Chapter 7:

Wind­rider Family

*

Keolah insisted on staying in Scalyr for a little while longer to do more reading at the lib­rary, and made a note that while the lib­rary wasn’t all that use­ful to her current situation, she would need to come back at some later point in order to peruse the place more thoroughly. There was a wealth of know­ledge at her fingertips in that one building alone. But finally, she acquiesced to getting on their way.

The party, now numbering five bipeds, one horse, and one bird, set forth from Scalyr along the western road. It would be a bit of a jour­ney on foot, but there was no way that Nar­cella was going to be capable of carrying all of them on her back. They crossed through a minor range of moun­tains and into the valley of Tani­valis.

“Let’s stop by my farm so long as we’re in Tani­valis,” Silver said. “Let my son know that I’ll be away for the foreseeable future. I’m sure he’ll be thrilled, really. He’s too polite to ever say so, but I don’t think he likes me hanging around like a drunken bum.”

The farm was a small patch of earth, thick crops growing around a decent-sized elf-style farm­house grown three stories into the air, with what looked to be one area grown off the lower floor making up a barn. Silver led them up to the leaf door and touched one of the crys­tals at the side.

An orange aura app­roached the door, and blue-skinned man with long, black hair opened it. “So you are here, Father. You know you don’t need to ring the bell. Come on in.”

“I’ve brought guests,” Silver said, stepping aside and gesturing to the others.

“Arvell Renneck,” the black-haired elf intro­duced him­self. “Come inside. Any friends of my father are friends of mine.”

If Arvell was as dis­dainful of his father as Silver claimed, he did not show it in the slightest. He led them in up the living wood stairs to the parlor.

“Khanis!” Arvell called out. “We have guests. Put on some tea!”

An elf man with vivid scarlet skin, con­trasted by a minty green aura, looked up from the couch and nodded to them with­out smiling. Keolah started in sur­prise. She’d never seen a blue elf before she went to Scalyr, never mind a red one.

“My husband, Khaniro,” Arvell said. “And that would be our daugh­ter, Khanis, in the kitchen.”

After a round of intro­ductions, the group settled into the parlor. A young elf woman, also with red skin, presented them with a platter of tea­cups and a pot of hot artu-root tea.

“Will you be staying for dinner?” Khanis asked. “I haven’t had a chance to cook for a group this size in quite a while.”

Silver chuckled. “By all means.”

Khanis dis­appeared into the kitchen again.

“Is she your biological daugh­ter, Khaniro?” Keolah asked quietly.

Khaniro nodded. “Her mother died when she was very young. Fly­lish bandits. They still manage to slip over the moun­tains some­how from time to time. At least we’re not still at war like when Natalie—”

“Khaniro,” Silver said sharply. “Let’s not talk about that.”

Khaniro sighed. “Silver, if I can speak about my wife’s death, you can speak of yours.”

“Not today,” Silver said.

“She asked,” Khaniro said. “I see no reason to lie.”

“She asked if Khanis was your daugh­ter,” Silver retorted. “She didn’t ask to hear about Fly­lish raids.”

“I didn’t mean to touch a sore spot.” Keolah quickly changed the sub­ject. “I must say, though, I’ve never seen a red elf before.”

Khaniro chuckled. “I’m not sur­prised. You won’t see many of us out­side of Noraley.”

“What brought you to Kalor?” Keolah asked.

Khaniro shrugged. “Politics. I chose exile rather than allow my wife and baby daugh­ter to get caught up in a tribal power struggle.”

“Are red elves that vicious?” Keolah won­dered.

“You don’t know the half of it,” Khaniro said. “It would have prob­ably ended in Khanis being pressed into an arranged marriage to secure an alliance with an­other tribe.”

“As a baby?” Haw­thorne won­dered.

Khaniro nodded. “They would, of course, wait until she came of age to consummate it, but yes. As a baby.”

Haw­thorne made a face. “And I thought my own family was messed up.”

