Ara

Prologue

Jimalia was a nation of islands situated in the middle of a vast ocean. This place was completely dependent on trade with its distant neighbors. Despite its beauty and grandness, the islands only provided so many of the needs of its people.

Twenty five years ago the people of Cinland thought to make the island nation of Jimalia a part of their territory. Their aim was to monopolize trade with Pacburra, as Jimalia is in the perfect position within the winds of the Great Sea for trade with both Cinland and the northern ice lands of Pacburra. When King Spar of Jimalia and his people stood against this, the Cinlanders brought war to Jimalia’s shores. It seemed like a hopeless fight, with the Jimalians severely outnumbered by their continental foe.

The times had been hard. Short of smuggling, trade with Cinland had been completely cut off. This was a huge blow to Jimalia, it left everyone struggling and fearing for the lives of their soldiers. While Jimalia had the support of the northern land of Pacburra, that country was not as rich in natural resources as Cinland and it was a great challenge for both countries to endure.

In the end, the people used the advantages of their high islands and generations of experience with the sea to stave off every attack until the seemingly ruthless Cinlanders finally accepted that the islands were far too cunning for them to occupy.

After Jimalia stood its ground, a shaky trade agreement was struck back up between the two countries. Over the years the relationship improved greatly. Not six years before our story began, King Victor, son of Spar, married off his eldest son Prince Hunter to the Princess Arquera of Cinland. This further improved the relationship and trade between the two countries. Jimalia had been happy and flourishing in the wake of the war, and even left for the better.

A fearsome army had emerged from the forces that existed in Jimalia. Brave men and women employed by the military had all but eliminated crime on the streets, and the people of Jimalia were safe under their watch. After years of peace and prosperity, the harsh memories of the war dwindled into Jimalian history.

On the island of Capital was a palace where twelve noble houses form a council to guide the people of Jimalia. The royal family, Cannon House, was one of those twelve.

The Jimalians were a prosperous and happy people who enjoyed fair and kind leadership from a sound government.

Chapter 1

A tiny crack emerged on the surface of the eggshell.

The peeping sound had been clearly heard for hours. The egg rested on a damp bolt of silk underneath an oil lamp.

Ara glanced at Sprigg Riggen, her young apprentice, his wide eyed focus was entirely on the tiny egg. She smiled. Neither of them thought the egg had much of a chance of hatching, but there they were, waiting patiently in her palace apartment in the dead of night.

When the egg’s parents were separated and its mother chose to stop caring for it, Ara immediately took action. Sprigg’s dark eyes lit up when she led him through the aviary up to the nest and explained to him that she wanted him to care for the egg and have a singular hand in trying to help it into life. She guided him through lifting the egg out of the nest and into an incubation pot. She showed him how to keep the temperature in the pot perfect by heating stones in the hearth and rotating them around the pot. He knew how to turn the egg and how often, as well as when to quit rotating it. He knew to cover the pot with a sheet and keep the silk slightly damp to create humidity within.

Sprigg had been incredibly diligent. He’d collected his own stones from the sea and laboriously turned and heated them hour after hour, day after day, touching the pot with the back of his fingers to determine if the temperature was fit, just as Ara had shown him.

The practice of incubating an egg is a very delicate affair. In Jimalia, Ara was unmatched in her knowledge of hand rearing macaws. It was very important to her for Sprigg to do it in practice. Equally important was for him to raise his own bird without her hand. Sprigg was kind and gentle with all of the macaws, but none favored him over her.

Together they had monitored the egg’s development by illuminating the inside with candlelight. With Sprigg’s help and despite the odds the little egg started to hatch earlier that day. It had been several hours and the tiny life was taking longer than usual to emerge. Sprigg wrung his hands nervously. Ara brushed some stray bangs behind her ear and stood from her chair.

Where are you going? Sprigg asked anxiously, rising with her.

To the kitchen to fetch us some late supper.

No, Sprigg started to collect his coat, I’ll go to the kitchen, it’s not appropriate for you to be out alone at this hour.

That’s nonsense. She took his coat from him and hung it back up. Do as I say and stay with the egg. She grinned at him affectionately and he smiled back. Sprigg was a good lad. He had been with her for the last four summers and was everything she could have hoped for in an apprentice. He was still young, only fifteen years of age, but he had a clear affinity for the birds. He cared for them deeply and handled them well.

