Jacklo chirped. “Hello!”
Eyes widening, the man dropped the ax. It landed on the hardened ground headfirst and then the handle thumped down.
“You should watch your tools,” Risa advised. “You don’t want to accidentally cut yourself. That looks sharp.”
The man pointed. “Your . . . birds! They talk!”
“Yes, they’re my friends,” Mayka said. He seemed overly surprised, as if he’d never met a talking bird. Surely he’d seen carvings like Jacklo and Risa before. Or maybe not?
“Jacklo talks too much,” Risa offered.
Jacklo sniffed. “You’re the only one who has ever complained about my talking.”
“I’m the only one who gets a word in edgewise,” Risa said.
“Incredible,” the man breathed. “I’d heard about such creatures—so lifelike they look real. Out here, we have workhorses, farm cats to catch rats, that kind of thing, but none of the toys. Only the wealthiest families . . . Who are you, girl? Are you lost?” He bowed awkwardly. “I’m just a humble farmer, but if I can be of service, say the word.”
What a strange reaction, she thought. Jacklo and Risa weren’t toys; they were birds. And she’d already said her name. As to the other question . . . “We’re not lost. At least, we’re not really lost—we know where we are—but we don’t know where we’re going.” Leaving the road, she crossed the yard toward him. A dog with matted fur yapped at her, and she noticed it was chained to a stake. The fur near its collar had been rubbed down to the skin, and she wanted to tell the man to untie the dog, please. But maybe it was chained for a reason. She was acutely aware of how new she was to all of this, and how far from home they were. “We’re looking for a stonemason. Could you tell us where to find one?”
“Well, now, there aren’t any hereabouts, of course. You’ll want to be asking in—” He stopped abruptly and stared at her, hard, shielding his eyes from the sunlight. She halted, halfway to him. He waved his index finger at her. “You’re . . . Are you . . . You can’t be stone! Why, you’re so . . .” He stalked up to her and poked a meaty finger at her shoulder. “Stone! Extraordinary!” He clamped his hand down on her shoulder as he twisted to shout at the house. “Berin! Berin, come out! You have to see this!”
With a twisting pull, Mayka squirmed out of his grip and backed up. “You were about to say where we can find a stonemason?” She didn’t like the way he’d called her “this,” or the way he’d grabbed her. But she didn’t retreat all the way—he’d been on the verge of telling her what she needed to know. The stonemasons were in the valley, but where? “Please, all I need to know is where to find a stonemason.”
Risa whispered in her ear, “We should leave.”
On her other side, Jacklo said, “He could be just curious. Sounds like he never saw anyone as fine as us. We were made by a master carver.”
Maybe he was right. The horse had been crude, and if that was an example of the type of stone creature this man knew, then it was logical he’d be curious.
“If he hasn’t seen anything like us, then he’s unlikely to be able to help us, right?” Risa said. “Let’s go. You run, Mayka. We’ll fly. He won’t be able to catch us.”
This farmer was the first person they’d seen in the valley. She didn’t want to just flee. He hadn’t done anything threatening, though she hadn’t liked how he’d touched her shoulder. Before Mayka could decide what to do, a woman came barreling out of the door to the house. She was taller than her husband and equally broad, with thick leather gloves over her arms and a leather apron tied around her waist. “What are you yelling about, Afre? Just got the ax blade hot. Won’t set right if I have to reheat it.”
“Look at this!” Afre said, gesturing to Mayka.
The woman, Berin, noticed Mayka for the first time. Her expression softened slightly, making her cheeks look spongy. “Hello, child, what are you doing out in the middle of nowhere?”
“Come closer, Berin. Look at her! She’s stone!”
Berin gasped. “No! Truly?”
Mayka took another step backwards as Berin bustled toward her. She could still run, she told herself, if she needed to. Their flesh legs wouldn’t carry them as tirelessly as her stone ones. “Yes,” she said, “and we’re looking for a stonemason. Do you know where one is?”
Berin shoved her face close to Mayka’s. Her breath was warm, and her mouth was wet. Mayka stared at Berin as Berin stared at Mayka.
