Happy Birthday, Joelle!

[rosiphelee]

Happy Birthday, Joelle

I hope you have both a wonderful day and a great year ahead. You deserve both because you're a good friend, a great writer and a fabulous reader. Enjoy your trip (and bring us back photos ^_^)

In the best tradition, I have a small present for you. I really couldn't write this particular story for anyone else. Unfortunately, I have to confess that it's not finished. I've been working at in in spare moments over the last few months but spare moments have been a bit of a rarity of late. So this is just the opening scene. The rest will follow.

Geldorath of Drine is the ambassador of the Light to the city of Saasiaah, the capital of the Saisorhi homeworld of Ashta. The war is over and Geldorath should have little to worry about save the troubles of his young ward and his own sorrows. But the Dark is rising and there may soon be...

Dark Wings Over Saasiaah

Behind him there was the soft ruffle of feathers and a throat being cleared. “My lord, I need your signature on a few things.”

     Geldorath Auroron turned from the window reluctantly. It took his eyes a moment to adjust to the shade of his study but even in the dim light it was hard not to see his secretary’s pale wings. Tadilen was hesitating in the doorway, his pale blue feathers shimmering silver as he fanned himself.

     “Come in, man,” Geldorath said, heading for his desk. “And bring that breeze of yours with you.”

     Tad grinned quickly, a flash of white teeth in the dim room, and hurried across the study. He set his writing case neatly on the desk, and passed five sheets to Geldorath before he drew up his own stool and began to unpack his pens. Geldorath settled back in his chair with a sigh, thinking yet again how glad he was that his predecessor had ordered a proper seat in from Citadel. His back complained if he sat too long on the Saisorhi’s damned stools.

     His eyes had adjusted now and he began to skim through the first letter. He liked and trusted Tad but it had never been his habit to sign his name to unknown documents. He had seen too much treachery in his life.

     An arbitration decision from a dispute over grazing rights around the world-gate; a letter of recommendation to the Council for a young aspirant to the Light; a note of thanks to the retired general he had dined with the previous week; an agreement to offer a blessing at the city’s First Flight ceremony next month and an acceptance of an invitation to a palace ball that same evening. He winced at the last two but signed his name to them all, a scrawl in his own alphabet, that no one here could decipher.

     “First Flight?” Tad asked, sounding amused.

     “Aye. To think I tell people I’m a soldier.”

     “What are the virtues of a soldier but self-discipline and valour, my lord? To bless forty-odd hot-headed fledglings newly come into their wings without losing patience – how better to test self-discipline?”

     “And the valour?”

     Tad pushed his glasses up his nose and grinned. “In the evening, my lord, the evening. Just think of all those matchmaking mamas.”

     “Seven save me,” Geldorath said feelingly. “Do you think they’d give up if I hung a sign round my neck saying ‘Unavailable’?”

     “They would more likely take it as a challenge,” Tad said but he looked uncomfortable now and Geldorath did not need to touch his mind to know the younger man had suddenly remembered why he was uninterested in the matchmaking of the Saisorhi. He ran his fingers along the cool golden strip of his wedding band, where it hung around his wrist. His word was his honour and there was only one person who could force him to renounce that oath.

     Tad had hunched his wings up behind his stool and was leant forward over his pen, fussing with the nib. Geldorath swallowed a sigh and brought his mind back to business. There was no point in upsetting the lad.

     “Any other news?”

     “Lord Felsirran sends word. He believes he has finally caught the direling’s track. He anticipates he will return to the capital within the next three weeks.”

     Geldorath snorted. “Enjoying every moment, I’m sure. I still don’t see why he should have the fun of a hunt while I sit here and play court games.”

     “Lord Felsirran did mention that. I believe his precise words were ‘if that grumpy oaf of a cousin of mine dares whine about being confined in the luxuries of court, pray remind him that he spent Winterfest wrestling a demon whilst I contended with every high-ranking Saisorhi this side of the Laapeks. Turnabout is only fair.’”

     “I only spent six days on that demon,” Geldorath muttered but could not help smiling. It would be good to have Felsirran back. His co-ambassador had been away for six weeks now and, even in these peaceful times, the double load was beginning to weary him.

     “What other business?”

     “Monthly reports from Citadel. Three green, five yellow and eleven white.”

