Aldric Thornwood's Arc

Chapter 10 of 11

The carpet flew straight for an hour. Then it began to drift. Aldric felt the corner under his knee sag left, and the wind changed shoulders. The ridges below stopped rolling east and started sliding north. He pressed his palm flat on the weave. "East," he said. The carpet did not answer. It kept drifting. He shifted his weight the other way. The tassels flicked. The carpet slid harder north. He checked the pot against his ribs. The wax seam held, but he could feel the heat of his own hand warming the clay. Chanterelle had told the carpet where Sylvana lived. She had not told him how to hold it to the line. He tried leaning, tried a fistful of tassel, tried talking to it the way he talked to the wolf. Nothing worked. The stars swung wrong above him. Lights showed below. A tavern stood on a rise, windows lit yellow, chimneys smoking, a wide porch strung with lanterns. Travelers moved on the deck. The carpet was drifting toward it whether he wanted it or not. He decided to want it. He leaned hard until the carpet dropped. It landed clumsy on the porch boards. The wolf jumped off first. Heads turned. Aldric held up the sealed pot so they could see he was not armed for trouble. "I need a pilot," he said. "For a carpet. Tonight." A man at the rail turned around. Blond, cape, a dragonfly perched on his collar. Aldric knew him from the kiln. The prince who had helped fire the stoneware jar. "You," Mycel said. He looked at the carpet, then at the pot. "That's Sylvana's roots." "They spoil at dawn." "And you can't steer." "No." Mycel stepped down off the rail. The dragonfly lifted, hovered, bit his ear once, and settled again. "It's a Southern weave. They answer to the old trade tongue. You have to name the destination out loud, in its language, every time it forgets." He almost smiled. "It forgets often." "You speak it." "I speak all of them." He was already stepping onto the carpet. "Sit behind me. Hold the pot. Don't talk while I'm talking." Aldric sat. The wolf climbed on. Mycel put both hands on the front edge and spoke three words Aldric did not know. The carpet snapped tight under them and lifted clean off the porch. The drift stopped. The nose pointed east and held. "How long to the glass house?" Aldric asked. "Two hours. Maybe less. It listens to me." Aldric looked down at the pot. The wax was still whole. He would land before dawn now. He would owe the prince, and he would still owe Chanterelle, and Sylvana would be waiting with her leaves already crushed. He closed his hand around the coin in his pocket and watched the ridges roll east again, the right way this time.