Wayward Rose

8

Not two weeks after leaving the ruined village behind, they were in Cibalae. They entered separately, with Laenas and Sara going first, acting as a pair of siblings. Per Dalibor's instructions, the two would find a place to stay near the city center, where Laenas would wait outside. The others would start heading into town one by one starting an hour later, find the inn where Laenas was waiting, and book lodging somewhere else, stopping by Laenas's spot once a day to check for news.

They stayed apart until a few days later when Dalibor finally found a house on the outskirts of town with a plot of land and a small stable that he could afford with the money he'd gotten from Timora. It was of a similar timber and thatch construction as the houses in the wolf-razed village. The common room was large enough for all of them, it had a fully stocked kitchen, and there were two private rooms on the second floor. He paid and thanked the prior owners—an older Ursi couple heading back to Sarmatia now that their children had all moved out—and set out to alert Laenas so he could direct the others to their new home.

That night, the five of them feasted together. Sara had bought fresh bread from the inn she and Laenas had been staying at, Rasha a clutch of fish from the fishmongers along the north shore, Musca a pair of bottles of imported wine, and Dalibor a selection of local produce. They talked and ate for hours, relaxing in the warmth of their new home and each other's company, glad to be safe and dry for the first time since leaving the ranch. They spoke of the city, of the food, of the weather, of the firewater, until finally the conversation turned at last to the future.

"Honestly, I might not have time for a job," Dalibor said. "Keeping house for the five of us is going to take some work, and I am the one who owns the place."

"You're not going to make me do it?" Sara asked.

"No," Dalibor said. He watched Rasha swipe yet another fig. "You made it pretty clear back at the ranch you wanted to do real work, and this is your chance. Nobody here knows you, so you don't have to hide. You can go out and try new things. See what you like, what you're good at. Something that pays, preferably."

"Thank you," Sara said. She sat very still. "But now I don't know what to do."

"I guess I figured the two of you would go around and perform in the taverns and inns," Laenas said. He wiped pomegranate juice from his fingers on his leg. "The two of you were amazing doing the Ballad of the Butcher together, and I loved the adaptation you used. It hit so much harder than the normal drivel the bards spit. You'd really be able to make some coin if one or both of you learn to dance too."

"The two of you do perform very well together," Musca agreed.

"Trying to find work as performers is a good idea," Rasha said. "You will both be safer in a strange town if you stay together."

Dalibor nodded. "That's fair," he said. "Performing in public might be a bit more visible than is wise, though."

"I don't know what else I could do, though," Sara said. "I was only ever trained how to be a princess."

"We can deal with that problem tomorrow," Dalibor said. "It is nice to have problems to solve again, though."

"Have you solved who's sleeping where?" Laenas asked. "There's only two rooms."

"I have solved it," Rasha said. "I will sleep in the kitchen. You four can have the bedrooms."

Dalibor tried to keep his face neutral, but he knew his tail was sticking out rigidly behind him. He wished for not the first time that he was able to better control the thing. He didn't like Rasha's plan. He did not want to share a bedroom with the princess. Not because he disliked her. Quite the opposite. He enjoyed spending time with her. She was smart and funny and talented. Performing with her was indeed more visible than he'd like while they were supposed to be hiding, but he was almost excited by the idea. That was as far as his affections for Sara extended, though, and he knew full well she would want more, the very thought of which made it feel like there were spiders loose in his fur.

But part of him, deep in the darkness at the back of his thoughts, told him he should want more as well. Because she was smart and funny and talented. He even knew that she was attractive in the Homin fashion, with bright brown eyes, a sharp imperial nose, and long black hair that she managed to keep smooth and lustrous even when trekking through the mountains. On top of that, she was very obviously attracted to him. He would never find a better match, the dark voice told him. This was his chance to experience that romantic love he'd heard so much about, had seen so often in others around him, that Laenas and Musca or Rasha and his suitors had in abundance. He'd squandered his chances with Timora and Jadia. Did he really want to discard this opportunity without even trying? Would he get another?

"Sounds like a plan," he said, and Sara blinked at him in surprise.

"Well that was easy," Laenas said. "Now come on! Let's enjoy the food! And maybe a bit more to drink." And so, they ate and drank and sang, and at the end of the night, retired each to their own rooms.

