Fyre Fly: Chapter 28 – Mutual Dissatisfaction

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Mirzayael thinks.

“Me too,” I agree.

Her mind dances with amusement. “That’s not as encouraging a response as I was hoping for.”

We’re standing outside of the prison cells. Ragna’s door is open, her cell empty; just knowing she’s gone makes me feel a bit less stressed.

Now, for prisoner number two.

“Are you ready to resume your duties?” Mirzayael asks Salvia.

The harpy stands straight and rigid, their eyes filled with fierce determination. “Yes, my lord.”

“You will prevent the prisoner from endangering any Fyrethians,” Mirzayael says.

“Of course.”

“And you will prevent any Fyrethian from endangering the prisoner,” she continues.

The briefest impression of doubt flickers over their face. “I understand. My lords, if I may…”

Mirzayael gestures for them to continue. “Go ahead.”

Their gaze dips. “I wish to apologize for my previous actions. I should not have subverted your directive. That was… wrong of me.”

“I don’t blame you, Salvia,” I say with a sigh. They look up with faint skepticism. “You were hurting. I’m sure you still are. You want justice for your father—there’s nothing wrong with that.

“But justice has been served,” I continue. “The ones who attacked your father were slain by Mirzayael and Ollie. The Jorrian behind this wall isn’t responsible for what happened. They weren’t in charge. They took no Fyrethian lives. The conflict is over. And just as you deserve a second chance, so do they.”

Salvia blinks. “My lords?”

I pat Salvia on the shoulder. “Can we count on you to uphold your duties to protect anyone from befalling harm while Gardi is under your watch?”

They stand up straighter. “Of course.”

“Good.” I nod. “Unlock the door.”

Salvia complies, swinging the door open for me and stepping aside. I duck into the room.

Gardi is in the corner, watching me. I’m sure they overheard the previous conversation, but that was the intention. The puzzle box I’d given them is nearby; it already appears solved.

“Want to stretch your legs?” I ask them.

Gardi regards me skeptically. “What?”

“Stand up,” I say, beckoning them on. “I’ll not have you drown in your despair and slowly waste away in here. Let’s go.”

Cautiously, they push themself to their feet. I step back out of the cell and wait for them.

It takes nearly a minute for them to finally follow. They pause in the door and eye the open cell dubiously. Their gaze alights on Salvia, who glares at them before glancing away. Hesitantly, they step out.

“Salvia will be your guard,” I tell them. “They will ensure no harm befalls you, and also ensure you don’t try to hurt anyone else or attempt to flee. You’ll stay close to them. Understood?”

Gardi appears extremely dubious of this proposal, but nods. “It doesn’t seem there would be anywhere to run, anyway.”

“That is correct,” Mirzayael says shortly. Gardi looks at her, and the worry in their face deepens. The only interactions they’ve had with Mirzayael have been brief and blunt. Not to mention, she’s much more physically imposing than me.

And emotionally imposing.

And verbally.

“Alright,” I say, turning for the stairs. “Let’s go.”

We head down the hall and up a few floors, making our way to Yequirael’s workroom. The arachnoid happily greets us, as I’d let him know of our arrival earlier that morning, and sets about taking Gardi’s measurements and sorting through some pre-made clothes we have on hand.

Mirzayael, Salvia, me, and the dwarf healer Opal are possibly the only people in the Fortress who would recognize Gardi on sight. They’ve had other guards, of course, but few of them bothered to look at the prisoners (most made it a point not to) and Gardi had originally been brought in extremely battered and bloodied; the cleaned up felis I’m looking at today, without any Jorrian sigils or attire, would be indistinguishable from any of the other felis Fyrethian or visitor.

Except, perhaps, this one appears far more tired and nervous. And maybe a little emaciated; I should look into ensuring their rations are enough.

Yequirael has no problems finding something that fits, however, and by the time they’ve been dressed in clean, umber trousers and a burnt-orange tunic, they look like a completely different person.

“That should do it,” Yequirael says, standing back to admire their work. “Compliments your tawny fur very well, I think. Anything else you all need?”

Gardi seems too disoriented to speak, so I jump in.

“No, I think this will do just fine. Excellent work, as always, Yequirael. Thank you!”

“Not a problem, dear.” He smiles, checking Gardi over one last time. “Feel free to send any of the other visitors my way, too!”

I promise I will, and we step back out into the palace halls. Gardi’s tongue finally seems to come unstuck from their mouth.

“Why are you doing this?” they ask.

That was exactly what Mirzayael had wanted to know when I pitched the idea to her. The motivation is in fact multifaceted.

