Tess blinked incredulously; she’d half forgotten that argument, partly because she’d never seen the hatchling again. “You really didn’t eat her! I assumed you were humoring me.”
“I might have eaten ko, my promise notwithstanding,” said Pathka slyly, “but I’d had seven already, and my belly was full.”
Kikiu snorted as disdainfully as any human adolescent. “So it’s this human’s fault.”
“Her fault you’re alive? Yes, poor you. I’m sure it’s been awful,” said Pathka.
Smoke curled out of Kikiu’s nostrils, and she kept one wary eye on Tess while she said, “I’ll bring up your dinner, Mother. There’s goat stew and fresh bread from the baker’s.”
“I want fungus,” said Pathka crankily. “And dung.”
“We don’t eat that anymore,” said Kikiu, turning up her snout.
“Which is why you’re always so dyspeptic,” said Pathka.
Kikiu departed with a haughty swish of her tail, leaving Tess and Pathka alone. “She still calls you Mother, even though you’re male?” Tess asked, trying to work out the nuances.
“I laid her egg,” snapped Pathka, “so I am her mother. That can’t change.”
He pushed himself off his belly and reeled in the chain affixed to his leg. “Quick, Teth, close the door and brace it with something. I’m so pleased you’re here; I need help with this.”
Tess did as he asked, dragging one of the work couches in front of the door. “What are you—?” she began, but there was no point finishing, as Pathka focused his tongue-flame upon one of the links of his chain, pulling to stretch the link open.
It didn’t budge. “Stupid steel,” he snarled. “Stupid high melting point.”
“What can I do?” Tess asked. Pathka couldn’t answer, as his mouth was occupied again, but he pointed with one of his dorsal hands. Tess retrieved the indicated hammer.
He held the chain taut across the pommel of his workbench, flaming until the steel glowed orange, and then indicated where Tess should strike. Her weak blow sent up a shower of sparks. Pathka redoubled his flame; the metal glowed white, and the bench began to smolder. Tess gritted her teeth and struck again, flattening the link but not breaking through.
Gravelly voices became audible through the door, and then came pounding. Pathka trembled with the effort of sustaining such a powerful flame. Tess rummaged frantically for a better tool and found a pair of cruel-looking loppers. With difficulty, she snipped the white-hot link in two.
The steel clattered to the wooden floor, which began to smoke. Pathka gasped for breath, pulling himself loose; he still had a manacle around his ankle, but he was free of the bench.
Behind Tess, the door splintered and cracked under a heavy blow.
“This way,” cried Pathka, flinging up the window sash. He could easily climb down the wall, and lost no time in doing so. Tess stuck her head out; the alley below was full of trash, and it was a long drop. She scanned the wall to either side, looking for a surer way down, and saw footholds to the left. It had been a long time since she’d climbed out a window; it had only led to trouble.
The door burst off its hinges. The work couch kept it propped up, but a gap at the top allowed quigutl to swarm toward her across the ceiling. Tess reached into her satchel, grabbed the last of her coins, and cast them into the room, hoping that their natural affinity for metals, or else their newly “civilized” greed, would keep them busy for a minute or two.
Then she said a hasty prayer and swung herself out after Pathka.
Tess scrambled down alleys after Pathka, who seemed to have a clear idea where he was going. He led her out of Trowebridge and down the southern river road, running on four legs; his long body rippled like an otter’s. He kept looking behind him, clearly expecting to be followed.
Tess’s legs still ached from her long hike yesterday, the blisters on her toes screamed agony, and she wasn’t sure exactly how much danger they were in, but she grinned in spite of herself as she ran. She’d found the dearest friend of her childhood and they were doing exactly what they’d always done—fleeing from mischief. In that moment she felt like she’d stepped back in time, or like she was fleeing all the intervening years as well.
The river road ran relentlessly clear and straight. If they meant to lose pursuers, surely it would be smarter to cut through sheep pastures and hedgerows.
“What good would that do?” said Pathka when she mentioned it. “They’d sniff us out. Our best hope is to put distance between ourselves and town. Most won’t follow us far. Even the most stubborn will decide we aren’t worth the effort beyond a certain distance, say, eight-point-two miles.”
“That’s bizarrely precise,” puffed Tess.
Pathka wriggled his head spines. A quigutl giggle. “Maybe I can quantify laziness.”
Their run devolved to a walk when Tess got a stitch in her side. Trowebridge receded and disappeared behind them, but still they kept on. Near sundown, they reached a confluence of blocky water mills, two on the near side of the river and one on the far side, joined by a bridge. A single imposing house stood among several outbuildings. After a short argument about where to spend the night—the flour storage barn was out, as Pathka was prone to exhaling sparks in his sleep—they settled on the second barn, where the animals stayed.
Tess had argued against it, first because it would stink, and second because they had to tiptoe across a gravel yard to get to it, and Pathka couldn’t tiptoe, exactly. Pathka, however, took a quigutl shortcut over the top of the house, where his sticky, padded toes made no sound. Tess was left to crunch across the yard by herself, directly in front of the tall dining room windows. She paused to watch the miller and his grown sons carving into a venison roast. A serving lad brought wine around; beeswax candles illuminated their merriment. These millers were better off than her own family had been these last several years.
By now her family must know she was gone. She wondered how they were taking it. Mama would be furious, of course, and Tess felt some regret that she couldn’t be there to see it. Papa would be cringing before Mama’s wrath, Seraphina placid and unmoved, Jeanne…
Tess blanched. She’d spent the last two years thinking of Jeanne first, and then she’d run off without giving her twin a single thought. She should have left a note, at least. Tess’s throat tightened. The sun might cease to rise, but Tess would never cease to do the selfish, thoughtless, wrongheaded, hurtful thing.
She swallowed that guilt down, along with the rest of it, and reminded herself that she had put off dying of shame. She could reassess in the morning, but for now, she had to walk on.
Or tiptoe on, as it were. The gravel complained loudly.
The livestock barn was well built and tidy, full of goat smell but no goats; they’d be out to pasture now that it was warm enough. Alas, there was no hay in the barn, either, but Tess and Pathka climbed into the loft anyway, out of view should anyone enter the barn in the night.
Tess broke out her meager provisions; Pathka was ecstatic about the cheese, which made her smile. His enthusiasm was constant, even if so much else had changed.
* * *
Tess had met Pathka when she was…how old? It was going to take some calculation.
Seraphina had broken out in scales the winter before; every family event was measured from that mile marker. Tessie and Jeanne weren’t supposed to know, so of course they did. Their elder sister may have been secretive and aloof, but the twins were perceptive. Also, they were nosy, and Seraphina had been too ill to chase them off when they’d sneaked into her room.