“Come along now—we can’t keep the people waiting any longer.” Nereni was all bustle now, disguising, in briskness, her sadness at leaving her home. “I don’t know,” she grumbled, “between the two of you, we’ll never get there at all today.”
“Why of all the ... It was you who wouldn’t leave,” Eliizar roared. “Stop talking then, woman, and get yourself out of that door!” Giving a hand to each of his beloved ladies, he led them from the house toward the horses that waited patiently at the bottom of the garden.
The exiled Queen Raven and her consort waited with Petrel, Finch, and a crowd of other assorted dignitaries on the broad terrace of Eliizar’s new palace, and looked down on the crowds of settlers, winged and unwinged, that thronged the broad lawns below. Aguila nudged his wife. “Smile, my dear one. People are watching.”
“Let them watch,” the winged woman retorted sulkily.
“What do I care? I don’t see why we had to come and watch Eliizar and Nereni show off the trappings of their power and success when we have lost a kingdom!”
Her husband gave her one of those looks that riled her so-—as though he had married some ill-mannered child whose behavior needed to be corrected. “Nereni is your friend,” he said reprovingly. “She has always been like a mother to you, Raven. How can you resent her good fortune?”
Raven rounded on Aguila in a flash of temper. “Don’t be such an oaf! I don’t begrudge Nereni a single bit of her good fortune. What I resent, however, is losing my throne and being betrayed by my miserable, ungrateful subjects....”
“But your subjects here are loyal.” Aguila glanced around quickly to make sure no one had overheard his wife’s outburst. “They have made us most welcome here, and given us a home.”
“They aren’t my subjects—they’re an independent colony ruled by a council,”
Raven said bitterly, “and we exist on their charity.” The scene before her blurred as her eyes filled with angry tears. “What’s wrong with me, Aguila?—I’m such a failure. I held my throne for less than ten years, and now I’m an exile again.”
Aguila took her hand and squeezed it hard. “We live in treacherous times, my love—momentous days when great changes, for good or ill, are happening in the world, and in the fabric of folks’ lives. For many generations before you came along, your ancestors lived out their lives in peace and plenty—and where is the skill in that? You can’t say whether, as rulers, they were any better or worse than you, for they had never been tested.” He looked down at her and smiled. “Besides, our story isn’t over yet, my little queen. We’ll win the throne back one day—if not for ourselves, then for our children.” He glanced to one side, where their three-year-old son and their daughter of a scant two moons were being cared for by their nursemaids.
Grateful, Raven returned the pressure of his hand. “Aguila, what would I do without you? All the time I was Queen, Elster gave me priceless advice—but when she told me to marry you, it was the best day’s work she ever did.”
“Elster was wise,” Aguila said, and Raven could hear the weight of sorrow behind his words. “I owe her all my happiness. Would that she had lived to see her namesake.”
“She died that night to save us.” The winged woman closed her eyes, remembering the old physician’s sacrifice. On the night that Skua had planned to slaughter Raven and her family, he had encircled the Queen’s Tower with guards who were loyal to himself and replaced the servitors with his own people, thus effectively sealing off the Royal Household from all aid.—Somehow—Raven never had discovered how—Elster had discovered the plot, and, once night had fallen, had managed to fly through the cordon of winged guards that surrounded the tower.
Once they had been warned, Raven and Aguila had been able to take their son Lanneret and escape on foot, with Elster, through the corridors and aerial walkways of the palace. Skua had concentrated most of his forces in the air, and the guards they met within the building could either be dodged, or dealt with by Aguila. Only when they finally took to the air at last, from a little-used exit on the lower slopes of the pinnacle, was their escape discovered. The fugitives could not fly as swiftly as they would have wished:
Aguila was carrying Lanneret, at three years old a sturdy burden, and Raven was hampered by her unborn child, not due yet for another cycle of the moon.—Their foes were gaining on them with every moment—until Elster had stolen Aguila’s sword right out of his scabbard, and doubled back to hurl herself at her beloved Raven’s pursuers. Though the Queen had not seen Elster die, it had sounded from her death screams as though they had hacked her to pieces. Raven still woke in the night hearing those harrowing shrieks—she knew they would haunt her for the rest of her days—but Elster, through her courage and self-sacrifice, had bought the Royal Household just enough time to make their escape.
At that time, there had been no chance to mourn Elster’s loss. It took the fugitives several hungry, fear-filled days to reach Eyrie, flying mostly by night and dodging the patrols that hunted for them. Once they had reached Incondor’s Tower, however, the pursuit had ceased, and they were able to make faster time, despite their having been weakened by hunger and cold. Before the welcome silhouette of the colony even came into view, Raven’s labour pains started. Somehow, she managed to keep herself flying long enough to struggle to safety—and early the following morning, her long wished-for girl child finally made her appearance.
The Queen would never forget the first time she held her daughter. The stubby little wings, that had been crushed firmly down against her back during the birth, were beginning to stretch and unfurl. Raven looked at them—and her breath caught in her throat. Though the feathers were still damp and crumpled, the black wings had the same exquisite fan-pattern of white feathers that had made the healer’s pinions so distinctive. In her mind, she seemed to hear that loved, familiar old voice one last time: “How will I be remembered if you don’t have a little princess to name after me ?”
Raven hugged little Elster tightly, and laughed through her tears. “How in the name of Yinze did you manage that?” she said.
“Here they come.” Aguila’s voice brought the exiled Queen out of the past with a jolt. Turning to the nurse, she took her precious child into her arms, her eyes misty with love and memories. The crowd, Skyfolk and groundling alike, erupted into cheers, and Raven tore her attention away from Elster to see Eliizar and Nereni coming up the steps of the terrace, followed by their daughter.
Amahli was so excited about the new house—she couldn’t wait to live here. It had been built down near the eastern end of the great forested valley, where the major river, the Vi-vax—Uncle Jharav had jokingly named it after his favorite horse, and the name had stuck—poured out of the vale in a succession of rapids and cascades. In this place the northern side of the valley climbed in a gentle series of terraces, part rock and partly clad in grass and clumps of rowan, aspen, and birch that turned to larch and pine toward the heights.—The house was built high on the slope, with terraced gardens that stretched right down to the river. It was built of the blue-grey local stone, and, because so many people, both Khazalim and Skyfolk, had contributed to the design, it had sprouted flat roofs, sloped roofs, turrets, porches, terraces, windows that were arched, squared, pointed, or jutting out in spacious bays.—Though it was new, it looked as though it had been growing out of the hillside for centuries, changing and developing all the time.
As her parents neared the top of the steps, Amahli turned her attention from the house itself to the group of dignitaries assembled on the terrace. On such a grand occasion, it wouldn’t do to forget her manners. She saw Queen Raven and her consort, Lord Aguila, and their two small children. On the other side of the steps were Finch and Petrel, the founders of the Skyfolk colony, who, like Eliizar, had refused to accept any titles. Amahli was glad to see that they had brought their families with them: Petrel’s mate, Firecrest, and their son Tiercel—who, at the age of fifteen, could remember living in Aerillia—and Finch’s mate, Ouzel, and their daughter Oriole, who was the same age as Amahli, and her best friend.