     Geldorath held out his hand with a sigh. Tad had sorted the reports into priority order and he began to work through the first green sheet. There had been a time when he would have rejoiced to have been faced with nothing worse than a green report. He did not mourn those days, when every page that made it through from the High Command was crimson or blue, marching orders and lists of the dead. All the same, the charm of minor reports was fading.

     “They’ve approved the monitoring net suggestion. Can you clear me an afternoon so I can draw up a shortlist of suitable locations?”

     A rustle of papers. “If you’re prepared to reschedule your appointment with Lord Zepheol next Tanday.”

     “What’s it about?”

     “Tariffs on the agate trade to Keeni-Terem Twelve.”

     “Oh, Light. How many times do I have to tell him I’m not altering the bloody tariffs? Reschedule it to next year, if you like.”

     “I might like it. He won’t. Would you like me to send a note to the Lord Surveyor’s office to see if they have any recommendations?”

     “Better still, see if they can spare someone to work with us. I don’t want to tread on anyone’s toes.”

     “My lord?” Tad’s feet darted under his stool and he winced..

     “My apologies. Idiom.” And where did that one come from? It certainly wasn’t from his own world.

     “What does it mean?” Tad asked eagerly, sitting up, his pen dancing through his fingers.

     “Ah. Offending someone by assuming authority over their own area of expertise.”

     “Lethal or casual offense?”

     “Casual. Definitely.” He held up his hand warningly. “No, I don’t know the origin. Focus, man. Surveyors’ office.”

     Tad flicked a wing lightly, sending a dusty breeze over Geldorath. “It so happens I am acquaintanced with a quite delightful young surveyor.”

     Geldorath rolled his eyes. “This is not an opportunity for you to play Crow in a Cage in every suitable cave in the King’s Canyon.”

     Tad looked wounded. “My lord, would I in any way neglect my sworn duties? I am the epitome of professionalism. I am also,” he added demurely, “ambidextrous.”

     “Tadilen.”

     Tad bent his head back over his papers and Geldorath turned to the second green report. The square of sunlight on the sandstone floor shifted slowly as the afternoon passed. The room grew hotter as the sun came round to shine on the eastern wall of the great canyon. Geldorath blotted sweat from his brow and thought wistfully of the snowfields of home. Tad’s wings fluttered steadily, stirring the papers on the desk. A maid brought them fresh water, her feathers hissing against the clay jug she balanced on her hip. The window darkened for a second and Geldorath looked up in time to see a flash of scarlet as someone swooped down towards the more humble dwellings that were set into the lower reaches of the canyon.

     “It’s a fine day for flying,” Ted said wistfully and flicked his blue plait back behind his wings.

     Geldorath looked at him aslant. “Too hot.”

     “Not on the high winds,” Tad said dreamily. “Not when you soar so high that you can see all the lines of the desert beneath you. It’s like a living map.”

     Geldorath had lived among the Saisorhi long enough to mistrust the particular gleam of excitement he could see in Tad’s eyes. He had no wish to lose so excellent a secretary to cartography. To stave it off, he grumbled, “Must you flaunt it? Some of us are groundbound.”

     “I told you,” Tad said. “Six of us and a basket and we’d show you the sky.”

     “You’d all get overexcited and try some fancy acrobatics and that would be that. Flat ambassador.”

     “Unless we were over the river. Then it would be damp ambassador.”

     “Or drowned.” Even in his loneliest moments, when he had looked down on the water, duty had held him back. The thought brought a shiver of loneliness and, unthinkingly, he ran his fingers around his wedding band again.

     “So little faith, from one so blessed.” Tad said glumly.

     “So little sense, from one so clever. Do you have the transfer logbooks to hand?”

     “I can fetch them. Problem?”

     “New notation system. Applied retroactively.”

     “I rejoice. Do you want me to prioritise that?”

     “No. Get it done in the next few weeks but there are more urgent-“

     They were interrupted by a wild shriek from outside, following by a series of whoops and war cries, high-pitched and shrill.

     “Ah,” Geldorath said, feeling his grey mood ease. “The children.”

     He rose and made his way to the window in time to see the children of the high city come tumbling down the sloping side of the canyon opposite, with little regard for the loose scree beneath their feet or how long or painful the fall would be if they slipped.

     Tad wandered over to join him. “Ah, the horde.”

     “I don’t know how you people survive until adulthood. How many children fall down the canyon in a year?”

