Sunset of the Wandering Souls

Innin glided down to our little spot in the sand long after Pili had cleaned himself of the fish’s blood, and I calmed my thoughts down. Pili and I laid in the sand, watching the clouds, every once and awhile making sure the horses were still around as we waited for him. It took him most of the day to appear in the sky, large wings flapping against the sun. He landed lightly on the sand, looking worn and agitated. He opened a fist to show Pili crumpled black-ish blue flowers. “Is this enough?” He asked.

Pili glanced between the few flowers in Innin’s hand, and the jar filled with fish eggs. “I’ll have to adjust the mixture,” he said, “but yes. I can work with that much.”

He went to grab a jar or pouch to hold the flowers from a saddlebag. Innin placed the buds in the small jar, “Did you know?” His voice was quiet, as if he didn’t want the horses to hear. “Were you aware…they grow in graveyards?”

“Yes,” Pili closed the lid on the jar. “We call them malu pula. They grow from the tears crows drop as they pass messages between the living and the dead.”

I picked up the jar of fish eggs and ocean water, feeling a little left out. All of their information could be important, could be helpful in persuading the Jakeki noble. Innin crossed his arms as I stopped next to Pili. “How do you know of them?” He opened his wings a little wider. “There are no footpaths up the mountain. How is it you have a name for them?”

Pili looked at the flowers, tapped on the glass. “We have an old story, a very old story about a tribe called the Siovu. If they were ever real, none of us know.”

Siovu sounded familiar; Innin’s gaze fell to me, as if I would have all the answers on this supposed tribe. Nothing particular came to my mind, any knowledge I may have had was trapped in whatever lost memory. I shook my head, Inning let out a small puff of air. “A lost winged tribe,” he muttered before shifting his gaze to the sky. “If that is all, we should continue to Port.”

***

Innin had us stop outside a rather grand house a short walk outside of Port proper. It reminded me of the palace, overly ornate and gaudy. It was made of painted bricks with large windows, sheer curtains blocking out the harsher rays of the sun. We handed our horses off to a young Reissu, the wind picking up as we made our way to the grand wooden doors. Innin walked right in, putting an air of someone raised in the palace.

An older man shot up from his seat behind a desk shoved against the wall near the door. He stood at attention, tail curling around his leg. “Lord Knight Innin,” he said, standing up even straighter, “to what do we owe the pleasure?” Innin pulled my hood off from where I stood next to him, arousing a blubbered, “C-C-Crown Prince—Your H-Highness, what can we…what can we do for you, sire?”

“Lodging for a few days, Arkan,” Innin said, then looked between Pili and me, “and a bath.”

Arkan led us up a flight of stairs that was certainly meant for the staff of what Innin called the Reissu Embassy. It had been started by my grandfather, a place for wayward souls or outcasts Innin later explained. It was to improve the Reissu image, that we could help those in need, no matter what tribe they belonged to. We walked down a short corridor lined with the paintings of monarchs past. My eyes lingered on my portrait as we passed it. My image was already in Zinosoc, they already had the picture of me as a warrior prince. For honor, I may be able to pick up a sword. My weapon of choice would still be my words, however.

My bath was scented with daffodils which irked Innin some. He was adamant about roses to keep up my palatial image in common society but, according to Arkan there were no need for roses at an embassy that didn’t see to Reissu nobility regularly. All they had available were daffodils, the scent of choice for the knights and royal guard. He worked out some of his anger scrubbing away the dirt and grease from my body and hair. I felt refreshed without the layer of sweat and grime I had accumulated since leaving the Territories. A fresh change of clothes and new boots were welcome, as well.

While Pili bathed, Innin fussed over me in one of the bedrooms. He dried my hair and pulled it every which way to try to emulate a crown, only showing how unskillful he was in comparison to the maids at the palace. Eventually, he gave up, choosing to comb my hair down. He made minor adjustments to my wing joints, making a little noise I couldn’t place when he looked at them. They had almost healed, the evidence of my clipping was barely visible. Innin wiped at my face, slathered on daffodil perfume, adjusted the collar on my shirt. It was starting to get a little irritating with the way he was treating me. Yet, I couldn’t be upset, I was certain I had never done any of my own grooming, and I was sure to mess it up if left on my own.

Innin took his turn in the bath after Arkan brought Pili to the room. Pili tied half of his hair into a small ponytail, rearranged the little pouches he kept tied to his belt. “Are you nervous?” He asked, kneeling to tie his sandals tighter.

“Yes.” I fiddled with the ruffles on the end of my shirt sleeves. “This is…a rather important meeting.” I looked at my outfit once more in the mirror, feeling out of sorts in yellow and white to match my new floral scent. It was the closest thing to a suit the knights could find. “My people’s lives are riding on this meeting.” I started picking at my nails, worries, anxieties, every bad thing that could happen flooding me. “There’s no way of telling if-if this Jakeki lord is even still here.”

“He won’t have left,” Pili said with a confidence I wished I could muster. “Crow’s tears aren’t something one wants on a whim.” He crossed his arms as he thought. “If they aren’t for him, then for someone dear to him. He’ll have stayed, even if someone has lied to him. We only have to find him.”