cleared the pass of Norgand by mid-morning and left the crags in the distance by noon. They were now nothing more than just one of many high marks of stone that lined the horizon in almost all directions. To the west, more mountains. To the northwest, snowy ones. Only to the east and a little south and north of it was open sky, but everywhere was grass.
“I’ve never imagined such grass,” Ellia had exclaimed. “It’s so wonderfully green. Have you ever seen such grass, Cyric? Do they have grass like this in Birmha?” she’d asked a soldier. And then the lot of them had come close and begun a conversation about their homelands and the shades of grass each possessed; all of which—it was unanimously agreed—were not as green as the valleys of Echren.
Then she’d coaxed Tosch (with granted animal flattery) into racing her and Fauna over the hills. This, I had to admit, hadn’t taken much work, because I was happy as anyone to race when given the chance. I’d trounced her immediately, then used the opportunity to insult Tobias, his poor horse-training skills, and his even poorer talent for keeping himself alive. To this she’d only laughed and said, “Do you remember how you wouldn’t kill him, Cyric? Even though Lox asked you to. I’ll bet Lox was surprised you disobeyed him.”
Before I could say anything, she’d hitched her reigns. “Now only let Tosch canter and I’ll gallop and we’ll see if I can’t beat you.”
The challenge of more competition did its job of distracting me and we went on for another hour, Tosch and I winning again until we were handicapped to trotting, and then, finally, Fauna was faster.
Before the city came into sight we were stopped by a group of Echrians. They came from a guard-tower stationed just beside the dirt road that led to Echren. I worried we were in for trouble, but they only pointed out an inn a mile ahead and said that it was necessary that horses be left outside the city—for the quality of the place was such that it tended to drive them mad. I might have objected, except that I was, justifiably, sore from riding; also the odds were that if Echren was something that bothered regular horses, there was no telling how Tosch might react.
Because I had no desire to announce our presence to the entire city, once we reached the inn, I had six of my ten soldiers change out of their armor. All of us bathed. Provisions were stored. My personal things—consisting mostly of the constellation myth papers and maps, also a gift for the rulers—I carried in my own bag. And of course, finally, Ellia was made to change into a dress. An Akadian dress, not a Shaundakulian one, though it was in the style of a dress of court. Structured and ornate; thick with folds around the arms and bottom, happily tight everywhere else. It was red with a lining of yellow. The red was brighter and more orange than usual: vermillion red that would likely match Echren’s birds. It had been chosen with this in mind.
When she emerged first from the inn with all my soldiers still inside, I thought it a credit to the innkeeper’s wife, who must have done the job of getting her ready very efficiently. I stood some distance away in the grass. Ellia sighed as she approached me.
“I swear I should never like to ride in such clothes as I was again. The Cirali armor is different you know; it’s at least fitted to women. And I find it much more tolerable to wear things like that when there’s a purpose to it, like fighting.” She stopped beside me, her arms dangling childishly at her sides. “If you had told me you’d brought me a dress, I would have put it on as soon as we split from the other group.”
“You would have made a fine target for the chupacabra,” I drawled. “The point is that you look like a princess. Arriving in Echren in a muddy, torn, dress wouldn’t have done any good.”
“In that case, I think someone should invent armor made out of silk. Wouldn’t that be nice?”
“Pointless.”
She frowned.
I gestured her closer with the quick flick of two fingers. It was time her crown came off; until we were before the Echrian rulers and it could have its ever-useful effect of confirming her identity. She obeyed my order, her pulse growing quicker as she neared. I made a level-minded decision then; one that took into account my recent understanding that she did indeed have effects, and it was well and said nothing about my own state of control, to guard against them.
“Head down,” I commanded.
“Why?”
I pointed that direction.
She did as I said.
The crown was off in a second and I only realized when she looked back up at me that I could just as easily have told her to remove it herself.
She touched her head. “What did you do that for?”
I put the crown on my arm, then pushed it up to my shoulder. “It will draw too much attention.”
“Didn’t you just say you wanted me to look like a princess?”
“Don’t worry. You’ll get it back.”
I was smirking now, but her expression soured.
