Taking Flight

The food was good, if unexciting, and the meal uneventful, save that Ezdral’s hands were so unsteady that he kept dropping things; every so often the clatter of a fork or mutton bone dropped on his plate would interrupt conversation.

After supper, the drunkard passed out on the floor of their L-shaped room before anyone could suggest he sleep elsewhere; Asha took the little featherbed that had been crammed onto the windowseat in the dormer at the narrow end.

That left Irith and Kelder to share the big bed at the other end, out of sight of Asha even should she wake. Ezdral was obviously not going to awaken. The two made good use of this unexpected privacy, their first in days.

“It’s only seven miles to Bugoa Castle,” Irith said as they gathered up their belongings the next morning, “and maybe another eleven or twelve to Syndisha, so we should get at least that far today, shouldn’t we?”

Ezdral groaned, but when Irith looked at him he immediately muttered, “Whatever you want, Irith.”

Asha grimaced, but agreed, “We can do that.”

“Tuyoa is next beyond Syndisha,” Irith went on. “About ten miles, I think. That might be too much.”

“Probably,” Kelder said, glancing at Ezdral.

“From Tuyoa, it’s about eight miles to Shesta, and then about that far again to Lamum,” Irith said, “and Lamum Keep stands on the border between the Small Kingdoms and the Hegemony of Ethshar.”

Kelder nodded, interested.

“Now, traditionally,” Irith said, “they say it’s two days from Lamum to Ethshar-one day to the Inn At The Bridge, and one day from there to the gate.”

“We’re getting close, then,” Kelder said.

Irith shook her head. “Not that close, though, because those days were figured by what an army could march, back during the Great War. It must be ten leagues from Valder’s inn to Westgate.”

Asha groaned at that, and even Kelder hesitated.

“It’s not so bad, from Lamum to the inn,” Irith said. “Maybe eight leagues.”

“Well,” Kelder said, hoisting his pack onto his shoulder, “we’ll see how it goes.”

“Maybe we’ll find a wizard along the way who knows the charm,” Asha said.

Irith replied thoughtfully, “You know, we just might.”

“Oh?” Kelder asked.

“You remember Perina mentioned that Iridith of Ethshar might know? Well, we might see her along the way.”

That was a little vague for Kelder’s liking. “Oh,” he said again.

They made their way out of the town and onto the highway, and had gone no more than half a mile when a familiar voice called, “Hai, Kelder!”

He turned, and found Azraya of Ethshar striding up behind them.

“Azraya!” he called.

Irith gave Kelder a startled look, then eyed Azraya suspiciously. Asha looked mildly interested; Ezdral trudged on, a few feet behind Irith, paying no attention at all.

When the entire party stopped for introductions, Ezdral stopped, but he simply stood, hands at his sides, staring at Irith. One of his hands was twitching, Kelder noticed.

“This is Azraya of Ethshar,” Kelder said in Trader’s Tongue. “We met yesterday.”

Azraya, recognizing her name, bowed politely.

“These are my traveling companions,” he went on in Ethsharitic, uncomfortably aware that Asha didn’t know the language. “This is Irith the Flyer, and Asha of Amramion, and Ezdral…” He paused, then looked at Ezdral’s current condition and said, “Ezdral the Sot.”

Irith made a polite acknowledgment, and Asha followed her lead; Ezdral managed only a ghastly imitation of a smile.

“We’re bound for Ethshar,” Kelder added. “Would you care to travel with us?”

“I suppose,” Azraya said, “it would be safer.”

Irith opened her mouth to say something, then thought better of it.

They reached Bugoa well before noon, to Kelder’s pleased surprise. Asha was putting out a better effort in order to keep up with Azraya, who had a tendency to drift ahead of the others; Irith stayed even with Azraya, and Ezdral hurried to stay close to Irith. As a result, the whole party made better time than usual.

Bugoa Castle was large and rambling, with a village straggling off from its walls in all directions-but mostly, of course, between the castle and the highway, as the road came no closer than five hundred yards.

Kelder’s little group, with a minimum of debate, decided to not even stop.

From Bugoa the road veered southward, rather than continuing west. Kelder suggested that the highway could have taken a straighter path, and Irith told him, “It used to, or at least there used to be an alternate route between Krithimion and Syndisha, by way of Mezgalon instead of Bugoa.” She glanced back at Ezdral, who paid no attention to the conversation, but whose haggard features brightened when he noticed Irith looking at him. “I’m not sure why they abandoned it,” she said.

She had spoken in Trader’s Tongue; Azraya asked Kelder what they were talking about, and he translated Irith’s remarks, to the shapeshifter’s obvious annoyance.