Chapter 72: Safe Travels (2)

Chapter 72: Safe Travels (2)

Just before dawn, Aaron put on his wolf cloak and slipped into the forest through a crack in the towns gate, quickly closed. There was new growth brushing his shoulders and old decay damp under his paws, and sounds and smells he still didnt know. There was a strangeness to being outside of humanitys walls before sunrise. An electric charge down the fur of his spine that kept his nose sniffing and his ears swiveling and made his legs itch to stretch out in a run. There were things to hunt, out here in the dark. And things to hunt him. He huffed, and paced, and waited.

As soft pinks touched the sky, a rider on a rather plain horse departed more openly. Their cloak was gathered about them and their hood up against the chill. One gloved hand held the reins, as the other rested on their leg. It was obvious they were a messenger, because no one else would be out so early, or so alone. But messengers were common enough in the spring, and this one didnt stand out from any other.

Their horse whickered at the smell of wolf. Maybe he should have gone upwind. Downwind? Which wind was it, where a thing that was full of soft and tender bits couldnt smell a toothy fellow? The breeze was currently in his fur, and going towards the horse, which was the wrong way. But being on this side of the road meant he wouldnt ever have to cross it; wouldnt have to put himself out into the open.

The rider nudged her horse along with soft words and a squeeze of her legs. The wolf shadowed.

It was lovely using his own paws. He finally stretched his legs out, and matched the pace of the trotting horse. Exceeded it, with bounds that took him over old lichen-dappled logs and set his panted breaths coming out as little clouds of fog. He ran until he could barely see horse and rider, then paused to pant even more, or laid down and waited until they caught up. Then the cycle started again.

Having fun? Adelaide asked, the next she caught up to him, her voice pitched low.

Aaron did not bark, because he was as inconspicuous under the cover of the trees as his sister was in her changed clothes, and he liked it that way. They had no way of knowing whether the dragon that had been following them knew of his cloaks. Or Adelaides prosthetic, for that matter.

Why dont you wear it all the time? Aaron had asked, when shed pulled the arm from a saddlebag. It was made of some light wood, the hand on clever springs that would grip an object tightly, the elbow on a joint that could be posed. Its upper end was a sort of cup with padding for her stump to fit inside, with straps to hold it tight.Updated from novelb(i)n.c(o)m

Its mostly to protect the sensibilities of others, but it does have its uses, she said. None of them are in battle. I generally leave it off in spring.

Behind them, dawn-shaded wings had taken up a high circle above the town theyd stayed at. With any luck, it would be looking for two riders, one of them atop a very distinctive mount. Not a single non-descript messenger, in only the usual hurry.

Her tianma had been extremely insulted to be traded in for a mere horse. The stablehands had promised to take good care of it until her return trip. Aaron wished them luck.

By noon they were into the foresters lands proper, with the sea far enough behind them that he might as well have imagined that expanse of too-suspicious water. There were no dragon patrols for them to attach themselves to, or towns built for such threats. But then, there were no wings overhead, either.

The main road crossed with others, littler paths that would lead towards towns. They were marked with signposts, but. Well. Aaron nearly overshot their goal, because the carved letters were weathered, and some interesting animal had left an equally interesting signpost of its own marked against the base, and one of these had felt more natural to read than the other.

Its this way, his sister said, calling him back. Do you have trouble reading like that?

He was. They tied up the horse where children could creep up to it with handfuls of dandelions and clover, and followed the elder to the other end of the village. Jessicas husband sat on the ground outside one of those sod-covered houses, with a small group of friends and a heap of dried grass they were working into ropes, some buffing the fibers between their hands, others twisting. He was easy to spot, as the one smiling the least.

Kian, the old woman said, and the man turned around. First curious, then with a darkening face. He did not rise to greet them.

His sister stepped forward.

My name is Adelaide Sung. She didnt pull rank. Which was good, given that the man probably still wouldnt have bothered rising. This is Aaron. Were here

I know why youre here, he interrupted. Do you? Because Ive already given my story to the Late Wake. And I gave it to that Dukes people, far north as they werea Sung too, that one. Ive given it to everyone whos come asking. What questions do you have that I havent answered?

May we speak to you alone? Adelaide asked.

No, he said, even as his friends were sneaking away. The old woman had, as well. He sighed. ...Apparently.

A few weeks past, Adelaide said, pulling out a rolled scroll shed taken from her saddlebags, this woman came to my people for protection.

The man took the scroll. Unrolled it, and froze, a hand coming up to cover his mouth. Jeshinkra.

Jeshinkra? Adelaide repeated.

A nickname, the man said.

It didnt sound like a nickname. It sounded like the Jahnalistrin that John Baker had let slip once and only once, so far as Aaron knew, in a city where people still occasionally asked him to speak bird. Though it had to be a bit of a nickname, too, if the kirins bone had let that past.

I would like to know how sure you are that it was your wife you found dead, Adelaide said. I know you do not want to tell your story again. But we would hear it, if we could, so we do not have to hear instead what others have said youve said.

Shes alive? the man asked.

The woman who came to me is, Adelaide replied, and the man began his story.