Once Dalibor and Sara were alone, the jackal found his earlier resolution had faded with the wine. "I still have my bedroll," he said. "You can have the bed to yourself."

"The bed is big enough for the both of us, Dalibor," Sara told him. She began unbelting her tunic, and Dalibor turned away. "You don't have to sleep on the floor."

Dalibor stared at the ceiling. The spiders were loose again. "That's kind of you," he said. "I know we're going to be spending a lot more time together, and I'd like to not spend all of it sleeping on the floor. But I'm not… I don't feel comfortable sharing a bed with you. Not yet. Maybe I will be some day. But not today."

He heard Sara sigh behind him. "We're…" She hesitated. "We're friends, right, Dalibor?"

He turned to face her. Her breastwrap lay on the bed, but she'd put her tunic back on. She looked ready to cry, and it hurt him that he was the cause of that pain. He knew he would do anything to try and make her feel better, and the realization surprised him nearly as much as what next came out of his mouth. "Call me Dalya, Sara, because yes, we absolutely are the closest of friends," he told her. "I know we didn't meet under the best circumstances, but…" He took a deep breath. What was he doing? Was it happening? Was this romance? "I've really enjoyed the time I've gotten to spend with you. I think we'll make a really good pair if we end up performing together too."

She smiled at him, but her lips trembled. "I think so too, Dalya" she said, and hearing that name on her lips was not at all awful like he had expected. "I know you said it wasn't your first choice, but I'm looking forward to it too."

"Then we'll make it happen," Dalibor told her. "I don't think there's anything to two of us together can't do."

"Thank you, Dalya," Sara said with a broad grin. Then she collapsed into the bed with a contented sigh. "Good night."

"Good night, Sara." Dalibor put out the room's lamp, rolled his bed out right next to hers, and proceeded to stare into the dark above him while he waited for sleep to come. He really did enjoy Sara's company. Maybe, given enough time, whatever feelings they shared would turn into something more, and, for the first time in years, he felt like he might be okay with finding out. To see if the romantic love everybody else raved about was something he could have after all. Because if not with Sara, then with who?

By the next afternoon, Dalibor had managed to safely pack away all thoughts of romance. The others were all out on various errands, so he used the act of unloading and storing the baskets of food he'd picked up from the market as a physical pantomime of putting his concerns and feelings somewhere he wouldn't have to look at them. It was while he was staring at the beets he'd selected, clutching them by their greens and wondering if they'd be a good metaphor for a physical attraction that he'd never felt, that Rasha sprinted into the yard shouting for him. "Dalya! Son! Are you home?"

"Son of the Sun, Papa," he said, stepping out of the house with the beets dangling from his grasp. "What's gotten you so worked up?"

"You will never guess who we found at the harbor!" Rasha told him, taking Dalibor's free hand in his own. A broad smile split his blunt muzzle.

Dalibor stepped back. "Who?" he asked.

Rasha laughed. "You will not believe me if I tell you," he said. "Tell him, Laenas. Tell him!"

The striker was just stepping through the front gate of the low wall that surrounded their land. The sea breeze had left his reddish curls far wilder than they had been when he'd left. "Some crazy lizard with a weird lizard name and a metal arm," he said. "Guy says he's looking for soldiers for—get this—a sea expedition to excavate an Astral crater."

Dalibor tilted his head to his side, and his tail curled up into an arc behind him. He stared at Rasha wide-eyed, and the bear stared back with his mouth open in a massive grin. "I don't believe him either," Dalibor said. "You're making fun of me."

"It's true. Hand of Thunder," Laenas said, holding up one of his own hands. "The two of them knew each other. It was the weirdest thing."

"Captain Myrddin's here?" he asked.

"Yeah, that was his name," Laenas said. "You really do all know each other."

"I still don't believe you," Dalibor told Rasha. "And I know how bad of liars the both of you are."

"Come, then! Come!" Rasha said, dragging Dalibor from the yard. "He will be happy to see you."

"Are you sure?" Dalibor asked, digging in his heels. "Our voyage together ended in a literal mutiny."

"I am sure!" Rasha insisted. "You stopped the mutiny, and only the one lion died. Now come!" Dalibor barely managed to toss the beets to Laenas before his father dragged him away.

