Trinka and the Thousand Talismans by Christy Jones

Chapter Three

  Traveling Tents

  It wasn’t until she dared to open her eyes that Trinka realized she was lying on something solid. It felt hard and cold, like the glass streets in the City of Mirrors, yet lumpy and uneven. Her robes had protected her from falling hard (a much needed safety feature in a city made entirely of glass towers), but she still felt the shock of the impact reverberating through her body.

  Slowly, she lifted her head and saw a glint of bright glass on her chest.

  Why didn’t I just use that? she scolded herself as she scooped up the vial. I never would have fallen if I had taken what Annelise gave me.

  She began to sit up and glimpsed that strange, murky-green ornament on the ground beside her. Grble whooshed into life, his eyes wobbling back and forth uncertainly.

  “We’ve landed on rock,” he observed, surveying their new surroundings.

  All around them, Trinka could see nothing but rock―hard, gray, and empty. No sign of buildings or mirrors or schools. Just an endless stretch of lifeless hills, sloping upward until their white peaks blended into the cloudy sky.

  Trinka looked above her, but the City of Mirrors was too far off to see. She caught a glimpse of the last airship before it, too, disappeared into the clouds. There was no going back that way now. She must have slumbered in the cargo hold for most of the night while the airship was powering up with dream energy because the sky was no longer dark, but splashed with the rosy glows of dawn.

  It was a new day.

  She had heard rumors of this place, of a land beneath Ellipsis. Her brother had left their family several years ago, determined to find out if it really existed. He had never returned.

  Is he still here somewhere? Trinka wondered. She slipped the vial back into the folds of her robes―safe, in case she needed it later.

  “Come on, we’d better look around,” she murmured. She took a step, and instantly her glass shoe splintered into a thousand pieces, sending her crashing to the ground. She slid down the slope and cried out as the rocky terrain scraped against her legs and stomach.

  She looked up to see Grble’s worried eyes blinking at her, and he reached out his long fingers for support. Carefully, she removed her other shoe and got to her feet. Whatever this strange new place was made of, it obviously wasn’t meant to be walked over in glass slippers.

  Determinedly, she edged her way back up the slope. It was almost like walking on broken glass, and the ground seemed to tear at her feet with every step. Grble’s grasp held her steady as he moved easily across the rugged surface, gripping it with his round wide feet. Every once in a while, Trinka stepped on a patch of something white, wet, and soft, like liquid glass, except that it turned her skin cold.

  As they stepped over the crest of the rock Trinka could see what looked like several small, pointed buildings below. A few dozen people moved among them, dressed in long, white robes that weren’t smooth and gleaming, but thick and hairy. As Trinka came into view, a woman with her arms full of white hair screamed in terror and dropped her load as she ran to grab the hand of a small boy and yank him from their path. The little boy reached out and touched the edge of Trinka’s robe.

  “Pretty, Mama,” he began, but the woman quickly scooped him up and ran away.

  Trinka tried to take a different path, but everywhere she turned, more screams, more scurrying, and more terrified faces surrounded them. Whoever would have guessed that people would be afraid of her?

  “Come on! We’ll hide in there.”

  She pointed to a cone that stood a little ways off from the others, its door open wide. Unlike the glass towers on Ellipsis, this building was not much taller than Trinka herself, with three large poles and a collection of smaller ones leaning in on each other in the center. Walls made of something thick and soft wrapped around it like a garment. As they hurried inside, the opening fell closed behind them at the slightest touch, leaving them in darkness. Only tiny points of light peeked through the top, like little morning stars.

  “Well, go on then. Other people need to use the traveling tent,” a voice from the darkness made Trinka jump. She grabbed Grble’s fingers and bolted, bumping into the back of the building. It gave way easily and the two of them tumbled out on the ground.

  Trinka leaped to her feet, ready to run, when she realized they were in a totally different place.

  Her eyes began to blur and water at the brightness of it all, trying to take in the vast, sunlit landscape before her. Her vision knew no limits, unhindered by mists or towers or anything until the horizon of rocks far, far in the distance. The hills here weren’t jagged and gray but a rich, rippling brown, curving like the tops of clouds. Patches of what looked like golden hair sprouted from the ground, and tangles of low, scrubby plants cropped up among the peaks and valleys. The air felt warmer and drier than anything Trinka had ever experienced. A huge cluster of low, lumpy, deep brown buildings dotted the hills before them.

