Chains Carried on Wings

ONE-3

“That some creature had eaten them.”

“No,” a different girl, Raidi, interjected. “My uncle says they must have gotten lost in the woods.” She didn’t specify which uncle, but Auris assumed she meant the head of her family, a diligent man who never let fear override his sense. It didn’t hurt that the family in question mainly worked in navigation, lending them credibility. If Raidi was listening to him, she might do a lot of Auris’ work for her.

“But what about the farmer’s body?” a third girl asked.

“No,” Raidi repeated, her brown eyes still intent on her work, her dark skin contrasting against the wool in her hands. “He had some accident, perhaps fell off a cliff. Was probably already dead when scavengers started in on him. Animals are not so very likely to attack a large adult instead of running away.”

Many of the girls seemed satisfied by that, nodding and murmuring their assent. Ginis, however, wasn’t dissuaded so easily. “But it does happen,” she insisted, as she sent her spindle spinning with a sharp twist.

“Certainly, it’s possible. I suppose he could have happened on a bear that felt threatened by him. An accident. But all of them, eaten by a creature? Not likely.”

And so the conversation continued, the group of young women bandying theories about. Raidi and Auris managed to deflect many of the more outlandish ideas, preventing too much fear-mongering from taking root. No one mentioned the sorts of monstrous creatures that preyed on men, not even hesitantly. That was good. That meant it was a distant fear, something they didn’t want to be laughed at for believing. It meant the worry in the city hadn’t dipped into panic yet.

“Saig,” Ginis said. Saig froze at the sound of her name. “You found the farmer’s body with your mother, didn’t you? What do you think it was?”

Auris gave her cousin a steady look, hoping to convey the need to keep everyone calm. To prevent baseless theorizing from taking hold in the city.

Saig looked from Ginis to Auris, and back. “I don’t know,” she finally said. “The prince’s men should have a better idea.”

“But you saw it,” Ginis insisted.

“Ginis, please,” Auris intervened. “My poor cousin is a hunter. Rabbits and foxes, maybe she could tell you something about, but this is beyond her. The prince’s best men are examining the body, and they’ll know what to make of it.”

That seemed to quiet her for a moment. “I’ve heard the prince will mobilize more patrols outside the city. Is that true?”

Auris nodded. “It’s only sensible. Whatever may have happened, the patrols will keep an eye out for the farmers. No threat should get past them.”

“Ah,” Ginis said. “That’s good. They should be safe.” And she settled back into her work. Auris remembered that one of her male relatives had married in from a farmer’s family. Perhaps she maintained ties. That would explain her investment in the conversation.

Then a sudden thud made most of the young women jump, even managing to attract the attention of Auris’ older relatives.

Auris snapped her head towards the sound to find Kyr on the benches, strolling over to them as if the attention was his due, before curling up behind Auris and licking his paws clean.

“Oh,” Ginis squeaked. “Guardian.” She inclined her head towards the cat. Auris rolled her eyes. Her family had a tendency to attract uncanny animals, such as her Kyr, or her aunt Deanis’ Wata. It was what marked them as chosen for leadership. But Kyr wasn’t divine, and it was strange when people acted like he was.

Auris glanced over her shoulder at him. He stopped mid-lick, and turned his face towards her, yellow eyes gleaming. There was some sort of substance on his fur, glistening off his black paws, matting the grizzled pattern of white hairs by his chin red.

Blood, probably. Whenever Kyr came home with bits of red in his fur, it was usually blood. He must have been hunting.

Breathing in, Auris noticed a hint of something in the air, something sweet. Only for an instant, and then it was gone. Glancing at the nearest table, she wondered if some fruit or flowers had been left out, something to explain the scent. Nothing. She’d probably imagined it.

Turning back to her age-mates, she realized they’d gone silent after Kyr’s appearance. The murmur of the distant group of older women carried over from the other end of the house, where they’d already turned back to grinding their malt for ale. But Auris’ age-mates turned their full attention to the spindles twirling at their feet, even though they hadn’t had a problem chatting while working before. It was like they thought Kyr was judging them, determining whether or not they were productive citizens. Gauging whether or not they were appropriately respectful to the head family’s authority.

Which was silly, because of course he didn’t care about any of that. He was a cat. Auris was the one who cared.

Even after she managed to prod the conversation back to life, the talk did not return to the matter at hand. Instead, it turned to pointless rumor. Like the absence of the kingdom’s heir. Her age-mates speculated eagerly about why the king kept the prince’s whereabouts hidden, only insisting that he’d return soon. Was the heir traveling? On a mission? Renouncing his title and eloping with a commoner?

Auris stifled a groan at the fanciful notion that led to that theory.

The Clydian province was so far removed from the rest of the Gerosian kingdom’s politics, that there wasn’t any reason to care about what happened in the capital city. That was probably why her age-mates spent so much time on the topic, going over every agonizing detail. It was safely distant. So Auris gritted her teeth through the gossip surrounding the prince, itching to draw the conversation towards something important, but knowing she’d give her interest away if she did.

It was irritating, but the only thing she could do was trust that she’d done her job already. That she’d reassured her age-mates that the head family had the situation handled. If she was lucky, they’d bring that reassurance home with them and spread it to their own families. But she couldn’t control that.

She cast a final glance in her cousin’s direction. Saig remained quiet except when spoken to, resolutely focused on her spinning. If Auris had been that absorbed in her work, she would’ve fallen into the rhythm of the task, soothed by the constant whirl of the spindle. That wasn’t true for Saig. The frustration in her movements was obvious, as she fumbled to get the wool to the right thickness. It was on the tip of Auris’ tongue to tell her cousin to relax, to have patience with herself. But that was another conversation it was better not to have.

Thinking past Saig’s struggles, Auris took a moment to wonder what her cousin really thought of Ginis’ earlier question. What would she have said, if she could’ve answered it honestly? Saig was so quiet about her opinions, it was sometimes hard to tell what she was thinking.

But no, it didn’t matter. Even if Saig knew anything important, the prince’s men would see the same thing. And probably more. Auris would rather hear reports from experienced hunters than from her cousin and age-mate—a woman who was still too young, and who tried too hard at all the wrong things. Then the family would decide the next course of action, well-informed of the situation.

She didn’t need Saig’s perspective at all. No one did.