     “Very few. We’re just naturally agile. It goes with the brains and beauty.”

     “Saisorhi,” Geldorath sighed and leant against the windowframe to watch the youngsters’ progress.

     With their bright-hued hair and embroidered vests, they were as gaudy as they were rowdy. They swarmed down the cliffside cheerily, as heedless of the drop to the river below as if they had already grown their wings. Geldorath began to count them, looking for one in particular as the group swirled and mingled.

     Here were the turquoise-haired twins, Lios and Ostol, wrestling as they half-ran, half-tumbled to the shelf below. There was Saiala, slim and swift, her hair as golden as saffron, darting ahead of the rest. Here, Riol, gone gawky over the last few weeks, his wingbones beginning to show in his back; Ainea and Niaia, green-blonde and lilac, incapable, in Geldorath’s experience, of anything more than blushes and giggles. At the last was little Tielen, four years old with a shock of fair hair which flopped in his eyes as he scurried to keep up.

     There was no crimson head amongst them and Geldorath felt his shoulders tense with worry.

     “Where’s our little starling?” Tad asked.

     “Not where she should be,” Geldorath said grimly. The children had stopped at the end of one of the narrow bridges which crossed the canyon and were arguing about something. “I can’t see Darial, either. I expect they’ve gone off alone.”

     “Impossible,” Tad said, sounding concerned. “He’s confined with the fever.”

     “Fever?” Geldorath asked sharply, thinking of plague and its horrors. Then he realised what Tad meant and added, “Wing fever? Already?”

     “He’s fourteen come the solstice. Didn’t you notice his growth spurt?”

     Geldorath sighed. Had he really been here so long? When he and Felsirran had arrived in Saasiaah Azella had barely been walking and Darial had been a serious little boy with a wide smile. Could he really have come into his wings so soon?

     “Our little one’s going to have to find a new playmate,” Tad said.

     Geldorath, who had long been accustomed to loss, tried to remember how it had felt to be six and winced. Tad caught the gesture and said, “Oh. Do you want to go out after her?”

     “She’s promised me that she’ll always stay with Darial or the rest of the horde.”

     Tad nodded and swung away from the windows, dropping his pen on the desk and pulling his glasses off. “Do you want me in the air?”

     “Let’s check she didn’t come home first.”

     Geldorath led them back through the embassy. The personal quarters were set deeper into the cliffs. As they passed through the curtain which seperated them from the private rooms, the air grew cooler. Narrow shafts had been cut through the rock to the world outside so that the air kept flowing and the sun shone through to cast small patches of light on the polished floor. Along the sides of the corridor a light-spell had been set as inlay in the etched walls. Geldorath had seen poorer homes where the spell was just a broad, straight line. Here, his walls glowed with an intricate cityscape of terraced cliffs crowded with Saisorhi trading, talking and flying, every line gleaming brightly enough that the whole corridor was filled with a soft, white light. Geldorath grinned at the memory of the uproar when the servants discovered that Azella had decided to repaint the stretch outside her door with brighter colours. Then he began to worry again and quickened his pace. It didn’t help that he still had to stoop a little in these corridors, although they were high and wide enough to accommodate Saisorhi wings.

     Azella’s room, which had been spotless when he put her to bed the night before, was ankle-deep in scattered toys and clothes. She had somehow contrived to empty every chest and cupboard in the last half day and he reminded himself that it was obviously time to have that little talk about tidiness again. He picked his way across the floor, placing his feet carefully, to check that she wasn’t hiding under the bed or behind the bundled blankets. As he turned something cracked under his foot and he rummaged to find he had snapped the wing off a toy soldier.

     “Quite a tantrum,” Tad said admiringly from the corridor. “Even my youngest brother doesn’t usually manage this much chaos.”

     Geldorath glanced around wryly. “I fear this is just Azella’s idea of a comfortable way to live.”

     Tad shook his head. “A tantrum – or I shall resign as an oldest brother. She’s jumped on that dress.”

     Sure enough, the pale silk was blotted with dusty footprints. Geldorath, who had spent a season fighting a series of small wars over that dress and only persuaded her to wear it once, eyed it sourly. His own country had prospered on the textile trade and he knew ruined silk when he saw it. That was good money wasted and, no matter how generous his stipend was, it offended him. Still, if she was that upset it should give him a trail – passion on this scale always left an echo. The strength of the mage made it clearer and their skill could disguise it. The hysterical, six-year-old heir to the C’Tiri Empire should be easy to track.

