The watersinger skirted around the central garden and led the party up the winding paths of the cold white city. People peeked out of their ice houses as they passed, countless black eyes gleaming with wary curiosity. Just like the watersinger who guided them, their hair was shockingly pale, like white gold that had been mixed with too much nickel.
With only the Datrean and Brinn dark hues, I had not even thought it possible for hair to look like that without the age of Mandorias or Nisari. But these people were not old. Children dressed in furs ran up to the wolf that had led them there, and that same pale hair whipped about their faces. They pet the wolf excitedly, cheerfully roping her into their game. The wolf forgot about the Brinn’s existence and ran off to follow them.
I could hear their shouts as they playfully chased one another, and I understood them. I marvelled at my own understanding. It came instinctually, the way I knew watersong or windsong, not like the other human languages I knew. It was hard to explain the difference, even to myself. It went deeper than knowing. Brinn and Datrean I knew intimately. They were a part of me, woven into my thoughts even before my forging was complete.
I wondered at how my father had layered all these levels of understanding into me, but I was grateful for it now. It allowed me to understand the whispers inside each ice house. They were curious about our party of strangely black armored strangers, eagerly speculating whether Yethyr might be a demon or some Datrean creation. Why else would he be covered in bones, they thought.
The speculation amused me, if only because I knew the very suggestion would offend the Prince.
The watching city also speculated at length about Wes. He kept the hood of his black steelsinger robe up, but those with especially keen eyes would swear that it was a moving skeleton under there.
Others argued that it was ridiculous, and more still craned their necks to catch a better glimpse of him. The Brinn, for their part, stared as much as the people did. There were wolves everywhere patrolling the walkways with easy bestial grace. Some were silver like the first we had met; Others were black, white, or even red. They all were alert, growling at Wes and Yethyr whenever they passed.
I understood their meaning in windsong.
“Demon.”
“Demon.”
“Demon.”
Their growls turned to whines when they saw my wrapped blade swinging at Yethyr’s hilt. Their horror had no translation that I could discern. They just recoiled as if I burned them.
I did not want to think too hard about why.
Besides wolves, there were watersingers everywhere, carving snow houses and sculptures and stairways with their strange ice knives. The city was constantly shifting beneath their hands, making and unmaking barricades as we passed.
Our guide and three other watersingers carved together, ice knives gliding along a giant snow wall in beautiful spiraling patterns. The wall split at their knives' harmony, becoming a massive doorway that the guide shooed his visitors through.
The massive snow doors closed behind them.
They were in a room dominated by a big stone table laden with roasted meats and some sort of orange stewed root vegetable. A roaring fire blazed behind it, and being Brinn, everyone scurried around the campfire eagerly.
“Gift,” the guide said in broken Datrean. “Eat. Rest. Other come to talk.”
And then he left them through a small doorway that sealed behind him. There were others guarding that entrance, but the Brinn deemed themselves alone enough to launch into a frantic discussion.
“Could the food be poisoned?”
“Are we prisoners?”
“Will they help us fight the Datreans?”
The question of the food was quickly put to the test by Jaetheiri, who had no patience for Mandorias’ laborious poison tests. She dug in, and when she didn’t die after a few minutes, everyone else did the same.
They did not sit around the table, but ate on the floor around the fire. The pale-haired guards watched their dining arrangements in horror. I heard them call the Brinn savages.
Stolen story; please report.
I tried not to giggle.
After half an hour, a pale-haired young woman bounded into the room. She stood to the side, watching the firelit meal with sharp black eyes and listening to their Brinn chatter with naked fascination.
“What a beautiful language!” she exclaimed in passable Datrean.“As guttural as a wolf’s growl.”
They all stared at the girl, and she cheerfully sat among them on the ground. “Shru says you speak Datrean.”
“I do,” Yethyr said.
“But you aren’t from Datrea.”
“No. I am Yethyr, First Prince of the Brinn.”
“Brinn,” she rolled the word around her tongue. “Sounds familiar. Datreans call me Leaf. You may as well.”
