Taking Flight

Irith turned at the sound, and the drunk looked blearily upward at the trio.

“Irith!”

Kelder looked down in astonishment.

The drunk was staring at Irith’s face. He dropped the empty bottle he had held clutched in one hand and reached up toward her.

“Irith,” he said, “you’ve come back!”

Chapter Fourteen

Irith stared down at the weathered face, the red nose, the bloodshot eyes, the dirty, ragged beard, and the matted hair. She dropped Kelder’s hand and stepped back.

“Eeeew,” she said.

“Irith, it’s me,” the drunk said, scrabbling against the paving stones as he tried to get his feet under him.

Asha dropped Kelder’s other hand and backed away.

“Listen, old man…” Kelder began.

“Irith,” the drunk called, ignoring him, “don’t you remember me?” With one hand on the pillar, he got to his knees. His foul breath reached Kelder’s nostrils.

“Remember you? I never saw you before in my life!” Irith replied angrily.

“Yes, you did,” he insisted. “It’s been years, the gods know, too many years, but you knew me, all right, don’t you remember?” He made it to his feet, panting, his hand still on the pillar. “Don’t you know me?”

He stared at her blank face, no flicker of recognition showing, and suddenly shouted at her, “Don’t you know me?”

“No!” Irith screamed back. “I never saw you before!”

“Listen, old man, you leave her…” Kelder began, trying to push between Irith and the drunk. He was uncomfortably aware that the confrontation was attracting attention; several of the wine merchants were staring, and assorted other people were turning to see what the disturbance was about.

The old man, with strength truly astonishing in one so decrepit, shoved Kelder rudely aside and took a step toward Irith.

She shrank back, and her wings appeared suddenly. She stretched them, as if to take flight, to escape this loathsome apparition, but the tips brushed against the arcade’s vaulted ceiling. She glanced up, startled, at the prisoning stone, then looked around, panicky, at the people, staring at her from all sides, watching her intently. Her wings vanished.

“Get away from me!” she cried. “Everybody get away!”

Kelder, recovering from his surprise, thrust himself at the old drunk, arms outstretched, and knocked him off-balance.

“Irith!” the drunk cried. “Irith!”

Irith turned and ran, down the shadowy arcade, her white tunic flashing brightly as she passed each lamp, then fading into the next patch of darkness.

“Follow her!” Kelder barked to Asha. Tired as she was, the girl obeyed, scampering after the fleeing shapeshifter, while Kelder pushed the drunk up against the pillar.

“Irith!” the drunk called again, looking after her, paying no attention to Kelder.

“Listen,” Kelder began.

The drunk burst into tears. “No,” he wailed, “I can’t lose you again! Irith, come back!” He tried to shove Kelder aside.

“Damn it!” Kelder said, as he stumbled back against a stack of crates. He grabbed at the drunk’s tunic, and pulled the old man down with him.

“Let me go!” the old man bellowed, trying to tear loose. “Let me go after her!”

“No,” Kelder shouted back, holding on tight.

Sobbing, the drunk swung a fist at his face; Kelder dodged easily.

The drunk swung again, and this time Kelder had to loose his hold in order to avoid the blow. Cursing, he dodged. The drunk stumbled to his feet and began staggering in the direction Irith had gone.

Kelder sprang up and charged after him, tackling him from behind and knocking him heavily to the stone pavement.

The drunk’s words had become incoherent babbling by this point, but his actions were clear enough; he was trying to get up, get away from Kelder, and continue his pursuit of Irith. Gritting his teeth, Kelder hauled off and punched him squarely in the nose.

The old man’s head snapped back against a heavy cask, making a sound like a slammed door-a very solid door. Blood trickled from his nose, and he slid to the ground, dazed.

Kelder’s knuckles stung from the impact, and he was very worried indeed lest he had killed the old man-he’d heard somewhere that drunks had brittle bones.

This particular drunk was made of sterner stuff than that, for he didn’t so much as lose consciousness completely. He did lie stunned for a moment, but then shook his head, trying to gather his muddled wits.

By that time Kelder was back on his feet, and the instant he was sure that the old man had not been killed or crippled he spun on his heel and sprinted after his companions.

A moment later the drunk was out of sight, and Kelder was as good as lost in the mercantile maze of columns and courtyards. He slowed to a stop and called quietly, “Irith?”

Asha’s voice answered him.

“This way, Kelder!”

Following the sound, he made his way through another fifty yards or so of market and into an alley-he had finally left the Bazaar and entered the city proper. He found Asha crouched in the mouth of the alley, watching in all directions at once.

“Are you all right?” he asked her.

She nodded.

“Where’s Irith?”