     He decided not to use the dress as a key, suspecting the sight of it would do little to mollify Azella’s temper. Instead, he used a dab of power to reattach the toy soldier’s wing and another flicker to animate it. With a whirr of painted wings, it took off from his hand, buzzing along the corridor like a painted hummingbird.

     “There’s a trick to amuse the children,” Tad said, chuckling.

     “I daresay,” Geldorath said grimly. “We used flying dolls as scouts in the ride on Darkholm. If they didn’t come back we knew there was trouble ahead.”

     Tad shuddered. “Those were dark days. Thank Farailin they’re over.”

     The boy could scarcely have come into his wings when the war ended and Geldorath was feeling his age again. “It’s never over,” he said softly. “Only the intensity changes.”

     The toy soldier had stopped, hovering in the window at the end of the hall. Geldorath went cold. Surely she hadn’t tried to climb out? He crossed to the window in two long strides and leant along the sill.

     “Azella!”

     There was no reply and he drew in his breath to bellow again.

     A sniff sounded somewhere near his knee.

     Geldorath knelt down to find his ward crammed into the deep, narrow alcove beneath the window. Her legs were bent and her head was down so all Geldorath could see clearly was the crimson curtain of her hair and the scabs on her knees.

     “Are you alright in there?” he asked gently.

     Another sniff.

     “Do you want to come out and tell me all about it?”

     She shook her head without looking up.

     “Are you stuck?” he asked, suddenly alarmed. He was far too big to crawl into the alcove and extract her.

     She shook her head again, with a scornful flick.

     “Then why won’t you come out?”

     She looked up, glaring at him. “I don’t want to!” Then she put her head down again and burst into noisy tears.

     “Azella,” Geldorath said helplessly, his heart twisting. “It’s alright, sweetling. Come out of there.”

     “Go away. I want you both to go away. Leave me alone.”

     “You know I’m not going to do that, Azella.”

     “Then tell him to go away. I don’t like him.”

     Geldorath looked at Tad apologetically but his secretary just chuckled and leant in to say, “You’re breaking my heart, bright feather. Look, you’re even forcing me to do some work, just to ease the pangs of rejection.”

     Azella snorted and said, hiccuping, “You’re silly. Go away.”

     Tad clapped his hand to his heart and mock-swooned before rising to his feet. “I’ll start on the logbooks, my lord.” Then he mouthed ‘good luck’ and hurried away.

     “Are you going to talk to me now?”

     “No.” A sniff. “Maybe.”

     “That wasn’t very nice to Tad, was it? You’ll have to say sorry to him later.”

     She shook her head and then said, in a grand voice, “There are certain matters that Tadilen does not understand.”

     Geldorath bit his lip. He was certain this would not be a good time to laugh at her. So he took a deep breath and asked, “Are you upset about Darial?”

     “I hate Darial.” Then, as an afterthought. “I hate you too.”

     “Ow,” Geldorath said and thought for a moment. “Will you still hate me if I give you a hug?”

     “I don’t want a hug.”

     Ah, not at that stage yet. “Perhaps you could tell me why you hate Darial, then? I thought he was your friend.”

     “Friends don’t ignore friends. Friends talk to their friends.”

     “Azella, you do know that Darial’s ill?”

     She raised an eyebrow at him sceptically and he wondered where she had learnt that. He had never been able to do it.

     “Do you remember last year when you were sick?”

     “I threw up for three days.”

     “I remember.” He hadn’t been quite that frightened since the Ride. “You couldn’t play with Darial then, could you?”

     “But I saw him. I was sick on him and he laughed at me.”

     “Darial’s ill in a different way. He won’t know you’re there.”

     She stared at him, wide-eyed, and said, “Is he going to die?”

     “No!” He should have foreseen this situation when she had been a toddler and had first started trotting after the older boy. “Sweetling, you know that people change when they grow up, don’t you?”

     “Yes.”

     “When Darial’s better he’ll have wings but until they’ve finished growing he’s not going to feel very well. Won’t it be fun to see him with wings?”

     “No.”

     Geldorath took another breath and wondered how to sort this out. He really didn’t feel that he had any innate talent for parenting. But, then, he thought wryly, who does?