Delven set aside his tea. “Silver, I hate to ask this, but, how old are you? You don’t really look old enough to have an adult son.”

Silver chuckled. “Do you really want to know?”

“I’m curious, now,” Keolah said.

“Older than I look,” Silver said with a cheeky smirk. “The Wind­riders left Zar­hanna before the fall of the League of Wizards, as I men­tioned. The elves didn’t lose their immortality before the League of Wizards fell. The Wind­riders never lost it at all.”

Haw­thorne al­most choked on her tea.

“Arvell is actually older than me,” Khaniro said.

“Not that it really matters all that much,” Silver said. “When you don’t get old, you don’t take rel­ative age to be much of a con­sideration.”

Sedder held his tea untouched in both hands, and looked away to stare out the window.

Although Silver’s family put on a polite and friendly face in front of their guests, once she’d settled into one of the guest rooms, Keolah over­heard raised voices downstairs.

“It’s bad enough that you keep running off to go drinking,” Khaniro’s voice declared. “But now you’re planning on going on a trip for who knows how long? We need you here at the farm! Your son needs you. We can’t do this all by our­selves.”

Silver gave a muffled rep­ly that Keolah couldn’t make out. As she drifted off to sleep, she had to won­der if any­one who joined their group was going to have a normal, happy family.

*

Sedder couldn’t sleep. He con­sidered pulling out the thought crys­tal and making a report, but what would be the point? Sardill surely must know about Silver’s family and per­sonal life already, shouldn’t he? They were involved for a while, after all.

Sounds of arguments drifted up the stairs. Sedder sighed and rolled over, and al­most fell out of the stupid elf leaf hammock. Delven, across the room from him, was already sound asleep. He wasn’t sure just how Delven could sleep like this. Why couldn’t these elves just use actual beds like normal people? How did they even have sex in hammocks?

His thoughts drifted back to Silver. Due to his assign­ment, he could never have seriously con­sidered a relationship with him, after all. Sardill would have skinned him alive if he’d even thought about try­ing. And yet, for all the time he’d spent watching Silver, there were still many things about him that he hadn’t known. He didn’t know Silver had a son, or that he’d been married to a woman. And that Silver’s late wife had been killed by Fly­landers… ouch. How could he justify hooking up with Sardill after Sardill’s own people killed his beloved wife?

And then there was the fact that Sedder had had no idea how old Silver was. He’d never really thought about it before. That was bound to get awk­ward. Even if Silver said Wind­riders tended not to think about age much, he couldn’t stop from thinking about it. Silver must be at least old enough to be his grandfather!

From the sounds of things, the group planned to head through Fly­land next. Sedder wasn’t sure where they’d said Dalizar was, but it seemed to be on the other side of Fly­land some­where. Which was ab­surd. All that was over that way was sheer cliffs. And… no coast, that Sedder knew of. Which was also ridi­culous. The land had to end some­where, and there was definitely water over there. Had Dalizar really been right next to Sardill’s territory all along, and he just never knew it?

Thinking about heading through Fly­land put a twinge of rep­ressed emotion in Sedder’s mind. It was too bad that going to see his family there was out of the ques­tion. It had been ten years, and part of the arrange­ment with Sardill required him to fake his own death. Tennar Deller was dead. Only Sedder remained. His two younger half-brothers prob­ably barely even rem­em­bered him any longer. It was prob­ably just as well, though. He’d never gotten along with his father or stepmother any­way. ‘Dying’ had not been any great sac­rifice.

Across the room, Delven started snoring. Grumbling softly, Sedder put up a sound ward and closed his eyes. It was just as well to block out the con­tinuing arguments downstairs, any­way. Sometimes it was nice being an Illusionist. If he were feeling more generous at the moment, he’d ward the girls’ room, too. He wasn’t.

*

Come morning, Silver hardly waited for them to finish eating break­fast before ushering them out the door, not even stopping to say good­bye to his family. He brought a pack that he must have thrown together in a haste last night, al­though he looked like he hadn’t even slept at all.

