Wander (Terres book 4)

Chapter Thirteen: Nag

Rannok did not have time to think about what Sasha had just done or why before the woman began circling him, looking him over like a hunting dog she wasn't sure she should have purchased. She was tall and lean, with a glint in her eyes that reminded him of the gleam off coins. Her husband stood behind her, meek as a lamb, hands stuffed into the pockets of his pristine white robes. He was round about the middle, and he had a kind face. Somehow Rannok pitied him.

"We can handle him," she sighed, waving off the guard with a willowy hand. She pushed Rannok into a room across from the one he'd been locked in, then shoved a bundle of fabric into his hands. "Change into these, they have the family emblem on them."

"Uh, okay," Rannok said, trying not to look too bewildered. The woman left the room, her husband following behind her, not daring to speak. They shut the door and Rannok stripped out of his clothes without argument. The sooner he could get into the streets the sooner he could come up with a means of escaping this nonsense. 

The clothes she had handed him were soft and well-made, and were sensibly cut already to accommodate his wings. The bright white fabric flowed over his torso and reminded him a little bit of what the more wealthy people wore in Terres. Across the chest there was an image of a fish with a spear running through it emblazoned in the fabric. 

The girl is still hiding. We will follow once you leave.

Rannok jolted, but tried not to make it too obvious he was listening in case someone might be looking in on him. They intended to get him out, that was just enough to keep him from dissolving into panic. And he had his wings, still. If nothing else he could find a way to get out of reach when no one was watching, they couldn't possibly keep him tied up forever.

He nodded in acknowledgement, then finished buckling his pants. They weren't that different than the ones he'd had before, just cleaner. He'd just finished when a fist began pounding on the door.

"Are you done yet?"

The woman's voice was shrill and demanding, the sort of voice that grated on Rannok's eardrums. "Yeah."

He hadn't gotten the words out of his mouth all the way when the woman opened the door and came in bearing a large pair of shears. Rannok shrank back against the wall, but couldn't get far enough away before she'd snatched the end of one of his wings.

"Ow, cut it out," he said, trying to pull it out of her hands. He resisted the urge to smack her across the face for touching him, but he could still see the guard looming in the hallway. 

"Hold still," she said. She gave his shoulder a harder-than-necessary shove. The shears made a ripping sound as they worked across his flight feathers. His heart jumped into his throat as they fell at his feet.

"What the hell are you doing?" he demanded, ripping his wing hard out of her hands. She stumbled and caught herself against the wall. "Stop!"

He folded his wings against his back and wheeled around, eyes all fire and judgment. She stared back at him, thin nose too big for her face, mouth twisted into a scowl. Her arms folded across her torso.

"We can do this one of two ways," she snapped. "You can let me prevent you from escaping, or I can have someone hold you down. If you wanted your wings you shouldn't have been stealing."

Rannok stared back, hands flexing into fists. A muscle in his jaw twitched. He couldn't hit this strange woman whose name he didn't even know, but he was sorely tempted. It would be worth whatever consequence the guard dished out, but it wouldn't be worth him getting locked back in that room and Sasha not having a chance to escape.

"I'm not going to fly away," he said. He heard laughter in the space between his ears and resisted the urge to turn his head to find the source.

Even you are not that stupid, it said. Rannok swore he would strangle that stupid crow once they were out of here. His foot scuffed across the remnants of his wings as he sighed and stood away from the wall.

It was uncomfortable even having her touch his wings at all, with how rough she was. She pulled the feathers across his skin, like the hair on the very back of his scalp being plucked. He winced and tried not to move as she continued cutting off the rest, until there was a neat pile of red feathers scattered around the floor. 

The jagged lines of her handiwork were easy to see out of the corner of his eye, but he tried not to look. She'd mangled him. It would take months for new flight feathers to grow in to repair the damage. His stomach contents threatened to burst up his throat.

"I need insurance," the woman said. "My name is Pirya, my husband is Mantu. You'll meet our daughter Aedilaide later, she's your responsibility. You aren't our first servant so I expect you to shape up and do what we tell you to without sniveling over it. Are we clear?"

Rannok's balled fists did not relax. He tried to smooth the fury off his face, but it wasn't working. They were taking him away from Sasha and for what? To take care of a snotty brat because her mother couldn't be assed? Rannok didn't know the first thing about kids. He wanted to spit in the woman's face.

"Pirya, be gentle," Mantu said, ducking from his place along the wall just long enough to pat her shoulder. She shrugged him off and walked out into the hallway. "We will be departing as soon as our things are packed. I expect you to meet us out front in ten minutes. There are guards posted outside your door, so don't do anything stupid."

The last word had a cutting edge to it. Mantu shot Rannok an apologetic look before scurrying out into the hallway after his wife. Rannok thought for a second before realizing he had nothing to pack up or get ready. His heart felt heavy.

"Where's Sasha?" he whispered, his voice low so it wouldn't carry out into the hallway. He listened for the crow's response, desperate for some reassurance that he wasn't completely alone. All that greeted him was silence.

She was gone, then, likely escaped in the chaos of Pirya cutting his wings. He already hated the woman. His heart felt heavy as he stared out the side window and into the street. How she was supposed to find him again, he had no idea, but at least the crow was with her.

He should have asked the crow before it went, why she'd done that. In Terres, a kiss would have been something kept as a symbol, then shared in public. It didn't make sense in a locked room as a departure gift, though it felt like the right thing to do. It felt like light and warmth and like he shouldn't have pulled away from her.

Thinking about it felt like stretching for an answer he knew, but had forgotten somewhere along the way. It made his head hurt and his chest ache. It seemed all too likely he wouldn't get a chance to ask her at all.