     “Why not?” he asked, careful to keep his voice no more than mildly curious.

     “Because – because.” Another sniff and she dropped her head, rubbing her face against her knees. “Yinia said.. she said..”

     Geldorath tried not to groan. Yinia was Darial’s sister and her feud with Azella had been ongoing since the day they met.

     “What did Yinia say?”

     “She said that Darial was a grown up now and that I was a baby and he wouldn’t like me any more because.. because grown ups don’t… don’t…”

     Geldorath held his arms out and a moment later she launched herself at his shoulder. He pulled her close and stood up. He did not want her to retreat back under the window. Then he turned his attention to reassuring her.

     He thought he was doing well when she stopped crying. Then she asked, “Uncle Gel?”

     “Yes?”

     “How old’s Darial?”

     “He’s almost fourteen. You know that.”

     “How many years until I’m fourteen?”

     “Eight.”

     She pouted. “That’s more years than I’ve been alive.”

     He flicked her lip with his finger. “That’s right.”

     “I don’t want to wait that long.”

     “Wait for what?” Geldorath said uneasily.

     “To get my wings.”

     Oh, phrak.“Sweetpea, not everybody grows wings.”

     She looked at him as if he was stupid.

     “Uncle Fels and I don’t have wings.”

     “You’re too big,” she said, as if it was obvious.

     “No. Azella, Uncle Fels and I don’t have wings because we’re not Saisorhi. We’re human. Just like you.”

     “But I’m going to get wings.”

     “I’m afraid not.” Her lip quivered and he hurried to add, “But you’ve got your rune magic. Nobody else has that.”

     “Wings are better.”

     “How do you know? You haven’t grown up yet.”

     Again, that scathing look and she announced, “I shall have wings.”

     “You don’t get to choose, Azella.” Her lip quivered again and he added hastily, “You’re special without wings.”

     “You’re silly, Uncle Gel.” But she was sounding upset again so he decided to leave it. Perhaps, after she’d thought about it for a while, she’d give up on the idea.

     “What do you want to do now?” he asked. “Shall we go and find the others?”

     She burrowed her face into his shoulder. “No.”

     He tickled the back of her neck. “No?”

     “Stay with you.”

     “I have to do some work.”

     “I can help,” she offered, looking up hopefully. Her grey eyes were still shiny with unshed tears and he wavered. Perhaps he could settle her in the corner to practice her runes while he and Tad worked. Pondering it, he carried her back down through the embassy. She settled her head on his shoulder and that itself told him how upset she had been. She had grown increasingly less clingy and more dignified over the last two years, as she moved from baby to child.

     Tad was bent over the desk, his pen moving swiftly, his eyes focussed behind his glasses. He hunched a wing in greeting and that reminded Geldorath of something else.

     “You have something to say to Tadilen, Azella.”

     She looked at him beseechingly. “Do I have to?”

     “Yes.” He would not budge on this. Courtesy was the currency of kings.

     He set her down and she made her way over to Tad, clasping her hands behind her back, and looking up to meet his gaze. “I apologise for telling you to go away and for being rude.”

     “Apology accepted,” Tad replied gravely and then reached out to ruffle her hair. She squealed and dodged and he chuckled.

     “Where are you?” Geldorath asked as Azella came skidding to hide behind him.

     “Last month. I’ve started with the most recent entries and I’m moving backwards. It’s going to be a long task, my lord.”

     “Don’t priortise it, then. And go home. You’ve done a full day’s work and there’s nothing urgent left.”

     “I’m not going to say no,” Tad said and began to tidy up his pens.

     “What the name of your friend in the surveyor’s office?” Geldorath asked.

     “She’s my sister’s friend, actually,” Tad said, winking. “Kiasha garyir Lioteh. Why?”

     “I thought Trouble and I could wander down there and speak to his Lordship.”

     “I’m not trouble,” Azella protested.

     “Then you’re not trying hard enough,” Tad said and she giggled.

     “Don’t encourage her,” Geldorath said. “Azella, where are your shoes?”

     Azella looked vague. “Somewhere.”

     Considering the state of her room that wasn’t reassuring. Geldorath sighed. When, in the dark and bloody tumult of war, he had allowed himself to dream of a future, he had somehow never imagined the daily hunt for a six-year old’s shoes. Resigned, he asked, “Where did you take them off?”

