Sins of the Father: Chapter Thirty-Three

( As a brief heads-up, this chapter was originally intended to be earlier, but I put it aside, and went to write about Krek for a while, and never got back to it. In the eventual final version, chapter order will be rearranged. In the meantime, if you'd like to refresh yourself and re-read the first part of this scene, it was posted as Chapter Twenty-Two. https://www.patreon.com/posts/101450000 Events mentioned in this chapter were also briefly referenced by the Queen, in the previously posted Chapter Thirty-Two, among others. And of course, a certain other story. Anyway, enjoy! )

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Chapter Thirty-Three

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“Your mate,” said Amira Brightcloud, a smirk alighting upon her aged face. “Murdered the missing nobleman, Lord Asterbury.” She idly smoothed her dress. “Do I have that about right?”

It was all too clear that Airn’s favorite author did not believe her. Not that she blamed the woman. Who in their right mind would truly suspect that wealthy nobleman, surrounded by bodyguards, had been slain by a single urd’thin in some grimy alley? It was a ridiculous assertion, and yet it was all too true.

Airn merely nodded once. “That’s right.” She grit her teeth against the impending flood of horrific memories. “When it was over, I helped him wash the blood from his fur.”

Amira’s eyes widened. Her smile faded. “You’re serious.”

“Quite.” Airn kept her voice left, her ears at neutral positions. “Would you like to know what happened?”

The older woman leaned forward, a note of eagerness creeping into her voice. “Oh, absolutely. From what I’ve gleaned, answers to particular mystery have been damn near indiscernible. Asterbury’s House has been working diligently to muddy truth’s waters, though, I can tell you that much.” She rubbed her forehead. “I can hardly imagine the Noble Houses could even fathom a more humiliating death than being murdered by a group of urd’thin.”

“No group,” Airn said, shaking her head. “Only my Vakaal.”

Amira furrowed her brows. “All by himself? But surely the Lord had bodyguards in attendance.”

Airn smiled, a cold, knowing smile. “He did.”

“I see…” Amira gave her a long, appraising look. “Perhaps you’d better just explain, then.” She glanced towards the back of her shop. “Actually, give me one moment. I’m going to have a word with my poor assistant.”

As Amira rose up and made her way to the fish stall’s back door, Airn considered just how much she should tell the older woman. Amira had given her a deep and abiding secret, the sort of thing that could endanger her very life, should the wrong people find out her former identity. It seemed only fair that Airn offer something of equal secrecy, and dangerous value. There were certainly plenty of things she could get off her chest, after all.

In the months since Airn had lost Vakaal, she had fabricated several different versions of the end of their shared story. She spread them around amongst her people, now and then, offering only enough details to let them fill in the blanks on their own. She did not wish to see the other urd’thin learn the wrong lessons from Vakaal’s last actions. If they saw him as a hero, they too might decide to stand up against the cold cruelty of heartless guards and greedy Noble Houses alike. But unlike Vakaal, to do so would likely cost them their lives. Nor did she wish for the slain nobleman’s family to catch word of boastful urd’thin bragging about his death.

Airn squeezed her eyes shut as a torrent of all-too vivid images poured through her mind. Her beloved, soaked in blood. Herself, washing the crimson stains from his fur, even as she knew it was the last night she’d ever have with him. Her fervent assertions that whatever happened to him next, she wanted him to remember her. To remember that here, in this life, he was loved.

She sniffled, blinking away a few sudden years. Airn wiped her eyes, glancing up as Amira returned. “Is everything alright?”

“I should ask you the same.” Amira retrieved a pale blue handkerchief from a hidden pocket, passing it to Airn. “Here. It’s clean. No fish guts, I promise.”

Airn laughed as she took it, dabbing her eyes. “Thank you. I’m fine, I was just…” She took a breath, and gave a heavy sigh, her tail hanging limp against the bench. “Remembering him.” She gestured towards Amira’s stall. “What about your helper?”

“Tripled her salary for the day.” Amira settled back onto the bench. “Suddenly she’s not too swamped with work to serve customers on her own, after all.”

The urd’thin giggled, wiping her eyes again. She rested the handkerchief against her lap. “I can imagine not.”

Amira made herself comfortable, resting back up against the bench. “Whenever you’re ready, dear.”

