[Continued from Look What the Kat Dragged In]
The two walk quietly away from the grove. Eathan frowns slightly but says nothing, as has become habit with him. He only grunts as he helps Rye up onto the horse and swings up after her. They ride it out of the forests, out of the brush-hills, and finally come to something that could once have been called a town, though now it is no more a town than a sun-bleached skeleton is a body. The soul has left it.
"Mr. Gyrfalcon?"
Eathan turns slightly. "I toldja you could call me Eathan," he mumbles. "Whaddya want?"
Rye appears to take no notice of this fact. "I don't like it here. Where are all the people?"
"They're probably all dead. The flu, the plague. Or the fear of it. That'd be my guess." He clucks to the horse, and the sound seems to become lost in the wind that is singing through the house-frames like a rusty windchime.
"Oh."
It is dark once again. And they are still riding. Rye mumbles something sleepily, curls up as best she can against the small of Eathan's back, and falls into a restless sleep.
Eathan looks out at the city they are passing through. As far as the eye can see, there is nothing but angular streets and rounded silvered buildings, like the emerald city gone high-tech, wrong, and silent. /A dead city/, he thinks. His sigh falls into the wind.
--
"Eathan?"
"Umhm." He rolled over on his back and looked up at the rune-graffiti smeared wood that held Ruiai's bunk bed above his own. The half-finished spells flickered in the dark.
"Do you think there are other worlds?"
"Why do you stay awake nights thinking about this?" Eathan said, and swallowed.
"Really. What do you think?"
"I think it's time to go to sleep. Tomorrow - "
Ruiai poked his head over the edge of the bed and looked at Eathan, his eyes bright. Eathan looked back, and knew he couldn't keep up the ruse anymore. Somehow, Ruiai knew. Something.
"Ru," he began. "What would you say if there were?"
"I'd say you'd have to have been to at least one of them."
Eathan sat upright. The bedsprings creaked like rockfrogs. He missed hitting his head on the bedframe only out of habit born of practice. He stood and looked at Ruiai, who had flipped over on his stomach and was cupping his chin in both hands, looking at him. "Ru...how did you know that? I mean, I don't - you - "
"You come home nights late, smelling of things I don't have words for. You can't sleep at nights, and then you fall asleep at midafternoon meal. You take much more care in cleaning your boots than the horses..." There was a soft noise of sheets moving, then Ruiai reached out a hand. In it was a half-dead flower. "...but the other day you didn't realize that this had fallen off them before you got here. I found it near the farthest pasture." He looked at the red flower speculatively. "I know every plant here, Eathan. This isn't one of them."
Eathan exhaled slowly, then took the flower and began picking petals off of it. "Yeah," he said. "I've been other places."
"You're lucky father didn't find this."
Eathan looked up quickly. His blood chilled past ice. "You - "
"I wouldn't say anything. Ever."
Eathan frowned. "I'm sorry, Ru. I didn't mean to hurt you. I know you wouldn't."
"Yeah. I know." His brother sounded tired, and not simply from lack of sleep. "So, there are others." He sounded strangely vindicated.
Eathan nodded.
"What are they like?"
Eathan hesitated. "I've only been to a few yet. They're... different. Some are all rock. Some are desert. Some are water. Once I saw one of clouds. And the people...! There's stories about a place that connects them all. I haven't gotten there yet. But I want to."
"Will you take me sometime?"
Eathan looked up at his brother's pleading tone, up from the petals littering the floor and crumbling into dust. "No."
Ruiai blinked. "Why?" he asked, and in the single question Eathan heard undertones of a hundred more, each sadder than the last. "If I found another world, Eathan, I'd explore it. Question it. Enjoy it." He paused, and when he looked up at his brother there were tears, glistening dark, running down his face. "What do you do, with those worlds and your life?" Then, very softly: "I've found more than flowers on your boots, Eathan. Though it was just as red."
--
Rye stirred in her dreams. ::Warm good home:: For a moment, he caught a glimpse of her dreams. They had once been his own.
/Damn,/ he thought. /I am not going to ruin her life for her./ The horse continued on for a moment. /At least I know where I can take her./ They passed through a portal a moment later, leaving their silhouette in stars.
He went to Angel City, in a part of the town where he hadn't been much before, except at night. He took one wrong turn and ended up in a jungle, then backtracked and finally found the place. He looked up at the sign: 'The Crystal Dragon's Orphnage.' It was missing a letter.
He got off the horse, keeping half of his attention focused on Rye, and rang the doorbell. It buzzed with an echoing sound. /Probably a long hall behind there,/ he thought. /I hope I don't have to wait too long/.
