Taking Flight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

The question of Perina’s motives stayed at the back of Kelder’s mind for the rest of the afternoon, nibbling away at his attention as he met Irith at the gate and led her to Senesson’s shop. This time he knocked, and the two of them were admitted to the wizard’s presence.

Senesson was a bent, grey old man; Kelder wondered if he might have found some way to live past his time, but without ever learning any youth spells, because he could easily have been a century old — Ezdral would have seemed to be in the very flower of youthful vigor by comparison. The wizard had no teeth, making his speech hard to understand, and a strand of spittle hung swaying from one corner of his mouth. He cackled when anything amused him, which was often. He leered at Irith in a truly offensive manner, and Kelder could understand why Azraya had stamped out in a rage.

Senesson, who was only recently arrived in Krithimion, claimed to have met Irith before, long ago in another kingdom, but she didn’t recall any such encounter. The wizard invited Kelder to take a seat in the shop while Senesson and Irith talked business in the workroom.

Kelder sat and mulled over Perina’s offer, while in the next room Irith fended off the drooling old fool’s lecherous advances and determined, at least to her own satisfaction, that he knew no countercharm for Fendel’s Infatuous Love Spell. Kelder did pay attention to the conversation, however, and intervened when Senesson’s lust threatened to get out of hand.

Irith was not as angry upon departing as Azraya had been, but she came close.

By the time Kelder and Irith sat down for supper at the Leaping Fish he had come to the conclusion that Perina had either hoped to dupe him into giving Irith some other potion completely, not a love spell at all, or that she had some idea that if he used a love spell to control Irith, she could then control him, and thereby have the services of a remarkable and talented creature at her beck and call.

Kelder was not sure just what Perina would want with a tame shapeshifter, but he supposed there would be uses for one. With that out of the way, he began wondering whether Azraya would show up.

Asha and Ezdral arrived more or less on schedule; Asha was smiling and happy, Ezdral drunk and morose. The old man all but flung himself at Irith when he spotted her, and Kelder saw Irith flicker, as she started to turn herself invisible and then changed her mind.

Kelder pried Ezdral away from her, got the entire party seated around the table, and saw to the distribution of the meal the inn had supplied.

Azraya did not come, and even as he admired the way the lanterns lit Irith’s hair Kelder found himself a little disappointed.

Beautiful women, plural, Zindre had said — Kelder had not immediately thought of Azraya as beautiful, but now he realized that she qualified. Another phrase had been fulfilled, then. If the contents of Perina’s tower counted for strange beasts and mighty magic, then the whole prophecy was coming along nicely. Another great city, another vast plain, then a triumphant return home with Irith as his bride, and he would have made the entire prediction come true.

That was just as well; he was beginning to tire of traveling, of eating and sleeping in inns like the Leaping Fish.

The food was good, if unexciting, and the meal uneventful, save that Ezdral’s hands were so unsteady that he kept dropping things; every so often the clatter of a fork or mutton bone dropped on his plate would interrupt conversation.

After supper, the drunkard passed out on the floor of their L-shaped room before anyone could suggest he sleep elsewhere; Asha took the little featherbed that had been crammed onto the windowseat in the dormer at the narrow end.

That left Irith and Kelder to share the big bed at the other end, out of sight of Asha even should she wake. Ezdral was obviously not going to awaken. The two made good use of this unexpected privacy, their first in days.

“It’s only seven miles to Bugoa Castle,” Irith said as they gathered up their belongings the next morning, “and maybe another eleven or twelve to Syndisha, so we should get at least that far today, shouldn’t we?”

Ezdral groaned, but when Irith looked at him he immediately muttered, “Whatever you want, Irith.”

Asha grimaced, but agreed, “We can do that.”

“Tuyoa is next beyond Syndisha,” Irith went on. “About ten miles, I think. That might be too much.”

“Probably,” Kelder said, glancing at Ezdral.

“From Tuyoa, it’s about eight miles to Shesta, and then about that far again to Lamum,” Irith said, “and Lamum Keep stands on the border between the Small Kingdoms and the Hegemony of Ethshar.”

Kelder nodded, interested.

“Now, traditionally,” Irith said, “they say it’s two days from Lamum to Ethshar — one day to the Inn At The Bridge, and one day from there to the gate.”

“We’re getting close, then,” Kelder said.

