Isle of Wings, page 12
Roana unbound her hair and started the long process of scrubbing it with the pot of clay she had brought from home. She took her time, languid in the heat.
A month after her sister's death, coming to the busy pools had been a relief from the pervasive silence of her home. A few stolen moments when she could forget that she would never again hear her sister's laughter, the strong beat of her father's voice, or feel the embrace of her mother’s arms.
Roana rinsed the clay from her hair, dunking her head beneath the surface of the water.
She had thought it a game at first. They were younger than her, only three-quarters her size. The first one pulled her arm, yanking her deeper into the water, and Roana thrust away, prepared to reprimand the child. But then another grabbed her other arm and did the same.
Roana, Roana, why don't you cry, you who made your family die! They shouted and laughed; the high-pitched ring of it was the last thing Roana heard before they pulled her down.
Throat burning, lungs aching, fingers prying at hands that yanked and tugged, Roana knew she was going to die.
But suddenly they were gone. Roana erupted from the pool and screamed—a reflexive release that shattered against the exposed rocks encasing the pools. Jip lunged at the children, scattering them like crows caught pecking at a corpse.
Jip was always there when Roana needed her, and that was why Roana could never stop loving the mutt, even if she had exposed Roana's hiding place on the ship.
Roana inhaled the fine mist around her and set about the task of scrubbing her skin with a coarse brush and a slip of soap.
The stench of Jip's fur reached her again. "How do you feel about taking a bath, girl?"
Jip's eyes widened, and she put her chin down over her paws, ears pulled back beseechingly.
"No? You might really like the warm water."
Jip groaned.
"When was the last time you had a bath? It must be a few months at least. And no, the lagoon doesn't count," she added when Jip lifted her head.
The mutt sniffed a paw and gave a tentative lick. She seemed to think better of it and studied the boulders instead.
Roana finished scrubbing herself, then re-lathered the brush. "What if I fry you up a nice piece of fish?"
Jip's ears perked.
"Maybe throw in some roasted squaroot?"
Whining, Jip edged forward, licking her chops.
"Good girl." She rubbed the brush gently over her dog's paws, slowly working her way up to Jip's neck and back. "See? It's not so bad getting clean. Maybe I'll even let you lay in the bed tonight—"
Behind Roana, something scuffed on the rocks. She whipped around and Jip leaped up, spraying soapy water. The dog nosed the ground vigorously. Nothing moved around the boulders jutting up around them, but the hair on Roana's neck rose. She pulled herself out of the pool, tugged on a clean tunic, and grabbed her other things.
"To me, Jip," she called, and her dog led the way back to Alagón.
"Am I boring you?"
The question startled Roana out of her reverie. She straightened and blinked at her tutor, Erik, who had stopped pacing in front of his table of books and papers. "No," she lied. Really, she was exhausted from her morning at the lagoon, and the hot springs had relaxed her so much that now, sitting at her writing desk listening to Erik drone on, all she wanted to do was take a nap.
"Perhaps you would like to add a thought to the topic at hand?" Erik drummed his fingers on a stack of leather-bound books on the table, which leaned precariously from the weight of his hand.
Tawny hair smoothed back from a fair, neatly bearded face. Despite the order of his hair and clothes, ink stains blotted his hands. Books, papers, maps, and writing implements were scattered over the table.
Roana pursed her lips. She didn't want to offend Erik; after all, he was a relatively new tutor for her. After the shipwreck last year, Nan had given Roana some months to mourn before continuing with her usual lessons—but the old tutor had left and never returned. Nan had spun Roana some story about the old tutor leaving for family on the mainland, but Roana knew better; the tutor had been close to her sister Pia, no doubt because Pia had been the perfect student, and blamed Roana for her death, just like everyone else on the island. Nan eventually found Erik, and they had been at lessons for weeks now, despite Roana's insistence that she no longer cared about learning.
He dug into a stack of rolled papers, pulled one out and flattened it over Roana's desk. "I've been meaning to show you this."
Despite her reluctance to be lectured further, Roana couldn't help leaning forward.