“Never seen anything like it,” Berin marveled. “A real live stone girl! So realistic. From a distance, you can’t even tell—except she’s so gray. Even the ‘fabric’ of her dress. Can’t imagine how much this must have cost. And impractical—she’s no plowhorse. How could she ever work enough to repay her cost? Who owns you, stone girl? Do they know you’re here? They must be worried sick, a treasure like you. You didn’t run away, did you?”
“Of course I didn’t! I’m here to find a stonemason, for my family.”
“Ah, an errand girl,” Berin said.
“Out here?” Afre asked.
“You are far afield from any place a stonemason would live,” Berin said. “They go where the wealth is, which means Skye. Plenty of stonemasons in the city. But that’s a fair piece away, and the roads wind a bit. Didn’t your keepers give you directions? Which stonemason do they want you to find?”
“Someone skilled who doesn’t mind travel,” Mayka said. Skye. Father’s birthplace, the city that lay far across the valley. She’d never planned to go anywhere near it, but if she had to . . .
“How do I get there?”
“I think she’s a runaway,” Afre said. “Only thing that makes sense.”
Berin was nodding as she appraised Mayka. “You’re right. No one would let something as exquisite as this out of their sight. She must be worth a fortune.”
“There’s bound to be a reward if we return her.”
Risa squawked. “And now you really should run!”
Mayka didn’t wait another instant. She pivoted as Afre shouted, “Grab her!” She felt meaty fingers seize her arm, and she yanked away, hard. The fingers slipped, and she ran. She heard them shouting behind her, running after her, but she pounded her feet faster, running toward the road.
She didn’t look back. She didn’t slow. She just ran.
Chapter
Five
She ran until the sun sank behind the mountains and the stars came out, and then Mayka kept running, because her stone body didn’t tire and because the moon cast enough light on the road that she could see the path stretching like a gray river between the dark grasses . . . until a cloud covered the moon, and the shadows on the road merged together. Her toes found a rut that she hadn’t seen—and she sprawled forward.
Lying there, she felt the cool earth against her cheek. She had mud on her, she knew, but at the moment she didn’t care.
The two birds landed beside her.
“Are you all right, Mayka?” Risa asked.
“Yes.”
“Those were not nice people,” Jacklo said. “I’d envisioned . . . Well, I thought we’d make new friends. Guess not with them. He called us toys.”
Mayka rolled onto her back and looked up at the stars and wished with all her heart that she were still on the roof of their cottage, with all her friends beside her. Even the sky looks different here, she thought. She was used to the mountain cutting off a part of her view, but here in the valley, the whole arc of the sky was open. It felt so big. And beautiful. But right now, she missed her sky.
“He’d never seen anything like us,” Jacklo continued. “Or like you, Mayka. It must be because they live so far away from anyone else. Ooh, maybe that’s why they live away from everyone else! No one wanted them near since they’re so rude.”
“At least now we know where to go,” Risa said, practical as always.
“Do you think they’ll be nice in Skye?” Mayka asked.
“Of course they will,” Jacklo said. “There are lo
ts and lots of people in the city. That’s what makes it a city. And all the people will be different, like we’re all different.”
The word city felt so foreign. She couldn’t conceive of that many strangers living together side by side. You couldn’t know everyone’s name or story. You’d walk past people and never know their history—where they’d come from, where they were going, what they dreamed of.
Jacklo’s right, she thought.
Everyone had a different story. Her friends were all very different: wise Badger, ponderous Etho, opinionated Nianna, superior Kalgrey . . . Father had carved them all with unique stories. Like her friends, the people who lived in the valley would be different from one another too, with their own personalities and past experiences to shape them. We’ll meet friendlier people, she consoled herself. And we’ll see Skye!
But still, she lay in the road looking up at the stars for a long time, with the birds nestled against her, until dawn began to creep across the sky and the road began to vibrate.
It started slight at first, a little tremble. She turned her head and saw a puddle was shaking. And then the birds took flight.
“Get off the road, Mayka!” Risa shouted.