“Silver, you okay?” Keolah asked, looking to him in concern.

“Of course,” Silver rep­lied. “Arvell’s glad to see me on my way. I’d hate to get in his way any longer.”

Keolah bit her lip. What she’d heard last night said other­wise, but she wasn’t about to con­front him with that. His family issues were his own business.

“I’m curious,” Delven said. “I’ve noticed a dis­­prop­ortionately high number of elves who are… I don’t know the word in elvish. We say gay in common. Men who like other men. Women who like other women.”

“You have a word for that?” Haw­thorne said. “Humans sure are weird.”

“I think most elves are at least somewhat ­in­ter­ested in their own sex,” Silver said. “Many of them are not ­in­ter­ested in the opposite sex at all. But, it’s really not some­thing we generally think about all that much, never mind have a word for it.”

“How do you manage to not go extinct if most of you aren’t breeding?” Delven won­dered.

Silver gave him an odd look. “Who said we weren’t breeding?”

“Well, if you’re not attracted to the opposite sex…”

“I don’t see what physical attrac­tion has to do with creating offspring,” Silver said. “We are sentient beings. We know how babies are made, and regard­less of our romantic ­in­ter­ests, we do still want and have chil­dren.”

“Huh,” Delven said. “I guess that’s a point. I’ll just have to write off the fact that most of you are ­in­ter­ested in the same sex as a weird elf thing, then.”

Silver shrugs. “I know humans tend to have an emotional attach­ment between the people who they create chil­dren with. Elves don’t have the same ex­pec­tation. Love and breeding aren’t necessarily synonymous.”

The party stopped in for a few days at the city of Port Fins. While at first glance, the ­con­struction was similar, it had a com­pletely diff­erent atmosphere than Scalyr. It seemed like every­one there wore gloves, and immediately pinned them as out­siders to be dis­trusted by just taking one look at their bare hands. Although Keolah had intended to stay for a few days and see if they had some sort of decent lib­rary, they decided to cut short their way due to the chilly recep­tion.

The road to the pass ended in a small fortress at the border crossing. The gates were open, how­ever, and the guards let them through with­out com­plaint. Each guard wore a uniform bearing a symbol of three moun­tains, and was armed with a long, hollow metal rod attached to a curved handle.

“Why all the security?” Keolah won­dered.

“We’re at peace at the moment, but that hasn’t always been true,” a guard said. “If a regiment of soldiers comes marching down that pass, we need to be ready to go into lockdown here at a moment’s notice.”

“Is that likely?” Keolah asked.

“It’s been a hun­dred years since the last war with them,” the guard said. “And that time, they brought muskets against us and would have devastated us if we hadn’t gotten magical backup. We’re overdue for an­other war, and need­less to say, that’s gotten us ner­vous. We have fire­arms too by now.” He patted his weapon. “But we’re still afraid they might have better ones.”

“Are we in any serious danger if we go in there?” Keolah asked.

The guard shrugged. “I’d advise you to watch your backs, but I doubt they’d cause you any real trouble. You’re just travelers, and mostly elves at that. They don’t generally care much about what elves do.”

The pass through the Thorn­delle moun­tains was much rougher, and Keolah could see why they were nicknamed ‘The Impassible moun­tains’. The stubborn, uncaring moun­tains seemed to want to throw in ex­tra cliffs right up to the water and beyond. The island of Unar, vis­ible off the coast past a strait, was prob­ably an offshoot of the moun­tains that just happened to be separated by a bit of water. It was like the moun­tains just didn’t know where to stop.

At the far end of the pass stood an­other fort, this one bearing pink-and-black banners depicting a bird with outstretched wings. The guards at this fort were less friendly, but still gruffly let them through, warning them to keep out of trouble.

The next major city they arrived at was Starton, and just as Port Fins felt diff­erent from Scalyr, so Starton felt diff­erent again, not least because most people there spoke a diff­erent lan­guage. While enough people here spoke the common tongue to get by, it was hardly as wel­coming a place as Hanna­derres had been. Keolah didn’t like being in Fly­land and was ner­vous the en­tire time they were there. She even passed by the city prison just on the off chance of being able to spot Kithere’s near-white aura through the walls. No such luck.

