Capering on Glass Bridges (The Hawk of Stone Duology, Book 1) Read online

  “Mr. Barnaby Stone?” asked the yellow and orange flird, just as Mr. and Mrs. Stone entered the room. “We, the councilors of Zavonia,” it continued slowly, in its raspy, shallow voice, “cordially invite you, your wife, your daughters, and your canonipoms to join us for a meal two nights from tonight. If you will do us the honor of accepting our invitation, a ship will meet you tomorrow—at dawn—at Fiaru’s main harbor.”

  “How odd,” observed Mrs. Stone. “I don’t know of anyone who has ever been invited to Zavonia. The Speakers—they keep to themselves, you know.”

  “What could they want with us?” asked Elania.

  The Stones stood in silence for a few moments. Mr. Stone seemed to scan some invisible object in the distance. Waking from his musings, he shifted his weight and approached their guest.

  “Are you sending it back so soon?” asked Taria, who had plopped herself into the chair nearest the flird, wanting, but not daring, to stroke the creature. Ree, equally enthralled, extended her lower lip in a pleading pout.

  “There will be a return message,” reassured Mr. Stone, before addressing his wife. “I mean to inquire if this call was made in mistake.”

  “No! You will do no such thing,” said Mrs. Stone.

  “Would it not be painfully embarrassing to have them realize that they sent for the wrong family only after our arrival? Envision it: there we will be, seated at the councilors’ table, smiling and donning our best clothes while they squirm in their chairs, counting every passing minute. How eagerly will they show us out upon feeding us a meal intended for another family.”

  “What if they take offense?”

  “They won’t.”

  Mrs. Stone shook her head in dismay.

  “You needn’t worry. They know that I author the message.”

  “That is beside the point.”

  “I will word it carefully.” Mr. Stone turned to the flird. “You may report that Mr. Stone communicates the following: Councilors, though we are quite honored, I must admit that your invitation has rather surprised us—for we have no connections, family or otherwise, to Zavonia—and I wonder if it was sent in error.”

  The flird sauntered towards the open window—leaving behind a small puddle in the kitchen—and leapt into the sky, vanishing from sight instantly.

  Kaia felt her pulse quicken. She hoped that it wasn’t a mistake. The Speakers’ invitation was no triviality. It was the closest that any of the Stones had ever been to gracing the table of a sovereign; Zavonia was lorded over not by kings and queens but by the eight councilors who had sent the flird. Kaia exchanged excited glances with Elania.

  The flird returned. “There has been no error,” it articulated.

  “That’s it? There’s nothing more to their message?” asked Mrs. Stone. “I knew it; we’ve displeased them.”

  “Nonsense,” said Mr. Stone. “Brevity is not necessarily annoyance, and do not expect the councilors to communicate the minutes of a meeting which has yet to take place.”

  “Goodness, Barnaby. I harbored no such expectations.”

  “Good.”

  “Though—now that you’ve introduced the matter—I do find it rather strange that they made no mention of why this gathering has been arranged.”

  Mr. Stone slowly nodded his head. “Lack of familiarity dissuades me from asking for that which they do not freely offer.”

  “Little would be more unseemly.”

  Mr. Stone turned on his heels. “Relay the following to the councilors: Councilors, my family and I graciously accept your invitation.”

  The flird disappeared once more.

  “Girls, quit your games,” ordered Mrs. Stone, clapping her hands and gliding across the room. “Go and get ready; prepare your bundles.”

  “What should I take?” asked Taria.

  “If you are going to take boots and breeches, know this, you will not wear them while we dine in Zavonia. Elania, do you hear me?”

  “Yes, Mama.”

  “At the very least, take one dress—for the meal. And Elania, don’t you dare wear that odious green one that you’re so fond of.”

  “It features some of my finest patch work,” defended Elania.

  “Don’t,” said Mrs. Stone with a scowl.

