as they wended their way through the busy Vayle streets.
When at last they caught up to the steward, the market was too crowded for Veronyka to hear any more, and she was anxious to approach him. But if the steward and the boy were speaking Pyraean to keep their affairs secret, they certainly wouldn’t appreciate Veronyka approaching them in the middle of the bustling market.
“You’re staring at them,” Sparrow said. It wasn’t phrased like a question. Her brow was furrowed and her head was tilted slightly, as if trying to make sense of the noise all around.
“Uh, yes, I guess I am,” Veronyka muttered, turning around and pretending to shop at a stall of headscarves. The proprietor gave her and Sparrow dubious looks—both were barefooted and dirty—and when Sparrow began feeling the fabrics enthusiastically, the saleswoman slapped her hand away.
“Why?” Sparrow asked Veronyka, unperturbed by the chastisement. She turned away from the stall and twirled her spear in front of her with a haphazard flick of the wrist, causing everybody they passed to gasp and scuttle out of the way.
Veronyka glanced around, but Sparrow’s spear made sure everyone gave them a wide berth. “I think they might be Phoenix Riders.”
Veronyka didn’t know why she trusted Sparrow with this information, but she figured she could use all the help she could get.
“Oh, Phoenix Riders,” Sparrow breathed, eyes alight. Her hands stilled, and the butt of her spear landed on the ground with a soft thud. “Lyra the Defender. Wise Queen Malka and Thrax. Aurelya, the Golden Queen.”
“Have you heard anything about them recently, Sparrow? Anything to do with the steward?”
The girl shook her head. “I will listen harder.”
Then, without another word, she darted in the direction of the steward’s wagon.
“Sparrow!” Veronyka hissed. She chased after the girl, leaping back from a horse-drawn cart and dodging the flailing arms of a fishmonger promising the freshest catch of the day, before finally catching up to her next to the wagon.
Veronyka opened her mouth to insist that they leave at once, afraid they would be seen eavesdropping, when Sparrow clapped small, clammy fingers against Veronyka’s lips.
“Rooms are booked,” the steward said, his voice drifting over to them from the opposite side of the wagon. The words were followed by the grunt and shift of heavy items being loaded inside. “We’ll leave just before dawn. Then it’s Rushlea and a hard push to Petratec. You off to see her?”
“If that’s all right, Master Beryk,” the boy answered, his voice tight with worry. Master Beryk, as in Master Rider, the designation for a fully trained Phoenix Rider? While anyone who rode a phoenix could be called a “phoenix rider,” when referring to Phoenix Riders in the military sense, there were two specific subgroups: masters and apprentices.
“Remember, no formalities here, Elliot.”
“Of course—I’m sorry, sir.”
“You’ve plenty of time for a visit, so long as you’re back before daybreak.”
“I will be.”
Beryk sighed. “If only the commander weren’t so strict . . . you might have brought her back with you. Your sister’s an animage, yes?”
“Everyone is in my family. She’d have come when I did, if he would have let her.” His voice wavered slightly, as if fighting to hide his bitterness. “She desperately wants to be a Rider.”
Beryk cleared his throat, and Veronyka feared he could hear her heart skip a beat on the other side of the wagon. “Well, lucky she’s visiting relatives so close to Vayle and that you get to see her now, at any rate.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll go now, then.”
Veronyka had a split second to realize that the scraping footsteps were heading in their direction before she straightened up, trying to pull Sparrow back with her.
The young boy, Elliot, rounded the wagon and spotted them lurking near the edge of the canvas flap that covered their supplies.
“Hey!” he shouted, eyes landing first on Sparrow. Like the scarf seller, Elliot had taken one look at her wild hair and dirty clothes and had decided she was no good. “Get away from there, thief!”
He lunged forward, waving an arm as if he meant to scare her off, and Veronyka instinctually leapt between them. She didn’t want to see Sparrow harmed and was fed up with the careless way people treated her.
“She’s no thief,” Veronyka snapped, keeping a hand on Sparrow, pleased to hear that her voice sounded braver than she felt. Chirp started twittering away, zooming in wide circles around all three of them, and it seemed their combined efforts were enough to stop Elliot short.