  Two men in shaggy, light gray robes emerged from the traveling tent she had hidden in, came to an abrupt stop, and stood gaping at her.

  The taller one gasped.

  “Are you the one from…” the thin-faced man lowered his voice and pointed a crooked finger toward the sky. “Up there?”

  Trinka looked up at the pale blue empty expanse stretching as far as she could see, without a single cloud in sight. It seemed too hard to explain her story.

  “Um… yes?”

  “I told you, Sten! I told you I saw an angel fall out of the sky!”

  Trinka looked down at her glowing white robes, and couldn’t help but smile.

  “All right, Aart,” his companion harrumphed. “You were right. I guess we don’t need to tell the chief—we can just take her there. Unless you’re one of Kolinkar’s tribe?”

  “Tribe?” Trinka wondered aloud.

  “His family?”

  “Yes, I’m his sister,” Trinka managed to stammer. Her mind raced with the possibilities that Kolinkar really had made it here, that she could actually see him again. “Is he here? Do you know where we can find him?”

  “We?” the man looked at her quizzically, and Trinka realized that Grble, startled by the unexpected greeting, had disappeared again. She quietly reached down and slipped his ornament next to the vial in the folds of her robes.

  “I mean me. That is, uh, I.”

  “That’s his tent.” Sten pointed gruffly.

  Trinka began to thank him, but at that moment a mammoth creature, almost as tall as she was, ambled out of the traveling tent they had just come through. It had the same shaggy hair that hung from Aart and Sten’s shoulders and heads, except that its hair covered its entire long, wide body supported by four thin legs. Its face was hairy too, and its nose stuck out far in front of its eyes. Two large twisted objects curved out of the top of its head, like black chandelier branches.

  “Who’s that?” she managed to ask.

  “That?” Sten scratched his head. “Is a goat.”

  “Is he related to you?” Trinka asked uncertainly.

  Sten guffawed, and Aart’s snickering echoed all around them.

  “Well, you look like each other,” Trinka defended herself, but the two of them only laughed harder until Aart had to lean on Sten for support.

  Sten regained his composure first.

  “These are our coats,” he explained, smoothing the long, hairy robes that he wore. “They come from our animals, our goats.” He pointed to the creature.

  “Haven’t you ever seen a goat before?” Aart walked right up to the creature and slapped its side. “There’s a good boy. Can you believe it? She just fell out of the sky!”

  “Never mind,” Sten grunted. “Kolinkar and Habba will sort it out. We’d better get this goat back home before the meeting. Come on, Aart.”

  The two of them cajoled the goat back into the traveling tent. As the flap closed over them, Trinka could hear them talking for a moment, “Honestly, Sten, I can’t help it if they follow me everywhere I go
…” before even their voices disappeared. She peeked cautiously into the traveling tent, her spirits lifting as she found it empty.

  That was so easy. I didn’t even have to concentrate to get from one place to another. Maybe I could get used to living in a world like this.

  Trinka made her way carefully toward her brother’s tent, wishing Grble hadn’t hidden so he could still help her with her balance. This part of the land wasn’t as rough or as steep, but it was covered with smaller rocks and a rich brown powder that clung to her bare feet.

  Unlike the tents she had seen when she first landed, these dwellings did not have a bundle of poles coming out the top, but appeared to be held up by very thick threads that extended from the roof and wrapped around numerous rocks placed a short distance away. The heavy, deep brown fabric hung parted in the center, with bands of ornamental stitching all along the opening, as if inviting her in.

  Trinka stepped into the tent and drew back with a start when she saw a young woman inside, huddled over a pile of stones that lit the tent with their soft, amber glow.

  “Oh, hello.” The woman looked up and thoughtfully eyed her strange new visitor’s glowing white robes. “Are you Trinka?”

  Trinka nodded dumbly.

  The woman smiled. “Kolinkar has told me all about his sisters and their school, but I never thought I’d actually get to met you.” She held out a warm, golden hand. “I’m Kolinkar’s wife, Tarian.”

  Trinka was so surprised, she almost forgot to hold out her own hand, suddenly conscious of how cold and wet her fingers must feel. Kolinkar’s wife (whoever would have thought he’d have one?) certainly looked nice, and very pretty. She had long, dark hair that hung loose about her shoulders, except for the strands twisted into a braid that held it back from her heart-shaped face. The end of the braid dangled with little entwined accents that looked like opaque jewels in subtle shades of red, yellow, and green. Matching lines of amber, ocher, and olive were woven through her cloud-colored clothing. Loose strings cascaded over her shoulders and fell from the hem of her garment, swishing gracefully as she moved. Although her sturdy, gently curving figure and coarse dress wouldn’t have met the standards of fashion on Ellipsis, there was something about her that showed a kind of beauty Trinka had never seen before. Even her rich, deep, sparkling eyes revealed a warmth that seemed to glow from within her. A warmth that Trinka felt rush through her when she took her hand.