Airn took another shaking breath, trying to steady herself. “It was several months ago now, at the least. I’ll admit to losing track of time in my grief, since then.” Her gaze wandered around Amira’s private garden. Where to even begin telling that tale? “My Vakaal was out with several others from our urdt’hin, trying to make a few coins. They were only in that ally to coin their day’s take, and decide where to go next. While damn nobleman was just lost, I think.”

The older human scowled. “A terrible alignment of the stars.”

Airn flicked a single ear back. “Funny you should call it that.”

“It means bad luck.” Amira clasped her hands, resting them against her legs. “Not sure if it’s a saying your people are familiar with, or not.”

“It isn’t, but I grasped your meaning.” She tilted head back, gazing at the deep blue sky through holes in the leafy canopy above. “Vakaal used to speak of the stars, too.” She quickly tore her gaze from the heavens. “I’d best not get sidetracked. As luck would have it, cosmic or otherwise, the noblemen and his contingent entered the alley right where my Vakaal and his friends were gathered.” A sneer twisted her muzzle. “You can imagine how the noble felt about their presence.”

Amira scowled. “All too easily, I’m afraid.”

“The noble accosted them, told his bodyguards to remove them from his sight.” Airn swallowed, her throat tightening. “My Vakaal put himself between the humans, and the other urd’thin. He only wanted to protect them, but…” She shivered. “When the noble turned to far more graphic threats of mutilation, something in my poor Vakaal…” She trailed off. Her hands shook. She clasped them together to try and quell the tremors. “Snapped.”

Amira’s frown deepened. She reached and gently set a comforting hand upon Airn’s shoulder, but otherwise allowed the urd’thin to continue at her own pace.

“Vakaal, he…” Airn’s ears went flat. “He’d lost his own father in his childhood, to the cruelty of people like that. Lived with that horror his entire life. Walled it off best he could, until it became a righteous fury that no walls could ever hope to hold. All his pain, all his lifelong grief erupted from him in that alley way, and he spent it all upon that nobleman and his bodyguards. He killed them, to ensure they’d never hurt another urd’thin again.”

“Gods and spirits,” Amira said. She stared at Airn with wide-eyes, even as she gave her shoulder another gentle squeeze. “He must have gone damn near feral. Was that how you lost him? He gave his own life in that skirmish, to protect the others?”

“No,” Airn said, shaking her head. “My Vakaal was entirely unharmed.”

Amira gazed at Airn in silence. She slowly withdrew her hand. “Honestly? What was he, some manner of trained assassin?” Amira lowered her voice. “A Death in the Night operative, perhaps? I know Mek isn’t the only urd’thin Cassilia employs. I shall think no differently of you, if he was.”

“He was trained, yes, but not as an assassin.” Airn managed a bittersweet chuckle. “And certainly not a Death in the Night operative. In fact, he wished me to avoid them entirely. He was, however, quite experienced in defending himself. I knew him once, to hide terrible mysteries.” Her gaze wandered again, drifting from the bright red peppers adorning one great, bushy plant, to the slightly fuzzy, pale green leaves of a sage. “I wonder if he’d wish for me to keep his secrets even now.”

Amira held her hands up. “I shan’t ask you to reveal anything you aren’t comfortable revealing, dear.”

“I appreciate that. And yet, I wonder if it is time for me to unburden myself from some of his mysteries.” Airn scratched one of her ears, sighing. “You were right, in a way. He did sacrifice his life.” Her ears drooped. “Just not in the literal sense.”

When Airn fell silent, Amira studied her, eyes roaming the urd’thin’s face. She gently stroked the fur of Airn’s arm. “He left, then. For your safety.”

Airn nodded once. “Mine, and all the warrens. For the very same reasons I’ve been hazy with the truth to my own kin. If my people see him as a hero, they may try to emulate him. And if Asterbury’s House ever admits the truth to themselves, they may seek to exact revenge on the urd’thin who slew him. And their Warren. And his family.”

“So, he gave up his life here, with you,” Amira said, her voice soft. “And fled the city in hopes of keeping you all safe.”  

“Close enough.” Airn idly brushing her fingers across her blue dress.

She had newer clothing now, and dresses that cost even more. But she savored this one more than all the rest combined. Vakaal had bought it for her, not long after they’d pledged themselves to one another. They’d purchased it in a shop here in the Aran’alian district. At the time, it was one of Airn’s first visits there. Though she knew many in the district had a reputation for treating her people more fairly than the rest of the city, back then she was also frequently bereft of coin, and had no desire to steal from those who’d deign to treat her with genuine kindness.

