Page 94 of Glass Wings
A moment later, the dragon was airborne, the gust of wind from the movement of its wings feeling like one of Arryn’s familiar storms of power.
Amis scrambled to his feet, shaking and wet from the snow and adrenaline rush.
I’m not explaining this to anyone.
It would probably be better for his mental health just to ignore that this ever happened.
28
Djoser | Cairo, Egypt | Early 2000s
Rummagingthrough his mostly empty kitchen pantry, Djoser picked up a can of green beans, huffing.
“It will have to do,” he said to his relatively empty apartment as he walked a few steps, putting him officially in the living room. He had a rusty nail held in between his teeth, grabbed it with his left hand, and placed it on the wall above his modest wooden desk.
Djoser whacked the nail four times with the bottom of the can of green beans, grunted in approval, and tossed it aside. He grabbed the frame off the desk and hung it up. The walls in his small Cairo apartment had been completely bare until now.
Djoser took a step back to admire his handiwork, his master's degree in archaeology now displayed proudly.
“This is stupid,” he mumbled bitterly and grabbed the framed degree with embarrassment, taking it to the kitchen and throwing it into his small trash can under the sink.
The worthless things humans hold onto . . .
He was pent up, with his schooling program over and no one to boss around politically in secret. He was beginning to worry that he might be irrelevant.
How fitting, death becoming irrelevant.
If the worst thing in his life was that he needed to go out to a pub to have a drink because he had nothing else to do, then he felt he could not be complaining. He had been through so much, but today may be the start of his retirement chapter. Maybe he’d like it.
Djoser grabbed his keys and marched right out of his apartment door, not bothering to lock it as there was nothing in there for anyone to steal, and marched downstairs before exiting the dusty exterior door.
It was another sunny day. The harsh rays were beating down on his long-sleeved shirt and pants. He pulled out his sunglasses, cheap from a local vendor, and moved down the street on foot. He passed more slummy apartment buildings in old towns, children playing football in the streets while mothers yelled for them from windows.
Shortly after he began his journey, Djoser turned into a small pub, dark and smelling of dirt but filled with high-spirited men on their fourth or fifth rounds despite it only being lunchtime. A match was playing on the television above the bar, and the goalie missed the block, making everyone lose their shit with either triumph or despair.
Djoser stood at the bar and lifted a finger to the man attending it, who nodded at him. Moments later, a frosty pint of yellow beer sat before him.
“Keep it open.” Djoser nodded to the bartender with appreciation and handed him a credit card from his back pocket.
“And I’ll take whatever he’s having,” said someone suddenly standing right beside him, utterly too close. Djoser shot the stranger a warning before realizing who it was, his shoulders relaxing as he grabbed his pint and took a large gulp from the glass.
“Arryn, you know, believe it or not, you are a sight for sore eyes, old pal,” Djoser said, a true smile on his face. Djoser was facing hispanicking moment of boredom, but if Arryn was showing up unannounced, that meant something needed to be fixed; someone likely had to die. Purpose; Arryn showing up likely meant purpose.
“I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you happy to see me,” Arryn said, solemn and stern. The bartender sat down a second pint, and Djoser watched Arryn grab it, drinking half of the glass in two swallows. “That’s not bad,” he added.
“What brings you here?” Djoser asked. “I have not sensed any other Vrae here in the city.”
“This could be related to Vrae, but it’s uncertain. Either way, I don’t know if I'll get through it alone.”
“You know,” Djoser said. “You should consider getting a mobile phone.”
“So I’ve heard.”
The two sat there for a few moments in silence, drinking their beers. Djoser looked at the bartender and signaled for two more while finishing the one in his hands.
“Allienna’s child has been located,” Arryn said. “My child, too, I suppose. Yet all I can think of is what happened to her mother. How do I find her? I saw the twins in France?—”
“You flew to France? On your own? You are a notoriously old grumpy fool who hates to travel,” Djoser chuckled, the second half of his second beer relaxing him.