Mayka rolled to the side into the grasses. She ducked down, hiding among the golden stalks, as a wagon trundled across. She peered out and saw a stone horse as crude as the one in the field. Its hooves were pounding the dirt as it pulled a wagon behind it. The wagon was piled high, with a tarp strapped over a dozen crates. A few leaves poked out beneath the tarp.
Mayka scrambled out of the grass. “Hey! Hello! Can you wait, please?”
But the horse didn’t stop. It didn’t even turn its head to look at her.
Jacklo and Risa flew after it and in front of its face. But the horse kept plodding forward, pulling its load, until it was out of sight. The birds flew back to her.
“He couldn’t hear us,” Risa reported.
“Or didn’t want to,” Jacklo said. “Maybe he’s shy.”
“He also couldn’t speak, or didn’t want to,” Risa said. “Either way, he won’t be helping us. Are you all right, Mayka?”
Mayka looked down at herself, grasses stuck to the mud that covered her dress. She looked like she’d rolled around in the goats’ pen. She couldn’t meet new people like this. “Is there a river nearby?”
“Yes,” Risa said. “It waters the fields. Follow me.”
Trailing Risa, Mayka tromped across a field full of corn. She picked her way between the stalks, crushing the old dead leaves. Jacklo flew behind her, low to the ground, and used his stone wings to wipe away her footprints as best he could. He’d done it before, when playing hide-and-seek with Kalgrey and Badger. It made Kalgrey so angry when Badger’s tracks disappeared. “Kalgrey’s funny when she’s angry,” Jacklo had said.
Risa glanced back at him. “I don’t think the farmers are following us. Mayka ran fast. Flesh creatures couldn’t match her pace.”
“They could if they used wagons,” Mayka pointed out. There hadn’t been any passengers on the wagon that had passed by earlier—the horse was pulling a load of what looked like vegetables—but there was no reason why he couldn’t also pull a load of people, if he wanted. “I’d rather be safe. Thank you, Jacklo.”
“It’s so strange that they wouldn’t believe you,” Jacklo said.
Mayka didn’t have a reply to that. She wasn’t used to not being believed. All of her friends trusted her, and she trusted them.
Ahead, Risa flew low through the tops of the corn, guiding them toward the river. Mayka heard the babbling of the water before she saw it, so she wasn’t surprised when the corn ended and the field sloped down into a riverbed full of cattails. She walked along the edge until she found an open area on the bank, then she knelt and splashed water on herself, rinsing the mud off her stone dress, arms, and legs.
“We need to be more careful who we talk to,” Risa said. “Or not talk to anyone.”
“We have to talk to someone,” Mayka said. “We don’t know which road leads to Skye. We need a guide, or at least directions.” She didn’t want to start fearing everyone just because of one bad experience. She didn’t want to think that the valley, which looked so peaceful from high above, was full of unkindness.
It could be, though, she thought. Father had left the valley, and he’d never said why. Had he encountered unkindness? She wondered what had happened to him here.
Jacklo poked at the riverbed with his beak, overturning stones as if he were a flesh-and-feathers bird looking for worms. “Risa and I could search ahead . . .”
“No,” Risa said. “We don’t leave Mayka alone.”
“Maybe the next time, you two shouldn’t talk. Just fly onto the roof and pretend to be ordinary birds. Can you do that?”
“That sounds sensible,” Risa said. “Then we can warn you if anything seems amiss.”
“Ooh, like this!” Jacklo tilted his head back and let out a warbling cry that sounded like a rooster was dying. “Errrr-cooo-currrrr!”
“Maybe more subtle than that,” Risa said. “Three short chirps and one long.” She demonstrated, sounding like a songbird. “If you hear that, you run.”
“And what’s your warning for us?” Jacklo asked Mayka. “I know! You could bark like a dog! Or howl like a wolf! Hooooooowwwwl!”
“How about I just shout ‘fly’?” Mayka suggested.
“Boring,” Jacklo said.