“You know, my dear,” Amira said, idly patting Airn’s hand. “I cannot help but get the feeling that there’s more to your story, than that.”

“Oh, there is.” Airn couldn’t help but smile. “But I fear you’d never the rest of it, even if I could find the courage to speak it aloud. Which…” She swallowed, glancing away. “I haven’t. At least, not yet.”

Amira held her hands up. “Far be it from me, my lovely, to try and drag your secrets out of hiding. But if you ever do wish to share, you might be surprised at what I’m capable of believing.”

“Perhaps.” Airn tilted her head back to stare up at the sky once more. It was a lovely late afternoon, still bright and blue and brilliant sunny. And yet, all at once, she wished she could see the stars. Maybe, she thought, she’d see him there, watching over her. Or perhaps she’d see her very name written with the stars themselves in a frozen, impossible moment, like a dream that wasn’t a dream. Once, long ago, she had. “But not this. Not unless you’re in the habit of believing in the grand and cosmic impossible.”

Amira quirked a brow. “The grand and cosmic impossible? You’ve certainly a way with words, my lovely. And that’s coming from a writer.” She laughed, reaching out to squeeze Airn’s smaller hand. “And while I cannot promise belief, you can color me intrigued. Highly intrigued.”  

Airn closed her eyes, sighing. In her mind, she pictured her beautiful Vakaal, seated on the edge of the fountain where first she’d met him. He smiled at her, his dark eyes alight with love, and with the very cosmos itself. He held out his hand, beckoning her forward. In her head, Airn slowly approached him, tears brimming in her eyes. She imagined herself taking his hand in hers.

I miss you. I miss you so much.

Vakaal’s voice echoed through her mind. I miss you too, Airn.

Though Airn knew he was only a product of her imagination, she whimpered just the same. Tears brimmed behind her eyelids. She opened them to bleary slits, staring at Amira. How long had she held onto to the unfathomable truth? How long had she kept Vakaal’s secret? She hadn’t even told her dearest brother about who, and what, her beloved Vakaal truly was.

“Can I tell you a secret?” Airn’s voice slipped out, unbidden. Her words were little more than a broken, trembling whisper. “A real secret, that I’ve never told anyone. That you won’t believe, anyway. I just…” She picked up her handkerchief, wiping her eyes. “Feel like it would help me, to tell someone. And I don’t think I should tell Deg. There would be…implications.”

“Of course, Airn.” Amira took Airn’s other hand between her own, squeezing.

Airn did not immediately reply. Instead, she closed her eyes again, to picture her absent lover. In her mind, Vakaal was still smiling at her, still holding her hand. He was infinitely patient, and infinitely understanding. Vakaal had known all too well the weight of the revelation he bestowed upon her. At first, the burden of keeping his greatest secret to herself was self-imposed. She feared what it would be mean, if others found out. Over time, he came to agree with her. Now, it simply did not feel right to reveal it without asking his permission, however imagined her answer may be. Besides, Airn fully expected even a dreamt-up Vakaal to sadly shake his head, to tell her she must keep his secret until her dying days. But she had to ask, anyway.

“Call I tell her?” Airn murmured her question aloud, uncaring if Amira heard.

Yes, Airn. Tell her. It’s time.

Airn’s eyes flew open. Her fur bristled. A warm, comforting breeze swirled around her. Something was different in Vakaal’s voice. Something she hadn’t intentionally imagined for him. There was a sadness to it, an inherent resignation she’d never willingly ascribe to her memories of her beloved it. Surely, she thought, it was nothing more than her imagination toying with her. And yet…

“My mate was a god.” Airn forced herself to speak the impossible truth before she could stop herself.

Amira blinked at her, confusion settling over her face. “I’m sorry, dearie?”

“A god,” Airn said again. “A real god. Not some self-proclaimed deity, not some trickster illusionist, but a god. Who could do anything. Who could be anywhere in the world, in a blink. Who raised living miracles from distant desert sands, right before my eyes. Who could have freed our people from their oppression with but an angry thought. He could have made us the rulers of this cold, callous city. And yet, he did not, simply because I asked him not to. We agreed to keep his true nature a secret from everyone. Because if we urd’thin are truly to better our lot in life, it must be at our own hands. I don’t want to see us rule over them, as they rule over us. I just want to be their equals.” Airn took a slow, calming breath. “Not that it matters, now that he’s gone. The secret remains the same, whether you believe it or not.” She brushed her hand across her stomach. My mate was a god, and I have his child in my belly.”