“Zaravin’s feathery butt, all that time spent learning common, and I still can’t under­stand a word any­one’s saying,” Haw­thorne muttered. “What in the Abyss are they saying?”

“They’re speaking Fly­lish,” Delven said. “To be fair, they’ll be more likely to under­stand common than elvish, at any rate.”

“Why does every­one have to speak diff­erent lan­guages, any­way?” Haw­thorne grumbled. “Isn’t there some spell or some­thing that will trans­late every­thing for you, for that matter?”

“I don’t know.” Delven shrugged. “Maybe there is. I’m not the ex­pert on magic here.”

Haw­thorne looked to Keolah. “Keolah, is there a spell that will trans­late lan­guages?”

“I don’t know.” Keolah smirked. “I’m not an ex­pert on magic, either.”

Haw­thorne turned to Silver. “Silver! Is there a spell that will trans­late lan­guages?”

Silver sighed. “Yes, Haw­thorne. There is a spell that will trans­late lan­guages for you.”

“Do you—”

No, I don’t know how to cast it,” Silver cut her off.

“Oh.” Haw­thorne deflated. “Well. Delven! Can you at least teach me how to cuss in Fly­lish?”

Delven sighed. “I suppose.”

*

Keolah spotted a shimmer in the air that indicated the use of Illusion Magic well before Silver pointed it out. The Wind­riders, it seemed, did not sim­ply rely on covering the route into their realm with bushes and hoping it would be enough. They masked the en­tire path up the other­wise sheer cliff. And while the path revealed it­self to the others once Silver told them about it, Keolah had to spend the en­tire climb immersed in the middle of a very distrac­ting web of lav­ender mana.

Once past the illusion barrier and having difficulty navigating the steep path, Zen­dellor trans­formed into human form, grumbling some­thing about being a horse, not a goat.

Silver looked over to him in sur­prise. “A rahi?”

“Try not to horribly murder me for being a shape­shifter, please,” Zen­dellor said.

“Don’t worry,” Silver said. “I wouldn’t. That’s a human prejudice, not elven. You’ll be safe with us.”

The path ended, not at the top of the cliff, but at a cave en­trance leading into the rock. When Silver told her that the Wind­riders mainly lived in caves, she had been unable to ­imag­ine that elves would want to live under­ground. Now that she saw the place, she understood why. These were no ordinary caves. Shining crys­tals lined the walls, giving off a light of their own. Soon, they emerged into a vast cavern with a vaulting dome of a ceiling, filled primarily with glowing red crys­tals of all shapes and sizes.

“City of Ruby,” Silver announced, then added, “They’re not real rubies.”

These caverns seemed to be more of a small fortress than a real city, con­sisting of gates, wards, and guards. Despite the illusions covering the path up, they were still clearly paranoid about any­one attacking them. This struck Keolah as a very unwise place to try to assault.

Most of the elves here were varying shades of blue. It quickly became app­ar­ent how few out­siders were here. They attracted quite a few looks from passers­by, al­though of a less hostile and dis­trustful sort as they’d received in Port Fins, per­haps because they saw the group was with Silver. It also became quickly app­ar­ent that while many people spoke the sort of elvish Keolah was familiar with, the primary lan­guage spoken here was one which she was com­pletely un­familiar with. And it was indeed clearly a com­pletely diff­erent lan­guage, and not sim­ply a dialect with some strange pronunciations and vocabulary choices.

“What’s that lan­guage every­one’s speaking?” Keolah asked Silver quietly.

“Tevric,” Silver rep­lied. “Snow elvish.”

“Your people are descended from snow elves?” Keolah asked.

Silver nodded. “Distant offshoot, yes. A bit of song elf blood in there too, but mostly snow elves. We don’t really call our­selves snow elves any­more, though. We’re Wind­riders. Maybe ‘sky elves’ would be a more appro­priate term. We’ve lived far from the snow for a very long time.”

