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As Britta stands there, quiet, Belcalis places a hand on her shoulder. “I’m with Deka on this one. We’re all exhausted, and we haven’t seen each other in weeks. The gods will continue to do their worst, and the battles will always be there, but perhaps today we can enjoy our time together.” She inhales as if preparing herself. Then she looks pointedly at the group. “For tomorrow may never come.”
“For tomorrow may never come,” everyone else repeats solemnly.
And then we begin embracing each other, tighter even than we did when we first reunited. After all, Belcalis’s words are a reminder of exactly what we stand to lose if the world falls apart.
Each other.
* * *
Dinner in Ilarong is a simple, hurried affair: braised meats heaped on top of a greenish but surprisingly delicious sprouted grain, the odd fruit or two. Since the aviax are bird folk, their tastes only barely overlap with ours and the equus’. This fare is the best they can provide to suit our palates, although I suspect that dinner in the grand hall, where White Hands, Lord Kamanda, and all the aviax dignitaries are in attendance, is a much more stately affair. But neither I nor my friends accept that invitation when it comes. It’s bad enough we’re stale-smelling and unwashed, but we refuse to be so in a place where most everyone is clothed in feathers all the colors of the rainbow and so much jewelry, we have to shield our eyes whenever they pass. Not to mention we want to avoid the stares. Most aviax stare so pointedly, it’s as if they’ve never seen anyone not of their kind before, which is likely the case. From what I understand, only emissaries and other special designations ever leave aviax aeries; the rest remain close to their mountain cities.
I’m only grateful that they, like many species of birds, don’t seem to have a particularly strong sense of smell, or all that staring would have another meaning entirely.
After dinner, my friends and I follow Adwapa and Asha to the hot springs, which, as it turns out, sit on one of the mountain peaks overlooking the city.
“Ahhh,” Adwapa says blissfully the moment she sinks into the heated water. “This is the life.” She closes her eyes, settling in.
Like all the other girls, she’s wearing a thin loincloth and a chest covering for modesty, but given that we’ve all seen each other in various states of undress over the years, it’s mostly a formality.
Mehrut swiftly curls up by her side, snuggling as close as she can get, then she closes her eyes too. I do the same with Keita, who lifts his arm so I can lay my head on his chest.
“You are very correct,” Li says, making himself comfortable beside us. “This is how we should be living.”
Deka…Ixa agrees, though only I can hear him. He’s already fully submerged in the hot water, only his nostrils poking out above it. He makes a happy gurgling sound. Turns out he enjoys hot water just as much as he enjoys cold.
Who knew?
Britta rests her head on Li’s shoulder. “You know, for once, I agree completely with you and Adwapa. This is perfection,” she says happily, grinning up at him.
I glance at her. “Are you telling me you’re actually happy with this heat?” I ask, my eyebrows raising almost to my hairline.
Britta is the most heat-sensitive person I know. The least bit of sunlight and she starts complaining; woe betide everyone if she’s on her menses as well. You’ll never hear the end of it.
But to my surprise, she gives me an arch look. “We have hot springs in Golma,” she sniffs. “The heat from them even comes up under our huts. Just how do ye think we stay warm in the brutal cold?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. I just assumed you put on more furs or something.”
Adwapa squints at me. “And what about you, aren’t you boiling in that thing?”
She’s referring to Ayo’s armor, which I’m still wearing even now, since I know that if I take it off for even seconds, I risk depleting what remains of my kelai should any danger arise.
I shake my head. “It’s not that bad,” I say. “Feels like a second skin almost. Besides, ebiki are aquatic animals. This is meant to be in the water.”
“But wha about the dirt?” Britta wrinkles her nose.
I glance down. “Seems to be self-cleaning.”
That’s the strange thing I’ve noticed: while my face, hair, hands, and feet may have been dirtied by our travels, the rest of me has remained clean ever since I put on the armor. I can only assume that is because the armor does such a wonderful job of keeping everything out.
I’ll take it off eventually. But after everything that’s happening is over. And I’ve killed the gods of Otera and danced on their metaphorical skulls.
“Convenient, that,” Belcalis says. Then she glances at the rest of the group. “So, any hope about these negotiations? Not much seems to be happening outside talking in circles, from what I’ve seen.”
Trust Belcalis to be in a place less than half a day and already have the measure of things.
“I’m meant to join White Hands in negotiations starting tomorrow,” I say. Earlier, I explained this to the group, as well as White Hands’s determination that we remain here while her spies watch the Idugu’s followers’ movements, but Belcalis was clearly too busy observing the comings and goings around us to take note.
“Here’s hoping they’re willing to listen to you,” she says. “These bird folk don’t seem very welcoming to outsiders.”
