Chapter 10-Flight

The next few days were like something out of a dream to the travel-weary quartet. Proper healing and perfect rest—both unheard-of luxuries thus far in her life—did wonders for Ilona, and she began to look like someone who really had seen Aslan's country, though the Calormenes insisted it was the kingdom of Tash.

Vesta was already becoming the stuff of legends. Canisp laughed to herself to hear some of the stories told about the horse; some were merely exaggerated accounts of her speed, while others insisted she could fly. She was treated better than the Tisroc's own war-horses; washed and brushed, her mane and tail painstakingly combed, oil dabbed on her hooves. Her large, airy box (in the finest section of the stables, of course) was scattered with rushes and palms dipped in rose oil, which she and Canisp both seemed to think was fairly ridiculous, but she didn't seem to be complaining.

Ilona's fears that Orion would be reviled as a Narnian "demon" were averted by a stroke of quick-witted genius that earned Canisp's respect forever, as well as showcasing one of the girl's most valuable talents; Ilona could lie at the drop of a hat. She introduced Orion by saying that he was a changeling as well, but he had once disobeyed "the great god Tash", and as a punishment his shapeshifting power was stripped from him. This venture—or, as Ilona put it to Ishdar, "The mission of which they may not speak to mortal men"—was his only chance to regain his full powers. Canisp had hastily followed this up by pointing out that Rabadash's reign was in fact blessed by the presence of two changelings.

This made the Tisroc very happy.

Now, of course, the palace people couldn't get enough of Orion. They went out of their way to please him with surprising thoroughness. Gold-and-ivory perches, adorned with precious gems and cobalt enamel, were placed in the room he shared with Canisp. Both supposed changelings were impressed by the cooks' creativity when they delivered up a silver plate covered with a collection of deliciously-prepared… mice. Orion would often reminisce dreamily, years later, about the spicy, aromatic orange sauce on rat that would become his favorite, or else the fresh, minty mouse glaze he often had as a second course. Canisp would invariably laugh, but the recipes were truly quite impressive. She was far more grateful, however, for the white-leather falconry glove she had received almost as an afterthought. It was a great relief; careful as he might be, Orion could hardly help but pierce her skin once in a while, landing on her bare arms as he did.

Canisp herself was treated like a queen. Their room was almost ridiculous in its finery. The down mattress was so soft as to actually make it difficult for Canisp, so accustomed to hard ground and stone dens, to sleep. She generally dozed off on the wide red-velvet cushion of the window seat, which was still more comfortable than anything she had ever experienced before. Their first day in the palace she immediately restocked her supply of medicinal herbs. Poinsettia, unfortunately, was rare in Calormen, but Ilona promised that the minute she was allowed out of bed she would find her some. At any rate, they were taken such good care of here that Canisp couldn't really imagine that she would need such emergency healing anytime soon.

And then, of course, there were the clothes. Once it became apparent that the completely impractical dresses favored by the Tarkheenas made her skin crawl, she was provided with tailored silk tunics and loose-fitting pants that were far more to her liking. Rich midnight-purple silk embroidered with coiled silver dragons, bold scarlet emblazoned with gold designs copied from the hilt of her knife, pale orange that shimmered in a breeze like the color of a sunset on the ocean…it was actually a bit frightening. She had never been surrounded by such wealth in her life.

But behind all the splendor and riches were unsettling signs. After being told that Orion was deathly afraid of enclosed spaces, all of his ornate perches were placed near windows, but the windows had been sealed shut. They were given free reign of the palace, but whenever they stepped outside, it seemed like the guard around the grounds had instantly been doubled. A maid had been assigned to serve them until Ilona had recovered; Ilona insisted that she was fine, but the healers were taking no chances with a changeling's servant, especially one who apparently thought 'fine' meant 'concussed with two cracked ribs and a broken wrist'.

There would have been nothing suspicious about this arrangement had the woman not locked their door from the outside when she left at night, or if it was in fact possible to unlock that particular device from inside the room at all. While even a human would have found this mildly disturbing, it had a deep psychological effect on the two Narnians. Their powerful instincts were rubbed raw by the thought of being trapped. Canisp understandably hated locked doors, which her subconscious equated with whips and chains, but even so she was far better off than Orion. In less time than it takes to say "claustrophobia", he became so tense and anxious that his feathers began falling out.

This nervous tension quickly became infectious. On the third night, when both Canisp and Orion had come to the conclusion that they were going to go utterly and completely mad if they couldn't get out of this room right now, the door opened.

It was only thanks to pure reflexive instinct that Canisp had time to reach up and grab Orion as he shot past her head for the opening. She just managed to catch his legs as he made his break.

With some difficulty, their rescuer slipped the hairpin she had used to pick the lock back into her hair, using only her uninjured left hand. "The window in my room is open, my lady," she whispered.

Ilona had come through.

And so began a strange routine. Every night, Ilona would break out of the servant's quarters next door to her mistress' and spring Canisp and Orion, neither of whom would ever show an aptitude for lock-picking, despite Ilona's many attempts to teach them. The two 'changelings' would slip next door into Ilona's smaller, simpler room, throw open the window, and engage in a long, late-night flight, circling above Tashbaan. They were certain that these flights were common knowledge; it wasn't as if they tried to hide them. They guessed that the only reason they were never confronted about them was because that would mean acknowledging that the Tisroc was trying to keep them locked up. And besides, they always returned.

