When the woods finally ceded ground to plains, Slate stopped for a deep breath and turned back to the trees to bow in reverence. Pilotte seemed hesitant to follow Slate out of the woods, but when Slate didn’t push the issue, offering the choice to stay or leave, the animal ultimately decided to follow after his new friend into the city.

  Crossing a long field that turned into a backyard, Slate was met with a happy wave from the first Aislinean he encountered, a woman working in her garden. He waved back. When the woman caught sight of Pilotte, however, she screamed in horror, and so Slate apologized and hurried quickly through the yard to the street in front of her house.

  As Slate came to the street out front, he was amazed at the craftsmanship of it. The bricks were so uniform, the whole of it was so level and of such parallel width, stretching on in both directions in a thick ribbon for what looked like miles. It was nothing like the dirt roads in Alleste. He started down the impressive street toward the city skyline.

  Along the sides of the road were several large estates of equally impressive construction, dotted with houses and pagodas. Such were the sizes of the mansions' plots that Slate and Pilotte accidentally walked off the main road up one or another of their giant drives many times, mistaking them for the main thoroughfare.

  Slate was passed by several horse carts as he progressed, ones larger and more ornately decorated than those he had seen in Mearror as a child. He tried to get the attention of the passing drivers, to ask where he might find information, but, invariably, when they got a look at him, covered in the crust of countless days in the forest and accompanied by a giant snarlingwulf, they would speed hastily by.

  Losing Pilotte was out of the question, but Slate figured he should probably do something to make himself more presentable. He stopped to splash some water onto his face, to clear away more grime and tame his knotted hair. A voice surprised him as he was doing so.

  “That’s disgusting!”

  Slate whipped around, splashing the girl he saw standing there, and gulped a watery, “I’m sorry?”

  The girl laughed and replied, “You don’t need to be sorry. But washing your face in road water is disgusting.”

  Slate ignored the girl, and went back to washing.

  “Where are you from?” the girl asked. “Is that your wulf?”

  “You don’t own a snarlingwulf,” Slate said, continuing to wash.

  “What’s your name?” the girl asked. “My name is Arianna.”

  “My name is Slate,” Slate finally answered. “Slate Ahn. I am from Alleste.”

  “Alleste? What, did you walk here?”

  “Yes.”

  “You look sick,” Arianna said. “So does your wulf.”

  “I feel sick. I haven’t slept or eaten properly in days, and I’ve been walking for miles. And poor Pilotte’s foot is injured.”

  “You really did walk here? From Alleste?”

  “Yes ma’am. I’m on my way to Airyel, to find my father. He’s found work for us there.”

  “Oh. That’s very far away, Slate. It would be an awfully long walk.”

  “Oh?” Slate sighed. “Oh, well. Nothing left to do in Alleste, anyways. I’m just so glad there are still people here in Aislin. There wasn’t anyone in Mearror. The whole western half of the island seems empty. I didn’t see anyone for days. Not until I was jumped by some thugs, just outside town.”

  “Did they hurt you?”

  “No. But they tried. Pilotte took care of that.”

  Arianna took a moment to stare into Slate’s bruised, sad eyes before saying, “Why don’t you come with me, back to my house? It’s just up the hill here, it’s not far. You can get a proper wash and something to eat. And we can bandage your wulf’s ankle.”

  “Thank you, but I should really try to find somewhere for us to spend the night. We’re both pretty exhausted.”

  “I can see that. Do you have any money?”

  “No… Why?”

  “Rooms here are very expensive. And I doubt they’d house your wulf.”

  “Oh. Well just how far am I from Airyel?”

  “Quite far. Do you have any family anywhere else on the island? Do you know anyone in Aislin?” Arianna asked.

  “No, I don’t,” Slate admitted.

  “Well then where do you think you’re going to go? You can’t go into town looking like that, you’ll get arrested.”

  “Arrested for what? What have I done wrong?

  You’ve done nothing wrong, at least that I know of. But people around here don’t understand that someone can look like you do and not be a criminal,” Arianna explained. “Things are strange lately. People are suspicious.”

  Slate saw a sadness in the girl’s eyes that mirrored his own. He could tell, somehow, that Arianna was a kindred soul. He couldn’t keep his eyes from welling with tears.

  “Oh, come now, don’t cry, Slate,” Arianna said softly. “Wouldn’t it be better instead to come with me, to get some food and clean clothes?”

  Letting down his defenses, Slate wiped the tears from his eyes and answered, “I’d be very grateful for that, Arianna. Please, yes.”

  “Excellent. This way, follow me.”

  Slate and Pilotte followed Arianna up from the road to a great white house, then up its wide staircase to the front patio, where they moved into the shade.

  “Wipe your feet,” Arianna said as she opened the front door.

  The strong odor of astringent medtermint bit Slate in the nose as he passed into the house.

  “Arianna, bluebird, go around back please, dear! I’m washing the floors,” called a warm voice from one of the hallways leading off the main entryway.

  “But Mom, I need to speak with you! Please? I’ve got someone I want you to meet,” Arianna called back.

  “Well, how about you and your friend go into the kitchen and have some berry folds while I finish up? We must have the floors clean for your many guests, after all!”

  “Very funny,” Arianna mumbled under her breath as she pulled Slate back onto the front porch.

  Slate was led around to the back of the house, where he followed Arianna up onto the porch.

  “My mother would kill me if we let your wulf in before a bath,” said Arianna. “Do you think he’d mind waiting here?”

  “Pilotte?” Slate asked the wulf. “Would you mind waiting here?”

  The wulf circled himself and sat down with a huge sigh.

  “Looks like he’ll be alright,” said Slate.

  “He’s very well trained,” Arianna said.

  “He’s not trained at all,” Slate said, following Arianna through a set of double doors.