Irith shook her head. “Not that close, though, because those days were figured by what an army could march, back during the Great War. It must be ten leagues from Valder’s inn to Westgate.”

Asha groaned at that, and even Kelder hesitated.

“It’s not so bad, from Lamum to the inn,” Irith said. “Maybe eight leagues.”

“Well,” Kelder said, hoisting his pack onto his shoulder, “we’ll see how it goes.”

“Maybe we’ll find a wizard along the way who knows the charm,” Asha said.

Irith replied thoughtfully, “You know, we just might.”

“Oh?” Kelder asked.

“You remember Perina mentioned that Iridith of Ethshar might know? Well, we might see her along the way.”

That was a little vague for Kelder’s liking. “Oh,” he said again.

They made their way out of the town and onto the highway, and had gone no more than half a mile when a familiar voice called, “Hai, Kelder!”

He turned, and found Azraya of Ethshar striding up behind them.

“Azraya!” he called.

Irith gave Kelder a startled look, then eyed Azraya suspiciously. Asha looked mildly interested; Ezdral trudged on, a few feet behind Irith, paying no attention at all.

When the entire party stopped for introductions, Ezdral stopped, but he simply stood, hands at his sides, staring at Irith. One of his hands was twitching, Kelder noticed.

“This is Azraya of Ethshar,” Kelder said in Trader’s Tongue. “We met yesterday.”

Azraya, recognizing her name, bowed politely.

“These are my traveling companions,” he went on in Ethsharitic, uncomfortably aware that Asha didn’t know the language. “This is Irith the Flyer, and Asha of Amramion, and Ezdral...” He paused, then looked at Ezdral’s current condition and said, “Ezdral the Sot.”

Irith made a polite acknowledgment, and Asha followed her lead; Ezdral managed only a ghastly imitation of a smile.

“We’re bound for Ethshar,” Kelder added. “Would you care to travel with us?”

“I suppose,” Azraya said, “it would be safer.”

Irith opened her mouth to say something, then thought better of it.

They reached Bugoa well before noon, to Kelder’s pleased surprise. Asha was putting out a better effort in order to keep up with Azraya, who had a tendency to drift ahead of the others; Irith stayed even with Azraya, and Ezdral hurried to stay close to Irith. As a result, the whole party made better time than usual.

Bugoa Castle was large and rambling, with a village straggling off from its walls in all directions — but mostly, of course, between the castle and the highway, as the road came no closer than five hundred yards.

Kelder’s little group, with a minimum of debate, decided to not even stop.

From Bugoa the road veered southward, rather than continuing west. Kelder suggested that the highway could have taken a straighter path, and Irith told him, “It used to, or at least there used to be an alternate route between Krithimion and Syndisha, by way of Mezgalon instead of Bugoa.” She glanced back at Ezdral, who paid no attention to the conversation, but whose haggard features brightened when he noticed Irith looking at him. “I’m not sure why they abandoned it,” she said.

She had spoken in Trader’s Tongue; Azraya asked Kelder what they were talking about, and he translated Irith’s remarks, to the shapeshifter’s obvious annoyance.

Whether roundabout or not, this stretch of the Great Highway was smooth and level, and again, they made excellent progress. At times, it seemed to Kelder that they were almost racing — Azraya and Irith seemed to be hurrying more than necessary. As a result, there was little or no conversation.

They were about a league from Bugoa when Asha tripped and fell, and Ezdral stumbled over her and toppled headlong. The girl burst out crying; the drunkard simply lay face-down in the dirt.

Kelder and the two young women turned back to help. Irith lifted Asha back to her feet, but the child simply sat down again, sobbing.

Ezdral was heavier and even less cooperative, and when Azraya and Kelder between them were unable to get him upright, they settled for rolling him over on his back.

“What’s wrong, Asha?” Irith asked, stroking the child’s hair. “What’s wrong?”

Asha shook her head.

Irith persisted, and at last Asha said, “I’m just tired.”

“Maybe we’ve been hurrying too much,” Kelder suggested. “Asha, would it help if you could ride?”

Irith glared at him for a second, then turned back to Asha and asked, “Do you want me to be a horse for awhile?”

“No!” Asha exclaimed, so loudly that she startled everybody, including herself; even Ezdral twitched at the sound. “No,” she repeated, more quietly, “that’s all right, Irith. Don’t be a horse.”

