Cyrion (9 page)

“Yeah. She helped us rescue the grumps.”

“Grumps?”

“Grown-ups,” Saul said. “She and her wolf friends helped rescue the grumps. But her friends can’t come into town. And we couldn’t save everybody.” Saul looked away, shame-faced.

“I’m sure you did your best. That’s what counts.” Naeem smiled when Saul perked up.

A renewed warm flood of love for his Grampa rushed through Jon.

Naeem peered at them over his reading glasses. “But what do you lads know about cyrions?”

“Only what she told us.” Jon tried thinking back to what exactly it was she said, and realized that she had not told them very much at all.

“Well, when you do find her, you two need to be especially protective. Cyrions are not generally well-liked.”

“Why, Grampa?” Jon said.

“Just…be wary of her,” Naeem said. “There are some books on cyrions in my study, if you’d care to look.”

Jon shot his childhood friend a quick glance and caught Saul discreetly shaking his head.
No. No books. Not if they could help it was the clear message.
Jon lowered his head, and studied the floor, biting his lips tight to hide his mirth. Saul had always
hated
reading.

After a moment, Jon looked up to his grandfather’s face. “Maybe later, Grampa.”

A now-familiar stomping echoed in the hallway.

“Think I’ll do a bit of shoppin’ myself,” Greta said to no one in particular. “Mind you boys grab a bite before you go. Got some rolls in the kitchen. Made ‘em fresh this mornin’. You’re both too fin, you are.”

Without another word, Greta left the house.

“Notice? Even Greta’s worried about your little friend.” Naeem patted his pockets. “Oh, and before you go, take this key to the side gate.”

Jon took a small bronze key from his grandfather.

“Don’t lose it, and don’t forget to lock the side gate up again or the chickens will get loose. If you ever want to wander outside town, you can jump over the low wall in the backyard.”

“Why not build a higher wall, Grampa Naeem?” Saul asked.

“This is a Watcher house, lad. There might come a time when we need to…disappear quickly.” Naeem rose from the couch. “Right then, off you go. Daylight’s wasting and you have a city to explore. Have fun.”

LINWOOD (AKA THE WALLEYE)

Anya strolled through the streets of the Free City of Linwood with a young raven perched on her shoulder. She had coaxed the raven down from his branch outside her window earlier with a shiny button, and promised to give him more buttons if he agreed to be her eyes for the day.

So far, she
loved
Linwood. She loved the jugglers and buskers at the square. She loved the colorful stalls where countless vendors offered everything from fresh fish to books to ribbons. She thought the best stall of all was the jewelry stall.

The raven agreed with her, although he thought the fish stall, with its multitude of brilliant, delectable fishy eyes on display, was a close second. The jewelry stall held dozens of pretty, sparkling rings, necklaces and pendants, all sold at “very reasonable prices,” at least according to the vendor. She and the raven agreed that ‘shiny’ was their absolute favorite color.

Anya was looking over the vendor’s selection of rings when it dawned on her that she would eventually have to return to the forest. When she shifted into an animal form, any trinket she bought would inevitably end up lost somewhere on the forest floor. The raven krak-ed his suggestion that she simply give
him
the trinket, rather than give it to an anonymous bit of forest floor. Maybe it would help him attract a mate.

Anya shook her head with a regretful smile at the even more regretful vendor—and raven— and went on walking.

All these people!
Anya could not believe the sheer number of people in the city. She avoided talking to them. Being among so many humans made her feel…shy. She simply enjoyed being around their bustle and chatter.
Why did I stay away for so long?
She steered clear of human settlements since her mother passed over a century ago. She’d always loved being in human settlements and being among humans. How nice it was to
belong
to a people. It was so different from the forest. She was captivated.

Enchanted.

“Anya!” A familiar piping voice broke the spell the city had cast on her. The raven looked around and spotted tiny Talitha waving. Anya had walked all the way to the city orphanage without even realizing it.

Talitha ran towards her, still waving, her curly, blonde hair dressed in ribbons. Blue to match her eyes and her new dress. Talitha unlatched the low garden gate, ran out, and gave Anya a hug that buried her face in Anya’s skirt.

“I wanta say thank you. Thank you,” Talitha said with a muffled voice.

“You’re welcome.” Anya stroked the little girl’s hair, careful not to muss a single ribbon.