     She thought about it. “One of them as soon as I got back. By the door.”

     “Didn’t you take them both off at once?” Geldorath asked, baffled.

     She gave him another of those don’t-be-silly looks before she rocked back on her heels. “Upon consideration,” she said, “they may have been accidentally thrown at things.”

     “Is that so?” Geldorath asked. Tad, who was rolling up his pen holder, asked, “What things?”

     Azella studied her bare toes intently and suggested, “Walls?”

     Tad tucked his pens into his belt and held out his hand to her. “How about you and I look for your shoes while his lordship starts walking? We can fly down and catch him up.”

     Azella turned back to Geldorath, eyes wide with pleading, and he laughed and nodded. She bounced back to Tad and he steered her out of the room, chuckling. As Geldorath turned to take the other door, he heard Tad say, “Would you like to learn a finding spell, starling?”

     Why hadn’t he thought of that? Shaking his head, he made his way out the embassy and turned right along the canyon.

     The heat struck him and he paused, wiating to adjust as he gazed down along the canyon. Beyond and below him the city of Saasiaah, capital of the kings of the Saisorhi, spread across both sides of the great rift. Somewhere, so far below that he was dizzy thinking of it, the wide river Aahra ran through, slow and deep. Up here all was red-gold cliffs and the bright sky above. The sky, and the wide space between the walls, was busy with life, bright winged figures darting across and along, dancing in the air. From here he could just here the merry cries from the spice market of Hiasta, five metres to the west and fifty metres below.

     He took a breath and felt the warm air settle in his lungs. Sweat was already sliding down his spine and he spared a moment to boost the warding spells he used to keep his fair skin from burning. Then he started along the path east, towards the palace.

     The ledge was wide here, a luxury of the rich citizens of the high canyon. Further down, nearer the water, the poor dwellings opened directly to the canyon, so that the only way of reaching them was to narrow wings and dive through the spray. Unless, of course, you were a child or an offworlder, in which case you were expected to scramble down with the aid of a guide rope.

     Many of his neighbours were ambassadors, mostly from the other Saisorhi cities. There were a few other offworlders, though, and he lifted his hand as he passed Kilea Ilessi, the representative from Keeni-Dareq Six, leaning out of her window and fanning herself wearily with a sheaf of papers. She grinned back and called, “Gracious Day, my lord.”

     The path began to slope down, away from the highest city.

     There was a swish of wings above him and he ducked automatically as a dark-winged young woman shot out of a window in the tier above. The girl, intent on her flight, narrowed her wings to dive into the canyon. He watched her descent as she wove between the filigree bridges that had been built for the children and the unfit to cross between the two halves of the city. She landed somewhere in the financial district, beyond the palace, but he was too far away to pinpoint exactly which office.

     The embassies soon merged with shops as the ledge sloped down and he was forced to watch his path, dodging not only shoppers on the path but those who arrived from the air. High arched shops reached back into the canyon, their sides adorned with gauzy fabric or glittering strings of beads and gems. He saw a set of small silver bangles studded with polished beads of turquoise and made a note to come back before Azella’s birthday. He resisted the temptation to buy them now, even if it would restore her smiles. Adaril C’Tiri had entrusted Azella to him and he would not betray a dead friend by spoiling his daughter.

     He passed beyond the shops and glanced back towards the embassy. There was no sign of Tad yet – obviously Azella’s ability to lose her shoes defeated finding spells. Chuckling, he quickened his pace. The Lord Surveyor’s office was based on the far side of the palace and he wanted to see the man before his staff left for the evening.

     He was broken from his reverie by the sound of someone shouting his name. He turned and was surprised to see Devon C’Fara hurrying towards him.

To Be Continued...

Comments

[hyarmi-records.livejournal.com]

Wow...I don't know when I'm going to be able to touch this--was a bit sick last night so now I'm further behind =P

But THANKS! *hugs* You're so sweet! And *shuffles* I'll be taking far too many photos, I'm sure...the problem will be gleaning through them and not overwhelming friend or PhotoBucket account when I get back! =D

But WINGS!! Eeeee!

[rosiphelee.livejournal.com]

Take your time - it'll give me time to write a bit more.

Sorry to hear you've been ill. Hope you get better soon.

And Happy Birthday *hugs*

I don't think I ever written anything with quite so many wings. If I lose my last sanity I'm blaming the Saisorhi.