“What are they saying?” Azraya asked Kelder.

“Irith was asking Asha if she wanted to ride,” Kelder replied.

Azraya looked at Kelder, puzzled. “Ride what?” she asked.

Kelder realized that the Ethsharite was unaware of Irith’s magical abilities. “I’ll explain later,” he said.

“Can you walk again?” Irith asked Asha.

“Not yet,” Asha said. “Let’s just rest a little while.”

Kelder relayed the suggestion to Azraya, who made a noise of displeasure. “I was hoping we could cross three kingdoms today,” she said.

“I don’t think so,” Kelder told her.

“That’s stupid,” Azraya said. “Why do you travel with these people, anyway, Kelder?”

Irith glared at her.

“Asha doesn’t have any family,” he explained. “We happened to be there when her older brother got killed, so we’re sort of taking care of her for now. And Irith accidentally enchanted Ezdral, so we’re trying to find someone to break the spell.”

“He’s enchanted?”

“A love spell,” Kelder said. “That’s why he follows Irith.”

“Oh,” Azraya said. “So why is that your problem?”

“It’s not,” Kelder said, “I’m just trying to help out.” Saying openly that he wanted to be a champion of the lost and forlorn seemed somehow ridiculous. Fortunately, Azraya did not press for further explanation.

Upon further investigation the question of whether to press on turned out to be academic; Ezdral was unconscious.

“Now what?” Azraya asked.

Kelder sighed. “Now we wait here, eat some lunch — I have cheese in my pack — and when we can bring him around we go on.”

This did not sit well with either Azraya or Irith, but they both gave in, with ill-concealed annoyance. No one was about to try carrying Ezdral. Kelder suggested that even unconscious, he could be draped over Irith’s back while she was in equine form, but she rejected the idea.

“He’ll slip off,” she said in Ethsharitic, “and besides, I don’t want him on top of me. I don’t care what form I’m in, or whether he’s conscious, I don’t want him on top of me.”

This reference to changing forms led to Azraya asking questions about Irith’s magic, which Kelder tried to answer as he shared out the cheese and wafers he had bought in Krithimion. Irith was clearly annoyed by this discussion of her past, but did nothing to stop it; she was settled cross-legged on the grass by the roadside, with Asha curled up on her lap, and any attempt to shout back or stomp off would have disturbed the child.

While they ate, they chatted idly — or tried to. Asha’s ignorance of Ethsharitic, and Azraya’s ignorance of Trader’s Tongue, made conversation difficult. Irith grew steadily more aggravated by the constant demands either that she translate for someone, or that she wait while Kelder did so.

Later on, after the last crumb was gone, the three teenagers made a concerted effort to rouse Ezdral, but without success.

“May demons eat his guts out!” Irith said, following this up with comments in several languages Kelder did not understand.

Azraya just laughed.

That was the last straw for Irith.

“I’ll meet you in Syndisha,” she said, spreading wings, “if you ever get there!” She flapped, and took off.

Azraya stared in open-mouthed astonishment as Irith flew away to the south. “She really does fly!” she said.

“Yes, of course,” Kelder said. “I told you she did.”

Azraya looked at him with an unreadable expression, then back at Irith.

When the Flyer was out of sight, Azraya said, “Let me try the Sot again.” She began not merely shaking Ezdral, but slapping him, hard, first on one cheek, then the other.

“I wish Irith wouldn’t fly off like that,” Asha said, looking away uncomfortably.

“Me, too,” Kelder agreed, putting an arm around the girl’s shoulders.

Azraya gave up her attempt and stamped away, annoyed — not down the highway, but across the cornfield on one side. Kelder watched her go, wondering when she would be back — if ever. She was just as temperamental as Irith, though in a different way, and there was no prophecy assuring him that he would see her again.

Which was too bad; he did like Azraya, despite her temper.

Asha snuggled against him, and he looked down at her. Her blue tunic, the only garment she had, was wearing very thin — he wondered if Irith or Ezdral or Azraya could sew, an art he had never entirely mastered himself. They could buy fabric in Syndisha, though it would take a distressingly large portion of their money.

“Why didn’t you want to ride?” he asked her.

She looked up at him. “Because I can’t stand the way Ezdral looks at Irith when she’s a horse,” she said. “It makes me feel awful.”

Kelder nodded.

“I can understand that,” he said.

Together, they sat and waited.