A long pause follows Eathan's knock. The house appears abandoned, except for a flickering light in the uppermost window which vanishes abruptly. If he listens carefully, he can hear the pattering of many small feet coming towards him, and then . . . .
/Lots of kids here,/ he thinks. /Good sign./
"Get. To. BED!"
The authoritative voice rings through the house, silencing everything. Even the crickets outside seem to pause in admiration. Then, quickly, the sound of many feet running away from the door can be heard, peppered by the occasional giggle.
/And they're still laughing. Better./ He smiles tiredly to himself. /What if there'd been a place like this for me?/ he thinks, then pushes the thought to the back of his mind. Far, far back. /Well,/ he thinks, /a little late now./
The lock rattles open, and a small, crystal-scaled dragon shoulders open the door. Whirling blue eyes peer at Eathan from over a pair of reading spectacles.
Eathan looks down at the dragon. He hadn't expected to have to do that.
"You look a little old to live in an orphanage, dear. Are you sure you don't want the shelter a few doors down?"
Eathan presses his lips together. It is a moment before he can speak. /No...obviously. Stupid lizards./
"No," he says, finally, quietly. "There's this girl...I thought this'd be a good place for her to go." He gestures toward the horse and the quietly sleeping Rye. She is snoring gently. He looks back at the dragon. "I'm Eathan. Gyrfalcon."
The dragon peers around Eathan to look at Rye. She squints for a moment, adjusting to the dark, and just for a moment, a flicker of red mars her otherwise blue eyes. She takes off her glasses and tucks them under one bewinged arm.
The assassin steps backward and puts his hand on the horse's bridle to stop it from bolting at the dragon.
"I can't say it's a pleasure to meet you, Mister Gyrfalcon," she says candidly. "It's rather late in this part of town." Eathan shrugs. "Still, you should come in; there's a yard out back, if you need somewhere to put your horse. The girl can come with us, of course. Can I interest you in a cup of coffee? I'm afraid I don't keep tea."
"Thanks. I'll have coffee. Black." He takes the horse around to the back and tethers it quickly to the sturdy fence, and stands a moment looking at Rye. He sighs, then picks her up. She awakens, and mumbles something, then wakes more and asks, "where are we?"
"Um..." he goes up the steps and waits while the dragon unlocks the back door, then sets her down in a chair in the kitchen. "Here." He sits down in a fifties-style yellow-vinyl covered chair himself, and waits.
Java passes him his mug: it's slightly cracked in the handle, but still functional. As promised, the coffee is black.
The assassin nods and takes small sips of the coffee, watching Rye and Java over the rim of the cup.
To Rye, she passes a tall glass of some unidentified red juice.
Rye rubs her eyes for a moment or two, then stares wide-eyed at the dragoness. "Wow."
"You're quite the sight yourself," Java says, grinning at the girl's astonishment before settling herself in her own chair: identified by the hoarde of books surrounding it, and the multiple ring marks on the plastic armrests.
"Hey," the girl says, after taking an experimental sip. "This is good." She guzzles the rest down greedily and smiles at Java.
"My name is Java Sunrunner," she begins formally. "I own the Orphanage here, and run it, with help."
The glass slips out of Rye's hands and shatters on the floor. "What?" She looks at Java, then at Eathan. "Orphanage?" She looks at Eathan and bites her lip, hard, trying not to cry. There is dead silence for a few moments.
Eathan coughs and shifts uneasily in his chair. /Dammit, dammit to hell,/ he thinks. /Why didn't you just leave her there when you had the chance, Gyrfalcon, you idiotic fool./ He moves back further into the chair as if he hopes he could fall through the back and leave this place and time.
"We support eleven children presently, although Bennett is just about ready to move out on her own." Her gaze drops down to Rye again. "What's your name, then?"
After a few moments, she looks up at Java steadily. She swallows. Then, in a tiny, defiant, terrified voice says, "Rye."
"That's all," she says a moment later, as if daring the dragoness to ask. She looks down at the few droplets of red juice converging on the tiled floor.
Java glances at the shards of glass which litter the floor, but only briefly. Then she looks not back up at Rye, but at Eathan. Her eyes whirled a demure ochre shade. "I think you'd be best to explain the situation to both of us, Mister Gyrfalcon. Rye has a right to know."
To Java, he nods. "I didn't tell her where we were going," he says.