[hyarmi-records.livejournal.com]

A very interesting beginning, Jenna! Looks to be a long tale, if the initial pace isn't misleading.

Quite a nice setting here, even if *fans herself* it's a bit warm for my liking. I can all-too-easily imagine Geldorath's discomfort at present. =P

I like the canyon layout, and find it quite interesting to see how things are for a flying race with wingless youngsters. Nice depiction of the small troubles of daily life, too.

Azella--as in the same Azella in Shadow Hunter I take it? Interesting... That bit about her expecting to get wings like a Saisorhi was poignant.

I like the way you portray the relationship between Geldorath and Tad, as well as Azella. I'm ready for more... =)

Thanks again! It was a lovely surprise. (and now Becca doesn't have to struggle between politeness and leaving first comment ;)

[rosiphelee.livejournal.com]

The pace is worrying me slightly - it's meant to be about the same length as Dandelion and Thistledown so I'm hoping it will speed up once I get all the characters in place. It's meant to be a character piece, though.

Far too warm. *shudders* Poor Geldorath comes from a Scandinavian type climate and he finds it hard going at times.

I've spent far too much 'research time' looking at pictures of the Grand Canyon and all the amazing scenery round there. If it wasn't for the heat I'd be tempted to visit.

Yes, the same Azella, a few years earlier. It's always quite fun to try to keep characters consistent when you're writing them at different ages.

I'm glad you liked it, m'dear, and I shall endeavour to get some more done soon.

[ladylight.livejournal.com]

I thought I'd stop off here before the dodos ... you all seem to be making a concerted effort to distract me, and unfortunately, distracting me with shiny objects is quite easy.

I'm not much help to you or Becca tonight, it seems. All I can say is 'love it'. I've become quite hopelessly addicted to the Saisorhi, it seems (and also found myself treacherously looking around for Nimbus once or twice). That and the general tone of the story so far were what I liked most ... I hate to use that disgusting word 'whimsical', but you lazy Pommies have yet to invent a proper word for it in English.

Azella's little dilemma was sweet without being patronising, and there were a few other little touches that just seemed nice (if you want the technical terminology). This was my favourite line:

Tad looked wounded. “My lord, would I in any way neglect my sworn duties? I am the epitome of professionalism. I am also,” he added demurely, “ambidextrous.”

That 'demurely' just made it for me. I don't know why.

So - 'to be continued', eh? I can see that between the lot of you combined, a large percentage of my holidays are going to be consumed in front of a computer ... ;D

[rosiphelee.livejournal.com]

Ah, the dodos. Don't bother to take your sanity in with you ;) And remember - it's all Shaiel's fault ^_^

Dratted Saisorhi. I've never written such a group of scenestealers.

Glad you like that line. I wasn't sure about it. I love the whole concept of demureness (demurity? demuredom?) as a way of stirring trouble.

Not sure when they'll be more of this. I rather fancy writing a bit of Wind's Road which has been buried under everything else.

Glad you enjoyed it, even if it was just a snippet.

[saiena.livejournal.com]

I'm not actually going to be much help, because I know this isn't finished and I really don't have anything useful to say. Instead I shall gush -- be prepared...

*grins* I love the idiom bit. Cute, very, very cute. *smiles* I love him wondering where it came from, and telling Tad that he didn't know. Good and brief way of putting over Tad's scholarly leanings.

You describe the heat very well, I feel for Geldorath, but having your own walking fan must be a bit of a bonus ^_^

I love the flat ambassador conversation. So little sense from one so clever. *snickers* They're a very good double act.

She's jumped on that dress. I love Tad, he has such a great way of pointing things out. Also like Geldorath's thoughts there with the war over the dress, and the little brief background of his country's cloth trade. I adore that you don't point everything out about him, little hints are all that I need ^_^

"It’s never over,” he said softly. “Only the intensity changes.” The ominous truth of that statement is wonderful - it sets the tone of the bigger picture, without seeming overly "woe, war, war, war". A fine balance. Also lacking the drippy fatalism that they're all going to die! Or the alternative banzai attitude.

*smiles* I really love Tad, especially how he reacts to Azella tell him to go away.

The whole wing conversation is touching. Though Azella hasn't changed much, has she? ^_^ I can well believe that little six year old is the same girl (fifteen? Sixteen?) in Shadow Hunter.

