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Sanja had seen many strange places over the past month. A crumbling ancient tomb on an isolated island; a shell house on the back of a whale; a ship powered by the sightless gazes of trapped rowers; a flooded palace ruined by time.
But of all these places, Avagantrum was surely the grandest.
Sanja wasn't sure what she had been expecting. She truly wasn't. She had known that they were going to Ziede and Tehran's home. And she had known that Ziede and Tehran were important. And she had known that important people had big, fancy houses, even though she'd never been in any of them before.
But this...
Along the main waterway in the Mouth of Flowers had been mansions. Tall, imposing buildings, the kinds gangs robbed if they were brave or stupid enough. This was not a mansion. It was closer to a village square in size. It had massive, imposing walls all around, able to keep an army at bay. Now, however, its massive doors were open, allowing steady traffic in and out. People on foot, horses, carts, their voices and laughter carried upwards on the wind.
From the other side of the Immortal Blessed flying craft, Ziede sighed. It was a good sigh. Relieved. Tehran leaned into her wife's side as the pair looked out above their home.
As people spotted the approaching craft, a great clamour went up. When the fort realised who was in the approaching vessel, the nature of that clamour changed, but became no less subdued. A great crowd gathered, and then had to be moved in order to make a space for them to land. Once they did, people rushed up towards them in a swarm, while Sanja's companions rushed out to meet them, in a great cacophony of laughter, exclamations, and tears.
All of Sanja's companions except Tenes, who remained in the flying craft, holding Sanja's hand.
If not for that, Sanja may have found a way to slip away. Maybe she would have succeeded. She was good at that.
But to he surprise, soon the group's collective attention re-focused on her and Tenes. The intensity of the scrutiny was intense, making the girl squirm, but the window of opportunity had past and there was no escaping now.
Introductions were made. "Thank you," said a woman named Tanis who was apparently Ziede and Tahren's daughter, to which a second daughter nodded vigorously, and their son even took Sanja's hand in some sort of formal shake. What could Sanja do, but shake back?
The next few days went past in a blur. Sanja was given a room, build on a second floor below the ground. That had made her a little nervous, thinking of the creepy dungeon, but this was nothing like the fort she had nearly been sacrificed in. The stone was a warm orange-y color and there was no water dripping down the walls or anything. The room had a huge soft bed and drawers and a carpet and a door that locked and a mural painted right on the wall. It could have been lonely-- would have been lonely-- if Tenes hadn't taken the room right next to her. There was a blue blanket with green embroidery that felt so so so soft against Sanja's cheek when she wrapped herself up in it at night.
In the day there was a near endless list of things to do, which was strange, because they weren't on a quest to rescue anyone anymore, so you would have thought they could spend their days relaxing now. Especially since the compound had so many different servants, cooking and cleaning and caring for horses and more, so all the chores should have been handled too. But somehow it just didn't work out like that.
First Sanja and Tenes were given a tour of the compound, then they were given a tour of the surrounding village and lands. Sanja liked that, liked seeing the winding roads and the fields and the bakery and the inn and all sorts of other places, and not once did any of the adults yell at her to get out or even give her a side eye because they thought she was gonna steal something. She also liked being able to come back from the market place, laden down with fruits and vegetables and garlic in a long chain wrapped around her shoulders like a shawl.
But the next day they went into town again, this time with Tahren pronouncing, "The child needs clothes!"
Sanja wasn't really sure what was wrong with her current ones. For all that they'd been stolen from dead men or pilfered from enemy ships, they fit fine enough.
'Fine enough' apparently wasn't going to cut it. Sanja had never been to a tailor, not a proper one, with lengths upon lengths of fabric in a rainbow of colors, everything from wool to cotton to silk, to others she couldn't even name. The tailor was old, though their apprentices were young, and they tutted as they had Sanja lift up her arms, and pinned fabric in place, and asked what type of clothes she wanted. "I don't know," she had answered, honestly.
"A little bit of everything," Ziede had said. "Daily garments, for both at the home and outside, as well as some things better suited to riding. A mix of trousers and skirts."
Because that was exciting: Sanja was going to learn to ride horses!
Not just that. She was going to learn a lot of things. Sword fighting and archery, knot-tying and map-reading, writing and history, although she'd already been learning that last part from Ziede.
Ziede was still teaching her that, although a lot of the time now Dahin was the one leading the lessons. And she was still learning Witch Speak from Tenes, and Kaiisteron was teaching her about scouting, but...
But they were all really busy now.
When they were travelling, yes, there had been bursts of business. Frantic running and hiding and fighting. But mostly it had been hours upon hours of travelling across water or over land, and all of them looking for ways to fill that time. Now the adults' days were full. Messages were always coming in, via horseback rider or pigeon or mysterious magical means Sanja didn't really understand, and they'd go away into rooms and talk about things for hours and hours. Even Tenes was busy with things, although Sanja hardly was sure what, except maybe besides courting one of the fort's guardsmen.
And it shouldn't matter. It didn't matter. She couldn't expect them to be putting time aside for some lousy street-kid. And anyway Sanja was busy too, with all her new classes.