“I’ve been adopted. This is from my new Mama and Papa. Pretty, huh?” Talitha twirled around to show off her new dress.

“Yes. Very.” Anya was not surprised Talitha was adopted so quickly. When she turned on her charms, Talitha was impossible to resist.

“Where are your woofs?”

“They can’t come in the city, so I sent them home,” Anya said.

They jumped when an unfamiliar, grating voice fell on them. “‘Oi! Wot’s this about wolves, then?”

The raven turned and Anya saw a short, red-faced disheveled man walk up to them. His arms were cocked, his hands clenched into fists and his scrawny chest puffed up as far as it would go. Anya thought he resembled a bantam rooster preparing for a fight. She smiled when the raven krak-ed his offer to peck one of the man’s eyes out to teach him a lesson.

“You laffin’ at me?” the man said.

“Birdie said something funny, huh?” Talitha said, a gap-toothed smile on her freckled face.

The man’s beady eyes narrowed with suspicion. “You talk to birds, then?”

“And woofs.”

“You talk to birds and wolves? Wot are you, some kind of a witch?”

A small crowd was gathering around them, as if preparing to watch a free street show. Anya supposed they were about to be treated to one. She tensed herself, ready to do battle, should she need to. She would prefer not to. Which animal could she conceivably
reach
into in a human city? Rats? Roaches?

“No. She’s a shifter.”

“I knows about you shifty shifters. You steal babies from good ‘onest folk like us, then turn them into monsters, you do.”

“No. She’s good. You’re mean.” Arms akimbo, Talitha put her dainty, doll-like frame between Anya and the bantam fighter.

“You picking’ fights with little girls now, Jaelyn?” a voice taunted from the crowd. “Right fine hero, you are.”

Jaelyn’s sunburned face flushed an even uglier shade of red. “Get out of the way, girl! That there’s a shifter. She’d steal you away and turn you into something…evil. Or turn into a dragon and eat you right up. Or turn into a volcano and blow us all up. S’not right for her to be out here, with the rest of us regular, decent folk. Needs lockin’ up, she does.”

“No!” Talitha cried in full tantrum mode. “She’s good. You’re mean. And rude. I’ll thump you.”

She swung her arms, tiny hands balled into fists, trying to hit a man twice her height and many more times her size. A single, blue-silk ribbon fluttered to the dust.

Anya was touched by the little girl’s bravado. No one had ever stood up for her before. She cast her mind around in desperation, looking for some creature she could
reach
into, any creature, other than rats or roaches.

Or pigeons.
I hate pigeons.

“Aim a little lower, love,” someone in the crowd suggested.

“Oi! Whose side are you on?” Jaelyn said, turning to the crowd.

“Definitely not yours, Jaelyn Rotter! Why’re you picking’ on little girls, then?” a blessedly familiar voice said from the crowd.

The crowd parted to make way for the wrath of Greta. It was move, or be trampled under her sturdy leather boots. She carried a woven wicker basket, with a bunch of leeks sticking out of one end and a large walleye fish sticking out of the other.

Anya found herself relaxing. Jon and Saul trusted the grumps. So that meant she could trust them also.

“And you lot!” Greta turned her outrage on the hapless crowd, who suddenly became professional-grade, nonchalant whistlers and shoe-starers. Her slate-grey eyes narrowed, her lips, thinned into a dangerous line. “I’ll deal with you lot later.”

“You best stop this nonsense right now, Jaelyn.” Greta blindly groped in her basket.

Her questing hand closed around the tail of the walleye.

There was a muffled cheer from the crowd, mingled with the subtler clink of coins exchanging hands.

Greta swung. The fish landed with a wet thump against Jaelyn’s head. He had just enough time to straighten up, wide-eyed in shock, before the next blow rocked him again. Greta punctuated each word with another swing of the fish.

“You! Leave. Them. Girls. Alone! You hear me?”

The belly of the fish burst open from the force of Greta’s final blow, showering Jaelyn with roe and fish guts.

The crowd scattered a little farther away.

“Leave me alone, you nutter.” Jaelyn fled, crying.

The sun caught the iridescent flecks of walleye fish scales and stinking roe that clung to his face and hair. The crowd melted away before Greta turned her energy, and battered walleye, to them.

