“I have one question before you go.” Danica’s eyes were focused on the paper the dancers had found. “Valene, would you read this line again?”
“La’pt’hena’o’itilfera’alistair,” the raven answered.
“That’s the line about guides and guardians?” Danica asked.
A’isha finally made the connection Danica had as her finger hovered over the letters. “Yes. This word is alistair.”
“And this?” Now Danica pointed to a series of symbols at the bottom of the page.
Valene answered, “A’le-Ahnleh. It is a blessing, and means, more or less, by the will of fate. Ahnleh is hardly legible anymore on the ancient coins, but it is the Snakecharm on your pendant, from the nest. Among the serpiente, it is used at the bottom of many documents, as a mark of promise, truth. As you can see, it’s also nearly identical to the Seal of Alasdair, which has always been used on binding works among the avians.” Her joking tone poorly masked a certain resentment as she warned, “Though be careful not to point it out to the Tuuli Thea. The last one exiled me from the courts for daring to point out the similarity.”
Danica smiled slightly, lifting her gaze from the page. “I will be sure not to let her know. Is it coincidence?” she asked.
Valene shrugged. “Your mother wanted it to be. I prefer to think that our records are wrong—that, before the wars, perhaps Kiesha’s and Alasdair’s people lived together peacefully. Something went horribly wrong somewhere, but before that, there must have been a time when the serpiente and avians were close enough for words and ideas like Ahnleh and alistair to become shared.”
“Our history books say that the word ‘alistair’ is a variation of Alasdair, as she was the first true protector of her people. Perhaps it was the other way around, and she was named protector from this word,” Danica theorized.
The glow was back in her face, and she was not hiding her excitement.
Abruptly, she turned and kissed me. “Zane, if this is true …” She trailed off, her golden eyes so wide and bright that I drew her closer to me. “Can you imagine what kind of world it might have been?”
I tried to picture a time when avians and serpiente lived side by side. Not as they did in this wary peace we held, in which intrepid scholars and merchants sometimes dared to visit the other side, but coexisting in one land where they weren’t afraid of each other.
I wondered if re-creating that world was possible.
It seemed like such an incredible idea, but I couldn’t help entertaining it. “We were worried that our child would need to be either avian or serpiente, because the two lands she would rule would be separated that way. What if we could let her be both, and give her a world that is blended just as surely as her blood will be?”
A’isha asked, “Just build somewhere that isn’t Keep or palace, but both?”
“Why not?” Danica asked. “A’isha, your nest has serpents, falcons, ravens and hawks sharing it now. If that is possible, then how impossible could it be to re-create a world where they don’t just dance together, but live together? We’re stymied now because people are afraid to immerse themselves in another world, leaving the Keep for the serpiente market or the other way around, but a third court wouldn’t be specifically one or the other. We could design the court so it’s only a small step from home to … to a land where a queen can be both cobra and hawk, because her people are just as mixed.”
A’isha paused, contemplating, and we all waited for her response. If she refused, then this hope was all but lost. The dancers were among the most tolerant of my kind; if their leader could not imagine that this place Danica and I had suddenly invented was possible, then no one else would.
“I would join a dragon’s nest,” A’isha affirmed finally. “If only for the challenge.”
“Dragon?” I asked.
“A dragon is a winged serpent, isn’t it?” A’isha replied.
“I’ve always thought of them as winged lizards, though I’ve never seen one myself.”
“A wyvern, then,” A’isha corrected. “Wyvern’s Nest. Perhaps some of your avian scholars could share their myths and stories for a she’da; I should like to create such a dance someday, maybe one that will rival the famous Namir-da.” She frowned, adding seriously, “Though it would have to be very subtle to be acceptable to an avian audience.”
“Do you think the rest of your nest would be willing?” I asked.
“Honestly? Not all.” She shrugged. “But you do not need all; you need only a few, who have the courage to try to show our beliefs to a feathered audience so they can understand and perhaps join us. Give us a nest, give us a fire and the audience that would come with your new land, and we will be honored to dance for a Wyvern’s Court. Sha’Mehay has become too small, anyway.”
I continued pondering. “Merchants would come if there was a market for them. If we dedicated some land for schooling, we could bring in the scholars of both our courts—who, hopefully, would be willing to try to learn from each other.”
Danica echoed my thoughts from her own perspective. “The avian court follows the Tuuli Thea. They would be hesitant to bring their families so close to the serpiente, at least at first, but hopefully future generations won’t be as frightened. And if we let it be known that we will raise our child there, I think that plenty of avian scholars would be willing to go, if only in hopes of ‘protecting’ the queen’s heir. Then of course there may be those who simply wish to curry favor with their monarch, even if it means supporting what they will doubtless see as another mad scheme by their Tuuli Thea.”
“Another?”
“Of course,” she answered sweetly. “You may recall the last one, since it involved announcing you as my alistair.”
OUR ANIMATED CHATTER awakened the rest of the nest, most of whom took it as a cue to rise and begin their rituals to greet the day. Danica and I were each drawn into the simple, slow-moving dances. As soon as those morning dances were done, Valene left for Ahnmik. We watched her take to the skies, the rising sun on her heels, as powerful black wings carried her into the west.