“Huh,” Keolah said.

“Here, let me intro­duce you to some people who might be able to help with our little project.”

“Our project, now?” Keolah said with a grin.

Silver chuckled. “I agreed to help, didn’t I?”

“Well enough,” Keolah said.

“We’ll want to go to City of Adamant for more resources, but there’s some in Pearl that might be of ­in­ter­est to us,” Silver said. “Ruby is more of a border town and a first line of defense should Fly­land start getting grabby and actually find the path.” He punctuated this statement with a fiercer scowl than Keolah would have ex­pected of him.

They didn’t even stop in Ruby for long, and immediately set off down the tunnels. Even if some­one got past the security at Ruby, Keolah could only ­imag­ine that any in­vader would quickly become lost down here. Silver clearly knew where he was going, but Keolah would have lost her way al­most immediately. The low back­ground mana didn’t help matters any, either. Or the odd, incessant sound echoing through the caverns reminiscent of singing.

After some traveling, they came to an­other cavern, this one larger and its crys­tals milky white.

“Welcome to City of Pearl,” Silver said, a small grin playing across his face. “My home, once. I was born here. We can stay here for the night, or the next few days, if you’d like. There’s a lib­rary here that might ­in­ter­est you. I’ll show you where it is. Provided they haven’t moved it or shut it down since I was last here. It’s been a while.”

While Haw­thorne and Delven went off to find what­ever the local equiv­alent of a tavern was, Sedder stuck with them. The Wind­riders did not use doors, which was somewhat dis­concerting, but Keolah supposed if that was the sort of cul­ture they were used to, they must find the ­con­struction of out­siders quite restrictive.

A silver-haired woman with a blue-gray aura greeted them in song elvish when they arrived in the lib­rary. “So you are here. I am Lumenth, of the House of Renneck.”

“Relative of yours?” Keolah asked quietly.

“She’s my aunt,” Silver said. “Also the wife of my late wife’s mother.”

Keolah blinked. The Wind­rider family tree seemed even more con­voluted than what the Ras­calanse elves got up to.

Lumenth tilted her head toward Silver and gave him a look of condolences, but moved on quickly. “New friends?”

Silver nodded. “This is Keolah Kedaire, and the fellow slinking around is Sedder.”

“Welcome,” Lumenth said. “Is there some­thing I can help you with?”

“Ah, yes, per­haps,” Keolah said. “We’re working on a little project and try­ing to ­iden­tify an old lan­guage based on some inscrip­tions I dis­covered in an ancient ruin.”

“Hmm, we have books on all the major lan­guages spoken in the world, as well as several more ob­scure ones,” Lumenth said.

“I’d ­imag­ine that if it were a major lan­guage, I would have come across it by now,” Keolah said. “I checked up in the lib­rary in Scalyr and came up empty. Do you have a room with a table or some­thing where I can lay out my notes?”

“Right this way.” Lumenth led them into a side room that, while it still didn’t have a door, was at least partially enclosed and had a table and chairs.

Con­sidering Silver already knew about the pocket-world and Lumenth was app­ar­ently his aunt and mother-in-law, Keolah figured she might as well tell her some­thing, if not precisely where she found it. She didn’t think the Wind­riders had any sinister intent, but she wouldn’t dis­count one of them being a Seeker and capable of finding the place. If she was being per­fectly hon­est with her­self, she really wanted to stake a claim to the place her­self. Keolah laid out her notes, the diagrams and copies of the runes in the pocket-world.

Lumenth pored over them thought­fully, and frowned. “I don’t recog­nize these markings off­hand. They might have been used in an ob­scure or dead lan­guage, or one of the secret codes used by the League of Wizards.”

After scanning a shelf, Lumenth pulled out a book labeled Dialects of Domgad-Festig and passed it over to Keolah. The book denoted many dwarven dialects and writing variants, but all of them were based around squares and right angles. The pocket-world’s runes were trian­gular. Keolah shook her head and passed it pick.