  ***

  That night, the three girls, fueled by that excitement which accompanies the promise of novelty—and curled in a triangle of sorts—gathered on Elania’s bed to whisper with one another. They spoke of only one thing.

  “I’ve heard that Zavonia is impregnable,” said Kaia, pulling a pillow underneath her head. “Its walls are so tall that none can scale them.”

  “The world knows so little about the Zavonians,” said Elania.

  “I wonder what it was like before,” said Taria.

  “Before what?”

  “Before the Speakers separated themselves and created Zavonia. Can you imagine being neighbors with a Speaker? The things they’re capable of…”

  “If you were a Speaker, what would be the first utterance you’d make?” asked Kaia.

  Elania turned on her side to face her sisters. “Whom are you asking?”

  “Both of you.”

  “Well, it depends. Aren’t there rules?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you familiar with them?”

  “Just a few. I know that they cannot kill, nor can they strip anyone of their free will.”

  “To be able to craft objects and make things happen just by talking,” marveled Taria, as she wiggled her back, making a nest in the sheets. “I know what I would utter.”

  “Do you?” asked Elania.

  “Yes. Remember that merchant who told us of snow? What a curious thing he made it sound like. I should like to see it for myself. That’s why, if it were possible, I’d add another room to this house—one filled with snow.”

  “What’s that sound?” asked Elania, startled.

  Ani, who had her neck directly on Elania’s, propped herself up and pointed at Ree’s miniature bed.

  “Ree is snoring,” answered Kaia.

  “Canonipoms, they truly are perfect complements.”

  “I do not snore!” objected Taria.

  “Yes, you do!” said her sisters in unison.

  “No, I don’t. What would you two utter?” asked Taria, eager to shift the conversation’s focus.

  “I don’t know,” said Elania.

  “Neither do I,” said Kaia.

  Taria sat up and glared at her sisters. “That’s not fair! I told you what I would—”

  “I’m not keeping anything from you,” defended Elania. “Truly. I simply don’t know.”

  “Prior to now, I’ve never really thought about it,” added Kaia. “I wonder if the Zavonians place a lot of weight on one’s first utterance.”

  “Like how we have our Pairing Ceremony?”

  “Exactly. Do you think that they have a formal observation of a person’s first utterance?”

  “I suppose it’s possible.”

  “How intimidating that must be.”

  “Girls!” said Mrs. Stone, standing in the doorway. “To bed, now! And no more chattering. You can hear everything in this house.”

  Forced to be quiet, Elania, Ani, and Taria were almost immediately whisked away by sleep—Kaia was not.

  In the dark, when we feel ourselves most unobserved, we allow our minds to wander where we otherwise wouldn’t—so it was with Kaia. That night, her mind went to Aika. She had previously succeeded in putting an end to her obsessive thoughts about her. Ree’s recent introduction to the family had cast her into the pit anew, compelling her to relive segments of her tenth birthday.

  What pained Kaia most was juxtaposing the memory of her excitement at the start of the day with that of her confusion at its end—after her father, without pronouncing a syllable, took her by the wrist and led the family back to their boat. They did the math afterwards. Her mother suggested that they try again when she was sixteen. Her father disagreed. He claimed th
at the connection is always present at birth. If one were to be taken to the isle when they were an infant, they’d be paired, he’d said. Waiting till the tenth birthday is a matter of tradition, not necessity. Nonetheless, spurred by hope—desire’s cousin—Kaia made the second trip, sans blindfold and white gown. The results were the same; Aika did not show.

  “Aika,” Kaia murmured to herself, staring at Ree. She wondered if—had she been paired—her canonipom would have accepted the name that she had so fondly chosen. In her opinion, a lovelier one could not have been imagined. Yes. She would have liked it, Kaia reassured herself.

  Feeling herself growing morose, Kaia made her mind go blank and waited…and waited…and waited…until sleep came for her, too.