  “Oh, you’re freezing. Come sit down.” Tarian knelt on the richly patterned rug that covered the floor of the tent. Hesitantly, Trinka did the same. The rug’s hues of hazel and henna made peaks and curves that seemed to mimic the rocky landscape outside, and it felt hairy and scratchy beneath her hands.

  “Here—have some tea.” Tarian handed her a jar not made of glass, but something hard and opaque, just the right size to hold. It was filled with a hot and fragrant liquid, like nothing she had ever smelled before. The scent reminded her of the plants and the earth outside, yet more concentrated and intense. It warmed her hands, and the smell somehow made the gnawing feeling in her stomach seem stronger. She raised the jar to her lips, and let the warm liquid seep into her mouth and slide down her throat.

  The taste was almost like breathing in a cloud of thought. Trinka could picture the rich, brown land she had walked on as she savored the warm, underlying aroma. The tiny flecks of black, russet, and gray-green that had floated in the drink added in vivid flavors that made her mouth prickle with heat, but were quickly cooled by overtones of soft, golden tastes. The tea left a tang in her mouth even after she had swallowed—tart, but not unpleasant, as if she had just drunk sunlight. Trinka savored the sensation for a moment, then eagerly sipped some more.

  “You must be hungry. Have some akenes,” Tarian urged, and held out a dish covered in what appeared to be small, golden-brown stones in assorted sizes.

  Trinka hesitated. It had been a long time since she had eaten. On Ellipsis, the mists they breathed provided all the nutrients they needed, so they only ate vanity cakes―sweet, hollow pastries―on special occasions.

  But since it seemed to be expected of her, she took one of the small objects. It felt like a rock between her fingers, and even more so in her mouth. Trinka rolled it back and forth on her tongue for a minute before finally crunching it between her teeth. It crumbled into little sharp, bitter-tasting bits she had no idea what to do with. Desperately, she took another swallow of tea and managed to choke them down.

  “Lagou?” Tarian offered. Trinka wondered briefly if her brother’s wife was just too polite to outright tell her to go away, but she saw only kindness and concern in Tarian’s face and outstretched hands.

  Although the lagou also looked like rocks, they felt slightly squishy. Cautiously, Trinka took a bite, causing it to ooze a sticky, cloying syrup that immediately fused all her teeth together. Unused to food that didn’t just melt in her mouth, she chewed and chewed, unable to swallow.

  The tent swayed and the stones clattered as Kolinkar’s broad shoulders brushed both sides of the entrance.

  Her brother dropped his bundles as his gray-blue eyes widened in surprise.

  “Hey, sis!” he exclaimed, scooping her up into a huge hug that left her feet dangling in mid-air. “I never thought I’d see you here!”

  A huge creature that seemed to be made entirely out of rocks bounded in after him, taking up half the tent. He immediately pushed in front of Kolinkar, making him drop Trinka, and stuck his face in her food. Much to Trinka’s relief, he gobbled it down instantly.

  “Arabis!” Tarian pushed him away.

  “Come here, you rockhound,” Kolinkar called. Arabis sighed and dropped his massive, gray-brown body at his master’s side. His long, thick tail waved back and forth incessantly, shedding little pieces of stone onto the rugs.

  Kolinkar accepted a jar of tea from Tarian, grabbed a handful of akenes, and began chewing them down easily. Although his clothes now complemented Tarian’s (only dirtier), his shocks of tawny hair, prominent nose, and lopsided, boyish grin looked just the same as always.

  “So, what’re you doing here? You finally get sick of sitting inside all the time, too?”

  Trinka tried to respond, but her throat was still blocked. At last, with the help of her final sip of tea, she gulped the sticky stuff down.

  “You don’t mind that I’m here, do you?” she blurted. After the school, her grandmother, and the dream merchants hadn’t wanted her, she couldn’t be too sure of anything.

  “Well, I can’t very well send you back now any more than I could the first time you came into my life,” he grinned, tousling her hair. “Not that I didn’t think one sister was enough.”