“Hmm, not dwarven,” Lumenth said. “Let’s look at gnomish. Some of the gnomish dialects are quite odd.”

The next book Keolah looked through was named A Care­ful Investigation into Gnomish Communication. In addition to a spoken lan­guage, gnomes app­ar­ently had a detailed and com­plex hand lan­guage that had been adopted in a slightly diff­erent form amongst deaf elves and dwarves. The book speculated that gnomish hand­talk had been developed as a means of communication in loud en­viron­ments and between gnomes who suffered hearing loss due to working in loud en­viron­ments, and it app­ar­ently even had its own written form with symbols denoting each sign. While ­in­ter­esting in their own way, they didn’t match either.

“What about the struc­ture?” Keolah won­dered. “The eight-spoked wheel, the circle of obelisks?”

Lumenth shook her head. “I don’t know. I’ve never seen any­thing like that before. I assume if you’ve been to Scalyr that you already dis­counted a human origin, un­less it’s one more ob­scure than would have been recorded there.”

“Human?” Keolah asked.

“Elves usually venerate odd numbers,” Lumenth said. “Threes, fives, sevens, nines. Eight would be a very peculiar number to see come up in an elven struc­ture.”

“Hmm, good point,” Keolah said. “Being in Kalor, I hadn’t assumed it was an elven struc­ture in the first place, though. Then again, I hadn’t realized the Wind­riders had been in Kalor so long, either.”

Lumenth chuckled. “Truly? The southern lands were known to the League of Wizards long before we came here.”

“Really? Hmm,” Keolah said. “I’d con­sidered the possibility that this was Albrynnian in origin, but I’ve seen Albrynnian ruins. And this definitely isn’t Albrynnian writing. Modern lan­guages in Kalor use a derivative of Albrynnian alpha­bet. They’re not Islandic picto­graphs, either.”

“I can see why you were curious about this,” Lumenth said.

Keolah nodded. “I seem to be learning more about what it’s not than what it is. If any­thing, that’s just making me all the more curious.”

“Stay and look through the books we have here if you like,” Lumenth said. “I don’t know if you’ll find any­thing. You might be able to find more League of Wizards-era magical infor­mation in City of Adamant, though. You might want to check there next.”

“I’ll do that, thanks.”

*

Sedder shadowed Silver, as much out of habit as any­thing else. He put up illusions over him­self as always, even though he wasn’t sure if it was really necessary any longer, es­pec­ially given that Silver had app­ar­ently not been fooled by them some of the time. Sedder was still a bit miffed about that.

An elf woman with lav­ender hair con­fronted Silver out­side a clothing shop, pinning him with a glare and shaking a finger at him.

“I can’t believe you,” the woman said. “Were you planning on just passing through Dalizar with­out stopping for one brief moment to see your dear sis­ter?”

Never had Sedder been so glad to be able to under­stand snow elvish. And here he’d thought it was a waste of time when Sardill had first insisted that he learn it. Now he knew why. Silver always spoke song elvish or common when in Scalyr, but this was Wind­rider territory.

“Vinna…” Silver said.

“Don’t Vinna me,” Vinna snorted. “Bad enough that you’ve run off to Tani­valis for how­ever long it’s been, with­out saying good­bye or even men­tioning where you were going. I had to hear it from Arvell, for gods’ sake.”

“Crossing Fly­land is always risky,” Silver said.

“And yet that didn’t stop you from deciding to take up residence in a place on the other side of it?” Vinna said. “Besides, we’re Wind­riders! It’s not like we can’t fly. And don’t even give me a word about how they might notice us fly­ing overhead.”

Silver sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “I don’t know what to tell you, Vinna. Anything I say, you’d just take as an­other excuse, so why should I even bother?”

Vinna huffed. “So what brought you back to Dalizar this time? And yes, I’m not even going to believe that it was just feeling home­sick or wanting to see your family again, seeing as you weren’t even going to stop by my place and give me a ‘so you are here’.”