  Chapter Three

  Voyage to the Capitol

  The group of nine stood by the harbor. The sky was not yet blue, though it wasn’t black, either. Rather, it was a bit of both, splashed with purple here and there. Mr. Stone had succeeded; wary of keeping the promised ship waiting, he had been determined to greet dawn at the dock.

  Kaia hugged to her chest a red bundle containing a few changes of clothes. She thought of sitting. Her nose warned her not to. Though it had long ago stopped raining, a dank smell lingered in the atmosphere. She looked at the grass behind her. Droplets of water were being cradled by each blade—from there emanated the smell.

  “Could that be the vessel?” asked Mrs. Stone. Her shrill voice made Ree, who had been precariously balancing herself along the infinitesimally thin line that separates the domain of the sleeping from that of the waking, jump.

  Kaia could discern the silhouette of a massive ship in the distance. As it neared, she was able to catalog a few of the vessel’s particulars. It towered above the water, and three oversized masts—each featuring multiple sails—protruded from its top deck. The craft seemed impressive, but is that not true of most things first encountered in the sun’s absence? The dark, after all, encourages the artist within.

  A man disembarked and moored the vessel. Another followed. The two walked the length of the dock. “Mr. Stone?” called one of them.

  “Yes, I am he.”

  “Good morning! I am Saer Cunsmeade,” introduced the stranger, offering his hand. “This is Ode Cunsmeade. You are early!”

  “Yes, well, better that than the opposite. This is my wife, Parnell, and my daughters, Elania, Kaia, and Taria.”

  Saer and Ode tilted their heads in salutation before leading the family to the ship. Once onboard, Saer strode towards the bow and led the family to a passageway below deck. The hall, which spanned half the length of the ship and had wine red walls—from which hung several lanterns—was flanked on either side by doors. At the end of the corridor was a grand, wooden mural of a curly-haired boy who wore a long smock—secured at the waist by a rope—and front-laced shoes; his eyes were vacant, and his lips were parted as if he were about to say something. The sculpture was bordered by two openings which, presumably, connected the aisle to the rest of the deck.

  “Here we have the sleeping quarters,” said Saer. “There are eight private cabins. All are presently vacant, with the exception of these two which Ode and I are occupying. There are also two larger, communal dormitories; the doors closest to the mural lead to them. I will take my leave presently so that you may situate yourselves,” said Saer, before ascending to the top deck.

  “They have no knobs,” observed Taria, pushing on one of the doors. “How do we get inside?”

  “They slide open,” said Mr. Stone, testing another door.

  Elania walked into one of the private rooms. An emaciated bed stood perpendicular to the door. A compact chest with four drawers loitered melancholically in a corner. Elania extended her arms; her wingspan was equal to room’s width. Ani’s lower jaw dropped.

  “Cozy,” declared Elania.

  “Barnaby, there’s no way that you and I will both fit,” said Mrs. Stone.

  “Clearly, Parnell,” muttered Mr. Stone.

  Kaia entered one of the communal rooms. It was considerably more spacious; she estimated that it would take her at least twenty paces to reach the opposite wall. There were four rows of five beds—nothing else. Kaia placed her bundle on one of the bunks. Elania and Taria followed suit.

  “I felt as though I could not breathe in the other room,” said Taria, settling in.

  “Will you really go to sleep now?” asked a surprised Elania.

  “Only for a few minutes.” Taria motioned for Ree to join her.

  “Well, it’s an improvement,” said Mrs. Stone, as she, Mr. Stone, Nellie, and Abe entered the communal room. “Taria, really?”

  “I will go to the top deck,” announced Mr. Stone.

  ***

  Saer and Ode weren’t very talkative. On the contrary, they appeared to be avoiding any and all substantive conversation with the Stones. Whenever one of them approached, they immediately busied their hands, letting dissimulating gusts of frustration escape their lungs.

  “It’s no wonder we’ve lost speed,” said Ode, as he made to repair an invisible tear in one of the sails.

