Taking Flight

Asha jerked a thumb in the direction of the alley’s gloomy depths. Hesitantly, Kelder crept into the darkness.

“Irith?” he called.

A cat meowed, somewhere ahead.

Something touched Kelder on the back, and he started, then realized it was just Asha, following him.

“She said there’s a tavern down the far end of this alley that she likes,” Asha whispered.

Kelder nodded an acknowledgement. “Irith?” he called again.

“Here,” she answered, stepping out of the darkest shadows ahead. Kelder could still only see a dim outline, but he was sure it was Irith. “Is he gone?”

“He’s back there somewhere,” Kelder said. “Um … I hit him.”

“Good!”

Kelder was surprised at the heat in Irith’s response. “Where are we?” he asked.

“Horsebone Alley, it used to be called,” Irith said. “I haven’t been here in years. There’s a real nice tavern around the corner at the far end, called the Crystal Skull-that’s where we’re going.”

“The Crystal Skull?” Kelder asked, glancing back at Asha and seeing only a small, dark shape.

Irith nodded, then realized that that was probably not visible. “Yes,” she said. “The owner had this big chunk of quartz that looked sort of like a skull. He kept it on the mantel.”

“Oh,” Kelder replied. That sounded harmless enough. In general he didn’t like the idea of patronizing businesses with morbid names, but in this case he decided to trust Irith’s judgment. Holding Asha’s hand he followed the dim outline of the shapeshifter down the alley and around the corner.

“No torch,” Irith remarked, startled, when they were out of Horsebone Alley and into a broader but equally unlit thoroughfare. The shadows here were not as deep or threatening; the faint glow of the lesser moon and the stars poured down, and some of the light of the marketplace slopped over the rooftops and into the street. She pointed to an unlit doorway. “Over there,” she said, leading the way.

Kelder followed, an uncomfortable, uneasy feeling stirring in his belly.

The doorway was broad and deep; above it an iron bracket projected straight out from the rough stone, with empty rings where a signboard had once hung. To either side of the doorway were black iron sconces, also empty; there were no signs of torch or ash, and even the smokestains on the wall appeared to be weathered, rather than fresh. It was plain to Kelder that this place was not open for business, but Irith ignored the signs and marched straight into the gloom of the entryway.

Kelder followed, and found her standing in the open archway.

At first he thought the door was open, but then he realized that there was no door. Nor, looking through the opening, was there any roof; the same faint illumination that filled the street filled the building’s interior, as well. Dusty chunks of stone and wood lay strewn about, colorless in the dim light.

“It’s gone,” Irith said, in a tone of dull surprise.

Kelder stepped up beside her and glanced about.

“It certainly is,” he agreed.

“What happened to it?” Asha asked curiously.

“How should I know?” Irith snapped, turning angrily on her young companion.

Asha cowered back against the wall of the entry, and Kelder thrust a restraining hand between the two.

“She’s just a kid,” he said.

“I wasn’t going to touch her!” Irith protested.

Asha burst out crying, sliding down the wall until she sat sprawled on the ground.

Kelder and Irith looked at one another.

“Now what?” Kelder asked.

“I don’t know,” Irith replied.

“We can’t eat here,” Kelder said, waving his arm at the dusty ruins. “It’s been gone for years, by the look of it.”

That statement was simple truth, but something about it bothered him.

“Well, I haven’t been in Shan for years,” Irith said. “I usually turn around at Dhwerra when I travel the highway-if I even get that far. Sometimes I turn back at the Angarossa border.”

“Do you know of any other good taverns or inns here?” Kelder asked. “Ones that might still be in business?”

“No,” Irith replied, “I haven’t come anywhere but here in ages.”

“Well, where did you go before you found this place?” Kelder asked, in his most reasonable tone.

“One that’s been gone even longer,” Irith retorted.

Kelder sighed and looked around.

“Well,” he said, “we’ll just have to find someplace new, then. Come on.”

Irith peered apprehensively at the street. “What about that old man?” she asked.

“What about him?” Kelder asked.

“What if he finds me?”

Kelder considered that.

Two things suddenly fell into place in his thoughts.

When had Irith last been here? He looked into the ruin; it had not been abandoned yesterday, or the day before.

It looked as if it had been abandoned for years-and a good many years. If Kelder had been asked to guess, he’d have said ten or fifteen; he could believe as little as five, but less than that…

Irith was only fifteen. More than three years ago and she wouldn’t even have been wearing a skirt yet-so to speak, since she was wearing breeches, in defiance of tradition. She wouldn’t have been welcome in a tavern unescorted.