  “How is Annelise?” Tarian inquired.

  Trinka sighed. “Perfect.”

  Kolinkar laughed, inciting Arabis to try to jump into his lap.

  “Here,” Tarian came to the rescue, tossing a few long, thin white objects to the floor. Arabis bounded over and started chomping them into tiny pieces.

  “I didn’t mean to come here,” Trinka’s words suddenly came out in a rush. “I failed the test for the Academy, and I was going to go find Dad. Annelise gave me a vial, but I, I saw the airships and I…”

  “And they just dropped you off? No way! I had to do all their manual labor for a whole year to pay them to land here!”

  “They didn’t exactly land, I just... fell.”

  “Well, I’m glad you’re here now and you’re safe,” Tarian affirmed as she collected their empty jars and began scrubbing them with a fine, gray powder.

  “Yeah, we’d better take her to see Habba before his tribal council meeting starts,” Kolinkar suggested, getting back on his feet.

  “Who’s Habba?” Trinka asked nervously, wishing she could stay and just talk with her brother for a little longer, after all this time.

  “The leader of the tribes of western Bedrosian,” Tarian answered, then quickly added, “I’m sure he’ll let you stay with us—after all, he is my fath
er.”

  Trinka blinked in surprise.

  “Yeah, if he could put up with me for a son-in-law, it shouldn’t be too hard to convince him to let you stay and do some work around here,” Kolinkar teased. “Come on.” With a sigh, Trinka followed along.

  Arabis bounded up the hill and ran around a tent that looked much like Kolinkar and Tarian’s, only four or five times as long, with several smaller tents beside it. A woman stooped beside the long tent, setting out a series of stones in the sunlight just as Tarian had done when they left. As Arabis looped past her, she looked up, and the wrinkles on her face multiplied as she burst into a smile.

  “Mom, I’d like you to meet my sister-in-law, Trinka,” Tarian announced.

  Before Trinka could say or do anything, she found herself scooped up into a very warm, very fuzzy hug.

  “Welcome, welcome,” the woman said as she finally let go. “Another one from up there?”

  “Afraid so, Wynn.” Kolinkar winked.

  Trinka was used to being regarded with a look of disappointment, but in Wynn’s wrinkled face and shining eyes, she saw only heartfelt admiration. She wondered if it would stay that way when Wynn got to know her better.

  Arabis suddenly let out a harsh, grating sound. His teeth gnashed together, and he stood alert, guarding them. Trinka tried to see what could be bothering him, but all she saw was a man coming up the hill from the other direction.

  “Come!” Tarian said suddenly. She grabbed Trinka’s hand and pulled her behind one of the smaller tents.

  “I think you’d better come inside,” Wynn mused.

  “And I think it would be a very good idea to cover her dress as well,” Tarian replied in an emphatic whisper. “Before certain people see it.”

  “Yes, yes. Let’s go into the loom room.” Wynn slipped beneath the tent flap, leaving Trinka to stare at her sister-in-law with curiosity and a slight sense of fear. What could possibly be going on? She heard the rumbling sound coming from Arabis again, followed by sharp, loud barking.

  “Quiet!” Kolinkar ordered, and nodded encouragingly to Trinka. She shrugged and followed Tarian.

  Her eyes opened wide at the sight that met her inside.

  Dozens of poles rose from the rug-covered floor, nearly touching the ceiling, with even thicker poles connecting each pair near the bottom and top. But rather than supporting the tent itself, these held up only thick, cloud-colored strings wrapping around and around in endless loops. Before them groups of women sat moving long threads, ranging in color from black to ecru, back and forth between the loops, not with their thoughts, but with their own hands.

  This freed them up to talk with each other, producing a hum of voices that rose and fell in time with the weaving. Occasional laughter flowed through the room, resulting in ripples of gold, peaks of umber, and splashes of sepia woven into the fabric in time with their creators’ voices.

  Trinka thought this must be the meaning of a vocabulary word she had learned in school, but never really understood: community.

  “Let’s see what we can find for you,” Wynn murmured.

  A hush fell over the room as everyone stopped and turned to look at Trinka.

  She wondered if people could transport themselves away by using their thoughts here, or if she should just turn toward the tent flap and flee.

  Before she could move, the women began coming forward to welcome her, with the same warmth that Tarian and Wynn had. Some of them, Trinka realized, were girls not much older than she was. As they pressed their warm palms to hers, and marveled over the material of her robes, Trinka demurred any knowledge of how it was made. One by one, they drifted back to their work as Wynn, who had bustled off to the back of the room, returned with her arms full.