Cibalae's harbor sat on a natural inlet that looked almost like a crater, with piers and ships lined up in a crescent below the hills upon which the city sat. It was possible to see every ship from above while they descended to water level, and Dalibor saw one he remembered, moored far out in the bay, long before he saw its captain. The large vessel didn't seem to have changed a bit in the ten years since he had last seen it. It was the biggest ship in the harbor, and its oaken hull gleamed in the midday sun. Even the scarlet paint on the carved dragon's head on the bow seemed as fresh as it had ten years earlier. "Thunder's stones," he breathed. "That's the Serpent of Londinium. You were telling the truth."

"I told you!" Rasha said. "I don't blame you for not believing me, though. I did not believe at first either, and I saw the ship same as you. Oh! There is Captain now! Oy! Captain!"

A spotted tan lizard with a ruffly shirt and broad-brimmed petasos turned at the bear's call. His outfit was nearly identical to the one Dalibor remembered. Now, however, he had discarded his navy overcoat, and the sleeves of his shirt were cut short, showing off the inlaid metal and crystals of the captain's right arm. Unfamiliar sigils inside the crystals pulsed slowly with a viridian radiance, and the scaled skin between the platinum inlays was scarred from the injuries the captain had sustained during the mutiny he'd put down on the voyage the three of them had shared ten years earlier. The salt-and-fish wind of the harbor rustled Myrddin's shirt as they approached. He smiled when he caught sight of them. "So Mr. Radomir was telling me the truth," he said with a sparkling, Northern Isle accent that still captivated Dalibor. "You are here as well. It is good to see you again, Mr. Aldin. You've filled out nicely over the years."

"Ah," Dalibor said. His stomach flopped within him. He hadn't heard that name for a decade, and he had not parted with it on good terms. "I actually go by Dalibor now, Captain. Dalibor of Mtskheta."

The Draig tasted the air, his pink tongue flicking quickly in and out of his mouth. "You've taken Mr. Radomir's name?" he asked.

"He knows who you are," Rasha told Dalibor. "There is no need to hide."

Dalibor smiled up at his father. "My name is Dalibor now, Papa," he said. He turned back to Myrddin, whose eyes had narrowed. "Rasha adopted me after… I had to leave home rather suddenly. So thank you for bringing us together, I guess. We'd not have met if not for your expedition to Daras."

"Then you're welcome," Myrddin said with a nod. "I'm sure there's quite the story there, but I'll not ask if you don't wish to tell."

"Maybe someday," Dalibor said. "But are you really hiring for another expedition to an Astral crater?"

"I am indeed!" Myrddin said with a smile. "Our voyage into Daras was wildly successful. There's even a city at the mouth of the River Daras, as they've now named the river we explored, where scholars and inventors from all the world over are studying the relics we left behind in that crater. And now I've found another."

"How?" Dalibor asked.

Myrddin raised his Astral hand and wiggled his metal-laced fingers at them. "I can feel it," he said. He reached out towards the ocean, just like Dalibor had seen him do ten years earlier when he was reaching out towards trackless jungles. Of course, now he knew that Myrddin had an arm full of Astral magic. Before, the lizard had kept it carefully concealed. "Took me years of meditation and scanning, but I've locked on to it now. It's somewhere north. Hopefully not so far north that it's trapped in the Crushing Ice, but I can deal with that when the time comes."

"That's amazing," Dalibor said. "I am surprised you're not hiding your arm anymore, though."

"Where have you been these past ten years?" he asked with a chuckle. "I'm not the only one anymore. They've named us 'luminaries' now, we who can command the radiance. We're not common, exactly, but we're known."

"We've been running a goat ranch outside Massilia," Dalibor told him.

"Dalibor's Dairyworks," Rasha boasted. "The finest cheese in all the mountains of Aquitania."

"Wait," Myrddin said, his head tilted to the side. "You're that Dalibor? My ships carry your cheeses into Hispania!"

"Your ships?" Dalibor said with a frown. "We ship with the Drumanagh Maritime Consortium."

"I know," Myrddin said. "She's mine."

Dalibor's jaw dropped. "You own Drumanagh Maritime?"

"I do," Myrddin said again, grinning. "I told you ten years ago that I was rich, and I've only gotten richer since. So! Are you in Cibalae looking for new markets then? I'd be happy to expand your network with us."

Dalibor's tail dropped. "Ah. No," he said. "We, uh… We sold the ranch."