“How do you know I wasn’t?” Silver asked. “You’re making a lot of assump­tions your­self.”

“Because I know you,” Vinna said. “You always avoid your prob­lems in­stead of face them.”

“Give me the ben­efit of the doubt here, Vinna,” Silver said with a sigh.

“Whatever,” Vinna mum­bled. “You haven’t answered me, though.”

“I’m helping some friends with a project,” Silver said. “I brought them here to do research.”

“Wind­riders?” Vinna asked.

Silver shook his head. “A couple of song elves, a half-elf, a human, and a rahi.”

Vinna raised an eye­brow. “You brought out­siders into Dalizar? And here you were talking about crossing Fly­land to be risky.”

“I trust them,” Silver said. “I have faith in their good intentions. I don’t think any of them are working for Fly­land or going to tell them where we are.”

Sedder took a step back and shrunk further into the shadows.

“And did you care­fully fly each of them here, or did you just walk across Fly­land and leave a trail leading right to our gates?” Vinna asked.

“I made sure no one was looking,” Silver said.

“No one was looking,” Vinna repeated. “And where did they think you might be going, leaving Starton or wher­ever you left going in a dir­ec­tion they know there’s nothing in but empty cliffs?”

“It’s fine, Vinna,” Silver said. “We had an Illusionist with us. No one even saw us leave town.”

“So you just vanished with­out a trace, then?” Vinna said. “Oh, that won’t be sus­picious at all. Brother, we haven’t sur­vived this long by being care­less. It’s not just a matter of whether or not Dalizar might be in­vaded — I’m sure we can handle what­ever Fly­land throws at us. But we may wind up falling under the curse that hit the other elves. We could lose our immortality. You are not the only one who suffers when you’re care­less!”

Silver winced. “I know, I know.”

“You know it’s your fault Rinalie was killed—”

“Natalie,” Silver inter­rupted. “She called her­self Natalie.”

Vinna scowled. “You moved into human lands and took human names. What did you think would happen but that you’d die like humans?”

Vinna,” Silver snapped. “Enough!”

Sedder slipped away silently, leaving them to con­tinue arguing all the more heatedly. He still had a report to make. Sardill would kill him if he didn’t report in. He’d have to make sure he was in a safe spot where he wouldn’t be dis­turbed. Damned Wind­riders and their lack of doors. Nothing a well-placed illusion couldn’t fix. He already had one of him­self up in the room he’d been given, sleeping away in a hammock.

He found a side passage that led to a small dead-end that seemed to be being used as a closet, and tucked him­self inside. Pulling out his crys­tal, he sent a thread of Mind Magic into it to ac­­tiv­ate it.

<Sedder, report,> tepped the hooded figure in his mind.

<I’m in Dalizar,> Sedder rep­lied. <It’s located west of Fly­land.>

<Where?> Sardill asked. <Hidden some­where amongst the barren high­lands?>

<Underground,> Sedder tepped.

Sardill was silent for a moment. <Underground. Of course. Here I’d always ex­pected, with their giant birds, that they’d be located some­where high in the moun­tains, or even on some sort of floating island. But they’re under­ground?>

<From what I’ve seen, they access the sky through caverns in the cliffs,> Sedder tepped. <There’s ones leading out over the ocean where they can fly out with their birds, but more im­por­tantly, there’s a path hidden by illusions leading up a cliff in western Fly­land.> He men­tally sent over a map, and an image of the path’s location and what it looked like.

<Excellent…> Sardill rep­lied. <Most excellent indeed.>

<My lord,> Sedder asked hesitantly. <Forgive me for the presump­tion, but may I ask what you intend to do to Dalizar?>

<Right now? Nothing,> Sardill rep­lied. <You need not be concerned about me launching an initiative into the area while you are still in it. You are a spy, not a front line soldier.>

<Of course, my lord,> Sedder tepped.

<Keep me apprised of any further develop­ments.> Sardill cut the connection.