  “Here you are. They might be a little big. No, no, I think they’ll fit just fine.” She had brought a light gray, furry garment, like the one she wore, with a thick, long skirt and a top that laced down the front. Dark brown bands with ornamental stitching covered the shoulder seams of the long sleeves, and a matching belt wrapped around the waist.

  “You’d better just put it on over your robes,” Tarian said. “We don’t want Renwick to see you until you’re dressed like us. He’s the leader from eastern Bedrosian, and he doesn’t like, ah, strangers.”

  Trinka didn’t understand this explanation, but she was too preoccupied to try to figure it out. Her new clothes were heavy and had a distinctive smell like the tents. In fact, it was rather like trying to walk around wearing a tent, it was so thick and stiff. Tarian and Wynn fussed with making sure all evidence of her gleaming, white robes was tucked inside, and Trinka felt glad she still had them on; she felt itchy wherever the new clothes touched her skin.

  At that moment, the tent flap parted, and a familiar face appeared.

  “Oh, sorry, wrong tent. Hey, it’s you!” Aart declared. “Wow, you look like a regular kid, now, doesn’t she, Sten?”

  “Yep,” Sten answered. “We thought she looked like she could use some boots.”

  “Thank you.” Trinka slipped her scratched feet inside the soft, brown coverings topped with white-gray fur. They fit well, but tickled her toes.

  “How perfect. They’re northern boots, too,” Tarian commented as she helped Trinka lace them closed. “Have you come to meet with Habba?”

  Sten nodded. “Renwick is here now, and Jirair is on his way, but Habba wants to meet with you first.”

  Despite encouragement from Tarian and Wynn, Trinka felt as nervous entering the large meeting tent as she had before the test committee in the tower. Arabis, seated just outside, thumped his tail when he saw Trinka. She patted his hard head, took a deep breath, and slipped under the entrance flap.

  Kolinkar already sat on the floor across from an old man with white hair, a very round face, and wise eyes. He smiled when he looked up and saw Trinka, and offered her a place beside her brother. She sank down onto the pile of low, striped cushions that covered the ornate rugs. Judging by the patterns, it must have been a joyous day in the loom room when these were woven, as hardly any plain threads showed through all the peaks and valleys of warm colors.

  A single, oval-shaped dish took up most of the low, laden table between them, heaped with piles of dark, irregularly shaped chunks surrounded by what looked like hundreds, if not thousands of tiny, pale brown pebbles. At the edges of the table, five sharp instruments lay pointed toward the dish in the center. Wynn and Tarian seated themselves beside their husbands, everyone held hands for a few moments, and then pressed upon Trinka to, yet again, eat.

  She watched her brother eagerly plunge his sharp instrument into one of the dark chunks and bring it to his lips. Trinka carefully did the same, and tried not to grimace at its heavy, greasy texture and smoky flavor. As she chewed and chewed, she could only wish that Arabis had come into the tent with them. The little pebbles turned out to be soft, but lumped together in a texture that nearly set off her gag reflex.

  “Kuam?” Wynn offered, passing her a jar.

  Trinka eyed the pale yellow contents suspiciously, and as she raised the jar to her lips, a faintly sour smell made her nose tingle. As everyone set down their instruments, they dipped their fingers in a bowl of orchid-scented water to clean them. Trinka only wished she could drink that instead.

  At last, Wynn cleared the table. Habba picked up a small glass object, like a clear stone and handed it to Tarian.

  “And you, my daughter? Are you willing to take your husband’s sister into your home?”

  “You know we are, Father,” she answered. Tarian held out the stone, and it immediately glowed a deep, warm red. She then brought it toward Trinka, who slowly stretched out her cold, damp hands. Habba placed the stone on her palms and folded her fingers over it.

  “What about you?” he asked softly. “Where do you want to go?”

  “I don’t know,” Trinka stammered, finally breaking Habba’s gaze to stare at the rug. She felt her cheeks growing hotter. “I don’t know where I’m going or
what I want.”

  She uncurled her fingers and saw that the stone was a swirl of black, bright reds, dark purples, and all colors in between.

  “Would you like to stay here while you decide?” Habba asked gently.

  Trinka smiled, and the stone changed to a single shade of pure pink. She reached to give it back to Habba, but he closed her fingers over it.

  “Keep it, my daughter,” he said. “You are welcome to stay with my tribe as long as you wish.”

