3 #2
Secrets within secrets. It was the spy’s way he had been taught ever since he’d been brought into the home and workshop of Isolde van Aidel as a young orphan.
“We reach Middletown the day after tomorrow,” Master Avery reminded them all that night at dinner.
Kurt had been eating with the family, helping with chores while the Master went off to see how the rest of the caravan was doing.
When Master Avery settled down in front of the family’s small campfire, he sighed heavily, accepting a plate of savory stew from his eldest daughter.
He dug in while the others asked questions about the tail end of their long line of wagons.
“All are doing well,” Master Avery reported, then looked at Kurt. “Your virkin friend has a companion toward the rear of the line. Another traveler is accompanied by a virkin. They are the talk of the caravan this trip.”
“Really?” Kurt answered, wondering why Arch hadn’t mentioned there was another of his kind on this journey.
Then again, Arch had been disappearing for most of the traveling day, only reappearing at night when the wagons were stationary, to spend time with Kurt.
He hadn’t thought anything of it, knowing that virkin liked to investigate their surroundings and often would fly off for long periods.
They really were their own masters, and Kurt didn’t even try to keep track of Arch.
He’d come back when he was good and ready.
“I haven’t seen the other virkin myself, but I’ve heard she’s a young female of a pretty sky-blue coloration. She is traveling with a young woman making her first journeyman trip for the gem cutter’s guild.
Kurt’s breath stopped for a short moment.
It couldn’t be. Surely little Malea wasn’t old enough yet for her journeyman’s trial?
How long had it been since he’d seen her?
He couldn’t really recall. At least a year or two.
If it was Malea, she would likely have a dual purpose to her journey, just like Kurt, himself.
They’d both been raised in spycraft, even if Malea’s talents had taken her to another guild.
Isolde would never cut ties with one of her family, and each of the orphans she took in were hers.
For the rest of their lives, they were part of her family.
A large, boisterous, loving family that was more than Kurt had ever hoped for after his parents died.
If, indeed, it was Malea, and she was on a mission for the crown as well as her guild, Kurt wouldn’t muddy the waters by bringing too much attention to her—or the fact that they already knew each other.
Part of what could make Malea a good agent for the crown was the fact that she was not a glass maker.
Although she’d been raised by Isolde, she’d shown a true talent for gem cutting and had moved to Master Goldman’s hall years ago.
She wouldn’t be seen as one of Isolde’s anymore and that gave her another layer of secrecy in which to spy on behalf of the crown.
But, for right now, Kurt had to make conversation with Master Avery, hopefully protecting whoever the gem cutter’s guild had sent on this journey. If they actually needed his protection. He’d try to get a glimpse of whoever it was, if possible, tomorrow.
“I know some of the virkin who grew up with Arch moved off to other guild halls. At least one went to the one of the gem cutters, I believe,” Kurt said, casually imparting information without giving anything important away.
“Apparently, your friend Arch has been seen riding atop various wagons with the other virkin, dozing in the sunshine or just watching the scenery pass by. They appear to be quite friendly,” Master Avery observed.
“It’s possible they are related, or at least known to each other. The population of virkin has been growing steadily, but that’s mostly due to the original pairs raising their young here in Valdis,” Kurt reported.
“And a few more pairs with clutches of young have been coming in on other Jinn caravans,” Madam Avery piped in as she motioned to her daughters to start cleaning up the bowls and spoons they’d used to eat the stew.
“They have?” That was news to Kurt.
Zhara nodded as she moved around the small campfire. “Not a lot, but just about every other caravan that’s come up from Elderland has a few virkin tagging along.”
“The General knows,” Master Avery said quietly, looking into Kurt’s eyes.
“The first thing they do is go introduce themselves to him and the King, from what I hear. Your little friends are establishing a real colony here in Valdis. We Jinn take that as good omen. The virkin, it is said, will not live where there is evil entrenched. They are creatures of pure Light.”
“I have always found them to be so,” Kurt agreed, watching as Arch angled in for a landing on top of the Averys’ wagon. Out of politeness, it was time to change the subject.
The next day, Kurt did his best to get a look at other wagons down the line, but it was awkward. He didn’t really have a chance to seek out the other virkin and its companion until later that night when the wagons halted to make camp.
Kurt saw to the horses, lingering over his work and returning back to the front of the line of wagons by the most roundabout path. He was able to pass near all the campfires from the end of the line forward, taking care to look around to see if he could spot the gem cutter.
About halfway up the long line, he paused.
The campfire crackled gently in a small clearing to the side of a red and gold wagon.
A woven rug and a few cushions were scattered across the packed earth between the fire and the wagon.
Two lanterns hung from wrought iron hooks, casting pools of golden light, and the scent of spiced tea lingered in the crisp air.
Around the next campfire, a wagon’s length away, a group of Jinn musicians plucked soft, lilting melodies from stringed instruments, their song more practice than performance.
They were tuning up for the work they would do entertaining the crowds at the festival tomorrow.
The sound was delicate and warm, like the hush before dawn.
Kurt gazed around the fire and then… He saw her.