First, we need to trial Salvia’s admittance back into the guard. As much as Mirzayael is sympathetic to their motivations, she was extremely angry that one of her own had disobeyed her and subverted her authority. She had half a mind to permanently remove Salvia from the guard, but that was only the anger talking; we both recognize the potential in the harpy, and if they are able to prove their trustworthiness going forward, I suspect they’ll one day become Captain themself. Better to reward and foster loyalty in the passionate than to punish and alienate them.

And of course, what better way to test their devotion to their position than to assign them to the very source of their original expulsion? If they prove themselves with Gardi, they can be trusted with just about anything.

Another motivation to the outing is to give Gardi the opportunity to experience our city outside their cell. If we want to test the possibility of rehabilitation, they need to meet other Fyrethians and learn about who we really are. The visitors who are staying with us for the following week provide the perfect opportunity; no one will be surprised by an unfamiliar face. It gives Gardi the opportunity to interact with Fyrethians without bias or suspicion.

Not to mention, of course, this will test if we can trust Gardi out of their cell.

“You can’t expect to spend the rest of your life in that room,” I reply to them. “Consider this a trial run. If it doesn’t work out, well, we can always drop you off at the next city. Now come on. It’s time for breakfast.”

We meet up with the other visitors in the main hall. Mirzayael has assigned two guards to their group as well, but with a much more relaxed arrangement than the one between Gardi and Salvia. They’ve been instructed to look out for any signs of mischief, but otherwise act as guides for the visitors. I suspect Mirzayael picked Zakaiya and Rei because the two are young and friendly. (I also wonder if it might have to do with the fact that the two are cultivating a proto-soul with their partner Jasper, and Mirzayael wanted to give them a break from training and drills so they could conserve their mana.)

Our guests excitedly greet us as we sit down for breakfast. We pick a meal circle that’s larger than the leader one we typically sit at, so all fifteen of us can sit together.

Marlow’s niece, Pip, and her brother, Alec, are especially excited to speak to me and Mirzayael.

“Uncle Marlowe told us so much about you!” Pip says, her black tail flipping back and forth like a cat ready to pounce on a toy. “What’s it like living in a floating city? Where did you guys come from? What do you do with all the refuse?”

I’m sure Dizzi would love to answer that one.

“We’re in the midst of a move,” Mirzayael replies. “We won’t be floating forever. Just as soon as we decide on an ideal landing location, we will settle there.”

“That’s so cool,” Alec says. The young man shares the same dark eyes and warm brown skin tone of his sister’s, but is a human rather than a felis. “What an amazing idea! Why pack up and walk when you can take your whole city with you? So, why did you decide to move? How are you able to levitate a whole city?”

“Our city was founded on a significant amount of cloudstone,” I say. “It was just a matter of harnessing what was already there.”

Luckily, they seem too excited that we’re giving them any answers to be bothered by the ones we don’t.

Korzo, the lamia who works in the airship industry, pays close attention to our conversation as well.

Echo, I think when Dizzi jumps in at the next question. How is he able to hear our conversation? I thought you said lamia were deaf. Is he lip-reading? I’ve heard that can be difficult and taxing.

[Lamia have reduced hearing but are not deaf,] Echo says. [However, many lamia carry interpretation stones with them to ease communication. These can translate sounds into vibrations that map to different words.]

Even as she’s explaining, I subtly look Korzo over until I realize the gloves they’re wearing are faintly glowing from the enchantments engraved on the backs. His fingers twitch faintly as he watches Dizzi, and I wonder if that’s the device Echo was talking about. I extremely intrigued by the idea.

But he surprises me again when he jumps into the conversation with sign language. An emerald stone hanging from his neck starts speaking a moment later, repeating aloud the same words he’s signing. I Check that as well.

[Translation stone,] Echo says. [Designed to translate from one language into another. In this case, it is translating Coastal Signs into Dunmorish.]

And now I’m even more intrigued. I make a mental note to talk to him about that later.

Gardi doesn’t say anything over the course of the meal, but they’re more than happy to accept whatever food is offered to them. After trading with Mount Haze, our meals have seen a notable increase in diversity. The cooks seem to be having a field day experimenting with all the new flavor combinations. Some, admittedly, are more successful than others, and I pass on the blueseed-and-moss juice when it comes by. But we also made off with a supply of dark beans which, when roasted and ground, create an impressively similar flavor to coffee. I’m not sure if these are caffeinated, but I’m more than happy to add the hot drink back to my morning routine.

Mirzayael finds it utterly disgusting. More for me, I suppose.

The meal passes pleasantly, and it’s the first time since our festival’s feast that I actually feel full. We offer the group a tour of the city after that; a couple of them had already completed a circuit when they’d visited us earlier this week, but they’re more than happy to experience it again, and we show them around to a few new places they hadn’t seen last time.