And after her classes were done, too, she made sure she found things to do, to earn her keep. She worked in the stable, because after her first riding lesson she'd been told how important it was to look after your steeds, to feed them and brush their coats and clean out their poop. That last part was gross, but no more gross than some of the places Sanja had lived in, before, so she handled it without complaint. And she made sure to keep her room neat and tidy, because she didn't like the idea of servants poking around her things. And she helped fetch water from the well for baths and cooking. And worked in the kitchen, too, kneading dough and cleaning pots and peeling tubers.
Except, she was getting the sense they didn't really need her help. The kitchen was fully staffed. They were finding things to do because she asked. Nothing more, nothing less.
So now Sanja sat on the roof, a wind blowing the hair out of her face.
It was evening. The green fields had turned golden in the fading light, and the sky was pink bleeding into black. The air was chilly against her skin, and she shivered. She wished she had thought to grab that new jacket of hers before she had climbed up here, but she had no intention of leaving.
Time passed. The pinks and oranges faded from the sky, which gradually filled with stars. The sounds from the fort shifted into the post-dinner rush, and then faded entirely. She shivered. The air was thick with the rustling chirp of crickets, which she was still so unfamiliar with. They hadn't had anything like that in the city.
The hairs on the back of her neck prickled.
Sanja's head swung around and up, just as a head stuck out over the top of chimney she had been sitting against, black eyes shining in the darkness.
Heart beating fast, Sanja let out a breath and forced herself to calm down. She must have been stupid, to think she could hide from a Demon Prince.
"You missed supper," the Demon Prince said.
Sanja grunted.
There was a rustling of fabric against stone as Kaiisteron hopped off the chimney and settled down besides her. He carried the smell of his meal with him, and her stomach betrayed her with a rumble. The pair sat there for a few long moments, neither saying anything.
"You missed classes today, too," Kaiisteron said.
"So?"
"So, do you want to talk about it?"
"No."
"Well then. Fair enough." Kaiisteron stretched out, like a cat. "I suppose you've chosen to live on this roof then? Never coming down?"
Jutting out her chin, Sanja said nothing.
"It's a nice roof," Kaiisteron said, in a casual tone. "Not too steep, not too flat. Good view of the stars." He pillowed the back of his head on his hands. "Look, you can see the coyote."
Sanja frowned down at the dark fields and streets. "I can't see any coyotes."
"Not a mortal coyote. The Coyote. Up there, in the stars."
Still frowning but looking up, "Is that one of those constellation things?" She had heard about them before, but only ever started learning about them as part of scouting, starting with the North Star, the guiding light.
Now Kaiisteron pointed out a collection of six stars, forming legs, a head, and a tail. Supposedly. "I still can't see it," Sanja complained, and then suddenly there was a little silver line connecting them, bringing it into focus.
She glanced sideways at the demon. She still didn't understand how his magic worked, not really, but she knew enough to understand it was fuelled by pain, smehow. Had he hurt himself, just to show her a picture in the sky? Lip suddenly trembling, Sanja abruptly looked back up, and did her best to listen as Kaiisteron pointed out other shapes, forming all sorts of strange animals and figures.
Most of the time, Kaiisteron is quiet. But when he speaks, when he tells stories, he's good at it. Warm and exuberant and gentle, but the more he talked, the less Sanja heard, the words drowned out by the questions racing through her head, louder and louder until finally--
"Are you gonna make me leave?"
A terrible moment of silence.
And then, voice mild, Kaiisteron said, "I wasn't planning on it, no."
"Why not?" Sanja asked, angry at how childish her voice sounded.
Tone still frustratingly gentle, Kaiisteron said, "Why would we?"
"Because I can't do anything right," she said. "I can't draw any of the Imperial characters right, and all the other children can already do poetry but I can't sound the syllables properly, and I spilled water from the well, and I keep falling off the dung-ridden horse, and--" And I'm just a stupid street rat.
"Well, falling off the horse is a good start," Kaiisteron said. "Most of the time I can't even get on one in the first place."
Sanja sat up to glare at him. He raised his hand in an apologetic gesture. "Alright. I'm sorry. I can see that this has been weighing on you."
She said nothing.
Sitting up to match her, Kaiisteron said, "Sanja, do you remember, early in our journey, when I asked you if you wanted to go back to the Mouth of Flowers?"
"Yes."
"Has your answer to that changed, at all?"
The reek of urine, only half-covered by the ever-present floral scent. Stealing food and then rushing to gulp it down before anyone could catch her. Constantly trying to prove her worth to the gangs, but knowing that no matter what, she was still too small and too young, and she'd probably be long dead before any of that changed.
"No," Sanja admitted.
Nodding, Kaiisteron asked, "And is there anywhere else you would like to go?"
Sanja didn't know anywhere else. Oh, yes, she knew names now, but they were just places on maps, unless you counted cursed ruins in the middle of nowhere. She didn't want to live in a ruin. "No," Sanja said, her voice warbling terribly.
