Sarabande: River of Falcons Book 4

50. Ruins

Drift had been very angry when she left the treehouse. However, it was a lovely autumn afternoon and, after a while, the clear blue sky and fresh air calmed her. She flew on strong, steady wing-beats toward the north, at first following the snaking line of the river. She was not sure where she was going, only that she was leaving. She considered flying west to take a look at the Keep and see what was going on there. Had Magus had turned up, and if so, what had the other sorcerers done with him now that his magic was gone? Would they still respect his authority, or would there be a battle over who would be the next leader? She rather thought they would fight. The sorcerers were not big on respect for authority. They only respected might.

Then as she continued to fly, she realized what she most wanted: To speak to Revenio again. He was, she thought, the only one who really understood what was going on. He had been there when she most needed him in the past, and now he was living right here in her own time. The thought made her feel a little better. She turned toward the east and began to cross over the thick, rolling forests that separated Sarai's cottage, and beyond it, Revenio's old house, from the river.

She spotted the cottage after a while. The distinctive swirl of the spiral-shaped garden in the clearing was easy to see as she flew over. However, it looked like weeds were taking charge of the yard. Sarai had not been home very much because the Queen kept her busy down at the Palace. As Drift found herself above unbroken forest once again, her thoughts turned to the Queen, her so-called mother, and she thought angrily about all the mean things the Queen had said to her. Certainly the Queen was capable of being reasonable, if not kind; but more often, she was terribly thoughtless and distrustful. It was almost as if there were two Queens, and Drift was never sure which one she would find herself talking to.

Thinking about the Queen made Drift angry again. She spotted a flock of pigeons flying over the trees below her and dove toward them. The pigeons tried to reach the cover of the trees, but before they could, Drift had raked one of them with her powerful talons. It fell limply out of the air. She could smell the fresh blood as she circled back up to altitude and headed toward the east again. It felt good to kill on the wing. It was what falcons did. But a part of her felt bad about it. She hated to kill any living thing. It was as if there were two Drifts, too. One of them sweet and loving, the other a fierce warrior. Which one was she, really? She had no idea. Maybe neither of them was really her.

There it was. She spotted the little ruin she had visited back when they had taken refuge at Sarai's cottage. It seemed like a long time ago, but in truth, it was less than two moons past. The clearing looked very much the same. She swooped in and landed next to Revenio's old house. Shifting, she looked around in surprise. There was no sign that he had been there recently. The garden was overgrown and wild, and the house was a wreck of partially collapsed walls with here and there the remnants of a lovely old stained glass window. If anything, it looked worse than it had the last time Drift had seen it. More of the glass was broken and fresh shards littered the ground. Drift imagined that a summer thunderstorm must have done some recent damage.

"Revenio?" she called out hesitantly. "Are you here? Is anyone here?"

There was no answer.

She sat down on a smooth block of stone in what was once the front garden, and sighed. "I'm not going back to the Palace," she said to herself. "I'm never going back."

Some time went by. A cool breeze came up out of the northeast. It smelled like rain might be coming in. Drift pulled her knees up and wrapped her cloak around her legs. She realized she would need to find some place to shelter for the night. She thought about Summer's old cottage, down on the river bank, where she had grown up. It was empty now. The last time she had seen it, the front door had fallen off, its hinges broken by a wind-storm, and swallows were nesting inside. The barn was empty, too. All the animals had been moved up to the palace stables. It was a lonely place, and Drift did not want to go back there. She thought she might stay in Sarai's cottage for the night, then figure out what do to in the morning. Wherever she went, she was determined that it would not be back to the Palace. She did not want to have to deal with the Queen again.