The Black Wing (6 page)

“Of course, you know how pants go onyour fingers must be stiff from the cold. Tuck in the
tunic like this.” She stuffed the hem of the purple top into the waistband and stood back
to examine her charge. The waist was loose, but the legs fit the young woman's muscular
frame like a second skin. “You'll have to cinch in the top with some rope.”

After Onyx slipped her feet into the boots, Aggis held up one last, fringed garment.
Backing into it, Onyx slipped her arms into the sleeves. “This buckskin jacket'll keep out
the cold,” Aggis pronounced. “Ththank you, Aggis,” the young woman stumbled over the
unfamiliar words. Aggis shook her head, and her careworn face broadened into a smile. “It
was nothing.” Glancing to the small glass window, where frost was quickly climbing, she
saw that the snowfall had stopped. “We must be good luck for each other. You're safe and
dry now, and I won't have to travel in a snowstorm.” Aggis stepped to the window and
closed the shutters against the weather.

“That should warm it up in here a little,” she declared, tugging her gloves back on.
Turning, she clasped Onyx's icy hands and frowned. “You must have cold blood.” Onyx
sniggered inwardly at the truth of it. “You'll warm up soon enough. I wish I could stay,
but I must get home, or my man will give me an earful!” Chuckling, the older woman
shuffled in her heavy skirts toward the light in the hallway.

Not knowing what else to do, Onyx followed. In the doorway Aggis turned, her gloved hand
on the copper knob. “Bert says you should stay the night here, after your ordeal. In any
case, don't leave without letting him give you a warm meal and a few steel pieces to get
you started again. He's a good man, Bert.” She wagged a finger at Onyx. “Mind you, be more
careful from now on. A young woman who looks as you do shouldn't travel alone. You should
find yourself a man to protect you if you've got the wanderlust.” She pressed her lips to
Onyx's dark cheek, squeezed her hand once more, and then was gone, pulling the door shut
behind her. For some time, Onyx stared at the door, not knowing what to do with herself.
Blinking, she became aware of her surroundings and turned to walk across the rushes. She
lowered herself to the floor and tried to curl into the position most comfortable to her
as a dragon, but her spine wouldn't curve sufficiently. Spotting the cane-backed chair,
she settled her slim form into it with a sigh. Much better. In the quiet dark of the room,
Onyx became aware of the warmth of the maynus against her neck. She untied the vine and
slipped the choker from under her tunic. The room was suddenly awash with the globe's
light, reflected off the chipped green shutters. She remembered Kadagan's explanation of
the magical globe's origin: Handed from mother to daughter since the gods created nyphids,
the maynus is a source of great magic. It receives its energy from the elemental plane of
lightning. Dela believes it was crafted there. Kadagan might as well have been speaking
another language, Onyx thought now, gazing into her only material reminder of the nyphids.
Instantly, small bolts of lightning leaped within the glass. She saw something that made
her press her nose closer. Were there yellow eyes and mouths on the flickering blue zags
of energy? Were electrical genies the source of Dela's magic? Tying the sword choker about
her neck again, she resolved to ask Kadagan about it when next she saw him, when her
thoughts had cleared after the shape-change. Onyx was experiencing the same eerie
sensation she felt whenever she transformed; hyena or human, after the change she felt as
if she were outside the form, watching herself, controlling from a distance. Previously,
the blending into the adopted form had taken only moments, since the most obvious
difference between a dragon and a badger was size. But the human form was

very different from her own or any other she'd experienced, the body so much more complex.
It was clear now that adopting this form, however inferior she believed it to be to a
dragon's, would always pose a great challenge to her abilities. To accelerate the merging
of mind and body, Khisanth meditated on the differences between humans and dragons. She
had certainly lost the sheer power she derived from her weight as a dragon, but there were
benefits she gained, as well.

“I feel lighter, freer,” she said aloud, standing and stretching luxuriously, “and, well,
slender.” That was a word she would never have used to describe her dragon form. Yet for
each benefit there were limitations. Without her protective scales, she felt as vulnerable
as she had when naked in the snow. Her eyesight was not as keen as a dragon's, and her
close-set eyes narrowed her peripheral vision. Yet she could more easily turn her head or
body to see behind her. Something of her sharp dragon hearing remained, for she could
detect tiny creatures skittering around in the walls, but in her new form, she wasn't
particularly interested in devouring them.