She strolled confidently down the halls of the palace and encountered no one. Despite the hour the kitchens were always open and there was always a pot of something simmering over a kitchen hearth. The kitchens of the palace were enormous, with ovens that a man could walk into. These ovens were already warm and glowing, baking bread for the next day. A gigantic cutting table stretched across the chamber piled high with clean pots and knives. Despite every day preparing food for the entire palace, everything was immaculate. Good evening. Ara greeted the sole old cook.

Oh, good evening, my lady. The biddy bowed as she wiped her hands on her apron. Where is your lad? She led Ara by her hand to a bench and went immediately to preparing her a basket. It was unusual and not entirely appropriate for Ara to not have Sprigg run this errand for her.

Ara smiled, Mr. Riggen is hatching a new bird as we speak. It began hatching earlier today and has required his undivided attention.

The biddy made an appreciative sound and seemed to accept this explanation as she stacked bread rolls on top of the clay pots of stew already in the basket. After a small pot of butter and some fruit, the basket was ready. She handed it to Ara and bowed deeply. Best of luck to your apprentice and his bird.

Ara thanked her and left a couple small cowrie shells on the cutting table. She shifted her sword on her hip but once again crossed the halls without encountering a soul.

When she arrived back at her apartment, Sprigg dug into the basket hungrily. The still-growing boy was famished. Ara hadn’t thought of supper before, the chick should have hatched before sunset but it had taken its time. She looked back down at the egg and saw the little beak of the bird peeking out of a small hole it had worked open in her absence. It was making fair progress and she believed it would be able to hatch completely by itself.

Sprigg had set a kettle in the hearth and the water was already boiling. He poured them tea as she settled back down in her chair next to the incubation pot. Sprigg ate with his eyes fixed always on the egg. Do you think it will… make it? He asked nervously.

You never know for sure. Ara told him honestly, You’ve cared for the egg well and have given it every chance to survive. Until it is a month old or so it will be delicate and susceptible to many things. If it can get over that hump, then it’s in good shape. Until then you can only do your best to care for it.

Sprigg nodded. She knew that he would be devastated if the bird didn’t survive. Ara typically assumed abandoned eggs wouldn’t hatch, and had well prepared Sprigg for a still egg to be nothing more than a tool for him to learn and practice incubating. She had been relieved when the egg started to hatch after he’d engrossed himself so much in its survival.

A long crack appeared over the surface of the egg and Sprigg inhaled sharply. They exchanged enlivened glances. The chick would pick a ring around the wide end of the egg and hopefully pop out that way. It was well on its way to it. Now would be a good time to prepare its first diet. She told him.

Sprigg busied himself immediately, grinding carefully measured berries and nuts into a liquid paste with Ara’s marble mortar and pestle. Another hour passed before the little pink wrinkle emerged piteously from the remains of its shell. As beautiful and vibrant as the macaws were, they all started off as hideous little things.

Instead of a helpless blob, Sprigg beheld the most precious life. Ara hoped with all her heart that the little bird survived and they could live long and healthy together like herself and Trekker.

Trekker slept on a perch in the sitting room with his head tucked besides his wing. The macaw is a variant and colorful species of bird, but Trekker was not a typical macaw. His feathers were all blue like the sea. The characteristic bare white cheeks of a macaw were absent. Instead of that, he had a bright yellow ring of bare skin around each eye and along his throat. On top of these differences, he was significantly larger than any of the other macaws. Trekker was the first macaw Ara had ever seen and he had been a part of her life since she was a child. He had been somewhat of a life partner to her, caring not for the company of other birds.

She glanced over at him and marveled once more at his elegant shape. She then laughed lightly at the thought that the tiny squirt of wrinkly skin and bone that just hatched would someday sport the same long tail and exquisite lines.

Sprigg was carefully feeding the hatchling its first diet. It chucked and heaved excitedly as Sprigg squeezed the food into its beak through a soft funnel, its crop sagging heavily with its first meal. Sprigg felt the chick’s crop carefully, motioning for Ara to come over and feel it as well. The chick’s crop was firm and full, a good sign that it had taken a proper amount of food. Ara smiled, Good. It will need to be fed again in a couple of hours and every couple hours after that. Sprigg covered the pot with a cloth again carefully, feeling the sides and flipping stones as he saw fit.