Then, he turns to Rye, and looks at her. ::Hurt confusion swelteringanger:: come flooding into his brain. /Damn, bad idea/. He changes his mind and looks down at the floor as he clears his throat. Then speaks. "In part because I was hoping you wouldn't wake up, and by the time you did, I'd be gone." He smiles, faintly, sadly. "That didn't work. I brought you here because I'd heard of the place. And from what I'd heard, it seemed like it was a lot safer than being with me." /Hell,/ he thinks. /I know it is./ He glances to Java as he speaks.
He takes a deep breath, raises tired, reddened eyes to Rye, and continues. Her hurt and pain, combined with his own, threaten to overwhelm him, but he does not try to block her feelings out of his mind. He has neither the energy, nor the will. /I caused this,/ he thinks. /I'd better damn well not pretend it's not real./ He swallows. "I - I know how it is to be left alone, Rye. I'm sorry." His knuckles are nearly as white as the china handle of the mug he is gripping.
He sits back in the chair again, finally, and looks at Java.
The dragon is unable to hide the confusion that overcomes her after Eathan's speech. She is about to try to read his mind--how her curiousity rages at the chance to examine the psyche of someone like this Eathan Gyrfalcon!--but restrains herself. His intentions are good. That is enough for her.
Eathan frowns for just a moment when Java's thoughts, too strong to completely block out at his current level of mental exhaustion, filter vaguely through to his mind.
/It's good she didn't try it,/ he thinks. /I wouldn't have been able to take it... I wouldn't have been able to stop her in time, and then I wouldn't have been able to take it. I think I would have finally lost it./ He shakes his head imperceptibly, and takes a very small sip of coffee. /Gods. I almost wish she had./
Rye, who has sat, unmoving, during Eathan's speech, raises her head and carefully looks at the empty space between Java and Eathan, seeing both of them at the same time, but not really looking at either. /Why?/
Eathan sighs. He has no answer that he wants to admit to the girl.
"All of the children here know what it's like," Java adds, saddened by the look in Rye's eyes. "You're welcome to stay here as long as you like, too."
Rye bites her lip and draws circles in the juice puddles with the toe of her muddy tennis shoes. She looks over to Java. "Ok," she concedes. /This must be better than before...I hope./ "Who else is here?" Then, after a moment: " 'm sorry I messed up the floor."
Tension drains visibly out of the assassin like a waterfall. /Thank God./
"Normally I'd get you to help clean it up," Java said, smiling fondly at the girl. "But I think I can handle broken glass a little better than you can." The dragoness hops off her chair to grab a dustpan from the counter, and begins to sweep the shards into it with a paw. The glass clinks merrily against her crystal scales.
"Thanks, Java," Rye says, and watches the dragoness in mute facination.
He finishes the coffee, and looks at the grounds in the bottom of the cup for a moment, thinking and hedging his bets. /Ah, it can't hurt to try./ ~Java? I don't know if you can hear this, but when this little - conversation - is over there's some things I'd like to let you know before I have to leave.~
Java blinks, startled, and crushes the glass into powder in her paw. After a moment, she brushes it off into the pan, and rises to dump the glass into a wastebasket near the sink.
~As you wish,~ she replies, her mind-voice strong and resonant. No further comments are offered.
/Hm,/ he thinks, noting the dragoness' unexpected reaction. /Maybe I shoulda warned her./
She turns her attention back to Rye, however. This is where her concern lies, it appears; she pulls her chair up beside the girl, and smiles warmly. "Now, you asked who else was here. There's lots of children here: some of them are your age. They were all abandoned by their family, and brought here by someone who was concerned about them. Just like you, since Eathan brought you here."
Emotion flickers across Eathan's eyes. He hadn't thought about it in quite those words. He'd tried not to think about it in those terms, actually. Emotions tended to muck life up, make everything harder. They weren't needed. Never. No.
Right?
Rye looks fixedly back at Java, curiously examining the dragon. "What're their names?" She tilts her head and asks, "And why are you named after coffee?" /I hope she won't get mad I asked her,/ she thinks.
"I'll introduce you to them in the morning," Java assures her. "They know you're here already, I'm sure, and they'll be up before the sun rises just to see who you are."
Rye looks intrigued.
"As for myself, I'm named after coffee because it's a nickname," she continues, grinning at Rye's question. "I got it because I drink a lot of it. That's all. Would you like to know my real name? I haven't told anyone it in a very long time. You have to promise to keep it a secret."
/Ooh,/ Rye thinks. "Ok," she says, and grins eagerly. "I won't tell." She looks very serious.
Java shuffles over to Rye, and leans close to the girl to whisper something in her ear. She winks at Eathan on her way by, but doesn't offer to tell him their secret. The dragon's sapphire ear-fans form a little enclave around her head and Rye's, making sure that no one else can hear.