Onyx's stomach rumbled abruptly. “I wonder what humans eat?” She caught the scent of
roasting meat floating up the stairs from the kitchen. Without thought, she started toward
the source of the aroma. Standing in the cold hallway at the top of the stairs, Onyx was
about to descend to the kitchen when she heard the crackle of flames and a mingle of loud
voices coming from a staircase at the end of the hallway. Intrigued by the unfamiliar
sounds and scents, Onyx strode slowly toward the noise, her thick-heeled boots hammering
against the plank flooring.

Onyx came to the end of the hallway, which led to an open-sided staircase. Through the
carved spindles, Onyx could see that the steps descended into the center of a large,
crowded taproom and led to the inn's front door. She came to the bottom of the stairs
facing the entrance, with her back to the room. But before she could even finish turning,
the room had fallen silent. All eyes were upon her. Men sat with mugs of foaming ale
poised before whiskered lips.

They must be staring because I'm a stranger, she thought. Analyzing their bold, gaping
glances, she realized she was wrong: they were staring because she was a woman. Apparently
her form was appealing to humans of the opposite sex. The realization amused her. Spotting
Bert behind a wooden counter, she smiled in recognition. His face reddened. She made a
step toward him, and the tightly packed, still silent throng of men rippled back like a
wave to let her pass.

“Come now, boys. We've all seen a woman who weighs under ten stone before!” Onyx glanced
over her shoulder and located the speaker, a round, blotchy-faced woman whose long dark
skirt was stretched to the limit of its gathers. The woman slammed large mugs of ale down
on a table, foam splashing her filthy apron. “Looks scrawny to me,” she muttered.

The taproom exploded with laughter at the woman's scornful observation. One man seated
before the angry serving woman gave her thick waist a reassuring squeeze, then said
something Onyx couldn't make out. Smiling triumphantly, the woman looked up and scowled at
the lovely, raven-haired stranger. Onyx simply smiled back. The other woman's smirk
dissolved into puzzlement.

“We don't see too many young women here in Styx,” a voice explained kindly behind her.
Onyx swung around to see Bert's sweaty, sagging face. The innkeeper's expression as he
contemplated her attire was more fatherly than the other looks she'd received. “I'm glad
you was able to find some gear that fit.”

Taking her elbow, Bert steered her toward the long, gleaming wooden bar and onto a stool.
He held a mug beneath the tap of a keg, waited while the golden ale splashed forth, then
pushed it over the counter toward Onyx. "You could

probably use a drink, after the night you've had. Did you lose much?“ ”Lose much?“ Bert
looked puzzled. ”Aggis said you was robbed by ogres.“ ”Oh, yesuh, no,“ Onyx sputtered,
remembering her story to the older woman. ”I mean they didn't get much. Just my clothes."

“Filthy creatures, them,” spat Bert. “We don't let 'em in here.” He frowned suddenly.
“Strange that ogres would want your clothes. Didn't you have no steel on you?” “Steel?”
“Coin,” prompted the innkeeper. “Money.”

Onyx saw a man down the bar toss back the contents of his drink and push a round piece of
steel across the wooden tabletop. “Ah, money ... I didn't have much,” Onyx said. “I was
just passing through town,” she added, in case he, too, inquired about family.

“What do you do?” “Do?” She's as simple as Aggis said, Bert thought. “How do you earn your
money?” he asked slowly, careful to enunciate. “II'm a good fighter and hunter.” “So
you're a mercenary, eh?” He looked dubiously at her slight form. Perhaps looks were
deceiving. “I'm pretty good with my, er, hands,” Onyx said to the innkeeper with a sly
wink. She downed the bitter-tasting ale with several long gulps, wiping the foam away on
her buckskin-covered armas she would have on her dragon scales. The amber liquid tasted
strangely refreshing. Bert wasn't sure what to make of that comment, or her hearty display
of drinking. Something about the beautiful stranger made him uncomfortable. Almost
grateful that he had other customers to attend to, he pushed a small mound of round steel
pieces toward her. “Here. Take these to get back on your feet,” he said. “If you're
hungry, I'll get a boy to bring you food.” “Thanks,” she said, placing the steel pieces in
her trouser pocket. “I'm starving.” The ale had warmed her belly in a pleasant way. She
saw Bert signal to a whey-faced boy with badly chopped, ashen hair. The boy disappeared
behind a swinging door, only to reappear within moments carrying a rough-cut square board
covered with steaming food. Nervously averting his eyes from the pretty woman, he set the
board on the counter before her. Onyx frowned at the ridiculously small portion. “I'll
need more,” she ordered. Then, with her hands on the counter, she bent forward to sink
perfect white teeth into the juicy drumstick of a small bird. Some instinct stopped her.
Hardly lifting her face from the platter, the dragon-turned-woman looked quickly from left
to right. The other diners at the bar were watching her strangely. Some held odd, pointed
pieces of metal poised above their food. Leaning back slowly, self-consciously, Onyx tried
to emulate the actions of the humans around her. Though she found the practice slow and
cumbersome, she managed at last to spear a piece of potato on the point of the metal stick
and placed it into her waiting mouth. Hot! Her tongue leaped back in her throat, and she
spit the offending potato back onto her plate. More foolishness! Humans heated their food!
Onyx impatiently allowed the potato to cool and placed it back into her mouth. It had been
spiced. She had to admit that it tasted better than she would have expected from a root.
Onyx waited for the steam to dissipate from the drumstick before taking a bite. It, too,
had been heavily seasoned and was far superior to the raw, cold meat that had been her
daily diet. Onyx cleaned the food from her plate. Then, taking a cue from her fellow