They were both exhausted. Sprigg blew out all but one candle and retired to his room adjacent to her apartment. Ara’s apartment consisted of a large entrance, a sitting room, a study, a large bathing room and her bedroom. Sprigg used the servant’s quarters that had been modified to better suit an apprentice than a servant. This included his own small bathing room. Ara yawned and stretched. Trek, she called her bird. Trekker pulled his beak out from beneath his wing. He lifted a leg sideways and stretched his left wing before gliding effortlessly off the perch and to her hand. He had his own perch inside her bedroom.

She took the last candle and passed through her bedroom doors, closing them behind her. Trekker drifted easily to his perch and tucked back into sleep. Ara changed into her sleeping gown and cuddled into her cool sheets, immediately falling into a deep sleep.

*

Ara opened her eyes in the morning. Trekker bobbed his head as he watched her. In a deep man’s voice, he babbled, "What are you up to, handsome? Are you hungry?"

At least that’s what she thought he said. Most of his phrases were muddy.

She stretched, swung her legs out over the bed and slipped on a pair of leggings and a loose shirt. She made her way out of the bedroom and found Sprigg in the sitting room feeding his bird. Good morning, lady. He greeted her, I’ll have breakfast here before you come back.

Thank you, lad. Is your bird eating well?

Sprigg grinned and nodded enthusiastically. I mixed some soffberry into the last diet so we should know soon.

Ara nodded. She had discovered years ago that soffberries gave a very specific color to the droppings of egg laying birds. After years of testing this for accuracy, she decided that it was a pretty precise way to determine whether a bird was male or female. This was one of her many well-guarded secrets. The only other sure way was to see a bird actually lay an egg, both parents will incubate the egg and contribute to building the nest which makes it impossible to know which one laid it if you miss it.

Ara headed into her aviary. She was washed over by the sounds of busy birds and called out to them.

They soared around excitedly, some climbing down to get a better look at her and others gliding to land on her or on perches near her. She was surrounded by an incredible spectrum of color, bold blues, yellows, greens and reds. She rubbed them all on the backs of their necks in greeting.

The aviary was enormous. It stood flush against the outer wall of the palace in the shape of a silo. Colossal window panes covered the other three fourths of the aviary. The center had a large tree with many limbs for the parrots to live in with plenty of room above and around it to fly. She had had wine barrels nailed into the tree and along the walls for her birds to make nests in. Near the top was an opening lined with long pins. These pins were on hinges and could be nudged to allow birds into the aviary but not out.

One at a time, she heaved each bird off of her wrists, back to the tree. They chattered and shrieked busily. She scaled the tree easily and many birds followed her around the branches. She peeked inside the top of a barrel that a pair had been busy building a nest inside and found that it housed no egg. Fitzfinkle, son of Finkleton, and his young mate Ella were a new pair and Ara expected they wouldn’t be laying any eggs in their nest this year or next. She glanced down another tree at Buckle and Lola’s barrel, where Sprigg’s egg had come from. Lola hadn’t been maintaining the nest at all since Buckle was taken off to the island of Eyur.

With nothing to document, Ara climbed back down and left the birds to their socializing. Sprigg’s would be the forty-second bird they had if it survived. She reentered the apartment to find breakfast all set up for herself and Sprigg. They had a pleasant morning together, enjoying a lack of formality that they practiced in private.

*

Ara laced her bonnet under her chin to guard her eyes from the sun as she and Sprigg stepped outside on their way to the stables. Sprigg also tucked his hat on. It was a beautiful day for market. The white palace loomed high behind them and before them were the royal gardens lined with palms. The sweet smell of the sea and coconut milk marked the late summer. Ara wore a flowered bonnet to match her lavender dress laced with white. Her sword hid discretely in the folds of her skirts with just the hilt showing at her belt.

Times were prosperous, but underneath the beautiful face of thriving culture, the recent war lay clear.

Sharp guards lined the entrances to the palace and the gardens. Near the stables were large weapons warehouses and training grounds. During the war these had been put to heavy use, but today they were used for all sorts of sport from competitive archery between the residents of the palace to fencing events. Outside of the military, however, individuals were rarely permitted to carry weapons into the palace.

