Lydia the Siren's Arc

Chapter 8 of 37

The pit had fed her. For two days Lydia sat at the cavern mouth and sang, and no one came. The road stayed empty. She began to understand the problem. Gregorio would not wander past her stone by luck. If she wanted him, she had to find where he was. That meant leaving the cavern. That meant the city. She had not walked among people in years. Her human shape held well enough, but her scent gave her away to anyone with sharp senses. So she rubbed pond mud and crushed river weed along her arms and neck until she smelled like wet stone and green water. She dyed her hair a duller brown. She left the burgundy off her eyes and traded elegance for a plain traveler's cloak. In the pool's still surface she looked ordinary. That was the point. She walked the road at dawn. By midday the city rose ahead of her, ringed by water, its spires black against the sky. A stone bridge carried her over the moat and through the gate. Inside, the noise struck her like a wave. Wheels, hammers, shouting sellers, boots on stone. She kept her head down and let the crowd carry her toward the great cathedral square. She listened. A siren always listens. Among the market talk she caught his name. Two guards leaned against a wall, and one said the dragon-slayer had come to petition the crown for his release from service. Then she saw him. Gregorio crossed the square alone. His dark hair fell wind-swept over sharp features, and his armor caught the light. She knew the shape of him from a year of watching. Her chest tightened. She wanted to speak, to sing, to make him turn. She held still. A clerk in fine robes stopped him. "The crown values your service too much to release it," the clerk said. "The answer is no." Gregorio's face did not change. "Then I leave without it." "You cannot simply leave." "I can," Gregorio said. "I'm done." He walked past the clerk and did not look back. Lydia's heart beat hard. She had feared he was fixed to this city, guarded, out of reach. Now she saw the truth. He wanted out. He wanted quiet land where no one knew him. She could give him that. Her cavern was quiet. Her pond was clear. She only had to make him believe the road home passed her stone. She followed at a distance and watched which gate he took. He went west, on foot, toward the open country and the long road that ran past Rou-Do Cavern Pass. He was leaving the city, and his path would carry him near her. She turned back before he could feel her eyes. The mud on her skin was drying and cracking. She had what she came for. She knew his face, his want, and his road. Tomorrow she would wait at her passage and sing the song she had saved only for him.