“We are thankful for your hospitality, Leaf,” Yethyr said honestly. “These mountains are unfamiliar to us.”
“How do you know Datrean? Do you trade with them, too?”
“No. We fight them.”
“Fight them?” the girl frowned. “Like…like a wolf?”
Yethyr wasn’t quite sure what she meant by that. “Yes. Like a wolf,” he settled on saying.
“Are you human?” she demanded.
“Yes.”
“Are you forced to fight by demons?”
“No. We serve the angel Maethe.”
“So exactly like the wolves,” she said in wonder.
“How do you know Datrean?” Yethyr asked suspiciously. “You speak it very well.”
Leaf blushed. “Thank you. I’ve always had a good ear for languages. That is why I'm charged with speaking with the traders that come to us. I hope to pick up some of your tongue during your stay with us.”
Yethyr glanced around the desolate, cold walls. “Do many come here?”
“Not really. That’s why your coming is so exciting! Usually, only the Datreans come.”
“To trade?”
“Yes! They want to teach us songs and stone carving and metal working in exchange for the peak of Letho Mountain, but the Wolfmother forbids it.” Leaf sighed. “They worship demons or something.”
“They do,” Yethyr said grimly, “Your Wolfmother is wise.”
Leaf rolled her eyes. “But the Feero Clan is doing it! They say the Datreans are teaching them secrets we could not possibly imagine.”
“A poisoned gift, I assure you. The Council of Datrea is treacherous and desperate. They have nothing to lose and everything to gain by annihilating you.”
“You know their council?” Leaf leaned forward excitedly. “Have you seen their city?”
Yethyr resisted the temptation to squirm. “Yes.”
“What is it like?”
Beautiful.
That was my first thought. That was Yethyr’s first thought. He swallowed back that truth with difficulty. “It was a den of evil, and it was destroyed as such.”
Yeah, keep telling yourself that, Yethyr.
“Destroyed?” Leaf gasped. “How? By what?”
Yethyr forced himself to look her in the eye. “By me.”
She leaned back, only now taking note of his armor of human bones. She glanced at Wes and recoiled at his skull peeking beneath his hood. “You killed? You killed other people?”
Yethyr and I thought of the annihilation of Datrea as one. These poor people. They had no idea what they had let into their gates. “Yes. It was necessary to conquer the city.”
Leaf just looked baffled. “Isn’t that unnatural for you?”
“Unnatural?” Yethyr frowned. “How so?”
“Violence is a poison to humanity,” she said plainly. “It keeps us from Heaven. The wolves hunt for us and protect us, so that we are not tainted. Do you not have wolves where you are from?”
“Ah.” For some reason, her bizarre words made sense to Yethyr. “Where we come from, we are the wolves that hunt and protect. We have chosen to join Maethe’s Heavenly hunt, rather than rest in Heaven.”
She furrowed her brow before abruptly grinning. “Ah! Now I know where I heard it. Brinn! As in the Heavenly Fang?”
Yethyr nodded. “We are his people.”
“I see.” She was nodding thoughtfully. “In that case, perhaps I am not the right person to treat with you. These are not human matters. You should speak to the Wolfmother.”
“We would be honored to speak to her,” Yethyr said honestly.
Leaf stood up and left the room. Yethyr spent the time translating his conversation with Leaf to Jaetheiri, Kettir, and Nisari.
“So they are thralls to the wolves?” Nisari interpreted bluntly.
“Something like that.”
“That means they won’t help us fight?” Jaetheiri scowled.
“Probably not, but the wolves might. We will have to convince this Wolfmother of the importance of our cause, and we need to do it soon. The Datreans appear to have already infested their sister clan. We don’t have much time before they achieve a foothold in this place.”
Yethyr needed that audience with the Wolfmother and he needed it now.
Thank you so much for reading! This city was a blast to describe. What did you think? I love comments and often respond to them. If you want to support me and read ahead, you know where to go.
**schedule** is 6 am PDT on Fridays. See you guys then!
What would you rather have to protect you?
