Chapter 8

The three swept toward the back bar with casual arrogance. Kestrel bent her head to her drink. Thankful for the table’s seclusion, she sat and waited and listened. The noise that hindered conversation before seemed to separate into threads of people’s lives.

She listened to the farmworkers at the next table discussing the large bosomed farmer’s wife. Listened to the quiet, melodic drone of the bored resident harper. And listened to the arrogant man in the black cloak demand the innkeeper give him the use of the inn’s common room on the morrow between early and late watch.

The man’s voice became louder, taking on the tone of a town crier or herald. His voice made the hairs on her arms stand on end. Something about him seemed dirty or corrupt. Kestrel grimaced. She needed to get out of there. But she wanted to gather as much information as she could for Jayf… It was not yet time, she decided and continued to listen.

“We will conduct trials of recruitment for the Tavir Academy here for the day,” he said with a grand sweep of his hand. “And we’re here to help any infected with the plague that closed the borders between Lowrendal and Sedd. If you have information on any of the Espaire blood, we can help them, infected or not. We’ll all rest easier, knowing we cleanse them.”

He lowered his voice then, and all Kestrel made out was furious haggling between the disgruntled innkeeper and the Tavir-weaver. Surely that is who the men were, she thought, in their finery, throwing the Academy’s name around like it meant something to these quiet town folk.

Kestrel scanned what she could of the inn, looking for Natalie. She found her across the room, watching her. Jayf’s friend gave her a slight nod and headed for the two unoccupied weavers.

Kestrel waited until they were occupied and used that moment to skim along the stair wall to the entrance. Her heart pounding as if her namesake falcon were trying to beat its way out of her chest; she slipped out the door and around the side of the building before taking another breath.

The night no longer held the shine of excitement. Instead, every sound made her jump. She wondered where Jayf had gone and if she should wait for him or head to the wagons and tell her mah and Marley. Few festival celebrants wandered the street now and most of those kept to the far end. She suspected the weavers were responsible for that and faded farther into the gloom.

Pondering her best route out of town, she remembered Jayf’s instructions and turned to the shadow-clotted alley between the inn and the smithy. It reminded Kestrel of a long ebon throat. But she took comfort in that dark, knowing however little she might see, whoever she faced would surely see less. So she slid into that murky gullet, slipping like one of those shadows toward the other end.

She angled to the right until her shoulder brushed against the smithy wall. Soon, the stable came into sight. It squatted in an open courtyard at the end of the ally. A blooming elderberry bush at the corner of the smithy swayed in the night breeze, and Kestrel scooted beneath its drooping limbs to get a better viewpoint.

Within moments, Raisha’s silvery light broke through the disappearing cloud cover, throwing the courtyard into stark relief. Five horses stood tied to a long post at the far side of the stable. One of the lord’s men tended to the mounts and tack.

He spoke over his shoulder as he straightened the last saddle blanket and patted the horse on his flank. “What are you doing over there, Mason?”

Kestrel heard a chuckle and, unsure from where the voice came, moved further back beneath the branches. With the next words, she pinned the voice to a body location.

“Why, I think we have a real live dragonkin here,” Mason drawled. He came from inside the stable, propelling Jayf before him, one hand gripping Jayf’s long tail of hair and the other with a dagger to his neck.

Kestrel sucked in a quick breath, held it for the count of four and released it slow and steady. Then she did it again. Her legs still shook. She scanned the surrounding courtyard. The two guards with the horses were the only people she saw.

“Mason, be careful with him. Lord Norfall will have our hides if he finds out we’ve killed a local,” the guard with the horses said. He rounded their mounts to see what his partner had found.

Mason snorted. “Local... not likely, Chet. The nearest dragonkin enclave is on the coast of Groab.” He shoved the little man forward. “And this good-for-nothing, thievin dragon-spawn may travel alone, but settle away from their own,” he shook his head. “Like I said, not likely.”

Again he shoved Jayf, this time snaking his foot out as he pushed. Jayf stumbled forward, his foot connecting with Mason’s. He didn’t fight the momentum, but smacked from head to toe into the ground as Mason let go of his hair.

Kestrel wasn’t sure when it happened, but she realized when Jayf hit the ground she already had her bow in her hands. In the next moment, she let loose an arrow. She sensed something intangible shift, and her stomach clenched with the recognition that her future rode that arrow on a dangerous path.

She didn’t aim for either of the men, but the post where the horses stood. The horses pulled at their tethers, vocalizing their panic as the unexpected projectile hit the pole. Both Mason and Chet’s heads whipped around, following the solid thunk and the horses’ commotion.