Tonight, however, Canisp just wasn't in a circling mood. After a few minutes of stretching her wings above the Palace, she dipped her left wing slightly and dropped into a slow, shallow descent, landing lightly on the pointed roof of the highest tower. The carved marble designs along the edge of the turret provided the perfect foothold, preventing Canisp from slipping off the smooth blue tiles. Shifting carefully to human form, she settled herself on the roof and gave a tired sigh. As she looked out over the sleeping city, she found herself absently massaging the thick, ropy scars on her left wrist; it was an unconscious habit she had gotten into.

While it was a far cry from the wonders of Narnia, this particular tower had been designed for its view, and said view was stunning. The Palace was located at the top of the island-hill of Tashbaan, providing an uninterrupted view over the countryside. The slow, even river parted around the city, glittering in the light of the moon; and, more importantly than the moon, the precious diamond stars that collected into the Leopard, the Ship, the Armchair—all the old constellations.

On a whim, Canisp took out the set of pipes Tumnus had given her, realizing how long it had been since she last played them properly; the simple rendition of "Earth and Sky" she had given Ilona didn't really count. Hoping she hadn't forgotten how (unlikely; she had learned from Fauns) she brought the carved instrument to her lips and blew a quick collection of breathy notes recognizable as a whippoorwill call. Dissatisfied, she tried the call again, this time producing a clearer sound. From there she moved on to a veritable menagerie of birdsong. Most of them she didn't know the name for; they were just tunes she remembered from Narnian mornings.

Gaining confidence, she began adding embellishments to the trilling melodies, transforming them, following tangents that seemed to crop up without her realizing it, until her fingers were flying of their own accord, remembering, singing their own symphony. The song rose and fell, twisted and whirled like a flock of starlings, working itself into a frenzy. Only then did her fingers slow, and she reversed the process; the symphony returned to a combination of bird calls, which began to separate, until finally she was once more calling out to a lone whippoorwill on a still night.

There was a loud flapping near her head. Leaning back, Canisp looked up and graced Orion with a lazy smile. "Ori," she said softly by way of greeting.

Orion smiled. "I thought I heard someone torturing a mockingbird," he said teasingly.

Canisp grimaced. "Was I that bad?"

"No. You were…phenomenal, actually."

"Obviously not," Canisp said drily, "Because that was a whippoorwill."

Orion shook his head. "It was a mockingbird."

"No, this is a mockingbird," Canisp said, playing a different collection of notes.

"That's a whippoorwill."

"It's a mockingbird!"

"You're arguing with me about birdsongs?"

Canisp glared at him, and he chuckled. Unable, as usual, to stay angry with him, Canisp gave a contented sigh and leaned back against the roof.

After a long, easy silence, Orion asked, "Canisp?"

"Hmm?"

"How long has it been since we flew together—really flew?"

A slow smile spread across Canisp's face. "Far too long."

Orion gave his trademark grin, tipped her a jaunty wink, and dropped off the tower, catching the weak column of warm air rising from the cooling flagstones of the courtyard and flying away without a backward glance. Stowing her pipes, Canisp stood and leaped off the edge of the roof. She twisted, shifting to wolf form in midair. Then she snapped out her wings and soared.

It was freedom like she'd never imagined it, flight as she'd never dreamed it could be. Tonight, with Orion at her side, Canisp was queen of the skies. Together they corkscrewed through the air. They rose and fell in perfect synchronization, racing with the wind and chasing stars across the heavens. They twisted tightly and plunged down into the city, dodging buildings and weaving through the narrow streets. They couldn't have stopped if they tried; Canisp twice had to shoot through an impossibly narrow gap between two buildings, only avoiding having her wings shorn off by flipping sideways at the last instant and passing through diagonally. Tiring of this, they hurtled upwards just to see how high they could go; then, when Orion was shivering and Canisp feeling dizzy from lack of oxygen, they folded their wings and plummeted toward the desert below.

At the last possible moment, they pulled out of their dive and used the sheer momentum it had given them to race across the dunes. They copied the lightning-fast movements and hairpin turns of swallows in summer, skimming recklessly close to the ground; at one point, the tip of Canisp's wing traced a thin line in the sand. When they had bled off their speed, they altered the angles of their feathers and swept into the skies in a dizzying combination of twisting rolls, loop-the-loops and midair somersaults.

Gradually, their aerobatics grew slower, more relaxed. The hard, forceful cornering gave way to wide, graceful turns as they soared aimlessly on gentle breaths of wind. Eventually they found themselves over the palace and, pleasantly exhausted, they landed in a flurry of black and white, eyes shining as they hadn't in years.

Panting slightly, Orion met Canisp's sparkling gaze and whispered, "Wow."

Canisp nodded, out of breath herself. "That was…amazing."

"Canisp," Orion said warningly.

Canisp cocked her head. "What?" she whispered. "It's true. I've never flown like that before—"

"Canisp!"

The urgent hiss was a tone Canisp knew. Instantly alert, she muttered, "Where?"

"Eight o'clock," Orion whispered back. "The stables."

Following his line of sight, Canisp gave a low snarl as she saw what he meant. Normally, Orion's eyes were far more powerful than hers; but wolves, unlike eagles, can see in the dark. So while Orion had caught the flicker of movement, it was Canisp who spotted the shrouded figure that, black-on-black as it was, would be all but invisible to human eyes.

A figure in a dark cloak, who was trying very hard not to be seen, was slipping into Vesta's stall.

A/N: What, you thought the first chapter was there for no reason?