“There’s not much moon tonight,” I said in my best encouraging tones. “Are you sure you don’t want to come up?”
I heard a rustle from the hedges below and then saw Auri scamper up the tree like a squirrel. She ran around the edge of the roof, then pulled up short a few dozen feet away.
At my best guess, Auri was only a few years older than me, certainly no more than twenty. She dressed in tattered clothes that left her arms and legs bare, was shorter than me by almost a foot. She was thin. Part of this was simply her tiny frame, but there was more to it than that. Her cheeks were hollow and her bare arms waifishly narrow. Her long hair was so fine that it trailed her, floating in the air like a cloud.
It had taken me a long while to draw her out of hiding. I’d suspected someone was listening to me practice from the courtyard, but it had been nearly two span before I caught a glimpse of her. Seeing that she was half-starved, I began bringing whatever food I could carry away from the Mess and leaving it for her. Even so, it was another span before she had joined me on the roof as I practiced my lute.
The last few days, she’d even started talking. I’d expected her to be sullen and suspicious, but nothing could be further from the truth. She was bright-eyed and enthusiastic. Though I couldn’t help but be reminded of myself in Tarbean when I saw her, there was little real resemblance. Auri was scrupulously clean and full of joy.
She didn’t like the open sky, or bright lights, or people. I guessed she was some student who had gone cracked and run underground before she could be confined to Haven. I hadn’t learned much about her, as she was still shy and skittish. When I’d asked her name, she bolted back underground and didn’t return for days.
So I picked a name for her, Auri. Though in my heart I thought of her as my little moon-fey.
Auri came a few steps closer, stopped, waited, then darted forward again. She did this several times until she stood in front of me. Standing still, her hair spread in the air around her like a halo. She held both her hands in front of her, just under her chin. She reached out and tugged my sleeve, then pulled her hand back. “What did you bring me?” She asked excitedly.
I smiled. “What did you bring me?” I teased gently.
She smiled and thrust her hand forward. Something gleamed in the moonlight. “A key,” she said proudly, pressing it on me.
I took it. It had a pleasing weight in my hand. “It’s very nice,” I said. “What does it unlock?”
“The moon,” she said, her expression grave.
“That should be useful,” I said, looking it over.
“That’s what I thought,” she said. “That way, if there’s a door in the moon you can open it.” She sat cross-legged on the roof and grinned up at me. “Not that I would encourage that sort of reckless behavior.”
I squatted down and opened my lute case. “I brought you some bread.” I handed her the loaf of brown barley bread wrapped in a piece of cloth. “And a bottle of water.”
“This is very nice as well,” she said graciously. The bottle seemed very large in her hands. “What’s in the water?” she asked as she pulled out the cork and peered down into it.
“Flowers,” I said. “And the part of the moon that isn’t in the sky tonight. I put that in there too.”
She looked back up. “I already said the moon,” she said with a hint of reproach.
“Just flowers then. And the shine off the back of a dragonfly. I wanted a piece of the moon, but blue-dragonfly-shine was as close as I could get.”
She tipped the bottle up and took a sip. “It’s lovely,” she said, brushing back several strands of hair that were drifting in front of her face.
Auri spread out the cloth and began to eat. She tore small pieces from the loaf and chewed them delicately, somehow making the whole process look genteel.
“I like white bread,” she said conversationally between mouthfuls.
“Me too,” I said as I lowered myself into a sitting position. “When I can get it.”
She nodded and looked around at the starry night sky and the crescent moon. “I like it when it’s cloudy, too. But this is okay. It’s cozy. Like the Underthing.”
“Underthing?” I asked. She was rarely this talkative.
“I live in the Underthing,” Auri said easily. “It goes all over.”
“Do you like it down there?”
Auri’s eyes lit up. “Holy God yes, it’s marvelous. You can just look forever.” She turned to look at me. “I have news,” she said teasingly.
“What’s that?” I asked.
She took another bite and finished chewing before she spoke. “I went out last night.” A sly smile. “On top of things.”
“Really?” I said, not bothering to hide my surprise. “How did you like it?”
“It was lovely. I went looking around,” she said, obviously pleased with herself. “I saw Elodin.”
“Master Elodin?” I asked. She nodded. “Was he on top of things, too?”
She nodded again, chewing.
“Did he see you?”
Her smile burst out again making her look closer to eight than eighteen. “Nobody sees me. Besides, he was busy listening to the wind.” She cupped her hands around her mouth and made a hooting noise. “There was good wind for listening last night,” she added confidentially.
While I was trying to make sense of what she’d said, Auri finished the last of her bread and clapped her hands excitedly. “Now play!” she said breathlessly. “Play! Play!”
Grinning, I pulled my lute out of its case. I couldn’t hope for a more enthusiastic audience than Auri.
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
A Place to Burn
“YOU LOOK DIFFERENT TODAY,” Simmon observed. Wilem grunted in agreement.
“I feel different,” I admitted. “Good, but different.”
The three of us were kicking up dust on the road to Imre. The day was warm and sunny, and we were in no particular hurry.
“You look…calm,” Simmon continued, brushing his hand through his hair. “I wish I felt as calm as you look.”
“I wish I felt as calm as I looked,” I mumbled.
Simmon refused to give up. “You look more solid.” He grimaced. “No. You look…tight.”
“Tight?” Tension forced laughter out of me, leaving me more relaxed. “How can someone look tight?”
“Just tight.” He shrugged. “Like a coiled spring.”
“It’s the way he’s holding himself,” Wilem said, breaking his usual thoughtful silence. “Standing straight, neck unbent, shoulders back.” He gestured vaguely to illustrate his points. “When he steps, his whole foot treads the ground. Not just the ball, as if he would run, or the heel, as if he would hesitate. He steps solidly down, claiming the piece of ground for his own.”
I felt a momentary awkwardness as I tried to watch myself, always a futile thing to attempt.
Simmon gave him a sideways look. “Someone’s been spending time with Puppet, haven’t they?”
Wilem shrugged a vague agreement and threw a stone into the trees by the side of the road.
“Who is this Puppet you two keep mentioning?” I asked, partly to draw the attention away from myself. “I’m about to die of terminal curiosity, you know.”