"Kata'shin'a'in!" Seanna crowed triumphantly, reigning in her roan mare atop the rise. A feeble gust of wind stirred her short-cropped hair as she half-turned the horse, grinning at her older brother, "At the pace we've been going, I was starting to doubt we'd ever get here!"
Jia'drin sighed mentally, lamenting the eternal exuberance of the eighteen year old. Three extra years of experience had taught him that after waking before dawn, herding a few dozen horses all day, and traveling in steadily-dropping temperatures, one ought to be a bit tired. So it was that he continued his sedate pace up the hill and crested the rise with hardly a glance at the city below, leaving his sister to scramble after him.
A glance, of course, hardly did Kata'shin'a'in any justice. The city was remarkable in the fact that it was hardly a city; almost every single person there lived in a brightly colored tent, all the "homes" combining to create a chaotic mix of colors. The sometimes-gaudy mixture of hues was enough to blind the unwary, but it perfectly suited a Shin'a'in's sense of style. Visiting caravans, hailing from Iftel to the exotic Vales (and everywhere in between), bore the hardship with amazing grace.
Their own "caravan" was made up of a dozen members of For'a'hier, the Firefalcon Clan. The entire clan had already been to Kata'shin'a'in, so everyone in the return group was out for extra profits, or because they hadn't sold all their goods the first time around. The twelve of them would only have a week or so before winter drove them out of the city, but a week ought to be more than enough to finish up business.
Jia'drin let his eyes roam over the city as they made their final approach, searching for his parent's tell-tale string of horses. This year For'a'hier had produced an alarming number of white steeds, and his parents had left early in order to sell theirs before the group's arrival flooded the market. Verari and Sal'ara had ever been practical; they'd have arrived three days ago, and might already have sold the entire string.
Seanna rode up next to him, her blue eyes dancing with some secret merriment. "Heyla, Jia'drin! D'you know what? Kav'ata says we're going to camp over there." Raising her hand, his sister gestured at fully half of the city, oblivious to the fact that she wasn't being helpful in the slightest. More than a little annoyed at her exuberance, Jia'drin merely grunted.
Casting a rumpled glace his way, she promptly continued, "You know, both k'Treva and k'Leshya are here."
That he did already knew, and quite thoroughly looked forward to. It wasn't every day that one could browse through the beautiful items his cousins created, and a rare occasion indeed that one could afford them.
Seanna continued to regard him, then glanced back at the rest of the group as a sly smile stole across her features, "Uivatha is still making moon-eyes your back." Fidgeting in her saddle, she glared at him as the silence stretched, then finally burst out, "Don't you ever talk?"
That, naturally, was exactly what he'd been waiting for. Bestowing a dry smile on her, he absently quoted the old adage, "He who is wisest, says least." Then, laughing, he signaled his mount to a canter, riding into Kata'shin'a'in with Seanna's good-natured curses at his back.
Upon entering the city, Jia'drin was forced to reign in his mount to a steady walk; even this late in the season, the city was crowded with brightly-garbed Clansmen, travelers who wore their brightest to fit in, and traders who tried to mimic the Clansmen without much success. Indeed, one could hardly pass a street without seeing a foreign salesman, wearing a poorly-made beaded tunic, loudly proclaiming his wares in Shin'a'in. The garbled, mispronounced, and often hysterically-incorrect utterings had true Shin'a'in doubled over with laughter; the one nearest him, for example, was trying to sell his myriad of lace products as "large, ripe, and fragrant".
A flicker of movement on the edge of his vision caused him to glance up just as an enormous bird plunged from the sky, her wings close about her frame as she plummeted. Even as a few passersby cried out and dashed for cover, the gigantic vorcel-hawk snapped out her wings and hovered a few feet above the stunned crowd. Then, as a few nervous titters and relieved laughs broke out among the crowd, the bird called a harsh greeting and neatly perched on a nearby hawker's stall.
The trader was obviously a new addition to Kata'shin'a'in; he cowered back and stared at the bird in barely-suppressed terror. Most everyone who had stayed a week through a busy season would know of the Tale'edras birds, as well as the extremely strict laws against harming them. The "laws" weren't actually written anywhere, but his cousins enforced the rules religiously. Just last season, in fact, a group of fur traders had taken a shot at what they had thought was a normal falcon; after an extensive search, their bodies had finally been found a half league from the city. In Kata'shin'a'in it was safest not to shoot at anything that flew.
Nodding casually at the frightened man, Jia'drin pulled his horse beside the stall and double-checked the bird's distinctive markings, "Kina, what've you got for me?" The vorcel-hawk was bonded to a friend of his, Liferain k'Treva. Over the past few years the two of them had gotten into no small amount of mischief when they happened to meet in the city, and it was his high regard for her that kept him from settling down and starting a family. When compared to Liferain, Uivatha - and almost every other woman in his clan - faded to naught.
Kina fluffed out her feathers and uttered a short trill, raising her right talon to show the rolled message attached to it. Casting a grin at the pale trader, he leaned from his horse and scratched the hawk's neck, more than slightly amused at how the man suddenly bolted. When he reached for the message, however, the hawk butted his hand away and sidled back.
Jia'drin groaned mentally at the bird's odd actions. Either the message wasn't for him - which was fairly plausible, considering he just arrived - or the Kina wanted to play a game of catch-the-hawk. The small road wasn't the slightest suited to the game, though, and the last thing he wanted was for someone to think he was manhandling a Tale'edras bird. Deciding to try to wheedle the message out of the bird, he pointed his finger at her, assumed a stern expression, and looked into Kina's golden eyes -
- and reeled, his mind suddenly awash with two simple words, and a dozen images that went with them, :You follow.: Then, while he was shocked into immobility, the hawk launched herself from the stall and took off, circling around him twice before heading off to the left.