Jayf, still stretched out on the ground, disappeared as soon as the guards turned. Kestrel shook her head, scanning the area, but Jayf was nowhere to be seen. She chuckled to herself. No wonder she could not follow him last night.

Quiet as a breath on a breeze, she slipped into the shadows of the buildings and back into the adjacent woods. Behind her, she heard the shouts of the two men. She looked over her shoulder, seeing the flare of essence fire. Kestrel bit the inside of her lip when she thought of her arrow sticking out of that post, just waiting to announce who she was to a troupe of essence-weavers.

She shoved her scattered thoughts to the side, taking slow, deep breaths, and focused on her surroundings, just as her great-mother, Caussara, had taught her. Again she felt a strange shifting as if the air currents her life rode held their breath for just a moment, and then exhaled with a whoosh.

A whoosh that propelled her farther off the course her life traveled at the touch of dawn. She stumbled, going down on one knee. Then, catching herself, she twisted to her left as a hand encircled her right wrist, yanking her to the ground.

“Shush, it’s me, Little Hawk.”

Kestrel knelt nose to nose with Jayf, his eyes a swirling maelstrom of shadows. Twigs and bits of leaf played hide and seek in his hair. If the mood behind his madcap appearance had not been deadly serious, Kestrel would have laughed out loud.

As it was, she clamped her mouth shut and followed his lead. Her eyes sliding along the line of his pointing finger to a night spilling over with stars. She scanned the sky, searching for what he saw, then suddenly there was a gliding hole of black skimming along the treetops.

To her, it looked like a black owl, a huge black owl with hind legs and a tail. It reminded her of the monsters in the stories her great-father would tell around the campfire. She had always thought those stories were more imagined than truth, but now… now it was one more piece of information for Marley Stonebender and her mah to sift.

She sensed its location and noted the difference in the air as it swooped close to the trees. Kestrel held her breath, wondering if it sensed them as they did it. But it circled up and out over the open field to their left, showing no sign it knew they were there.

Jayf squeezed her arm and motioned for her to be ready. In a blink, he was on his feet, his hand latched around her wrist. Kestrel wasn’t sure if it was Jayf or the surrounding air that shimmered until she looked down and realized she too appeared wrapped in a gossamer haze.

Jayf grinned at Kestrel, but there was a sharp edge of worry in his voice. “It’s all right, we can speak, but we must step lively. I should not have taken you on the Dragon Paths. We must hurry!”

She nodded, matching her pace to the dragonkin. Her mind churned with questions, but she couldn’t seem to find a place to begin. Her mind grabbed onto the last thing Jayf said. “What or where are the Dragon Paths?”

“It is a place, between places, neither here nor there. Time moves differently here, but the boon decreases with the time spent there,” he said, pulling her down the hill.

“Oh, well, that explains it.”

Jayf chuckled, but didn’t slow his pace. “And thus is the conundrum.”

“Ah! A dragon riddle!” Kestrel’s mouth snapped shut, and she wished she could pull back her last words. Whether for a purpose or a simple slip in conversation, Jayf had given her an unimaginable boon. Kestrel was sure of it. You could never tell when being privy to the workings of a dragon riddle would come in handy, she thought.

Soft streams of color appeared to flow from everything as they moved. She tried to pay attention to the detail of their journey, but the more she concentrated, the more indistinct and unreal their surroundings seemed.

“We will leave the paths at the base of the rise, just ahead,” Jayf said as he pulled her toward the place he pointed out. “Stay in the shadows of the stand of pine until we know it is clear.”

Kestrel’s stomach clenched. The world seemed to tilt and right itself again as Jayf came to a stop beneath droopy pine boughs. He released Kestrel’s wrist, and she fought the need to crumple to the ground.

“Sit Little Hawk, you have traveled farther this night than what you could imagine.”

Kestrel smiled faintly, surprised that it felt so natural to have this farlander use one of her pet names. She sat in silence until certain her world would stay in place. Then scanned the area looking for landmarks, only to find they were a short walk away from the clan caravan.

Although she knew better than to expect a straight answer from her new friend, her amazement begged her to ask, “How did we get here so fast?”

When Jayf did not answer after a couple of moments, she turned her gaze from scanning the night sky for signs of the owl thing to the dragonkin.

He shrugged away her stare. “It is hereditary,” he said. He cast his gaze once more across the treetops. “I don’t see our owly friend, so if you are ready we need to find Marley and your mah.”