“Take her through the mountain,” Mundoo instructed with a wave of his hand. “Make sure no one hurts her or the Spade until I have made a decision regarding their fates. Feed, clean, and clothe them. See that they are well cared for, but closely watched. Call for Ge-Jursi to use Iu-Hora’s potions to heal her.” Dinah’s whole body curled up in blinding pain as she cried out. Yur-Jee raised his voice to argue with the Chief, but Mundoo silenced him with a raised hand. “Do as I command. Ach-julik.”
Yur-Jee bowed with his hands spread out before him into the symbol of the crane. Dinah’s guards clamped their hands around her arms and pulled her out through one of the tent’s open doors. Her shoulder felt as though it had been set on fire. She gasped for air, unable to breathe through the pain. They pushed her out onto the rope walkway that led into the breast of the crane. Dinah stumbled repeatedly, which made walking on the thin, knotted-rope walkway even more terrifying. Blood dripped down from her shoulder until it coated her bare feet, and she struggled to stay conscious. She slipped. Ki-ershan pressed his bare hand over the wound to stop the bleeding. Dinah could see the ground hundreds and hundreds of feet below her as they struggled to stay on the thin rope bridge. The crowd watched her in silence as drops of blood fell from her body. They seemed satisfied.
“Walk,” grunted Yur-Jee, roughly pushing her forward, so hard that Dinah would have gone flying off the edge if Ki-ershan hadn’t yanked her back. “Ja-hohy!” he snapped at Yur-Jee. Stop, thought Dinah, half-delusional. Yes, Ja-hohy means stop. Thank you, Harris, she thought madly.
Something twitched in her shoulder and suddenly it felt as if the bone was separating from her muscle, somewhere deep inside the cut. She gave a scream and stumbled forward, her knees hitting the rock outcropping that led into the mountain. Overjoyed at the cool feel of the stone, she laughed hysterically to have solid ground beneath her, even if she was still in a giant stone bird, hundreds of feet above the ground. The urge to brush her lips on the mountain was overtaken by a throbbing, angry pain, and she struggled to stay conscious. She heard raised voices and shouting. Sir Gorrann’s face appeared in a hazy blue sky over her, the thin lines of his face creased in worry.
“What did he do to yeh? Dinah, are yeh all right? Dinah! Dinah! Yer Highness, let me see.” His hands cradled her face, her shoulder. The Spade turned her over gently, peeling Ki-ershan’s hand back from the wound, and she heard a sharp intake of breath. “The Chief should not have done this. Why would he do this? Yur-Jee, please get me some bandages and a healer. NOW!”
Dinah closed her eyes. When she opened them again, there was a beautiful Yurkei woman leaning over her, her glowing blue eyes trained on Dinah’s wound, her resplendent white hair soaked red at the tips where it had brushed in her blood. She listened silently as the woman sang a wailing song over her as she rocked back and forth and applied some sort of gray paste to Dinah’s wound. The paste smelled like the mushroom fields—warm and potent, a decadent perfume. The pain suddenly receded into a dull, stabbing sensation, and Dinah breathed a sigh of relief, her hand reaching up to clutch the woman’s shoulder. “Thank you, thank you, thank you…,” she repeated it over and over, her tongue becoming numb.
The woman smiled, showing her small pearly teeth. “How do you say… in Wonderlander? Ahh… well… Su-heyg… hu-sang….” The woman clapped her hands. “Oh yes, hu-satey.” Her blue eyes stared unflinchingly into Dinah’s. “WELCOME. Welcome to Hu-Yuhar.”
Chapter Ten
Dinah slept for two days after that, two glorious days on the bed of woven grass, two glorious days of rest. Occasionally, she would be awoken by the pain. She’d eat and relieve herself, before surrendering her consciousness. Sir Gorrann sat quietly beside her bed, always watchful. He must have slept, but Dinah didn’t know when he did, and she didn’t really care. The healing paste made her dreams bright and vivid and joyful. Charles, weaving feathers into a hat. Harris, adjusting his spectacles while they feasted on wine and grapes. Wardley, astride Corning, his brown hair glowing like warm chocolate in the sun, his arms reaching for her. Wardley… she thought of him often in the few minutes between waking and falling back asleep. Wardley, her love, whom she probably would never see again. Wardley the Weak, as he was called now. The shame she felt at tarnishing his name was at times unbearable, so it was easier just to sleep.
When two days had finally passed, Dinah begrudgingly decided that it was time to leave the confines of her warm, cozy tent, though she felt she could stay forever—eating, sleeping, and dreaming. Sir Gorrann roused her early and made sure that she ate a plate of eggs and strange amber fruit. As Dinah bit into the egg, a rush of yellow yolk ran down her chin. She stared at Sir Gorrann, who was devouring his eggs, still famished after the last bite.
“Did you lead me here?” she asked. The Spade wiped his face with a feathered napkin.
“Perhaps. Perhaps it is not yet time to ask.”