Page 4 of Stealing Samantha

Jaess inclined his head again in lieu of a verbal reply. He was ready to leave this place, but he doubted he would encounter another offer of assistance if he left Yanish behind. It was best to appease the man to ensure his willing cooperation.

“Just follow me. We’ll finish the final patrol circuit and if all is well, I’ll escort you to Fleet Headquarters,” Yanish told him with a faint smile. The man parted his lips and then closed them again, looking Jaess in the eyes before he spoke. “It can be difficult to adjust to the city, but it isn’t as bad as you believe, just different. Give yourself a chance to enjoy it here before you make your judgments.”

Jaess bent his head for a third time. “I will,” he said. Then he looked out at the stark, desolate city, and up at the crowded, noisy sky. He would no longer share his opinions. He needed this v’ith’s help.

3

“Come,Jaess. Your cousin may still be gone, but my brothers await us at the dancehall. You’ll see—it will feel good to leap and stretch your wings again.”

The visit to Fleet Headquarters had proved fruitless. Well, not entirely. Jaess had learned that T’xith was aboard his ship and not expected to return for five revolutions. Luckily, Yanish had decided he liked him well enough to offer him hospitality while he waited for his cousin to return to Xithilene. They were about to leave Yanish’s small dwelling. The other man seemed certain that Jaess would enjoy this building designed for dancing, but again, he had his doubts. How could his movements be truly free if he was confined? Dancing was meant to be practiced in the open air as the leaves of the great trees mirrored a man’s own motions. Trapped within walls in the heart of a city—he couldn’t imagine that it wouldn’t feel unnatural.

“I anticipate the evening’s pleasures,” he replied with a slight tip of his head towards the other man.

Yanish’s light hiss of amusement let him know that he’d spoken strangely again. He hadn’t found T’xith’s conversation so different from his own, but apparently Jaess would need to adapt his way of speaking if he wanted to be at home in Verkissat. He tugged at his belt, finding it unaccustomedly light that evening. He’d been told that the number of weapons on his person would be unwelcome at the dancehall, but at least his normal garments seemed appropriate for one destination in the city. Yanish was dressed much like himself in an open vest designed to accommodate wings and well worn leather trousers.

“Shall we go now?”

“Yes, I am ready,” Jaess said, eager to leave now that there was no more avoiding the supposed entertainment.

He no longer reacted when they took the conveyance from Yanish’s sky-height dwelling all the way down to ground level. The tech didn’t bother him, and most of it wasn’t even surprising. Although they chose not to engage with the greater world in Vastiss, they weren’t entirely ignorant. He still had to admit that the first time he’d experienced the ride up, it’d forced a hiss of alarm past his lips.

The sky was unnaturally bright that evening, and once more, the wrongness of it was like a blow, leaving him unsteady and pained. He missed the forest at night, her shadows and depth, the calm despite the never ceasing noises of her creatures.

“Four other landsmen will be meeting us there. We’ll have to walk once we reach the Scale District, but it isn’t really that far,” Yanish was telling him, his words running together as Jaess remained silent while he observed their descent.

“I’m sure it isn’t,” he replied absently. Jaess had spent his life running the skybridges of Vastiss. A short walk through the city didn’t worry him.

“You do dance, don’t you?”

Jaess inhaled slowly and stifled the rippling of his feathers, keeping his wings as still as he could manage against his back. He owed Yanish a debt, and visibly expressing his annoyance would be unacceptably rude to his host.

“Yes, I have always danced,” he replied evenly, even as some small part of him pulsed with giddy life at the thought of truly being able to move his body again. He hadn’t tucked his wings away or moved unnaturally during his time in Verkissat like some of the other winged he’d seen, but there were no daily leaps from branch to branch or languorous descents to the forest floor as there were at home. Perhaps Yanish’s entertainment would prove satisfying after all.

“Good,” Yanish said, and Jaess glanced his way guiltily, knowing he’d barely been listening to his companion. Yanish had been kind. He was duty bound to be grateful to the man.

The rest of the journey to the dance hall was similar to the many they’d already undertaken before as Yanish had shown him the different facets of the city. Just as he’d accustomed himself to the rapid descent from Yanish’s dwelling, the speeding cross-city hover pods had grown ordinary after a few days. When they disembarked and passed the transportation center, entering a series of narrow walkways between the buildings, he felt more comfortable than he had since he’d first arrived in Verkissat.

“This is the Scale District—where landsmen can go when they’re missing home. The true dance halls are here, food from the forests, garment merchants, and anything else you might want is available if you don’t mind the slightly less impressive surroundings.” Yanish’s wings lifted lightly with a little ripple as his mouth flattened. He was glancing at the rather shoddy looking tile work on the roof of a building they were passing on their right.

“I like it. It’s darker here and the colors are more natural,” Jaess replied. He was telling the truth. He still found the white and silver toned buildings of the main city sterile and unpleasant, and at least here he could feel a bit of the sense of shelter he missed from the forest. The way the buildings leaned in over the walkways cast comforting shadows, and he realized how exposed he’d been feeling since he’d arrived.

Yanish just glanced at him with another of his uncertain smiles. “Well, even if you didn’t want to dance, you’re sure to attract attention tonight.”

Jaess flicked up his crown feathers in question.

“Your wings—your coloring is quite unique,” Yanish continued, rushing out the words as his own wings tightened against his back. The other man almost sounded…jealous.

“They’ve caused me enough trouble over the years,” Jaess said. “Blending in was often more difficult on our clan hunts, but I found my own ways around that in time.” He’d put it mildly. His pale green, gold marked wings had always glowed like a beacon in the night.

“You were a hunter then?”

“Yes. It was always what I did best. Is that the dance hall ahead?” he asked. The low thump of recorded drums rumbled outwards from a building on his left.

Yanish seemed to perk up again, his feathers lifting as he grinned. “Yes. Let’s hurry—I’m already eager to dance.”

When they stepped through the wide entryway, Jaess winced as a wave of sound overwhelmed him. It wasn’t that he was unfamiliar with recorded music, but his people hadn’t often bothered with it. When they danced together, it was always to the beat of their mothers’ drums, and it had never been so loud. When he’d chosen to dance alone, he’d moved without any music at all.

Yanish angled his head towards him, but Jaess couldn’t make out any of his words through the noise. It wasn’t just the heavy drums and rapid notes of the many flutes that filled the air—what seemed like hundreds of voices crowded the close space between himself and the others, and the fluttering and rustling of feathers was like a constant itch beneath dry scales.

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