“You girls all right, then?” Greta asked as she returned the fish, significantly worse for the wear, to her wicker shopping basket.

“Yeah,” Talitha said. “Can I go play? Only, Bobby asked me.” She motioned to a little boy who was waving at her from a distance.

“Right. Go on, then,” Greta said.

“Before I go, I have a secret to tell you,” Talitha said to Anya.

Anya bent her head, so her ears reached the little girl’s lips.

“Erin told me she likes Saul,” Talitha said.

Greta kept silent, the faintest shadow of a smile hovering around the corners of her pursed lips. Anya raised her eyebrows.

“I mean
like,
like,” Talitha said, her eyes rounded into saucers. “Ask him what he thinks of her, okay?”

“Okay,” Anya said.

“I think he likes her too.” Talitha patted Anya’s hand. “Sorry it’s not you. Men can be
so
difficult.”

“It’s okay,” Anya said, a reassuring smile on her face.

Talitha frowned. “You don’t care if he likes her?” She paused a moment before gasping. “So you
like
, like Jon? Oooh!”

She skipped away before Anya had time to clarify.

“She’s going to be a terror, that one,” Greta said.

“But I wasn’t…I didn’t mean…I’m not…”

“Alls I can say is that Jon boy is like kin. You best not break his heart. Or I’ll break your face.” Greta gave Anya a meaningful look. She turned, and then nodded towards the street. “Speak of the devil.”

The raven turned and Anya saw the boys approaching from a distance.

“I’d best leave you to it, then,” Greta said, walking away.

“Anya, are you all right?” Jon said.

“Yes.”

“Did you have fun?” Saul said

‘Oooh, yes. Definitely.”

Arm-in-arm, the three friends caught up with Greta, and talked her into showing them the rest of the town.

ANYA ALMOST LOSES IT

“I don’t understand why we’re even debating this.” Geoff’s gentle baritone sounded strangely flat through the closed mudroom door.

Jon placed his forefinger to his lips. Nodding, Saul crouched and listened at the crack under the door. Anya stood behind the boys, her arms laden with eggs gathered from the chicken coop in the backyard.

Grammy Greta had promised to bake a cake for them.

Jon pressed his eye against the keyhole. A small mouse emerged from a hole in the wall. The mouse scurried up the rafters undetected and then stood perfectly still, as though studying the kitchen. Jon surveyed the grumps, arrayed around the kitchen table. Grampa Naeem, his face uncharacteristically solemn, sat in a chair in the corner.

“We’ve all done the deed before,” Geoff said.

“But you’ve seen how they are with her.” Karin twisted the fine linen handkerchief in her hands into tight knots. “They’re friends. The boys will be devastated.”

Arti rubbed her forehead, her eyes shut. “They’re of Watcher blood, and they’ve had some Watcher training. They’ll manage.” She sounded like she was trying to convince herself.

“The regulations are crystal clear on this,” Geoff said, looking away.

Logan snorted. “Hang the regulations. That little girl risked her skin to save ours. And
this
is how we repay her? By taking away
her
life?”

Jon glanced at Saul in alarm. Saul frowned as he tried to get his ear even closer to the gap. He ignored the sound of eggs smashing on the stone mudroom floor behind him.

“She could have walked away,” Logan said. “If she was like any other cyrion we’ve ever heard about, she would have. Only we’d never know for sure, because we’ve
killed them all
!” He paced the kitchen floor, his hands clasped tight behind his back. “We do not blindly follow regulations. We’re Watchers. We’re supposed to use our judgment to do what is right.”

“I know!” Geoff slammed the kitchen table with his fist. “My son’s in this too. Don’t you think I care how he would look at me?
If
he would look at me,” he said in a much softer voice. He shook his head. “But the regulations are clear. The reason is also clear. We can’t risk her losing her temper and blowing up a landmass, like the other cyrion did. The risks are too great.”

Logan picked up a small, slender volume and threw it on the kitchen table. “It happened
once
! Over a thousand years ago. The regulations need changing.”

“Fine. I agree. But until the changes take effect,” Geoff said, his forefinger stabbing the book in front of him, “we follow our orders as stated.”

“Wait, if we’re,” Arti said, her lips in a mocking curl, “removing people because of what they might do, why stop at cyrions? Why not remove children who could ‘potentially’ grow up to be problematic?”