Myrddin blinked his oversized eyes at them and tasted the air. "You what now? You were a rather high margin account."

"What do you mean, 'high margin?'" Dalibor asked, his own eyes narrowing. "Were you gouging us?"

"Would you like to dine with us tonight, Captain?" Rasha asked loudly. "We have purchased a house outside town. We would be happy to host you, and it sounds like we all have much to catch up on."

Myrddin scowled out at the Serpent. "I think I would enjoy that, in point of fact," he said after a moment. "My recruitment is going slowly again, so I'll not be needed here this evening."

"People still don't want to head into Astral craters, huh?" Dalibor asked.

"It's not that," Myrddin said. "The sailors know a luminary can protect them from the worst of any Astral curses. This time it's proving most difficult to find competent soldiers willing to go to Suevia and fight radiant beasts."

"So you're looking for soldiers again?" Dalibor asked, his ears perking up. "We may know just the people."

That evening at dinner, Laenas, Musca, and Sara listened raptly to Dalibor, Rasha, and Myrddin's stories of their joint trip into the jungles south of Sahara and of the Astral crater there. The food ran out long before the stories did. "You're kidding me," Laenas said when Dalibor described a ruined Astral home they'd found at the center of the crater. "There's no way. You expect me to believe there were people on the Star? I mean, I know we do some crazy things with bits of the Star, but that's us, you know? We're making things with bits we found, not using things that were already made."

"Quite the opposite, in fact," Myrddin said. He stretched his Astral arm out on the table between the glasses and platters. The crystals embedded in his arm pulsed lazily. "We could never have made something like this. We can't even shape the metal, let alone set radiance inside crystal, and we definitely cannot breathe life to whatever's living in it."

"What do you mean, living in it?" Sara asked.

"Just that," Myrddin said. "It's alive in its own way. We call them symbiotes because they live inside us and with us. They don't talk in any language we can understand, but we can communicate basic thoughts and feelings with each other."

"Can it see?" Musca asked. "Or hear?"

"Only what I can see and hear," Myrddin explained. "It works alongside my own senses. But it can read the radiance in a way that we cannot."

"And it gives you magic," Laenas said. "I've met a luminary before. A really scary guy from the Star Cult that came to train with the Legion for a while."

"I did not like him," Musca said. "He was unpleasant."

"He was terrifying is what he was," Laenas said. "Most worthless fighter I'd ever seen them have train with us, but it doesn't matter how bad a fighter you are if you can just wave your hand and incinerate an entire century."

Myrddin's tongue flicked the air. "I didn't know the Star Cult was sending luminaries to the Legion," he said.

"Oh yeah," Laenas said. "This was several years ago, mind, and they haven't had another out since, thank the gods. Do you remember when he was training with us, Musca?"

"It was right before they discharged the beast people," she said. Dalibor flicked his ears, and he could see Rasha and Myrddin's own barely concealed irritation at the insult. The proper word was 'Aspect,' but the Homines truly thought they were the only humans in the world. "So about four years ago, I think," Musca went on.

"Yeah, that was a really weird time," Laenas agreed. "They bring in this luminary, torch a full century of legionaries, then kick out all the beast people." Dalibor's ears flicked again.

"That is distressing," Myrddin said in a carefully neutral tone, his tongue flicking in and out of his mouth.

"Why?" Laenas asked. "I mean, it was just a matter of time before somebody started training luminaries to fight, right? An army with luminaries is always going to beat one without. It doesn't take Verdant Blade training to figure that out."

"That's not what bothers me," Myrddin said. He traced a finger over the metallic inlays on his arm. "It's the fact that they're getting luminaries from the Star Cult."

"Does it matter where they're from?" Laenas asked.

"Remember," Myrddin said. "Luminaries aren't born. We're made. So any luminary created by the Star Cult is, by definition, somebody the Star Cult wanted to have great power, and the people the Star Cult selects to have said power are not, almost universally, people who should be allowed to have that power."

"Like the man who burned a hundred people to death during training," Musca said.

"Exactly," Myrddin agreed.

"But who else is going to make a luminary?" Laenas asked. "I thought you all came from the Star Cult."

"We do not," Myrddin growled. He pulled himself up to his full height. He was not tall. "I found my own symbiote. It was during my first voyage to a crater, out at Bethlehem in Syria."