Amira’s eyes slowly drifted down to Airn’s belly. “You actually believe that, don’t you.” Her voice was soft, but guarded, not skeptical.

Airn had expected laughter and disbelief, if not open division. That Amira did not immediately write her off caught the urd’thin off-guard. “I don’t simply believe. I know it. He proved as much to me, time and again.”

The older woman learned forward. All at once, her gaze was disconcertingly focused, her words increasingly sharp. “How, Airn? Be specific.”

The urd’thin recoiled, slightly. Suddenly, she wasn’t so sure she should have told Amira the truth. “I’m sorry, I’m not entirely comfortable with this, anymore.”

Amira relented, easing back. She took a slow breath, moderating her tone. “My apologies, Airn. It’s just…” She glanced around, as if suddenly worried about who might be eavesdropping. “This may surprise you, but I am inclined to believe you.” She held up a hand. “I beg you, indulge me. You said your mate raised miracles from the sands?”

Airn rubbed the back of her neck, ruffling the thick fur. “Yes. He was from a desert, you see. Before he truly understood his own godhood. So, one night, he whisked me away to just such a place. And there, he grew from the sands, trees and plants the likes of which the world simply does not know. Hand-fruit, he called it.” A wistful smile parted Airn’s muzzle, despite her sudden disconcertion. “A sweeter fruit, I don’t think I’ve ever known.”

“That sounds lovely.” Amira returned her smile, but something impatient lingered in her eyes.

“It was.” Airn rubbed her arm. “At night, we slept alongside a beautiful oasis. I watched him create that, too.” She hardened her voice, just slightly. “Anything he wished for, became reality, if he but desired it. But for all the years we spent together, he only ever used his powers to make me happy, and to keep my warren safe.”

Amira nodded. “What sorts of things did he do to make you happy?”

“Well,” Airn said, brushing her hands across her dress. “He bought me this dress, when first we decided to be together.”

The older woman chuckled. “A beautiful gesture, and a beautiful dress. I was thinking more…” She glanced up at the sky, furrowing her brows. “Cosmic gestures, however. Do you…” She glanced back down. “Know what I’m speaking of?”

Airn set her jaw. She was starting to realize what Amira was dancing around. Truth be told, she hadn’t thought too hard about the consequences of that particular interstellar display. Part of her had assumed only she’d been the only witness. “You really want me to say it?”

Amira nodded once. “If you’re willing. It will help me determine the veracity of your claim, dear.”

The urd’thin flattened her ears back. “Once, when first I learned of his godhood…” Airn licked her muzzle, turning her face towards the sky. Again, she wished she could glimpse the cosmos. “He wrote my name in the stars. He shifted the vast, interstellar canvas in an instant, as though it were but a plaything for him. And for a time, however brief, the stars spelled out my name.”

All at once, the color drained from Amira’s face. She stared at Airn in open awe, her mouth ajar, as if it was Airn who was the god, and not her mate. Airn shuddered, her fur bristling anew. Amira rose, her legs shaking. She opened and closed her mouth a few times, but could not find the words she sought. In the end, she simply gestured for Airn to wait on the bench, then hurried back to her stall. In her haste, she slammed the door behind her. Strains of a brief argument drifted back to Airn. She could make out little more beyond Amira firmly telling her assistant, ‘not now!’

Airn swallowed. She glanced at the gateway that led back to the plaza, wondering if she should simply leave before Amira returned. When she deigned to tell the older woman her mate’s secret, she certainly had not expected Amira to take it so seriously. Airn didn’t truly know what she’d expected, but certainly not whatever this was. And yet…Amira had been so sweet to her, and so eager to have someone to talk to, that Airn dreaded to think what it would do to the poor old woman if she returned to find her new friend had fled.

Still, something about this left Airn on edge. She brushed her hands over her dress, instinctively checking her knives, just to make sure each was free and ready to be yanked from its scabbard, should a greater trouble arise. Airn sincerely doubted that would be necessarily, but knowing she was armed helped alleviate some of her fears. It was more likely, she imagined, that she’d just inadvertently unburdened herself to a deeply religious old woman. For all she knew, Amira might well have witnessed the night the stars changed, if only for a few heartbeats.