#
Because Ellia asked, and since I had no aversion to it, we walked through the grass to reach the city. I had my six unarmored men take the road, with instructions to scout out Echren in pairs and check back with me when they could. Normally I might have entered into the city with my full guard—no doubt that was what Lox had intended me to do for this quest—but a few things stopped me. One, I knew too little of Echren; not the true make of the city (only guesses), not the true identity of the rulers (only rumors that Echren wasn’t even led by royalty). Two, I wasn’t as confident as Lox had been that these people could be trusted. From everything I’d read about constellation animals and their keepers, well, I just planned to be careful when it came to Ellia, or she might end up staying in Echren longer than I would like—or rather, however long she liked. Three, we didn’t have horses. And showy foot processions were just stupid.
It was almost completely dark when I thought we had to be getting close. Ellia’s nearness and manner was such that I felt at any moment she might grab my hand. When we mounted a hill and finally there was the orange glow of a city below, I thought it looked a little brighter than usual, but I must have been missing something because nearly every one of my group gasped. The soldiers made exclamations; Ellia grew silent for the first time. I made sure not to squint while feeling annoyed at the fact that I hadn’t made sure to arrive in daylight.
“Come on,” I told them, “we can gawk when we get there.”
It was so dark going down the hill, and I was so focused trying to make out what I could of the scene ahead, that I didn’t notice how close Ellia was until her breath touched my neck.
“Do you want me to tell you what it looks like?”
I nearly jerked away, then I felt a rush of anger; but I showed neither of these responses, I just kept still and kept walking.
“It’s like embers,” she whispered. “The buildings must be made out of wood, but they’re glowing and moving with flashes of orange, like sparks going out in a fire. Everything’s built in a strange way, sort of similar to a Katellian border town, only it looks as if it could have grown up by itself. Like a tree of buildings. There are birds in the air, they’re glowing, and I imagine they must be the fire birds.” I heard her smile. “I think you’ll be able to see it very well when we get close. It looks like it’s brighter inside.”
She was right about this. As the warmth of the place increased so did the light; just like real embers; brighter in the middle, near the heat, and dimmer on the outside, where it was colder. But even so, she kept detailing the place and I found myself proffering her explanations to what I saw with my own eyes.
She mentioned things sporadically, like how the height of the buildings didn’t seem to be normal, all varying sizes, somewhere between two and three stories. Then how the Echrians all seemed too busy playing instruments or singing or talking to notice us. How there weren’t any soldiers she could make out, but she guessed the men in red robes might be the peacekeepers, and weren’t the people all quite handsome with their brown hair and dark skin?
Then on the Vermillion Birds, which I could see perfectly now:
“Do you see their tails? How are they moving like that? It looks as if their feathers are moving on endlessly, but where do they go?” The birds were as bright reddish-orange as expected, only a little large for a bird of prey. Just as many of them perched on glowing wood as soared through the skies, but I noticed each one had a way of returning to a particular Echrian, often dropping to an outstretched arm. Apart from fiercely sharp talons and beaks, I thought they looked a little too harmless to be one of the four most powerful creatures in existence.
“How many nights will we stay here, Cyric?” she asked.
“One. At most.”
“You mean we might not stay at all? After coming all this way?”
We weren’t stopped by any sort of guard; we were offered a great deal of amenities. Places to eat, drink, sleep. Finally we reached the building said to house the rulers, not the largest one but doubtlessly the brightest. It was flanked by two robed men and the sight of them, the prospect of work and my real mission here had me feeling inexplicably irritated. No, not inexplicably. Why should I be happy about it? I hadn’t liked the idea from the beginning.
I directed my guards to wait with Ellia in the street. When I turned to approach the building I heard her voice.
“Wait, Cyric.”
I sighed with exasperation. I knew what was coming, the face and the question about where I was going. I looked back anyways, only to my surprise she wasn’t frowning at all.
“You have soot on your face,” she told me, then she took her thumb and wiped my cheek. “There.” She stepped back without any sort of reluctance, but still watching me, then one of my soldiers drew her attention with a question about a nearby singer. I watched her longer than I should have, then I turned back to my business.
ELLIA:
Cyric wasn’t happy when he came back from speaking with his Echrian allies and though he gave no explanation as to why, I thought it might have had something to do with the fact that we wouldn’t be meeting with them tonight. Then again, I wasn’t sure if that had ever been the plan. We went to an inn close by, where Cyric sent his soldiers to get the rooms then slammed himself down into a chair, waving straight-off to the nearest barman for a drink.
