39. Selis, On the Way to Kish

Note: I didn't think I was going to be able to get a post done this week, but I got an unexpected free day!

Selis hated travel, but she liked the Sericans.   Sitting atop one of their big wooden wagons as it trundled along the raised trade road, rocky cliffs rising on either side, made for unexpectedly comfortable travel. But she had grudgingly admitted to herself that that wasn't the main reason.

It was that they were so different from the Cordans. It wasn't just the physical differences, though their indigo blue skin and dark hair made such a contrast to Selis' pale green. They were gregarious and friendly, to each other, to the other groundlings who traveled with their caravan, to random people passing on the giant stone bridge of the trade road. The women were scouts and guards and governors of the compounds where their homes were inside the Kish borders, so the girls were raised by their fathers on the caravans to be quick and brave. Selis watched them running around and play-fighting and arguing, free and easy, and felt it rejuvenating some small shriveled part of her heart. Not that she would admit it.

The only problem with the general approachability of the Sericans was that people approached them. Camped at night on the trade road, a smaller group of travelers calling themselves the Giad had come up beside them and asked to join them for the night. Selis found the Giad, tall, skinny, and gray-skinned as they were, uncomfortably reminiscent of the Cordan elders. They seemed scandalized by the behavior of the young women, though they tried to keep it to themselves, and settled around the fire in the evening with obvious gratitude for the protection of a large group.

Along with everyone else, Selis was drinking fat-tea, a Serican drink made by combining the fermented solids from their draft beasts' milk with strong dark tea. It made the cold mountain nights much more bearable. One of the Giad was speaking to the group, telling a story about the Fell attacking a town in the east. It was the same story everyone had heard over and over again, and Selis was sick of it. Though the Sericans were giving it their rapt, polite attention, she could see some eyes glazing over. The Giad finished, "And none but the dead were left behind."

He sounded so pompously pleased about it, Selis couldn't let it pass. She said, "Not all flying shifters are Fell."

Alert to what they assumed was the start of a new story, the Sericans all turned toward her expectantly, dragging their blankets around to a more comfortable position facing her. 

Selis felt her throat go a little dry. She had meant to bait the Giad speaker a little, because he was an annoying speak-everything-know-little. And maybe because the next time someone saw a disguised Raksura they might remember what she said, not that anyone listened to her. She had forgotten the Serican love of tales and their careful etiquette regarding speakers at their evening gatherings and had inadvertently signaled that she wanted the attention of the entire group.

The Giad speaker stared in affront, and one of the other Giad snorted derisively. "And what do you know of it?"

Mesared and most of the other Sericans ignored him, their attention locked on Selis. Only the young Serican women that Selis referred to collectively as the Loud Girls eyed him, and with an ironic amusement that had every potential to turn combative. Selis had put her foot in it and there was no going back now. She took a drink of fat-tea to coat her throat, and said, "There are flying shifters called Raksura, who help groundlings."

The Giad said, "No one wants to hear your wild imaginings--"

Mesared interrupted, "Selis has the fire. Your turn will come when she's finished." He lifted an admonishing brow at the Loud Girl who had just picked up a bowl of melted fat with the possible intent of flinging it at the Giad. She put the bowl down and the others grinned and nudged her. Mesared nodded for Selis to continue.

The moment had given her a chance to think. She said, "Some are dark as night, but when the sun hits them right, they glow gold under their scales. That's how you know they aren't Fell. Some are blue, touched with gold and green. Like jewels, so bright you wouldn't believe. Their hair is full of long needles, and if they're attacked from behind, you'll see how sharp they are."

The girls had all settled, watching her intently with the rest of the Sericans. Even of few of the Giad seemed curious.  Selis forged on, "We don't see them much, because the Fell kill them too, through the east, just like they kill us. So they're careful, and they hide. And because they hide, sometimes they get lost, and the others have to look for them. I met one who was lost.

"The one who came for him was a queen, strong and fast, could rip a Fell apart with her bare hands. Well, her claws." Getting into the rhythm of it now, Selis flexed her hands theatrically. "She came to take him away to her home in the west. I helped them steal a secret from a bunch of idiot old groundling men who were hiding it, keeping it away from people who needed it. So they took me with them, and carried me through the air. It was very cold. They took me to Keres-gedin, and then flew away west. I met some Sericans, and we all went down into to Kish together. The end," she added, and took another swig of tea. For a first effort at storytelling, she felt it could have gone a lot worse.

The Sericans patted the stone paving of the road in appreciation. "Another," one of the girls said. Others agreed, and the murmur, "another, another" went through the crowd.

Uh oh, Selis thought, and promised, "Tomorrow night." That would give her time to think of something else.