Amira soon returned, clutching a folded piece of parchment in her hand. Her face was still pallid, and she trembled ever so slightly as she settled back onto the bench next to Airn. She took a slow breath. “Firstly, Ms. Airn, please allow me to apologize for my behavior just now. I’ve clearly caused you undue distress, and I assure that was not my intention. It’s just…” She took a few more breaths, trying to calm her clearly rattled nerves. “For years, a small, select group of myself, and my associates have been trying to convince ourselves we were not mad. That what we believed we glimpsed that night, actually happened. That the stars moved.”

Airn splayed her ears, glancing away. “I’m sorry as well, then. I suppose it never truly occurred to me that others might have seen it happen. I think in the back of my mind, I just assumed he would have ensured I was the only one who saw it.”

“And yet, he didn’t.” Amira unfolded her parchment. “And if he is what you say, then perhaps he allowed others to see it for a reason.” She held the paper out. “Airn. Is this how you write your name in the urd’thin tongue?”

Airn turned her attention to the parchment. Upon it was a hastily scrawled interpretation of her written name. The runes weren’t quite right, but they weren’t far off. She imagined Amira must have written it by memory. “Yes, that’s it.”

“Then you are her.” Amira lowered the paper to her lap, swallowing. “Perhaps I should have recognized the sound of your name, when first you gave it to me, but my urd’thin is ever so rusty.” An oddly relieved smile graced her lips. “And I wasn’t losing my mind that night. And neither were the rest of them.”

“I suppose not.” Airn fidgeted with her dress. “May I be honest?”

“Certainly, Ms. Airn.” Amira stared at the parchment in her hands, then swiftly tore it up into several pieces. She tucked them away into the same hidden pocket she’d fetched the handkerchief from earlier.

“If I’d known how you might react,” Airn said, smoothing her skirt back down across her legs. “I might not have told you.”

“I don’t blame you, Dear.” Amira folded her hands in her lap. “And again, I apologize for how I came across, when you did. For what it’s worth, I believe you completely, now.”

Airn managed a little chuckle. “I rather gathered as much.”

“Ms. Airn…” Amira tilted her head. Something shifted in her eyes, somehow both sorrowful and determined at the same time. “May I be honest with you, in turn? Knowing that you may not like hearing what else I have to say.”

Again, Airn considered simply bidding Amira farewell, and returning to her brother and friends. She looked over her shoulder, gazing at the gateway for a long while. But she had waded this far into uncertain waters already. She may as well keep going until she was over her head. Besides, something told her Vakaal would not have wanted her to walk away, now.

Airn slowly nodded. “Go ahead.”

“I am not the only one who has been searching for you. My…” She waved her hand. “Network, if you will. Occasionally has contact with others. Including the Queen’s feathered spy. Are you familiar with him?”

“Only in the general sense.” Airn wrung her hands. “I know a bit more about her gryphon than the average rumors say, I suppose, but only because of Vakaal occasionally talking about him.”

A smirk appeared on Amira’s face. “You know him more than you think. The gryphon, who appears in the last act of The Uncaring Sky? It’s based on the Black Bird.”

Amira gasped, her ears shooting up. “It is? But he was practically part of their family!”

“He was, yes.” Amira slowly nodded. “Now, much of that was before my time, and taken from Kylaryn’s recollections. And I was of course forbidden from using his real name, or description. But, suffice to say, they had a falling out that makes my banishment from Death in the Night look like a relaxing vacation.”

“That’s so sad,” Airn said, glancing down. Even amidst everything swirling around her, she could not help but feel a moment’s pity for the characters of her favorite book. “And now he serves the Queen?”

“Hence the falling out.” Amira sighed. “He serves in large part as her spy. My little work occasionally works with his own contacts. In the days and weeks after the stars changed, he set some of his people researching the phenomenon. In the process, they reached out and communicated with others who also witnessed it, including me. It was deduced that the star-shapes created urd’thin runes, and those runes were likely a name. And that was likely as far as they got. Aside, of course, from the matter of who could actually move the stars. After all, if the stars spelled a name, then surely it was no natural phenomenon. The gryphon, I think, set about trying to determine who, or what, in our world might be capable of such a feat. Where that search led him, I know not. But with that in mind, I suspect he was also looking for you, Airn.”