Afterward, Danica and I sought breakfast in the market. It was a slightly more peaceful place to pause and contemplate the ideas the night had brought us.
“It seems like such an incredible plan, I find myself wondering if it is even possible, and struggling to conceive of how to begin such a project,” said Danica. Testing the sounds for not the first time, she sighed, “Wyvern’s Court.”
“We’ll need to speak to Irene, and your mother,” I asserted. “If either one of them rejects this idea, there is no way we will succeed. Any potential heirs to either throne—hawk or cobra—must be raised in the same mixed-blood land, or people will feel they can still choose to be apart.”
Danica nodded, so I continued.
“Then I suppose we seek the approval of our respective courts, and allow the information into the markets. Once we are sure we have support, we can consult with architects, artists, whoever we need to try to bring this place we are imagining to life.”
After that, we ate breakfast in silence, sifting through our thoughts like children going through colored stones—optimistic, because although some were too dark and some were too sharp, many glittered like precious gems.
“I have an excuse to be up at this mad hour.” Irene yawned as we located her in Salem’s nursery. “Why are you looking so bright-eyed?”
As she spoke, she rocked Salem in her arms. The babe kept shifting from boy to cobra, trying to wriggle out of her grip, then turning back to human form to pout when she wouldn’t let him.
“We’re plotting reformation of life as we know it,” I replied, somewhat flippantly.
“Oh, is that all?” she teased. “Why not start with breakfast?”
“Thank you, but no,” I answered. “Danica and I actually wanted your feedback on an idea we had.”
Quickly, we detailed the conception of Wyvern’s Court, from finding the two symbols to getting A’isha’s supp
ort. Irene listened quietly, nodding every now and then as she finally managed to settle Salem down.
When we paused for her response, she looked hopefully at the face of her child. “If you can create such a place,” she finally answered, “I would be honored to raise my son there. And I have never seen you two fail to achieve any dream you strive toward.”
We arrived at the Hawk’s Keep the next evening. Nacola greeted us the moment we stepped into the courtyard, with Gerard by her side.
“I hope this unexpected visit doesn’t mean that there is a problem,” Nacola said firmly.
“Nothing is wrong,” Danica assured her as we walked past the first-floor market to a private parlor on the second floor. “Zane and I simply wanted to speak to you about an idea we had.”
“For Rei—” Gerard cut off abruptly, as if deciding it wasn’t his place to question us, no matter how much he must have wanted to know about his former flight members.
“The dancers found something we hope we can use to force Cjarsa’s hand, at least regarding Andreios,” I said. “Actually, Valene Silvermead was the one who made that discovery. She has gone to Ahnmik to petition the falcon Empress for his return.”
“Thank you, sir.”
After Danica shut the door, I broached the reason for our visit.
“While we were looking for something to use against the falcons, we found something else—something that might be even more pertinent to our current situation.”
Danica and I went on to explain her discoveries in the texts, and Valene’s theories regarding a possible history together. Then we described our new dream.
When we were done, Nacola drew a deep breath and said, “It seems I do owe Valene an apology. She has obviously done much for these lands in the time since she left my court—though I am not sure whether I agree with it all.”
Nacola sighed. “Your dreams are vast, Danica, but they include as many obstacles as rewards.”
She went on to list all the problems with a Wyvern’s Court. “People from both groups will be hesitant to bring their children to a place such as Wyvern’s Court. You may create one generation, but for such a place to prosper, you need families. And I can think of many reasons any avian mother would pale at the thought of her daughter being surrounded by dancers and—” She cut off, then continued, “And serpiente pastimes our people long ago deemed inappropriate for young children. Zane, I believe your people have an equally unflattering view of how we raise our children,” she shot at me.
“Beyond the question of how to bring up children, you face the problem of now needing to juggle three lands, trying to shift power from the old two to the new one without forcing the destruction of the originals—which I assume is not your intent, as it would ruin the homes and livelihoods of many who live and work in those places.
“Finally, you are still faced with the problem of whether your child will, in the future, have an avian pair bond or a serpiente mate.”
“We are hoping,” I interrupted, trying to stop her tirade, “that by the time our child chooses her mate, whether he is scaled or feathered will not matter.”
Nacola frowned, but before she could object, Danica spoke. “And she will choose her own partner. I chose my alistair, as you have now, too, Mother. If the next queen is raised as a member of both societies, to be Tuuli Thea and Diente both, then any man who wishes to court her will need to accept and love both sides of her—especially if he wishes to rule beside her.”
Nacola countered, “You will still have trouble with families. I am certain you have realized that if all the Shardae and Cobriana children are raised well in the new land, it will encourage other parents to trust your Wyvern’s Court. If any royal parent refuses, it will cause doubt among your people. I assume that is why you are speaking to me: You wish to know what I would choose, should I be lucky enough to bear another child. The answer …”
She paused, contemplative. “I may never have that joy,” she finally said. “That means that you, Danica, are the only child I need to protect at this moment. I have seen you flourish these last several months, despite my objections and my hesitation. Should I have another child, I will raise her to be loyal to her Tuuli Thea, and her Tuuli Thea’s heir. If that means raising her in a land where serpents and avians dwell side by side, then I imagine I will do what I must to support your efforts.