"I thought you used your symbiote to find craters," Dalibor said. "How'd you find that one if you didn't have your symbiote yet?"

Myrddin chuckled. "Funnily enough, I trusted the Star Cult," he said.

"Oh," Sara said. She tapped her chin. "I think I remember that song."

"Indeed," Myrddin said. "The crater in Bethlehem is the subject of one of their prophecies. So I followed their song there and indeed found a crater. It had already been looted, though, years before I got there. Still found a few relics, one of which was the symbiote in my arm even today."

"What was the song?" Rasha asked.

"Would you care to do the honors, Sara?" Myrddin asked.

She shook her head. "I don't think I can lead it myself," she said. "It's been years. I might be able to follow along with you, though."

"Very well," Myrddin said. He stood and cleared his throat. "A shame I don't have my fiddle with me as well." He hummed a note then began to sing, Sara joining in with him once she caught the melody.

There is fire in the air! There's a star in the sky!

There's a father's swift prayer and a baby's sharp cry!

And the star rains down fire while its relics all sing

That the crater at Bethlehem will crown a King.

Sara dropped out of the song near the end, putting a hand to her chest. "Are you alright?" Dalibor asked her once Myrddin stopped singing.

"It's strange," she said, looking down at her breasts. "That feels familiar somehow." Myrddin watched her closely with narrowed eyes, tapping his thigh with his metallic fingers. The lights on his arm flickered, the sigils within them changing with each blink.

"Well," Laenas said. "You did sing along with it, so you must have known it."

"No, not like that," Sara said. She massaged her collarbones. "Like I know the story from somewhere other than the song. Or from a different song, maybe? I don't know." She shook her head and smiled at all of them. "Sorry. I don't know what I'm talking about. You sing quite well, Captain."

"Thank you," Myrddin said with a bow before returning to his seat. "But you may call me Bart, Sara. I am quite pleased we were able to make each other's acquaintance. Though I somehow feel like we've met before."

"Here's to Bart and new friends!" Laenas called, raising his wine glass.

Myrddin fixed the striker with a reptilian gaze. "You may call me Captain Myrddin," he said. "Or Bartholomew if you must. I would be friends with Sara, but I would be employer to you."

"Employer?" Musca asked.

"Indeed," said Captain Myrddin. "I was lured to dinner this evening with the promise of being introduced to soldiers for my crew, and I must admit that Mr. Dalibor was not lying about my prospects."

"Well sign me up," Laenas said. "That sounds like more fun than I've had since we left Aquitania, and way more fun than any job I'm going to find in town."

"We are here to protect Sara, Laenas," said Musca.

"I'm safe here, Musca," Sara told her. "And don't forget, you have to hide too."

"Fighting monsters with Laenas does sound like fun," Musca admitted.

"Brilliant," said Myrddin. "Stop by tomorrow and we'll sign the contracts. Look for me or my officer, a Sior fellow named Harailt."

"Can we drink to getting new jobs, Captain?" Laenas asked.

"We can," Myrddin said with a grin. He raised his glass. "To new ventures."

That night, after Myrddin had gone and the others retired to their beds, Sara stared out the window of their bedroom while Dalibor lay down on his bedroll to sleep. "I think that Bart was right," she said. "We have met before. I'm nearly certain he's the Draig who taught me the tune to the Ballad of the Butcher. I didn't want to say anything earlier because I haven't met a lot of Draigain and they all look alike to me."

"You're also supposed to be in hiding," Dalibor reminded her. "So thank you for not bringing that up."

Sara put a hand to her chest. "By the Star," she swore. "I'd actually forgotten I was in hiding. Isn't that funny? It's the only reason we're here and I forgot. It's been nice the past few weeks not having to hide who we are, and having everybody around me knowing who I truly am."

Dalibor didn't find it particularly funny, but he decided to let that go for the evening because she was right. It had been nice not to have to hide from people for a change. "It's possible he was the one you met," Dalibor told her. "He owns the Drumanagh Maritime Consortium, so it's very likely he had business with the emperor at some point."

"Huh," Sara said, still gazing out the window. "What a small world the Star left us."

Dalibor frowned at the ceiling. Their world was only growing smaller as the forces of said Star closed in on them. Especially now that he knew those forces might include crazed wielders of Astral magic. He struggled to find a way to plan around literal magic about which he knew nothing until sleep finally took him.