Airn scowled, her ears flattened back. “Do you think I’m in danger, should he discover me?”

“From the gryphon?” Amira laughed, a bittersweet yet pleasantly tension breaking sound. “Only of recruitment to her Majesty’s services, I think. I cannot imagine he would want more from you than your help in protecting the Queen.”

Airn snorted, glancing away. “My mate was the god, not me.”

“And yet…” Amira leaned forward, appraising her again. “When your mate wrote your name across the stars, he took no pains to ensure others did not also witness the sky changing. I will admit, I cannot help but wonder if he knew what was coming, someday. If he wished for your name to serve as a clue, to guide others to find you, when at last the time was right.”

Airn shivered. Vakaal’s voice echoed through her mind again, sad and resigned.

Yes, Airn. Tell her. It’s time.

She shuddered again, harder this time. Her fur fluffed up. Amira’s choice of words simply had to be a coincidence. Just as she’d surely only imagined the sorrowful tone of her lover’s voice. He was a memory now, nothing more. Wherever he had gone, she would never know. And surely, even he could not contact her from wherever it was. Unless…in a flickering, sleep-addled memory, she glimpsed him standing over her while she slumbered, just before he left. He whispered something into her ear. Something important, and yet, she could not recall his words.

“Are you alright, Airn?” Amira gently rested her hand atop the urd’thin’s again.

“Just…” Airn pushed the odd memory aside. “Trying to sort things out in my head.” She gave a snarl, a sound more of frustration than anger. “Even if this gryphon should ever discover me, I’m afraid I must disappoint him. Firstly, because I am but an urd’thin, regardless of the greatness they may expect from a god’s lover. And secondly, because I have no interest in choosing sides in…” She waved a hand at the city beyond Amira’s walled garden. “Whatever’s coming. I know Death in the Night is planning something, and I-”

“This city’s going to burn, Airn.” Amira stared down at her hands.

Airn stilled. “W-what?”

Amira slowly lifted her face. Something haunted drifted just behind her eyes. “The city is going to burn. That’s what they’re planning. How, I’m not yet sure. But they speak of a great attack to come, the moment the signal is given. And I fear whatever fortifications the city is building beneath those great tarps will not be enough to protect them.” She scowled, deep lines of concern etched themselves into her face. “Before the attack, there will be rising civil unrest, intended to force the Illandran soldiers into increasingly forceful reactions. Death In the Night will use that to stir up furious sentiment amongst the Aran’alians. To push them from disgruntlement and anger, into violence. And then?” She gazed past Airn, staring towards the great banners of The Wind That Carries that hung above the plaza, and all the revelers. “There will be flames. A great conflagration, stoked across the city. To force the soldiers to disperse in hopes of quelling it, and saving lives. And then, Death in the Night-”

Airn gasped when it struck her. “I’ve dreamt of that.”

Amira’s eyes shot back to Airn. “Excuse me?”

“I’ve…” Airn swallowed, pressing a hand to the base of her throat. “I’ve dreamt of that. Of Illandra in flames.”

Amira leaned closer. “When?”

“Last night…” Airn’s mouth went dry. Her ears shifted back to nervous angles. “And many other nights, since Vakaal left. S-sometimes he’s in the dreams, too.”

The older woman furrowed her brows, her voice firm. “What does he do?”

Airn sighed, her shoulders sagging. “He tells me I have to choose. To watch this cruel city rightly burn, or help my oppressors save our home.”

Amira slowly straightened up again. “In that case, Ms. Airn, it seems I am not the only one who hopes to see you choose a side.”

Airn quickly shook her head. “I can’t do that. The urd’thin would be devastated, no matter what we chose. We’re safer if we just wait it out, as always.”

“We?” Amira quirked a brow.

“My warren listens to me, lately.” Airn looked away, sighing. “They look to me for advice. I can’t speak for my people the city over, but…” Her ears went flat. “If I chose a side, most of my warren would choose it with me.”

“Airn, my dear,” Amira said, leaning forward to put her hand back upon Airn’s. “I know this is difficult, for you. But…I find it hard to believe that all these things are mere coincidence. Your mate’s true nature, your name in the stars, your leadership amongst your people, your dreams of the city in flames? If your mate was truly a god, I cannot fathom that he would leave you and his unborn child alone in an imperiled city, if he had not put together a way for you to save it.”

