KALINDA
Wind rages against the village of mourners trekking up from Teigra. They have sleighs, but it is their ritual to carry the dead on foot to their resting place. A burial procession, Chief Naresh called it when he told me his mother had passed on. He said the matron slipped away quietly, surrounded by her family and friends.
We crest the snowy hill. Two guards lay the body wrapped in cloth on top of an altar, a slab of stone on stacked rocks. The afternoon sun, partly veiled behind a horde of clouds, gives no warmth over the winter landscape. Chief Naresh and Tinley lean together. Maida and Bedros comfort each other, and Sosi holds her younger children.
Snow flurries zip around us in unnatural sideways patterns, a manifestation of Maida’s or Sosi’s northern Aquifier powers. I watch from outside the group, my rabbit fur shielding me from the worst of the cold. Anoush’s final words to me burrow into my mind.
He called you Cala . . .
A spiritual leader in white robes uncovers the body, preparing it for excarnation. She speaks in a language I do not recognize. Tinley warned me beforehand that they leave their deceased open to the elements to decompose and serve as carrion to scavenging animals, including wild mahati. The grisly process suits their belief that the falcons take hold of the soul during their feeding and carry the departed to the Beyond. The only part that is like ours in Tarachand is that their deceased also face upward toward the sky.
The leader stops singing and steps away from the altar. Anoush’s remains collect snowflakes. Tinley buries her face in her father’s cloak. He tries to embrace her, but she lets him go and speeds off downhill, her feet packing down snow.
Maida and Bedros leave next, then Sosi follows with her younger children. One after another, everyone else returns to the city until the chief and I are alone.
“My mother wanted our whole family there with her when she passed,” Naresh says. “It was her last wish. She held out until Tinley came home.”
Tinley must not have told her father about our conversation. “Did Anoush ever mention a godly medallion?”
“She may have. My mother’s head brimmed with stories. She could spin a tale unlike any other. Her words inspired people to strive for betterment.” He hunches his shoulders. “She will be missed.”
Naresh kneels in the powdery snow before the altar. I fist the medallion in my pocket. Anoush believed a god held her in this life though she was ready to pass on. Would a deity be so cruel? Or was that the final story she wished to tell?
A powerful gust blows me back a pace. In the distance, the Crystal Palace captures the sparse sunshine and glints in defiance of the moody clouds. I select the spires as my beacon and set out for Teigra.
I enter the aviary and slide the door shut. Steam from the hot springs melts the snow on my clothes as I start for the middle of the longhouse. A man’s voice halts me.
“Please don’t leave again. Your family needs you. I need you.”
“I cannot stay,” Tinley answers.
The mahati falcon bedded down nearest me pops open an eye. I peek around him. Tinley and Bedros stand close.
“Tinley, I love you.”
“You should not say that.” She wields no anger but an undercurrent of disgust. “We’re not children anymore. Your marriage to Maida is sanctified by the gods. As next chief, you must honor your vows.”
I lean forward and peer through the mist wafting off the hot springs. My movement draws the attention of the hatchling in her nest. She cranes her head but does not spot me.
“Why didn’t you come?” Bedros asks, his thumb brushing Tinley’s chin. “You could have contested my betrothal.”
“My sister loves you. I couldn’t do that to her.”
“Maida was never for me, just as my brother was never for you.”
Brother? Bedros’s brother was Tinley’s betrothed?
“We’ll go to Naresh,” Bedros insists.
“He cannot undo your vows.” Tinley stalks out of my line of sight.
“I waited for you,” Bedros counters, disappearing after her.
My eavesdropping has gone on long enough. I back up for the door. The hatchling sees me and squawks shrilly. I shush her, but she wails on and on. I hurry over and scoop her up. She stops screeching. Little imp.
“I waited for you on my wedding day,” Bedros rants at Tinley, both out of sight. I move backward with the falcon, and they enter my view again. “Even as I stood before your sister, I wished to Enlil you would come.”
“I couldn’t!” Tinley’s shout rouses the mahatis. They ruffle their feathers and turn their attention to the couple. “Our fates cannot be changed. The gods care nothing for our desires. Heart’s wishes are for fools.”
“Then I’m a fool.” He springs at Tinley to kiss her.
She pushes him off. “Leave before I tell my sister and father.”
Bedros’s whole body hardens. She balls her fists. He defies her for two breaths . . . then three. She persists, so he trudges off.
Tinley slumps over and kicks at a mound of moss. I cradle the hatchling and wait for an appropriate amount of time before I step out. Many moments pass. When I emerge, Tinley looks right at me.
“Bedros is a fool.” She stomps to a workbench. “He’s married to my sister.”
“If he weren’t, would you be together?”
“No.” Tinley shoves supplies into a leather satchel.
I close in on her, still carrying the hatchling. “How did your betrothed die?”
“His name was Haziq.” Tinley latches the bag and ties her crossbow to it. When she finishes, she has composed her frustration. “The wild falcons will arrive soon.”
I gesture at their docile counterparts. “Why not take one of these?”
“These belong to us. The free ones hail the gods.” She throws her bag over her shoulder. “We must go. Put the hatchling back.”
I set the baby bird in her nest and she squawks loudly. “I think she’s afraid. What do we do?”
“She’ll adjust to your being gone soon. Our falconers will raise her until she’s old enough to fly with you.”
“Fly with me where?”
“Wherever you like,” Tinley answers. “My grandmother wanted you to have her.”
“Have her?” I sound like a dolt, repeating her replies.
“Mahatis imprint on the first person who holds them. We only touch the male hatchlings after they learn to fly. She’s connected to you.”
I run my finger down the hatchling’s bony head. “She’s mine?”
“She’ll learn to fly in a few short weeks. In about a year, she’ll grow large enough to carry a rider. What will you name her?”
Nothing comes to thought. “Must I decide now?”
“It’s your bird.” Tinley starts for the door. “Come along. Ignore her weeping.”
The falcon is indeed shedding tears. Each one compounds my regret.
“I’ll return for you,” I say, though I have no idea what I will do with a full-grown mahati. “Behave for your caretakers and get along with the other falcons.”
Tinley’s eyebrows shoot up. “Impressive mothering.”
The falcon squawks forlornly. I nearly weaken, but Tinley grabs me and keeps me on course.
“They must learn who’s in charge,” she says. At the exit, her clutch lessens. “She’ll be well cared for, Kalinda.”
Under the thickening clouds, we enter a yak pen. A driver is harnessing a pair of yaks to a sleigh. Sosi waits by him, tugging on leather mittens.
Tinley pulls up short. “Mother, Kalinda and I are leaving.”
“I’m taking you to the burial site.” Sosi climbs into the sleigh and picks up the reins.
Tinley curses under her breath and gets on. I ride beside my friend. Sosi spreads a red wool blanket across our laps and leads the yak team past the Crystal Palace and out of Teigra. The sleigh glides over the snow and ice with minimal joggling.
“Your sister was hurt when you didn’t attend her wedding,” Sosi says to her daughter.
Tinley groans. “You made that more than clear, Mother.”
“Maida loves Bedros. He’s wrong to have eyes for you.”