"My real name is . . ." that's all that's audible to anyone but Rye. If you listen carefully, she says something about ". . . Sunrunner," but the rest is lost.
Rye leans in, eagerly, and grins as she hears the name. Eathan leans back in his chair. It makes a slight creaking sound against the linoleum.
"Now, do you think you can keep my secret?" Java asks, leaning back. Her ears flip back to their normal position, and she grins toothily. "I haven't told anyone else here at the Orphanage. Just you."
Rye nods vigourously. "Yes! Thanks, J - oops. Java." She grins again.
"Good girl," Java says. She smiles and tousels Rye's hair with a forepaw. "Now, do you think you could go and watch some television while Eathan and I talk some things over? There's a couch in there, if you're sleepy, too. You look a little worn around the edges, dear."
Rye nods. "Yes," she says. "I am kind of tired." She yawns, and goes into the other room. In a few minutes, the theme from 'George LeChat: Spy Cat' can be heard. /I think I'm going to like it in this place,/ she thinks before falling into a quiet sleep.
Eathan turns to Java after Rye is out of earshot. "Thanks," he says. "Maybe I should've warned you about the mindspeech. It's just - I don't think about using it." he shrugs, thinking, /Or I try not to think about it all the time. Take your pick/.
"She's had a pretty rough time of life so far... I know a little about it. Thought it might make your job less stressful if you knew some of what you - and her- are gonna havta deal with later on." He looks steadily at the dragoness.
Java meets his gaze blandly, somewhat put off by his egotism. Her eyes whirl a gentle yellow-green, now. "I can take care of Rye, Eathan," she says. "You know that. You wouldn't have brought her to me if you didn't think I was capable of handling her.
"Tell me, however. What's different about that little girl in there?"
Eathan frowns, and shifts in his chair before replying. "She's been severly abused, physically and sexually. Maybe she's been raped. I don't know that for sure... thank God," he adds to himself, "but I suspect it. And she's killed the one who's done it." He says nothing more for a long, long time. The tick of the clock is loud. "I don't know about her family." Another long silence, broken by a cough. "Yeah. I'm sorry I've taken up all this time. Probably most of the kids here are messed up like that too, and you know how to handle all of that. Just, I dunno." He shrugs. "Just wanted you to know." He gets up, takes his mug over to the kitchen counter, and rinses it out before setting it on the countertop. He looks at Rye as she sleeps on the sofa, curled into the cushions like a snail.
"Yeah. Thanks. Um." He takes out his wallet, black leather, and fishes through it for a moment. He hands her a business card, heavy black copperplate lettering on a slightly battered square of manillia paper:
'Eathan Gyrfalcon 27632-58943:2, Sector 3'
"Or," he says, "you can think my name. If you ever need me. Um." He rubs his hand over his chin for a moment. "Well. I guess. Thanks again." He swallows. "Thanks. Bye."
He leaves, and shuts the door behind him without even the slightest noise. He gets on the horse, clops through cobblestoned streets until grass is reached, and then silently they run. And silently the assassin cries.
Java watches them leave from the doorway, opened again despite Eathan's efforts. Her ear fans are raised, and the light from the kitchen behind her causes them to glow an eerie blue. She listens as the "clip clop" sound of the horse's hooves fades, and then disappears entirely.
The assassin knows the dragon is watching him as he leaves. /I hope she doesn't think I'm coming back for her. I'm not. I'm not, I'm not. I'm not going back./
The wyvern sighs, her tail agitatedly lashing back and forth behind her. She stands there a while, watching for . . . something . . . until the cold of the city begins to make her shiver. The hoofbeats never return, although her sensitive ears strain to hear them.
The door is shut once more, and Java heads towards the living room. Rye is curled up on the couch, her peaked face made even more pale by the harsh blue light of the television set. The dragon kneels down beside her new charge, nudges the girl into a more comfortable position, and pulls a brightly patterned blanket over her.
"Well, you've stolen my bed for the night," Java sighs, looking about for another place to sleep. She drags together a few more blankets into a pile on the floor and curls up amid them. With her tail, she turns off the television set, thus ending the adventures of George leChat for the day.
Settling her wings over herself, Java snuggles into her makeshift nest. She welcomes sleep, fully aware of the truth of the little voice in her head that tells her that Rye's first day in the orphanage will be a long one.
Rye wakes up, stretches, and blinks. /Where - oh./ She buries her head into a large green pillow and begins to cry, softly.
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