*

Haw­thorne downed an­other glass of piss-weak elf wine. This whole trip so far had just been bar-hopping through the caves of Dalizar, while Keolah hit up every lib­rary, scholar, and sage in the whole country. Not that she was about to com­plain, but she’d really been hoping for a bit more ad­ven­ture than this. Not… Books. She was bored out of her mind. It was high time to find some trouble, she figured.

“All that trouble to learn common, and no­body here speaks it either,” Haw­thorne grumbled. “Zen­dellor! Let’s go ex­plore.”

“You’re drunk, Haw­thorne,” Zen­dellor observed.

“Only a little!” Haw­thorne retorted. “It took a lot of shitty elf wine to get even slightly tipsy. Come on, are you with me or not?”

“What about Keolah?” Zen­dellor asked.

“She’s busy reading,” Haw­thorne said. “I want to see what’s around here! These caves are pretty cool and shiny.”

“Right behind you,” Zen­dellor said.

“I’d best come along to keep you out of trouble,” Delven said.

“Unlikely,” Zen­dellor commented lightly.

The three of them headed out of the cave that passed for a tavern, and went down through the tunnels. They got more than a few odd looks from passers­by, who clearly didn’t ex­pect to see humans in Dalizar.

One guard even stopped them. “Hey!” she spoke in common. “Humans aren’t supposed to be here.”

“Silver of the House of Renneck invited us,” Delven rep­lied. “We’re just doing some research. We prob­ably won’t be here long.”

The guard scowled. “I’ll have to have a word with Silver, then. Carry on.”

“My thanks,” Delven told her in snow elvish as they con­tinued on.

They turned a corner and found them­selves in a large cavern over­looking the ocean, sun­light streaming down onto a ledge where several floka sat sunning them­selves and preening their feathers. Some of them turned un­pleasant atten­tion toward them, as Haw­thorne realized they’d moved uncom­fortably close to a nest full of large eggs.

“Sorry!” Haw­thorne called out. “I don’t want to hurt your babies!”

A wave of disorien­tation rushed through Haw­thorne’s mind. Feelings of dis­trust, annoyance, and protec­tiveness pressed down on her. Haw­thorne stumbled under the tele­pathic assault, and tried to get to the exit again. But she got turned around and wandered over to the ledge, and before she could stop her­self, found her­self falling.

Haw­thorne screamed. Reasonably, she knew she’d prob­ably be fine. With her Wind Magic, the fall wouldn’t actually hurt her. But it might land her some­where annoying to climb back out of. And falling a long way was still dis­concerting as hell.

Feathers struck her face, and some­thing stopped her fall. Haw­thorne grunted at the impact, and her mind cleared enough to realize she was on top of a floka.

<Try moving your leg behind my wing, please,> spoke a female voice in her mind.

“What?” Haw­thorne said aloud. “Oh.” She shifted pos­ition, clinging to the giant bird’s neck. “Nar­cella?”

<Yes,> Nar­cella tepped. <Let’s get you back up to solid ground.>

“The other floka attacked me,” Haw­thorne said. “With their minds. I think. I’m still not sure just what happened.”

<Most floka have innate Mind Magic, yes,> Nar­cella tepped. <I’ve told them to lay off. Your friends are un­harmed.>

“That’s good,” Haw­thorne said. “Thanks.”

Nar­cella landed up on the ledge where she’d originally fallen from. Haw­thorne care­fully slid down off her back and went back over to Delven and Zen­dellor, who were rubbing their heads.

“Let’s make an im­por­tant note not to mess with floka,” Delven said.

“I’m sure they’re per­fectly fine people who were just startled by us suddenly showing up near their eggs,” Haw­thorne said.

“You have a very broad definition of ‘people’,” Delven commented.

“Anyway, let’s con­tinue the tour.” Haw­thorne gave a wave to Nar­cella and headed back out of the floka cavern.

Most people would have been dis­couraged from wandering off after falling from a ledge high over the ocean. Haw­thorne was not most people.