“However,” she added swiftly, before either of us could speak, “I will make no promises as to the future until I see this dream made real.”
“It is too late to gather our people this evening, and we are anxious to return to serpiente lands at first light,” Danica said. “If you would speak to the court for us, showing your support, it would mean so much.”
Nacola nodded. “I will present your Wyvern’s Court, with all my blessings. Fly with grace.”
WHEN WE RETURNED TO SERPIENTE LANDS the next morning, we found a debate raging in the market. A group of serpents had gathered around a stall I knew belonged to an avian artist, completely obscuring her from our view. In the midst of all our hope, the raised voices chilled me.
“This is exactly why I didn’t want to do this here!” A’isha’s voice rose above the others. “Back up, back up!”
With Danica on one side and me on the other, we quickly formed a path through the crowd, to reveal a blushing artist with a stripe of gold paint on her cheek.
“I didn’t mean for my little sketch to create such a stir,” she said quietly, before I could ask what was going on. “I heard the rumors about a Wyvern’s Court … and my imagination got the better of me.”
“Show him,” A’isha encouraged, because the artist was still standing protectively in front of her creation.
“It isn’t finished,” the woman said as she stepped shyly out of the way.
The background had only barely been sketched—a blue sky, and what looked to be the beginning of a market. But in the middle of the white slate plaza was a green marble mosaic. The design formed was similar to Ahnleh, but subtly different; the artist had overlapped the serpiente Ahnleh with the avian Seal of Alasdair. The two symbols were so similar that they fit together as if first designed as a single glyph, reformed here after more than two thousand years.
At the center of the symbol was a young woman in the midst of shifting shape; from her back grew golden wings, but her body was sliding into a serpent’s form, and her head was thrown back so that her face was bathed in sunlight.
Wyvern.
Even with rough details, the image took my breath away.
“The dancers say that you and your mate hope to form a combined court,” the artist said. “I heard the story of where the idea came from, and I could just … see it. I wanted to create it.”
“So do we,” Danica whispered.
Her quiet reply, confirming the rumors, brought a barrage of questions. Several minutes passed before I could quiet the crowd enough for me to speak.
“Apparently you have already heard about Wyvern’s Court.” I had not expected our dream to stay a secret for long. Few things did once the dancers knew of them. “It’s true. We intend to create a place where avians and serpents live together. Nacola Shardae has given her blessing and is speaking to the avian court on our behalf. Irene Cobriana has also agreed, as has the leader of sha’Mehay. I hope you will, too.”
Again, the simple words brought a storm of replies, so much that eventually A’isha invited us, along with the avian artist, back to the nest, where we could think without being questioned. Before we had reached sha’Mehay, however, we were approached by a young raven I knew as Tadeo.
“My Tuuli Thea, Diente … I heard A’isha speaking to my father—he’s a weaver?” he offered hopefully.
“I know your father,” I answered, which made the raven blush like an adolescent corn snake. “He was one of the first avian merchants in our market.”
Danica paused, and then exclaimed, “Of course! Tadeo. The last I heard, you were in the midst of another apprenticeship.??
?
“Mm.” The raven ducked his head for a moment. “Yes, milady. I’ve … had some false starts.”
That was an understatement. From what I’d been told, in the past three years, Tadeo had shifted his apprenticeship from the study of music, to philosophy, to history, to architecture and now to art.
Tadeo continued without encouragement. “The artist I’ve been working with most recently—well, before my father called me home—lives beside a small lake, about half a day’s flight from here. There’s an area nearby where the land sinks, forming a valley with hills on three sides and a cliff on the fourth.”
“I know where you’re talking about,” I answered. The valley was a beautiful area, with granite too close to the surface to allow for the deep-rooted trees of the surrounding forest, and wildflowers everywhere.
“I was thinking of it, especially when I saw that painting. It’s about the same distance from the Keep and this market, just a little farther east. It’s on the edge of the land claimed by a pack of wolf shapeshifters, but they don’t hunt in that area, and according to my teacher, they have started to express interest in trading with us since the war ended ….” He looked at us hopefully.
“Why don’t you come inside with us?” Danica suggested. “You can tell us more.”
I looked at A’isha, expecting her to protest our inviting more avians from the Keep to her nest, but she just nodded. “This seems as good a place as any to confer—plenty of room to work, and rooms downstairs for anyone who is traveling and does not feel like sleeping in the main room like a dancer.”
“In that case,” I suggested, “we should see about bringing in other artists and architects who are interested in helping, and inviting some others from the Keep. I know the area Tadeo is describing. If he is correct that the wolves would not object, then I agree it might be the perfect place to create Wyvern’s Court.” Tadeo blushed again at those words.
“Pardon me, but I am well acquainted with both the court and the market,” someone said. I turned to see Fisk Falchion, another avian merchant, behind us. “If you would like, I would be honored to fly to the Keep for you and see who would be interested in coming to work with us here.”