The rough, creamy paper was a map detailed in brilliant golden ink, and big enough to see the entirety of Skye Lake as well as the mainland coast. Roana traced the edge of Ekesia, noting the huge harbor city with faint lines spiraling from the water, wondering where each road led. Surely one of them went straight to Icanti, the heart of Ekesia where the king and queen lived. That was where her parents and sister had been headed before they died.
"Here's the Isle of Wings," Erik pointed out, as if Roana couldn't find the rough cut of it among the vast emptiness of Skye Lake. In this very solarium, her mother and father kept several maps of the isle, which she had examined for hours on end—not for the isle itself, but for the land away from it. Erik continued, "What do you notice about the location of the island?"
"You mean besides being in the middle of the lake?"
Erik tsked. "Look closer."
She glanced at the map. The isle was positioned just west of Lach, with Orion to the north and Ekesia to the south. Her eye caught the jagged lines indicating the coastline of Lach. "If you mean to teach me about the Lachian cliffs, you'll be wasting your time. I'm the daughter of the late Rain Mage, remember? I've heard plenty of merchants and shipowners complain of them. Dangerous cliffs prevent ships from sailing near the coast. Instead, they sail westward and stop here on their way to or from the mountains."
"Well," Erik said, and his pleasant tone had an edge to it, "since you know so much, perhaps you could tell me how the trade dynamics have shifted since the Rain Mage died?"
Roana felt the heat drain from her face. Was he trying to provoke her?
Erik clasped his hands and started pacing again, eyes studying the ground as he waited for her response.
No, he wasn't, she decided. She blew out a breath, thinking. "Trade over water would be even more dangerous with the uncontrolled storms. So shipping would be more expensive."
That was another thing merchants complained about constantly: shipping fees. They had tried convincing her father to negotiate with shipowners on their behalf, giving the owners good reason to lower their insurance because her father would guarantee safe passage to their destination.
"How do you think overly expensive shipping would affect trade?" Erik prompted.
Roana scanned the map again. "Perhaps merchants are more likely to turn to land routes. Ekesia would be in the best position, having a lakeside port and roads going north and south. Lach, on the other hand..."
"Did you know that there is a lord on Lach's Council who hunts shapeshifters?"
Roana leaned back in her chair. "I believe my mother mentioned something of it." Particularly, how horrible that man was, what a despicable thing he did to his own people, his country. Any man who hunts his people is no man at all, but a monster, her mother had told her and Pia once.
"Well, the Ekesian royalty do not agree with Lach's current practices in regards to shapeshifters, and have been reluctant to work with the Council on such matters. Just recently, in fact, Ekesia threatened to close the trade route north. This would cut off Lach from all countries except Orion. It wouldn't be good for Ekesia either," Erik added, "because they wouldn't be able to get Orion's special herbal medicines. This is a risk the king and queen cannot afford at the moment, as there has been an outbreak of water fever far to the east."
"How do you know all of this?" Roana asked, amazed.
Erik smiled. "I still maintain contact with friends back on the mainland. These are hectic times."
Roana shook her head, eyes trailing back to the map. Just past the cliffs of Lach, Roana spied a strange shape with the letter A scrawled inside. She pointed. "What does this mean?"
Erik bent over the map, frowning, and Roana caught a faint whiff of cedar oil. "Ah, that is the Academy."
Roana examined it closer, now seeing the markings of a city next to it. "And this is Pemberville?" She had heard rumors of the city and the Academy that sat near the cliffs above it. A school for wizards, a place full of magic and mystery and learning, a place she could only ever dream of.
"Yes, the city is quite lovely, despite its location."
Roana stared at him. "You lived in Pemberville?"
"No," he said, starting to sound uncomfortable. "I lived at the Academy."
Roana's jaw dropped. "You're a wizard?"
Erik ducked his head. "A bit of a wizard, yes. But I am mostly a teacher—"
"Can you show me a spell? What can you do?" And then, before he could answer, "Why did you leave the Academy? Why are you here?"