“I’m not trouble,” Azella protested.
“Then you’re not trying hard enough,” Tad said and she giggled. - Love him.

Accidently thrown at things? How does that happen accidentally? *chuckles*

The description of the city is just wonderful. Gorgeous, absolutely gorgeous. The filagree bridges really stuck in my imagination and the red-gold of the canyon top. Beautiful.

I really adore the feel of this, I can't resist the Saisorhi, but I will lay my cards on the table and say - I love Tad more than Nimbus - *shock* ^_^ It's that lure of things with wings, just impossible to resist. Thank you for writing this for Joelle, and sharing it so far ^_^

[rosiphelee.livejournal.com]

Good and brief way of putting over Tad's scholarly leanings.Thanks. At some point in this I'm going to explain the three paths of the Saisorhi. Tad's very much on the Scholar's Path.

I have so much sympathy for Gel in the heat. Particularly as the Saisorhi don't feel it so much.

I had great fun with the relationship between Gel and Tad. I really wanted to get into the everyday work of the Light and this was great fun. I couldn't shut Tad up, though - this was meant to be a much shorter scene.

the war over the dress - I realised, on rereading, just how much Azella reminded me of my sister at that age. I don't think Hattie ever jumped on a dress but there were frequent wars.

little hints are all that I need - figured out who he is yet? In the larger scheme of things. There are a couple of clues in this bit.

I can well believe that little six year old is the same girl (fifteen? Sixteen?) in Shadow Hunter.

*beams* Thank you. I really wanted that to work. She's interesting me a lot at the moment - she's always been a little overshadowed by Emli but she's more fun than I realised.

I love Tad more than Nimbus

It's okay - I won't tell Nimbus. I adore Tad. I think Istellon is my favourite of the Saisorhi but I haven't had a chance to write him into either of the places he appears yet.

Thanks for the comment. Glad you're enjoying it. I'm having a break from it briefly - look out for more Wind's Road this week. ^_^

[saiena.livejournal.com]

figured out who he is yet? In the larger scheme of things. There are a couple of clues in this bit.

I have a bit of an idea, but if you think I'm going to tell you what that is, then you're mistaken ^_^ I'm more than happy to wait and pick up more clues.

Ooooh! Wind's Road! Yay! I miss my dear little Zen ^_^

[paantha.livejournal.com]

Oooo. Me likes, me likes. As I've been attacking your library of late, I decided to come here and attack this too.

And what a lovely. ^_^ *grins* So that's the infamous Tad who's haunted Becca's main page in comments... Hmm. Me likes. *claps hands* Me likes.

*chuckles*

So, where can I find more of this bunch? From what I gathered from other comments, there's another story with them in, no?

[rosiphelee.livejournal.com]

Tad's fun, isn't he? I'd forgotten I'd sent him visiting that time.

Glad you like it. There's no more of this yet, I'm afraid, but some of these characters appear in Shadow Hunter. Azella's fifteen by then.

[paantha.livejournal.com]

Well I will be after Shadow Hunter after I've done League then. ^_^

Is Tad one of the ones who's in it??

*prays*

[rosiphelee.livejournal.com]

Er....

It's set in this world so he'd stand out a bit. It does have teenage Tiger, though. ^_^

[shanra.livejournal.com]

*snickers at Tadilen* He is lovely, he is.

What [is] the name of your friend in the surveyor’s office?

he could just here the <- hear

Sorry... Can't help it. It's also come to my attention that I'm reading them in only a semi-sensible order. ^-^;; Still, if ever I am lost in a story, it only adds to the setting. That didn't happen here, though. Very easy to follow. Very gorgeously described, and it's wonderful to learn a little bit more about your Saisorhi. Tad is absolutely lovely.

The interactions between the characters in this are wonderful.

*sigh* I'm sorry. I'm an awful commenter today. But I liked this. It's very gorgeous.

[rosiphelee.livejournal.com]

I'm very fond of Tad. All my other Saisorhi try their hardest to generate angst. Tad is just Tad.

Thanks for the picks.

I've neglected this terribly - it's still nowhere near finished. I have a few more pages and that's all. It was about this time last year that real life decided it would be funny to crush me to a pulp, and this was one of the many things that fell by the wayside.

Thanks for the comment :) It was a lovely surpise.