With a dark frown I sat across from him. Even the happy songs of minstrels and the fire-bird perched in a corner of the large room weren’t enough to distract me, while he seemed determined to look anywhere but in my direction, regarding whatever else he saw with derision. I didn’t know how he managed it, seeing as even the floor beneath us burned with light and warmth.
“You hate wine,” I told him.
He didn’t respond except to slide his hips forward in his seat a bit, lounging back in a harsh sort of way that bespoke more of a child than a warrior. The barman set the drink in front of Cyric. He picked it up, then he looked at me, then he drank.
“Fine. But you’ll only get sick and feel worse.”
I crossed my arms and watched the singers. I would have liked to say that I felt stable or miserable one way or the other, but it wasn’t like that. I was completely suspended between a million feelings. There was no doubt my behavior was making him act differently, but not really any more “good” and I wondered: if my best efforts didn’t help to make him better, what use was I anyways? But I had realized a benefit to this new plan of mine. If I succeeded in winning Cyric back, that most certainly meant the end of the wicked Lieutenant of Akadia, errand boy to Malatos Lox. And that was something probably more beneficial to the war effort than anything I’d done yet.
I heard the sound of scraping and looked to see that Cyric had pushed his cup in front of me. “Why don’t you try it?” he asked.
I scoffed.
“Scared you might like it?”
His face was a cruel mask that I took no pleasure in. But I was struck with a thought that made me almost smile. “Ha. Shouldn’t you be asking yourself that?” I retorted.
It took him just a moment to go from sneering to scowling. “You know you can be really annoying.”
“You’ve told me that since before I can remember,” I said, “If it bothers you so to be near me, you could just let me go, or you could even have me locked in the room upstairs.” I met his eyes, and stretched a hand across the table, open to his. “Or you could stop being cruel and we could just be.”
His expression stayed very still. His eyes went from my face to my open hand. He moved his hand off the table.
I thought, at least I’d scared him away from his drink. His gaze was wandering around the room now. “You have a friend named Minstrel,” he said flatly. “Is he a minstrel?”
I felt a sort of smile pulling at my lips. I noticed two of Cyric’s armored soldiers, and even more of his unarmored ones, sitting down about the room. The Echrian’s were very welcoming, and, Akadians being who they were with playing, the soldiers didn’t seem to mind as Cyric had that we would not visit the rulers tonight.
“Yes,” I answered, “He’s a minstrel.”
“That’s stupid.”
I ignored this. “I wish that you could hear his songs. He’s so funny. I’ve often thought how you would laugh if you heard him. He’s a gnome you know.”
“You said that already.”
“Oh, yes.” I bit my lip. “Shall I recite one of them for you?”
He raised one brow while dropping the other.
“A song, I mean.”
“No.”
My smile tipped. “He has one to do with fire. It’ll be perfect.” I cleared my throat, then set both my pointer and middle fingers on the top of the table very precisely, for this song involved a bit of drumming, almost a sort of finger dance, tapping one then the other in different patterns; all part of the words of course. I looked away from Cyric at the ceiling for my face was already turning red; the smiling I couldn’t keep from.
Flames meet wood and pop pop,
How you’ll beg that they’d stop,
When you’ve walked a great deal,
After you’ve had your meal,
Won’t you cry that they’d stop,
Flames that make that pop pop,
Try to sleep as you might,
You’ll be up the whole night,
Close your eyes, plug your ears,
Still you’ll end up in tears,
Those that travel a lot,
Know best never to stop,
To light fires that pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop.
I burst into laughter, while my finger bounced for the last time over the other. Before I could look at Cyric to see whether he had even cracked the slightest smile, one of the Echrian’s closest to us called to me with a shout. “Ho, isn’t that a song of the minstrel, Minstrel of the Isle of Yanartas?”
I was slightly taken aback, and this man had drawn the attention of more than one of the others, including the two minstrels who had before been singing just moments ago. I couldn’t help but laugh for the smile the man wore. “You know of him?” I asked.
“We just had a minstrel travel through from Selket. He had witnessed a Yanartian minstrel there who’d heard the songs of the minstrel, Minstrel. He performed the lot of them for us.” The Echrian laughed. “As you can imagine, the one you just sang has become our most beloved. You wouldn’t believe that very sort of popping that presides in all of Echren. In the cold months, when the winds stir up the embers, the noise is almost unbearable, and sleep impossible.”
“You’ve truly heard his songs all the way here?” I asked brightly. “Well, that’s just wonderful. He’d be so glad.”
