Sometimes the stars visited in fire and rock and for a night we fluttered a little nearer to heaven.


    die, without it even flinching.


    for me, after a absolute storm of a day, and right now, that meant more than even the wanion fireball we wrenched from the ocean in 545.


    mess.  I gaped, and the alchemist just regarded me, her lips upturnt slightly.  I turned around, drew my wings across my breast.


    whole day!”  I covertly, under a wing, glanced back at Hinte hoping for???—??I wasn’t sure what.


    Specter, and not a Kummitus.  It’s supposed to be universal.  So it’s House Locrian instead of House Ristiriinen, Cynosure instead of Huomion T?hti, Selcouth instead of???—”


    Selcouth?”  She saw me nod, and slowly said, “Tell me what that is.”


    is!”


    Sky-dwellers.”


    Forest-dwellers,” I rebutted.  “Mother always said you were godless.  Why are you like that?”


    were free thinkers.  We did not let a church cower us into submission.”


    friends.  No secrets?”


    you pray for, Hinte?”


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    This could have been???—??should have been???—??my first enjoyable flight all day.  Not to be tainted by nervousness (of being late to Hinte’s), or dread (of what Adwyn really wanted), or anticipation (of trudging through the Berwem again) or sheer panic (of chasing the thieves).


    flying, winging out to the cliffs southern to relax and gaze the stars.  I wanted it to be like that.


    relax around Mawla, and not worry if I measured up to some invisible standard.  She already thought I was cool, and not even knowing my boring day job or seeing Hinte???—??more heroic than me by far???—??could change that.


    colorful.  While the ridges had their businesses in Gwymr/Frina, rare was the mountain-dweller actually living in the cliffs; but all of them seemed to end up here, on the south side.  The canyons seemed to hesitate in sending over anything save advisers or diplomats; but when those dragons deigned their way north, all of them seemed to end up here, on the south side.  And while news never left the land of frost and flame, sometimes dragons did; yet, as if the ash-dwellers wouldn’t go farther north than needed, they too ended up here, on the south side.


    here and not in the sterile, rootless center.


    someone to talk to.  I’d learned the same thing each time: the south side was still Gwymr/Frina.


    stories about forest-dwellers.  They couldn’t all be like Hinte.  And that one had a necklace of bones so I definitely didn’t want to find out more.)


    them.


    could just fly on past to the cliffs southern, but then the guards would scurry after me and ask questions.  Easier this way.


    petty.  But I had a certain tendency to be noticed by the guards anyway.)


    writhing, not yet.  Hello, Ffrom.  Were you reassigned?


    youse’s nonsense about a conspiracy.  To think I’d be shackled for doing my job???—??to think I dodged Wydrllos just ‘cause that sleepy faer needs more guards.”  He popped his tongue, jabbed the other guard with a wing.  “Some bleeding ship Mlaen’s running, ain’t it.”  The other guard shrugged his wings, kept chewing something black.


    doing your job was ever the problem.  You did it poorly.  Even I can guard a dead human.”


    I chased the thieves to their hideaway, I fought them to a stalemate while big Rhyfel and your squirrel friend were takin their time, and for my trouble I got a building burnt???—”


    You are the reason the thieves could act at all!”  I lifted my head up, drew my wings for composure.


    I ought to deny you.  What will you stir in the cliffs after that dire nonsense in the market?  On the heels of two other drafty figures, no less.”


    N–Nonsense?”  My voice frayed, and my head fell.  I tried to lift it high.  “I am a hero.  I helped save the town today!  You ought to let me in for that alone.”


    spit the fuck off, Ffrom.  You’re a guard, not a rambling drunk.  You ain’t got no reason to stomp on this little wiver, and you ain’t got no reason to detain her.  Keep your frustrations to yourself.”


    was cliffs southern, some kind of chalky rock that crumbled at a touch and when it rained ran like venom.  It stuck to my feet when I walked, but it wasn’t gravel and that counted for everything.


    present, and yet just as unphased by the day’s tragedy, the loss of life.  It was worse.


    fuck off me!” that cut through everything.  The world wasn’t ok.  There was still something to do.


    * * *