"I left the Academy because I wanted to travel. I had learned all I was able to, which it turned out wasn't much, and I visited different parts of Orion, then went down to Icanti before coming here—"
"Icanti!" Roana's arms tingled with excitement. "Did you see the king, or the queen?" She could just imagine the city of Icanti—the heart of Ekesia, where the arts were adored and streets were paved with sun-stone so that they shone brilliant as the setting sun. "Have you been inside the palace?"
Before Erik could answer, there was a crash from somewhere in the house. The cook hollered, and Roana could just hear Nan's sharp retort before they fell into bickering.
With that, the excitement pounding through Roana fled. "I should go see what that was," she stated reluctantly. She should at least make sure that Nan was alright, not injured by whatever had clearly broken.
Erik sighed and rolled up the map. "Take the rest of the day. We can continue our discussion tomorrow."
Roana opened her mouth to tell him she would be back in just a moment—after all, she wanted answers to her burning questions—but just then Nan called for her.
Grinding her teeth, she left the solarium and went into the great hall where Nan and Gael stood. Between them, a blue vase lay shattered on the stone floor.
"It was your doing," Gael was saying, waving a hand at the mess. "I was minding my own business in the kitchen!"
Nan's white curls trembled with indignation. "And I was merely walking where I always walk! I've been in this house for a very long time and I know where everything is—unless it gets moved!"
Gael pointed at the wooden table where the decorative vase had been. "It hasn't moved in centuries! You can see the dust on the floor around the table legs!"
Roana peered closer, cringing when her shoe crunched on a fragment of the vase.
"That table has been moved, I am sure of it," Nan stated. "The dust has certainly been disturbed. Isn't that right, Roana?"
The dust, in fact, lay thick around the legs of the table, showing no sign that anything had been moved—or cleaned—in a long while. On top of the table was a thin layer of dust grooved with the slight markings from when the vase was knocked over. Had Nan run into it? Perhaps reached to touch it and accidentally pushed it off the table?
Nan's dress rustled impatiently, and Roana cleared her throat. "It appears that the table has been moved." Nan nodded, triumphant.
Gael scowled at both of them. "I must be the only one who can see anymore!"
Erik came by with a stack of books, eyebrows raised and eyes averted as he passed quickly across the hall, not wanting to get involved. Neither Nan or Gael seemed to notice, and Roana envied him heartily as he left the house.
Just then, Roana caught the faint noise of something thumping overhead. Had the sound come from her bedchamber? She took a hesitant step away from the broken vase, eager to be upstairs. Eager to be anywhere that wasn't in this very spot.
"If you can see so well," Nan said, "then you may clean this up. And the table should be moved back to its proper location."
Thump, thump, thump! It was definitely coming from her chamber. Roana glanced between the two women, but neither of them seemed to hear it.
"But I'm the cook!" Gael retorted, her weathered cheeks flaming with outrage. "I only clean the kitchen—"
"Enough with your whining!" Nan straightened and raised her chin a notch, wielding opaque eyes at the cook. "How dare you speak to me this way? Your mother never would have been so disrespectful."
Gael, not put off by Nan's taller height or regal stare, placed her fists over her wide hips. "And now you bring up my mother! Beaten and abused for years, made to drudge around this house rather than stay in her proper place in the kitchen!"
"Beaten?!" Nan sounded scandalized. Roana edged away from the pair, knowing it would likely be some time before this argument simmered down. "No one in this family ever set a hand on your mother—"
Gael's eyes flashed to Roana, and Roana froze like a mouse caught in a trap. "And you! What is that mess you left in my kitchen?" She shoved a bony, knotted finger at the kitchen door, where Roana had left the net of frogs she had caught that morning in the lagoon.
"It's dinner," Roana explained. Thump! THUMP! Louder, she added, "I caught them from the lagoon this morning." She inched closer to the stairs.
Gael's beady eyes remained pinned to her, lips puckering like the mouth of a coin-purse. "And what have I told you a hundred times about bringing those animals in here? They must be cleaned first! Preferably outside!" Her hunched shoulders quivered with the vehemence of her words.