His face still pale with shock, Jia'drin obediently urged his horse to follow the bird, his mind trying to sort out what had just happened. He wasn't hallucinating, that was a certainty; any Clansmen old enough to talk knew that Tale'edras birds could "speak" to their bondmate. But, didn't that just apply to their bondmate? He wasn't so sure, and it certainly didn't seem so. But if bondbirds could talk into anyone's head, why hadn't Kina spoken to him before? He'd known Liferain for quite some time, and any messages had always been relayed on paper...
Checking to make sure his horse was still following the hovering bird, Jia'drin shrugged off the questions. Liferain would be able to answer them all, no doubt; just one more reason for wanting to see her. Besides, he didn't have to take his turn at his clan's stall until tomorrow morning, leaving him plenty of time to visit the beautiful Healer, and to spend the night if the situation warranted it.
Steady, Jia'drin whispered to himself, it's been nearly a year this time. How someone as bright, beautiful, and talented as Liferain had remained unpaired this long astounded him. It was perfectly plausible that she had found someone recently, and their relationship would have to revert to casual friends. If that were the case, he'd probably have to settle down with one of the women in For'a'hier before his parents - and half the rest of the clan - became too adamantly opposed to him being a bachelor.
Keeping his eyes on the bird, and trusting his horse to clear a path, Jia'drin recognized where his thoughts were taking him. Did he really want to marry Liferain? Adding up all the times he'd seen her, he probably had only spent a single season with her. Even worse, would she want him? He was good with a sword, better than most on a horse, but absolutely nothing special; she was a powerful Healer, of the body and mind, and the only one k'Treva had. Even if they did get married, he would wind up going to live in k'Treva.
Could I actually leave the Plains? Fah! he chided himself, she's probably married, hasn't shown any inclination toward marrying you, and will be gone in a week; let's not worry about what won't happen.
Shrugging off his disturbing thoughts, Jia'drin took in the sights of the inner city. Some time ago the bright tents had given way to the buildings - permanent shops, inns, and houses of those who lived through all the seasons at Kata'shin'a'in. If anything, the streets here were more crowded than those around the tents, and there were more travelers than Shin'a'in. Kina was still circling lazily in the sky, moving vaguely to his right now; keeping his eyes on the bird, Jia'drin nudged his mount onto the proper path.
A few moments later he was jolted forward in his saddle as his horse hit something; tearing his eyes from the sky, Jia'drin looked down just in time to see an enraged mountain of a man picking himself off the ground, his bloodshot eyes and red face testimony to the tavern he had just walked out of. More disconcerting than the man's size was that three others had lined up next to him - and all of them sported chainmail and swords. None of them looked particularity rational.
His horse had shied backward from the impact, but now stood firm. It was much more likely that the men - more than a little drunk - had stumbled into him, rather than the other way around; it was also extremely unlikely that he'd be able to talk his way out of a fight. Let no one say, however, that he hadn't given the men a proper warning. Clasping his hand around the hilt of his sword - just in case - he raised his voice and spoke to them in trade tongue, "Gentlemen -"
Perhaps it was the misapplication of the title, or maybe the men were too gone to recognize speech, but the leader suddenly drew his sword and roared, charging at the Shin'a'in with his friends close behind.
At that point negotiations became mute. Drawing his sword and long dagger, Jia'drin signaled his mount with a word; the brown beast reared and came down flat on the leader's chest, crushing bone and chainmail with equal indifference. One of the followers, shocked at the sudden demise of his leader, stopped his charge a little too close to the irritated Shin'a'in. Leaning dangerously out of his saddle, Jia'drin swatted the man's sword aside and ran him through.
Pulling his sword out of the body, Jia'drin barely had time to right himself and block the third man's furious attack. The man pulled back, howling, as the Shin'a'in thrust his dagger into the man's arm, twisting as he withdrew to inflict the most damage. As the third man turned and ran, he signaled his horse back, searching for the fourth idiot crazy enough to attack a Clansman in their own city.
A blood-curdling, triumphant shriek erupted from Kina's beak as she launched off from the fourth man's still body, the back of whose neck looked mauled and twisted. A final short scream jerked his attention to the left, where an unnamed Clanswoman had neatly beheaded the wounded man.
A heavy silence hung in the air as the woman stepped forward, fixing her gaze on the tavern's customers, who'd all emerged in some state of drunkenness to witness the fight. Grounding her blade next to the man's staring head, she calmly glanced at the foreigners and grated in trading tongue, "To attack a Clansman in Kata'shin'a'in is death." She smiled chillingly as the silence stretched, "May your business be profitable, gentlemen, and may you live longer than these." Dropping down, she cleaned her sword on one of the dead man's tunics, nodded at Jia'drin, and left.
A hawk's cry, still overlaid with tones of bloodlust, pulled his eyes from the dramatic scene. Kina circled him once before shooting off, oblivious to the fact that he was now responsible for cleaning up four bodies, his weapons, and his horse. Scowling at the retreating bird, he dismounted easily and - on impulse - decided to play into the scene the Clanswoman had created. Skewering the dangling head on his sword, he casually raised it, innocently asking the pale bystanders, "Where should I put this?"
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