Taking Flight

He considered. He knew that he would find her again-Zindre’s prediction was that he would marry her and bring her home to Shulara with him, so he knew he would find her again.

He didn’t know when, where, or how, though.

That would have to take care of itself; there were more immediate concerns. “We can go on and build the pyre ourselves,” Kelder said. “But first, I want to know just what in the World is going on here!” He stepped forward and grabbed the old man by the shoulder.

The filthy cloth of his tunic felt greasy and unpleasant under Kelder’s hand, but Kelder ignored that. The old man started slightly at the youth’s touch, but didn’t resist; he didn’t even turn to look, but instead kept staring after Irith.

“Old man,” Kelder said, “who are you?”

The drunk simply stared at the departing Flyer.

“Talk to me, damn it!” Kelder shouted. “Who are you? Why is she scared of you?”

That penetrated.

“Scared of me?” The old man turned and looked up at Kelder, astonishment plain on his face. “Why would she be scared of me?”

“That’s what I want to know!” Kelder snapped. “Who are you?”

The man blinked, as if considering a new and surprising idea.

“What’s your name?” Asha asked, stepping up beside Kelder.

“Ezdral,” he replied. “My name is Ezdral.”

“Just Ezdral?” Kelder asked.

The old man shrugged. “Mostly,” he said. “Back in Shan they call me Ezdral the Sot, mostly.” He blinked. “That’ll do. I’m not drunk right now, haven’t touched a drop since I saw Irith in the arcade last night, but I’ve been pretty sodden for a long time, there’s no sense in denying it.”

“All right, Ezdral,” Kelder said, withdrawing his hand and resisting the temptation to wipe it on his own tunic, “how do you know Irith?”

The old man looked down, coughed, spat something out, wiped his mouth on a grubby sleeve. He turned, squatted, and then sat down, crossing his legs slowly and carefully.

Kelder waited.

Ezdral looked up at him, and then gestured at the ground. Asha took the hint and dropped down, sitting facing Ezdral. Kelder took a moment longer, but joined them.

“When I was eighteen,” Ezdral began, “I met…”

“When was that?” Asha interrupted.

Ezdral frowned. “What year is it now?”

“5222,” Kelder told him.

“Then I’m … let me see … sixty-two, is it? Born on the first of Thaw, 5159…”

“Sixty-three … no, sixty-two,” Kelder agreed.

“So it would have been forty-four years ago.” He looked at them for agreement.

Asha nodded. Kelder said, “Go on.”

Ezdral took a deep breath, and let it out slowly.

“When I was eighteen,” he said again, “I met a girl, a beautiful girl with golden hair, like I’d never seen before. I was working in a stable in Mezgalon, and she was passing through, and I thought she was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. We got to talking, and she said her name was Irith the Flyer, and when I asked how she got a name like that she showed me how she could grow wings and fly.”

Kelder and Asha looked at one another.

“Forty years ago?” Kelder asked.

Ezdral nodded.

“It can’t be the same one,” Kelder said. “She’s only fifteen. She said so.”

Ezdral shook his head wearily, and peered at Kelder from beneath heavy lids. “She was fifteen then, too,” he said.

Kelder’s lips tightened. “Go on with your story,” he said.

“We talked, and I fell in love with her,” Ezdral said. “I mean, wildly and madly in love. She was so beautiful, so sweet. And we left Mezgalon together, and we traveled the Small Kingdoms from Shan to Lamum, Fileia to Lurethon.” He smiled. “Oh, we had some good times, we did. Filched a jeweler’s best stones once in Hlimora just so Irith could play with them. Danced naked in the Forest of Amramion. Got roaring drunk with the crown prince of Tuyoa, and Irith challenged his court wizard to a duel of magic and almost got herself killed. She could do other magic, not just shapeshifting, you know-had maybe half a dozen spells. Wasn’t any match for a real wizard, though.” He sighed.

The recitation paused for a moment, but Kelder and Asha waited without protest this time.

“We were together a little over a year, I think,” Ezdral said, resuming his tale. “I was nineteen, maybe twenty, by then. I started to think about maybe settling down somewhere, maybe having children someday. And one day I woke up and Irith wasn’t there. We’d been at her favorite inn in Shan on the Desert, a place called the Crystal Skull, and I still was, but she wasn’t.”

Kelder glanced down at Asha; she was sitting rapt, taking this all in. “Why did she leave?” the child asked.

Ezdral turned up an empty palm. “Who knows?” he said. “Maybe she just got bored with me.”

“So what did you do?”