"Gael," Nan exclaimed. "Haven't you harped enough on my granddaughter? The girl had to get to her lessons..."
THUMP! THUMP! THUMP!
Was that squawking she heard? He was probably hungry again, and she had little food left already from this morning. Roana licked her lips, every muscle in her limbs tense and longing to bolt up the steps in order to quiet Esperion. "I'm sorry, Gael, and I promise to clean them next time—"
Knock-knock-knock.
Roana jumped at the nearness of the noise, at first thinking it was the bird, but a moment later realizing the sound came from the front door. Fighting the need to scream, she stalked over and threw open the door, plastering on a flat smile.
And immediately dropped it.
White teeth flashed as Iniko gave a wry grin. "Bad time?"
"You." The word fell out as a statement—one that was both annoyed and resentful. It had been nearly a week since she last saw him.
"I brought you something," Iniko said quickly, turning so that she could see the net of fish he had slung over his shoulder. Relief washed over Roana, then a bit of guilt at resenting him. "I thought you could use more food for—"
"Yes, come in!" She grabbed his arm and hauled him inside before he could say anything more.
Gael and Nan stared, both shocked into silence. Finally, Roana thought as she pulled him up the stairs. She tried to use her body to block the net from their view, too aware of Iniko's proximity, that her fingers wrapped around an arm strung wide and taut with muscle. Her face burned. "We'll just be up here for a little while," she called down to the two women.
Gael gaped. "Is that fish?"
Nan eyed Iniko with particular curiosity. "It certainly smells fishy to me."
Roana pulled Iniko out of sight and ushered him into her chamber, where the noise of the baby bird echoed and bounced on the stone walls. The thumping she had heard downstairs resounded again, much louder. She released Iniko and shut the door behind her, locking it with clumsy fingers.
"Is this your—"
"Yes," Roana snapped, "this is my room. And Esperion has been causing a ruckus—"
She gasped when she saw the state of her bedchamber. The wardrobe doors were thrown open, feathers and dresses and bird feces everywhere, and the blanket from her bed had been pulled down and wrestled into a pile—a bundle that now jerked and flopped on the floor.
Roana rushed over and untangled layer after layer of blanket, cringing at the sound of ripping fabric. Moments later, she uncovered Esperion's head and rocked back when he shrieked. The feathers around his mottled face were all askew, and something wet had smeared flat the feathers on his chest. He had gotten into her bedpan, which she had forgotten to empty that morning.
"Is that urine?" Iniko asked, sniffing.
Roana closed her eyes. "Yes."
Esperion shrieked again, flapping stubby wings and lifting his feet until he was able to free himself from the blanket.
Iniko sat on the edge of the bed, awed. "He's gotten huge." He set down the net of fish—why not add fish slime to the rest of the filth on her floor, Roana thought hopelessly—and stared as Esperion immediately stalked to the net and pecked at it.
He was right, Esperion had gotten huge. His head now reached nearly to Roana's waist, and his sharp, curved beak had also grown to the length of her hand. She might've been surprised by his quick growth if she hadn't spent so much time feeding him.
"He can't stay here anymore." Her voice sounded small. Esperion's talons scratched hungrily at the fish, gouging the wood floor beneath.
She met Iniko's expressive eyes, and an odd sensation hit her as she fully realized he sat on her bed. The bed where she dreamed and the sheets hugged against her skin each and every night. The intimate intrusion caused her face to flame. But she couldn't say she minded him being in the room with her. "Will you help me move him?"
Smooth lips quirked. "You have a better place in mind, then?"
16
Iniko
Roana panted from the weight of Esperion swinging between them. They had lured him onto the blanket with fish and pulled the corners up around him, carrying him in a sort of makeshift sack. Several extra fish had been tossed in for good measure.
"Easy does it," Iniko said as they headed down the staircase. He had offered to carry the bird all on his own—it would be little different from the cargo he normally carried every day at the harbor—but Roana had blatantly refused the offer, saying Esperion was her responsibility.