The Mount Haze residents assume Gardi is one of ours, while Fyrethians seem to assume they’re a visitor. This works out fairly well, as they’re mostly left alone to blend into the background of our group. Salvia keeps close to their side, of course. I also keep a side eye on the two, and I can feel Mirzayael doing the same, but by the end of the day, there had been no incidents. Everyone is happy—well, except for Salvia and Gardi—and we discuss plans tomorrow for the visitors to shadow different Fyrethians, depending on their interests, before we turn in. Salvia takes Gardi back to their cell, and then a guard is sent to relieve Salvia so they can have the night off before we all start again tomorrow.

The next few days pass in much the same way. We meet up with the visitors for lunch and dinner, and they wander around the city during the day, working with Agate in the fields, or studying how Yequirael has incorporated metal filings into his silk to create lightweight armor, or sharing recipes with the cooks in the royal kitchen.

In the evenings, after our visitors have turned in, Mirzayael drags me down into the unused halls for more sparring practice. And by sparring practice, I mean her wiping the floor with me. She insists I’m getting better, but I suspect she’s mostly trying to flatter.

“I do not flatter,” she says, catching the thought as she pulls me to my feet. “What would be the purpose of lying to you about your combat ability? That would only set you up for failure in the field.”

“Well, there is always the fact that we’re courting,” I point out, settling back into the defensive stance she’d shown me. “I’ve heard flattery can earn you points.”

Though, despite our conversation the previous week, we haven’t had much time or opportunity to explore our new relationship. Nothing particularly feels different from how it did before. I still feel affection for her, of course, and I often feel similar fondness directed back at me, but we’ve been too busy with everything else we’ve been juggling to do anything as a couple—or talk about it, even.

Mirzayael pauses. “I’ve not had practice in this area, admittedly.”

“Really?” I ask, a little surprised. “No one?”

“Just one,” she amends, raising her fists. “Long ago.” She’s crouching so we’re closer to eye level. She steps forward, throwing a punch, fast but obvious. I practice the move she showed me, stepping out of the way and grabbing her wrist. I struggle for a moment with the pressure point. She makes this look so easy!

“Is it someone I’d know?” I ask.

Mirzayael, twists her wrist and repositions my hands with her free one, showing me where I’m supposed to push. “Possibly. A dracid named Tautus.”

I wrack my brain. “The water purifier who works for Torim? That old grumpy man?”

Mirzayael smiles out the corner of her mouth. “He was not old when we courted.” She pauses. “Though he was still grumpy.”

I chuckle. “I can imagine your personalities didn’t feed into each other very well.”

“No,” she agrees, stepping back to reset and let me try again. “It was a brief and unhappy relationship.”

“And that was it?” I wonder. “Until me?”

She nods, then punches once more. I step aside, deflect, and twist. This time, she bends away when I press on the back of her wrist. Aha! That’s better.

“I didn’t let people get close,” she admits. “I… closed myself off to many. Nek was a friend from childhood. He’s the only one who I managed to stay friends with after my parents’ disappearance. Though the effort was largely one-sided, I’m ashamed to admit.”

I smile softly. “I don’t think he blames you for that.” We go through a couple more moves Mirzayael wants me to practice. “So if you didn’t pursue relationships after that, did you ever consider making a child on your own?”

“No,” she says without hesitation. “I was dedicated to my position. And… I didn’t want to bring a child into our community. The world was too harsh, and I wouldn’t have been able to provide them the warmth they deserved. Had I known they would have the opportunity to move back into Fyreneth’s Fortress…”

I wait, but she doesn’t continue. Maybe she’s still not sure what her answer would be.

That’s okay. It’s not my intention to pressure her.

I pause to stretch and groan, shaking out my aching muscles.

“We can stop for the night,” Mirzayael says. “It does no good to overwork yourself.”

“The same is true mentally, you know.” I continue to stretch out my arms and legs. “I see how many hours you spend working on the Fortress’s logistics. I don’t know how you manage to squeeze guard drills in with everything else you do.”

“It’s work that needs to be done,” she objects. But she considers my words. “Though perhaps you’re right that we both could use a break. It would be to the benefit of no one if we both burned out.”

I straighten up, brushing dust off of my clothes. I always feel filthy after these sessions. I would love to go for a bath right now if I weren’t so exhausted.

A bath.

“Ah! I have an idea.”

Mirzayael looks at me questioningly.

“Perhaps we can find an excuse to mix the work with leisure,” I tell her. “A new activity for our guests. But also, an opportunity for us to relax. And perhaps spend some quality time together.”

“What would you propose?” she asks.

“Dizzi said the spell circles are functional, and Torim confirmed the pools have all now been filled.” I grin. “Tomorrow, we open the bathhouse to the public. I think it’s high time we have a pool day.”