  The doors led into a kitchen, one larger than Slate’s entire house back in Alleste. Wooden counters rose from a red-and-orange-tiled floor interrupted by three iron ovens and another, open-flame hot stone oven. One of the iron oven’s burners had a flame glowing under a steaming, cast-iron pot, which hiccupped as it stewed.

  Slate’s eyes focused on the center island counter, where he espied half-chopped nuts heaped in a big mound next to some conoma shavings. Off to the side of that were three berry folds.

  “Fold?” Arianna offered hungry-eyed Slate.

  “Yes, please! I love those things,” Slate said. “I had one at the Assembly once.”

  “You went to an Assembly?” Arianna gasped. “That’s incredible. How? Why?”

  “What, you never did?” Slate asked. “I thought everybody had at least once.”

  “Hardly. Very few people from Aislin got to go to Assemblies. Your family must have been special.”

  “I doubt it. There just weren’t many people in Alleste to go.”

  “So you actually saw the re-enactment of the Tahal, and everything?” Arianna asked.

  “I did,” Slate sighed. “A couple times.”

  Arianna shook her head. “Here I thought I met a puddle-washer and you’ve been to an Assembly. Tell me; were the Aislinean representatives any good? In the Tahal? My friend
Brenna got to play Maro Aislin one year and I saw her audition and it wasn’t very good.”

  “Well, mainly my brother and I would try to make each other laugh during the re-enactments, so I can’t say that I remember any of them too precisely. I do remember that I bit through my lip one time trying not to laugh,” Slate said. “I laughed anyways.”

  “Oh, the Gods themselves,” Arianna said. “You’ve been to an Assembly! That's so exciting.” She stared off in thought for a moment. “Too bad there's no chance to go anymore. We really lost something when the Great Hall burned down.”

  "We lost everything.”

  The two were quiet for some time.

  “My brother left pretty soon after the Hall burned,” said Slate, “To try and find work. Most of the village left, because there was no trade anymore and Alleste doesn’t have much on its own.”

  “Where did he go?” Arianna asked.

  "No idea," Slate said. "He never came back."

  "Slate..."

  "My father stayed with me for a while, but the farm couldn’t produce enough for us to eat, even with what we could catch hunting. He left about a month or two ago. He was sending me money every now and again. Not that there was anything to buy with it. I really miss him. I can’t wait to see him again.”

  The cavalier attitude with which Slate rattled through his experiences startled Arianna. “What about your mother?”

  “She died when I was little.”

  “Oh…”

  “Yeah.”

  “And then you left all on your own? With Pilotte? And walked here?”

  “Right. Well, I met Pilotte on the way. Yeah, I got a letter from my dad that he found a place for us in Airyel. It was only a few days ago that I left,” Slate said. “I didn’t intend to walk here, I just don’t know the way to Airyel. It’s hard for me to remember the past few days clearly. It’s a lot of walking and trees in my memory. I went over the Blue Bridge, that was scary. It’s hard to think when you aren’t eating. Really, I’m just coming to with this berry fold. Haven’t been able to focus.”

  “We’ll have to get you some real food, then,” Arianna said. She moved around the kitchen, finding a loaf of bread, a wheel of cheese, a few sticks of jerky, and butter. She put it all on a wooden plate with a knife and carried it over to Slate, who was then finishing his second fold.

  “Thank you so much, Arianna. This is so good, I don’t know how I can repay you,” he said, before setting voraciously into a meat stick while his mouth was still full of fold. “Think you got anything for Pilotte?”

  “I doubt we have enough to satiate a snarlingwulf, but I’ll see what I can find. And you don’t have to repay me. What are you going to do now?” Arianna asked. “That you’re in Aislin?”

  “Um,” Slate managed between gulps, “Just rest up for a day or two, I think. I want to get ahead of the coming winter and get to Airyel before it gets too cold.”

  “I thought that you don’t know where it is?”

  “I don’t.”

  “It’s on the southeastern shore.”

  “Well, there you go.”

  “Do you know where your father is in Airyel?”

  “Not exactly.”

  "How do you think you’ll find him?”

  “I’ll ask around.”

  “Is it really that easy? To find one person in a city of thousands?"

  "Do I know? I hardly ever left Alleste."

  “Why don’t you stay here for a while first?” Arianna asked. “To heal up?”

  “I don’t know anyone here.”

  “It doesn’t sound like you know anyone anywhere.”

  “That’s not true,” Slate said, searching his mind for proof. “I know Pilotte. I know people.”

  “You're right, you do,” Arianna said. “You know me! And you’ll know my mom soon. Look, we have a big huge house and it’s just me and Mom and my brother and sister. You should stay here and rest up and get some weight on those bones and let Pilotte heal up and then think about what to do.”

  “What about your dad?”

  “He died when I was little. Like your mom.”

  “Oh. I’m sorry.”

  “Yeah.”

  “But what’ll I do here?”

  “Well, I have school all day, ugh,” Arianna huffed, “But when I get done, I can show you around town, and, I don’t know, we can… wash our faces in puddles?”

  Slate stopped eating. “You’re in school?” he asked.

  “Yes, unfortunately.”

  “Unfortunately? That is amazing,” Slate said. “I’d love to go to school. We didn’t even have one in Alleste.”

  “Well maybe you can. Go ahead and fill up while I ask Mother to get the guest room ready.”

  “Really?” Slate asked. “Are you sure?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Well, okay, then. Sounds good.”

  Slate was in dire need of help, but felt uneasy taking it. It wasn’t the way he had been raised. An Allestian was supposed to be self-reliant. But he was beyond weary, and Arianna and her copious kitchen could have convinced him of just about anything that morning.

  Chapter 5

 
Graham M. Irwin's Novels