The Floating Islands (35 page)

“Stop it!” Trei cried. He moved a step forward. “Ceirfei … I’m sorry we, I didn’t tell you. You must see we
couldn’t
tell you. You’d have had to go to Wingmaster Taimenai, or your uncle—or else you’d have insisted on coming with us, and you
must
know—”

“Of course,” Ceirfei interrupted this incoherent protest. “I understand that perfectly. You were quite right.”

Trei stared at him helplessly. Then he took one more step, dropped to his knees, and lifted his hands in supplication. “Prince Ceirfei,” he said formally while the other boy was still too startled to stop him, “I’m very sorry for deceiving you and betraying your trust, and I beg you will forgive me.”

“Get up!” Ceirfei said sharply. “I’ve already said I understand you were right!”

“I know that! You know that’s not what I mean!”

Ceirfei didn’t answer. The heavy stillness of the garden closed in around them.

Trei dropped his hands to rest on his thighs. His eyes burned; his throat felt tight. He said with difficulty, “I’m sorry to trouble you, then,” and started to get to his feet.

“I’m jealous of you,” Ceirfei said abruptly, and Trei stilled, staring at him.

The prince’s voice was sharp, overloud in the quiet. “Of course I am. The meanest Third City beggar has far more freedom than I. Do you see? I know I’m wrong; it’s not as though I don’t know I’m wrong.” He paused, took a hard breath, pressed a hand for a moment over his eyes. Lowered his hand. Stepping forward, he offered Trei his hands. “Forgive me, Trei, and will you please get up?”

Trei wordlessly let the prince take his hands and draw him to his feet. He said, now meaning something quite different, “I’m sorry, Ceirfei. Won’t they … Surely your uncle hasn’t entirely forbidden you the sky?” A thought struck him and he shut his eyes in pity. “Oh, Ceirfei … how far are you from the throne now?”

The prince released his hands and turned half away. “You are right: not as far as I was. My cousin Prince Safei died in the fighting. And my brother Mederinai may yet die: he lies unwaking and neither the physicians nor the priests nor the mages can find his wandering soul or guess whether it will return. I don’t know … I don’t know what man struck him down, and that’s best, because—did you know?—it was I who guaranteed all the Tolounnese soldiers their lives.”

“I didn’t know.”

“Yes. It was important to be generous, do you see, because, well, for many reasons. So I was generous and spared them all. I am commended on all sides. Because it was”—Ceirfei’s mouth twisted—“the sensible thing to do.”

Trei said nothing.

“Yes, well,” Ceirfei conceded, “I know that is even true. But … I am permitted to fly. As a favorite toy may be given to a petulant child if it behaves well. But I am no longer kajurai.” He brushed the tips of his fingers across his eyelids. “Despite the eyes.”

“I’m sorry,” Trei said once more.

“Yes.” Ceirfei’s mouth crooked. “As I said … I am a fool. I have not wanted … Well.”

Trei suggested impulsively, “I could teach you everything they teach us about flying, about the sky and wind. I’m sure Genrai would say the same. All the things we learn, all along. The rest of it doesn’t matter so much. Does it? I mean, you never meant to be an ambassador, exactly, did you? You’ll learn history and protocol and all those things anyway, won’t you, as a prince? Does it matter whether you live in the palace or the kajurai novitiate, as long as you can fly?”

Ceirfei was silent for a moment. Then he smiled, this time with something resembling humor. “Less, perhaps, given such generosity. Thank you, Trei. I accept your offer.” He hesitated. “Have you seen Genrai since your return?”

Trei understood at once why Ceirfei asked. He shook his head. “Wingmaster Taimenai said he was in the novitiate right now. You might find him there.”

“…  and tender him the same apology I gave you. Yes. Only I owe him a stronger apology: I should have gone to see him long since. He will think … that is, he will think …”

“Yes.”

Ceirfei bowed his head. “You would be right to rebuke me.”

Trei was slightly shocked. “It’s hardly my place.”

“Is it not? As Genrai’s friend, and mine?”

“Oh.” Trei took a breath. “Well, then … shall we agree I don’t need to? Only, it would be kind of you to assure poor Genrai your silence was not his fault.”

“I’ll find him,” Ceirfei agreed. He turned toward the gate, hesitated, turned back. “Trei—with your permission, I will court your cousin.”

Trei stared, taken utterly by surprise.

Ceirfei smiled, a quick flash of genuine amusement. “In fact, I confess, I am courting her already. I’ve come here often while we waited for your return. She needed the support of a friend. And then, it protects her reputation, you know. I’d do that for her anyway, because she’s your cousin and you’re my friend.”

“Oh,” Trei managed. “Well, that’s … I mean, you …”

“And her family’s good enough. Anyway, I elevated her when I, ah, well, it was convenient to raise her rank. Earlier. It would hardly be right to degrade her again, you know. And then, as they say, mages always have good blood. So my mother can hardly object. Besides … she’s young, you know, but anybody can see she’ll be pretty in a year or two.”

“Ah. Can they?”

This time, it was an outright grin. “Well, anybody besides her cousin. You’re too fixed on flying to notice, I suppose. She’ll set the most amazing precedent, one we need.”

“You think so?” Trei found himself smiling. “Good …”

“There’s room in the Islands for a lady mage. More than one, I hope. Or there will be. Or if not, we’ll deserve to lose our autonomy to Tolounn. Go find Araenè, Trei: she was desperately worried for you, and desperately relieved to glimpse you in the sky again.” Ceirfei turned back toward the gate, and this time he pushed it open and stepped through. The novitiate was visible for a moment, and then vanished again as the gate closed. Through its bars, the narrow streets of the Third City sprang back into view.

Trei did not stay to look out at the city, but went to find his cousin. He went smiling, and with a lightness to his step almost as though he were flying, for he felt at last that he had, indeed, come home.

RACHEL NEUMEIER started writing fiction to relax when she was a graduate student. She is also the author of another young adult fantasy,
The City in the Lake,
which
Booklist
called “shimmering” in a starred review, as well as The Griffin Mage series. Rachel lives in rural Missouri with a large garden, a small orchard, and a gradually increasing number of Cavalier King Charles spaniels. You can find out more about Rachel and her books at
rachelneumeier.com
.