  His face broke into a wrinkled smile, and he and Wynn took her into their arms as if she were their own daughter. The genuine warmth astonished Trinka, yet caused an ache deep inside her for all the times her own family hadn’t welcomed her as much as these people she had just met.

  “Come,” Habba ambled slowly toward the entrance. “We must add your name to our family line.”

  “You can always come home to our house,” Wynn reminded her, giving her another fuzzy hug.

  As they exited the tent, Trinka glanced back and smiled.

  And smacked straight into someone’s shoulder, sending herself sprawling. Arabis got to his feet and stood by her, growling protectively. Trinka felt a shadow creep over her and looked up to see the man who had come up the hill earlier towering over her. He wore a bright red shirt with intricate designs all down the front and furry black cuffs that matched his boots. His piercing eyes looked over her suspiciously.

  Instead of helping Trinka to her feet, he picked up the stone she had dropped and rolled it between his rough, cracking fingers.

  “Is this yours?” he asked, in a tone of disbelief.

  “Habba gave it to me.”

  “She’s my sister-in-law,” Tarian put in brightly, lifting Trinka to her feet and putting an arm around her shoulder. “Habba was just welcoming her to the family.”

  “Well, I’m glad he has time for family matters before our critical council meeting on immigration,” Renwick sneered.

  “Of course I do,” Habba countered behind them. “If you will wait inside, Renwick, my wife will be happy to meet with you and our northern delegation until our ambassador from the south arrives. She’s made some incomparable goat milk delicacies.”

  Renwick bowed slightly, but with an audible huff.

  “Nice to meet you,” he added to Trinka. The stone glimmered a bright shiny black before he returned it to her and disappeared into the meeting tent.

  “Why does the stone change colors when people hold it?” Trinka asked as they continued down the other side of the hill, toward a rocky cliff.

  “It’s a truthstone,” Tarian explained. “When the stone turns a solid color, it shows you said what was in your heart. If it turns black when someone holds it, they’re not speaking what they really believe. My father often uses it at meetings with the other leaders.”

  Habba leaned heavily on his staff, and sometimes Kolinkar’s elbow, as they made their way further up the next hill. The rocks here jutted up in strange columns that towered overhead, far taller than any of the glass towers on Ellipsis. They looked almost as if a giant artist had carved them, stacking oddly shaped blocks higher and higher until it seemed certain they would topple.

  At last, they arrived at a hollow place, under one of the many overhangs of golden brown rock, and Habba stopped to catch his breath.

  “This is my tribe,” he pointed to the array of deep red lines, small half-circles, dashes, and assorted symbols etched into the surface of the rock, “my clan… my family.”

  “There’s your brother’s name, and when we became married,” Tarian pointed to a series of marks near the top.

  Trinka’s eyes followed their gestures from one set to the next, craning her neck to see the symbols high overhead. While Habba’s family signs were still sharp, bold red, some of the tribe symbols near the bottom had been washed clean, with even the edges of their carvings starting to wear away.

  “We will add the sign for ’sister,’ as well as a symbol for your name,” Habba announced.

  Trinka was just beginning to wonder what such a mark would look like, and how they would ever make it on a stone so high, when Habba gently lifted the small stone set in the end of his staff. A deep purple-red rock flecked with tiny sparkles of white and gold, it was shaped a little bit like a bird, with a spherical head, pointed beak, and rounded body that tapered back into long, flat tail.

  “Hold it in both hands,” Habba instructed, and as Trinka took it between her cupped palms, she suddenly felt it come alive, writhing and wriggling to be free. She looked at Habba and he nodded.

  Trinka opened her hands, and the birdstone fluttered loose, ascending toward the top of the cliff face. With a flurry of purposeful activity, it began carving out a combination of curved and straight lines, making a clatter of rock upon rock and sending down a shower of bits of dust and loose stone. With a flourish, it carved out two symmetrical twists overlapping in the center, with some straight lines underneath. When it finished, it turned from the cliff and stretched its stone wings into the air. A burst of color lit up the new symbols with a brilliant red glow as the sunlight touched them for the first time. The birdstone hovered for a moment, then alighted on the top of Habba’s staff, still and quiet as a stone once more.

  Trinka would have thought the whole experience a dream, but her name still shone out brightly, written into rock. Part of a family. Forever. For the second time that day, Trinka felt like she had swallowed sunshine. Her heart lifted like a soaring bird as she smiled and stepped down the hill.