Airn whimpered, unable to come up with any kind of reply.

“It is an impossible choice, I know.” Amira gently squeezed her hand. “On one side, lies a rebellion so filled with ingrained hatred and a desire for revenge they’ve practically made themselves into a cult. They treat your people better on the surface, but in truth I suspect they see your people not as equals, but as an expendable resource.” She sighed, a deep, mournful sound. “And on the other side, is the city that spits on you. Steps on you. Disappears you. A city that-”

“It’s still my home.” Airn lifted her gaze, even as her voice remained little more than a trembling whisper. “The only one I’ve ever known. And for all its malice, there are still good people here. People who treat us fairly. Far too few, yet more now than when I was a pup.”

“That there are.” Amira patted Airn’s arm. “Might I offer a bit of advice?”

The urd’thin managed a little smile. “I suspect you will, regardless.”

“You will never have a better chance of turning your enemies into your allies…” Amira said, offering another comforting squeeze. “Then when you extend your hand in friendship, in the hour of greatest need.” She lifted her eyes, staring out towards the banners in the plaza. “And my dear Airn, Illandra’s hour of greatest need is ever so swiftly approaching.”

Airn kneaded her dress in her hands. “I cannot say I did not get the feeling, approaching the plaza today. Between their attempts to recruit us, and the over more ominous banners they’re hanging, lately.” A scowl twisted her muzzle as another memory flitted through her mind. “We also saw Aran’alians, posing as Illandra guards.”

Amira narrowed her eyes. “That doesn’t sound good. I don’t know what they’re up to, but please be careful, when you do head home. Just in case.” Her eyes shifted, looking at something in the distance behind Airn. “Your brother is back.” She took a slow breath, then let it out in a long sigh. “I fear I’ve kept you far too long, but…” She turned her gaze back to Airn, a smile returning to her face. “Thank you once more, for visiting with me today. I fear we might both have been happier if we’d cut things short before your secrets, but…” She swallowed, the wistful, nostalgic glimmer from earlier in the day returning to her eyes. “I shall still cherish our previous discussion for as long as I draw breath, just the same.”

“As shall I.” Airn twisted around on the bench to give Deg a wave. She raised her voice. “I’ll join you in a minute!”

The male urd’thin waved back, nodded, and then stepped out of the gate again.

Amira scrunched her face. “I can’t imagine they’re happy with me, for stealing you away from them when you’re supposed to enjoying the celebration with your family, and your friends.”

“Can’t say I much feel like celebrating anymore, anyway.” Airn sighed, then winced, and splayed her ears. “I should probably talk to Deg, about Vakaal.”

“Perhaps that would be for the best.” Amira patted her arm. “He’s your brother. I’m sure he’ll understand your reluctance to share the truth with him.” Her gaze drifted, wandering aimlessly as if searching her own unseen memories. “I’m sorry our chat did not go the way I imagine you hoped it would. I do hope you’ll consider coming to see me again, just the same.”

Airn took a slow breath. Despite it all, she still found herself wishing to know more about Amira. And, while she hesitated to believe it herself, if Amira was right, and Vakaal somehow intended for others to learn her name and seek her out, then she owed it to herself to find out why. “I’d like that, Amira. Perhaps in a few days, when I’ve…” She ran a hand back over her ears. “Sorted some things out, in my head.”

“I wholly understand.” Amira slowly pushed herself up off the bend, and onto her feet. “And I do genuinely hope to see you again, Ms. Airn.” She looked away, her eyes lingering on the back of her stall. “None of us can wholly control the way the future will unfold. We can only strive to make the right choices, in the moment. I’ve never been one to believe in things like fate, or destiny, Airn. And yet, it is my belief that you and I were meant to meet, today. And that you may yet have a greater role to play than you realize.” She held her hand out to help Airn rise. “And that leaves me with only one question left to ask you.”

Airn took the woman’s hand, easing off the bench. “Dare I ask what it is?”

“Is it not, as you might suspect,” Amira said, squeezing the urd’thin’s hand. “Whether or not you’re willing to fight for your home.” She released Airn from her grasp, offering instead a smile filled with deeply bittersweet implications. “But what manner of home, do you wish to raise your child in? And I suspect, in your heart, you already know.”

It chilled Airn, deep in her soul, to realize Amira was right.