Clean, Mayka sat on a rock and held out her arms, letting the sun dry her. She didn’t mind being wet, but she didn’t want the dust and dirt from the road to stick to her and turn into mud again. “Okay, so the plan is unchanged: we need to find a guide.” All she knew from seeing the lights in the valley at night was that Skye was “far away.” She’d never paid attention to how the roads and the rivers and the hills and the fields connected.
“The next stone creature—we’ll make him answer us,” Jacklo said.
Risa snorted at him. “What if he’s like the horse and doesn’t want to? How are you going to make him?”
“I’ll annoy him until he answers. I’m very good at being annoying.”
“That is true,” Risa conceded.
With that decided, they returned to the road, looking for someone who could give them directions. A guide would be ideal, Mayka thought, but really just simple directions would do for now. Once they’d traveled far enough in the right direction, Jacklo and Risa would be able to spot the city from the air without losing sight of Mayka.
Mayka jogged down the road while Jacklo and Risa flew on either side of her, just above the corn. As the sun continued to trek across the sky, her stone body dried. Only her feet were mud-covered now.
She’d never crossed so many miles before. In the mountains, it took time to scramble up the slopes. Here, where it was flat, it was possible to feel the distance pass beneath you. There was something rather wonderful about that. The rhythm of her feet was hypnotic, and as she ran, she let the unpleasantness of the farmhouse fade behind her. She tried to pretend it was part of a tale that belonged to someone else from long ago and far away.
“Ahead! Out in the fields!” Jacklo called.
“Look to the east!” Risa said, swooping down to fly level with Mayka. “Three stone creatures, on the move. Follow us!”
Veering off the road again, Mayka ran across the fields. These were unplanted, fresh-plowed fields, with the soft earth piled in parallel lines. Her feet sank into the soil, every step a reminder that she wasn’t on her rocky mountain slope anymore. Eastward, she saw three shapes: bumps in the landscape. “Did you try to talk to them?” she called.
“Didn’t get that close,” Jacklo said. “We thought you’d want to be there, to hear what they had to say.”
She did. She ran faster.
The bumps were moving across the field, pulling a curved blade behind them. It dug into the earth, churning it. Closer, the stone creatures looked like wide horses. Cows? Oxen? Oxen, she decided. Father had d
escribed them to her in a story about a farmer with three children, whose clever wife harnessed the very first ox.
Like the horse, they were crudely shaped sandstone, with no polish to their skins. Their features were rough, with little shape to their mouths, noses, and eyes. They plodded ahead without acknowledging Jacklo and Risa dancing on the breeze around their heads. “Hello, stone kindred!” Jacklo shouted. “Up here!”
The oxen didn’t look up.
They continued to plod.
Mayka caught up to them. “Excuse me? I’m sorry to interrupt your work, but we need to ask directions. We’re trying to find a stonemason and were told to look in the city of Skye, but we don’t know which way to go. Does the road go there? How far is it?”
“And where do we look when we get there?” Jacklo asked. “Where do we start? Who do we look for? Do you know the name of a stonemason? Where can we find him? Why are you ignoring us?” He flew in front of the oxen. “Hello? Can you hear us?”
“I don’t think they can,” Risa said.
Jacklo shouted, “Hello! I’m Jacklo! We need help!”
The oxen just kept tromping forward, like the horse with the wagon on the road. Running in front of them, Mayka spread her arms and legs wide and shouted, “Stop!”
They halted.
“That’s better,” Jacklo said, and he landed on one of their horns. He leaned forward so he was upside down, his eyes even with the ox’s eyes, like he’d done with the motionless horse. “Hello.”
Arms still open wide, Mayka said, “Can you please tell us how to get to Skye?”
No answer. They stood there, silent.
“Maybe they can’t talk,” Risa suggested, “like Harlisona.”
“Or the fish,” Jacklo said. “Always wondered what they felt when their marks for speaking were washed away, whether they were sad, whether they like the quiet, whether they’re happy just swimming around and around and around—”
“Can you see their markings?” Mayka asked as she circled the beasts—they were so huge that the markings could be anywhere. The birds darted over, under, and around them. At last, she spotted marks tucked behind one of the ox’s front legs.