“Do you know the minstrel, Minstrel, lady?”
“Yes. He is my dear friend, as rich in bravery as his songs are in character.”
One of the minstrels shouted out. “Come, you must sing us more of his songs, for we’ve forgotten most and not all of us were here for them to begin with.”
“Yes, lady, sing a song. Sing us as many as you know.”
“Well, I know a great deal.”
The closest man laughed once and clapped; he stood and pulled me by my hands. “Then we will set you with our best musicians and have a grand concert. Flaram, call to the other inns and tell them we will hear again the songs of the minstrel, Minstrel of the Isle of Yanartas.”
I laughed, while one of the vermillion birds cooed loudly in response to the ruckus; loudly but happily.
I couldn’t help but wish then that these people of Echren were not allies of Akadia.
CYRIC:
It was all the most ridiculous spectacle that I had ever seen. I’d grown up in Shaundakul; I knew bad minstrels, and dull minstrels, I’d heard more songs than I wanted to recall. But these songs… more than half of them were about food, the others about inanimate elements, like snow, or water, or springtime. The Echrians cheered ceaselessly. My own soldiers cheered just as loud. And everyone laughed, Ellia most of all.
I certainly would have left, except that I had to stay to make sure that one or all of them didn’t give away to Ellia that Echrians held no loyalty to Akadia. From what I’d seen tonight, they didn’t seem to hold loyalty to any country, thinking themselves apart from it all. This had no doubt been the reason that the Echrian rulers had pushed my audience off until, as they’d put it, “they deemed to summon me.” I was about ready to be gone and done with Echren.
So I listened to the stupid songs, watched the singer who was more mine to watch than theirs, and found myself facing the obvious. Ellia was not the same now as she had been for most of our lives. I thought I should have noticed it in Karatel, when Lox had first given her to me.
Let alone her newfound skills in fighting, there had been a time when I could make her do what I liked, with little effort on my part. It didn’t work that way anymore; if it did, I would have made her hate me by now, but instead she continued to… I didn’t know what to call it. Whatever she was doing, it wasn’t with my consent. Then there were these friends of hers. Minstrel, minstrel. Her chimera. Prince Nain. I knew there were others; without a doubt she was friends with the twin of Tobias. In Shaundakul, she’d never been so social, not unless you counted scholar Padril, or the dragon riders, or the dragons themselves. I pushed away the thought of Kraehe, feeling a darkness in my gut that I didn’t want to rest on.
And even now here, as she sang. She’d always been stubbornly confident of things she decided were right, and even haughty about her country, but now there was something different about her confidence, something settled, and more a part of her. It didn’t remind me of anyone and I couldn’t guess where it came from. I only knew that it hadn’t come from me. Like her smiles, her laughing, her new friends, and her new life, she had all these parts of her that I wasn’t a part of anymore.
I started thinking about other things. Better things. Like what I would do to the Echrian people should they decide not to admit me by tomorrow. Lox wanted them on our side, so force wasn’t an option. We’d talked about many things to do in many cases. He wanted me to figure out their weaknesses no matter what. But we hadn’t talked about what to do if they wouldn’t even meet with me.
Somewhere amidst these thoughts, it seemed that finally Ellia had finished.
“I’m not sure there are anymore,” she said to the crowd. They complained.
“Sing the one about the pies again then,” someone suggested.
“Or the sonnet of the stars at sea.”
There were more requests.
“You haven’t sung the one about the man away to war,” a woman called above the others. The room grew quiet and looked to her. “I remembered it for my love’s gone south to fight,” she went on.
Ellia grew a frown. I rose to my feet. This comment was much too close to revealing something, it was time for me to put an end to this whole thing. But before I could go to Ellia, or draw her attention in any way, she nodded to the woman, and set herself to begin. I decided it wouldn’t do any harm to let her, but I didn’t sit back down, because this would be the last. For a song about war its tune was lively.
I met a boy, so dear, so dear,
I called him mine, I called him mine.
Left me he did for war with no
Goodbye, with no goodbye
Cried tears I did so long, so long,
My heart did learn to lie, to lie
Told me it did he’d loved me not
So I told him goodbye, goodbye
She sang it without music. There were only these lines. The crowd met the end with cheers and claps and Ellia gave them all her smile. Then she looked at me; it seemed as if I’d almost been expecting her to. She kept her sweet expression, her eyes bright.
But I did not think that there was much joy behind her smile.