"Well, then," Kai said, in that sensible tone as if everything had been decided and he couldn't imagine anyone would dare disagree, "I can't see why we would ask you to leave then."
Cold and sullen and scared, Sanja retorted, "But why? Why would you bother keeping me around?" She glared at the demon, as if he could not pull her soul out and leave her body as mere dust.
"Because I'm your pity project?" One of the other children at the village school had said that about her, and while she didn't fully understand what it meant, she understood enough to know it was bad.
"No, little snake." Kai reached out and rubbed something wet away from Sanja's cheek, and with a hot rush of embarrassment she realised she'd started crying. "It is not pity that drives a mother to care for her child. Adults look after the children. That is how it is supposed to be, and I'm sorry that you have been so let down in that regard."
She hadn't always been. She'd had a mama, once, though the memories of her were nothing more than a series of impressions; her face pressed against soft breasts, a raspy singing voice, a meal simmering over a wok. Sanja squeezed her eyes closed against another onslaught of tears.
"But why me?" Sanja demanded. "Why me, and not literally any other kid?" Someone who actually knew how to spell or how to ride or how to put her hair up in a fancy bun.
"Because you were there," Kai answered simply. "You were there, in that awful tomb, and you didn't run away when I took your hand."
Angrily rubbing at her face, Sanja said, "Just that?" It had been simple chance that she'd been plucked up by the child snatchers that day, simple chance that she hadn't died on the trip over. "That's not fair at all!"
"No," Kai admitted. "It's not, I'm afraid. But that's the best you can do, in this world. You take whatever is put in front of you, and you do everything you can to make it fair."
Sanja felt broken. She never cried. She hadn't cried, not in years and years, since she'd been little. Crying just made you a target.
But now it was if some cork had popped out, and she couldn't stop. And she just kept crying and crying and shaking. And somehow she found herself in Kai's arms, the demon holding her to his chest and rubbing a hand down her back and saying gentle words in a language she couldn't even understand.
She cried and she cried until she couldn't anymore. Until her throat hurt and her jaw hurt and her eyes hurt. Wrung out, too tired even to shiver, she lay limp in the demon's arms. "Sanja," he said, "I promise you, you will have a home with me and Ziede and Tahren, for as long as you want it."
"Even if I'm bad at stuff?"
"Even if you're bad at stuff," Kai agreed. "It's the only way to get good at stuff."
Sanja pulled away, and he let her.
A moment later he asked, "Are you hungry?"
Her stomach clenched. "Yes," she admitted.
From an inner breast pocket he pulled out a beeswax-lined linen which was wrapped around four dumplings from supper. The had cooled since then, but they were still juicy and spicy, and Sanja devoured them with a hunger she hadn't realised she had.
With her hands stained with grease and the food in her belly, Sanja felt abruptly ridiculous. "I'm sorry," she said.
"Don't be." Kai stood up, dusting his pants. "If anything, I think we should be apologizing to you. We could have done better, explaining all of this." It was dark now, but she could read his expression by the little glowing imps that danced around his face. "If you have a problem, I want you to feel safe to come talk to us first, before you go running off and hiding."
"Okay," Sanja said, and then he took the hand he offered.
Unlike Ziede, Kai could not summon wind spirits to help him fly, but then, he hardly needed them. Hoisting her up onto his back, where she clung like a monkey, the demon climbed easily down the walls and into the first floor of the fort. From there it would be an easy trip back down to the sleeping quarters, although Kai suggested they make a detour to the mess. Sanja, for whom four dumplings had barely made a dint in her sudden appetite, eagerly agreed. It was empty now, all the cooks having long since retired for the night, but Kai simply blew at the hearth to bring the fire back to life.
He asked questions as he prepared the food. Whether she was enjoying her classes. What the other children were like. If there was anything she wanted to stop learning.
"No," she said. "I want to learn. I'm just--" She didn't know what else to say.
Kai nodded. "I understand," he said. "Do you want us to talk to those other children?"
"No!" Sanja exclaimed. That would just make it worse.
He nodded again. "I thought not." He asked, "Is there anything you would like to study, that you're not?"
Voice hopeful, she asked, "Magic?"
Expression serious as he cut up half a sausage, Kai said, "One day, perhaps. If you still want to."
"Why not now?"
"Magic changes things. Changes you," he said. "You deserve time, before you make that decision."
"How much time?"
"Two cycles of the seasons," Kai said.
Sanja pouted. That would be ages.
... But then he put down a hot bowl of food in front of her, grains and sausage and vegetables, and Sanja thought, she could wait. If she really had to.
As she ate, he asked, "Have you ever drank warm goat's milk?"
"No," Sanja said, through a full mouth.
Getting up again, he said, "Then I'll make us some."
"Could you tell me a story while you do?" Sanja asked. She was almost surprised at herself; she wouldn't have dared, before. But something had changed, she thought. She admitted, "I wasn't really paying attention to the ones earlier."
"Very well," he said, as he poured milk into a pot over the fire. "A long time ago, on the grasslands, there lived a coyote, clever and quick..."