  “It’s been out of use for too long. What could we have expected?” said Saer, as he tightened the bolts on the ship’s helm.

  “Better clear this clutter before someone gets knocked over,” said Ode, pointing to a few empty barrels.

  They were hiding something. They probably know why we have been summoned to Zavonia, thought Kaia. They are afraid of betraying their knowledge. Kaia entertained the notion of trying to fish it out of them. Seeing as how her father would surely overhear, she decided against it.

  Instead, Kaia resigned herself to staring. She stared at the sky and watched how the grey clouds slowly lost their forms and assumed new ones. She studied the waters; neither lethargically calm nor boisterously choppy, they playfully slapped the sides of the vessel on occasion. Kaia looked for the sun, too; it was reluctant to let itself be seen. Only late in the evening, as it began to descend into the horizon, did it abandon its hiding spot. Feeling herself being lulled to sleep by a soft breeze, Kaia retreated below deck. There she remained until the following day.

  ***

  When the ship came to a standstill, Kaia was shaken from her reverie. Had they arrived? They must have! Why else would they have stopped? Kaia and Elania scurried to the bow. On all sides, they were surrounded by menacing boulders. How Saer and Ode had managed to maneuver between them, Kaia did not know. It looked like a death trap! Kaia remembered her mother’s remark about the Speakers being private people. They definitely did not make accessing them easy. Before the ship was an enormous wall of sand-colored rock. It was so wide that Kaia could not see where it curved and so tall that she could not see where it peaked.

  Saer approached the bow. Down below, just a few feet above sea level, two men were perched on a ledge which seemed to protrude from the rock. Saer leaned over the side of the vessel and said something indiscernible to the men, who responded by pressing themselves to the rock. They whispered to it, gently encouraging it to stir. When the two men stepped back, a portion of the wall quivered and, with a groan, began to sink, sending small waves moving through the water. Once the block was completely submerged, some of the water rushed back, and Ode was able to guide the ship through the opening.

  “This is one of eight entrances,” said Saer, momentarily abandoning his vow of silence. “This river will take us to the capitol—which is essentially an island within this island. We should be there by nightfall.”

  Kaia turned around. The wall was already being made whole again. Saer took down two of the sails. The vessel moved slower than it did before. Cavities resembling doorways spotted the rock face on either side of the river.

  “Where do those lead, Saer?” asked Kaia.

  “This waterway functions as does a road that cuts through a town. You’ll find fields, farms, squares with stores and inns, and homes to the left and right of a road. It’s quite the same here.”

  “Reall
y?” pealed Taria, approaching with Ree in tow.

  “Yes.”

  “When you’re in there,” she said, pointing to the rock face, “and you look up, can you see the sky?”

  “It depends on where you are standing.”

  “Do you know what I think? I think it would be most fitting to have a Stone living in Zavonia. Don’t you? Can you conceive of a person living on an island formed from that after which they take their name?” asked Taria, her tiny arms pushing and pulling on the gunwale.

  “That would be most extraordinary,” said Saer, turning away to join Ode.

  Taria tugged on Elania’s sleeve. “Perhaps that is why they have invited us!”

  “What?”

  “To offer us the opportunity to live here.”

  “Unlikely.”

  “It’s possible. Did you not notice how Saer left as soon as I mentioned it?”

  “If your words are the reason he left,” said Kaia, “do not think that means that there’s any truth to them.”

  “Why else—”

  “He left because you pestered him.”

  “I did not! Elania, tell her that that isn’t true.”

  Kaia rolled her eyes. “Stop whining, Taria. It does not suit you.”

  “We’ve still got a while before we reach the capitol,” said Elania. “How to pass the time…”

  “Let’s explore the ship. The lower decks, I mean.”

  “Why?” asked Taria.

  “Why not?”

  “Yes, why not?” echoed Elania. “It might prove to be a worthy pursuit.”