diners, she licked the board clean. She was surprised to feel a familiar tightening in her
stomach. She felt as full as if she'd eaten a moose. Groaning, Onyx pushed the empty board
back, as well as the second full one the bewildered boy had placed before her. She had
eatennow what? Perhaps someone here had information about Dela, or even knew the man from
the maynus. With that thought in mind, Onyx spun around on her seat and contemplated the
occupants of the room over the rim of her second mug of ale.

Many of the patrons still eyed the pretty young woman now and then, but for the most part
they had returned to their conversations. Onyx looked toward the hearth on the short wall
to the right of the taproom door. Seated before the roaring fire, at a large round table,
were a number of toothless, paunchy men. After pushing coins toward the center of the
table, they would roll some polished white cubes with black dots on each side. Every now
and again one of them would leap back, yelp victoriouslyas if he had just killed
somethingthen scoop up the coins.

At another long, narrow table, more than a handful of men were holding small, thick pieces
of paper inscribed with pictures and words, which they would occasionally throw toward the
center. After a number of these pictures had accumulated, someone would collect the money,
while the others looked on grimly.

Was this how humans “earned their money”? “Do you like to roll the bones?” said a honeyed
voice at her elbow. Onyx turned to look at the speaker, then caught her bottom lip between
her small human teeth in a slight gasp. Dark tendrils of shiny hair curled around his face
and dropped to rest on broad shoulders. The cheekbones beneath his wide-set emerald eyes
were high and arched above smooth, weathered skin. His full, almost purple lips, inside a
short-clipped beard and mustache, pulled up into a smile that brought out crease lines
around his eyes. Something about him looked strangely familiar. The green eyes ... Onyx
gasped again. The man from the globe. “I usually kill anyone who stares at me for so
long,” he said, “especially with such penetrating eyes. You remind me of Vil, a snake I
once kept as a pet.” He looked almost coy. “Are you as sly as a snake?” “Huh?” Onyx tossed
her hair back from her face, and the room tilted crazily. Keeping one hand on her mug, she
grabbed her stool to stop the spinning in her head. What was wrong with her? Perhaps the
food had been tainted.... Grinning, the man took the mug of ale from her hands and pushed
it down the polished length of the bar. “It is also my policy to encourage women to drink
until they're well past dizzy, but for some reason you inspire chivalry in me.” The ale
had made her light-headed? Too bad, she thought, it had tasted good. “The name's Led.”
Onyx squinted up into his face, her expression blank. “It's customary to respond with your
name.” The man gave her a penetrating look. “Unless there's some reason you don't want me
to know it.” “No!” she said almost too quickly. Onyx touched her head. “The ale has made
me a touch slow-witted, is all,” she managed, borrowing from Aggis. “My name is Onyx.”
“How appropriate.” Led lifted a hand and ruffled the fine, blue-black fringes of hair that
lapped at her neck. She drew back slightly, startled by his touch. Undaunted, Led twirled
his finger through a strand of her hair before withdrawing it casually. He almost seemed
to enjoy her discomfort. “Where are you from?” “The North,” she said vaguely. “And you?”
“The road's my home.” His eyes twinkled. “Did I hear you tell Bert that you're a
mercenary?” “That was his word. I said I'm a good fighter and hunter.”