The stables were another decorated symbol of a thriving post-war country. There were two separate stables, the old stable that housed beasts for guests and servants’ beasts, and the new stable where the lords and ladies rented stalls for their personal mounts. The new stable was nearly twice the size of the old one and equipped with every tool a person could imagine for repairing tack or preparing for a long journey such as a patrol would make.

Ara walked elegantly with Trekker on her shoulder and Sprigg at her side towards the old stable. She had a fondness for a specific bellow to pull her carriage. He had long horns and a deep red coat. White covered his nose and blazed up between his eyes. These were typical bellow markings. However on this animal, a collar of white also crossed his shoulders, leaving the red markings on his head completely separate from the red of his body. This was an undesirable trait. Bellow breeders typically tried to keep the markings as uniform as possible. However, despite his supposed flaw, he was an incredibly reliable beast. He had acted calmly in the face of many things that should have startled him. He was affectionate towards Ara and Sprigg and never thought to defy or test Sprigg at the reins.

Occasionally he was unavailable and they would end up going to market with a different bellow. All the animals were reasonably trained, but most of them were spooked by Trekker and none of them truly compared to the odd coated fellow.

Fortunately, today the beast was available. What more, he was already combed and reined to a carriage. Evidently a man who worked at the stables had noted her preference for him as well as her routine trips to the market. The hand was taking a comb through the bellow’s coat as the beast nudged at him playfully.

The beast shook his head and the reins looped in the air behind him. The beasts of burden of Jimalia were incredible creatures that had come from the icy cliffs of Pacburra. With cloven hooves and thick arching horns, they were tall and long furred. Fur grew longer and fluffier under their necks and bellies. Unlike the even taller burden beasts of the continents that were trained by a bit of metal in their mouths to steer them, the Jimalian beasts were steered by their horns. A carriage driver would rein their horns and gently tug one or the other to direct the animal. On the other hand, a rider would just hold the horns, one in each hand, to steer. The horns were thick and arched back low, looping widely once, the tips pointed to one another near the back of the skull.

The bellow noticed Ara as she approached and chuffed in greeting. A sharp cry from Trekker startled the stablehand who turned around abruptly, My lady, do forgive me. He greeted her, bowing deeply with his comb clutched to his chest. I’ve readied your carriage. I wish you a pleasant trip to the market. With that he disappeared.

Sprigg snorted. Odd, that one. He opened the carriage door for Ara.

Instead of getting into the carriage she went to the bellow to rub his nose and give him a couple berries that he favored. She combed her fingers through his fur and grinned as it erected under her hand, creating a fluffy little wake. You should be kind to him. He has been very thoughtful to our preferences. She kissed Trekker on the beak and sent him out the open stable doors off into the sky.

You’re right, my apologies, lady. Sprigg admitted, embarrassed. He bowed deeply to Ara as she entered the carriage and closed the door behind her. She arranged her skirts and opened the windows so she could see outside. Sprigg walked besides the bellow to guide him outside the stables before mounting the driver’s seat and taking up the reins. The bellow waited patiently for his signal to go, even though he knew exactly where he would be pulling the carriage to.

They took off down the steep road to leave the outside palace walls. The guards there waved them through with kind familiarity.

The palace rested on Capital Island, a crescent moon shape of land surrounded the bright blue lagoon called the market shallows. The island was incredibly defensible from both sides. The crescent shape of the island nearly touched at the tips, leaving just a small water opening into the shallow lagoon fit only for small crafts. On the east where the palace sat, the cliffs were impenetrable. Nothing but ocean was behind it.

They rode the trail down and entered the town. Ara lifted her eyes to the sky to see Trekker gliding easily above, enjoying the stretch. The cobbled road widened as the residences gave way to pubs and shops. Colors burst into the scene, flags waved and brightly painted signs advertised wares. The smells of the ocean became stronger and stronger. At the same time, the sounds of the market drew closer and closer.

Ara enjoyed the market very much. It was enormous, with anything and everything a person could wish to find. It sat along the lagoon, the thrum of the community infecting it. The streets became more and more crowded, but the bellow was confident that a path would clear for him as he trotted through the noisy fray. Brilliant banners flapped above and children with their dogs scurried below, but he didn’t even flick an ear with concern. Each day she used him, she became fonder of him.

The overwhelming size of the market spilled out over the water. Merchants who couldn’t afford to rent shop space on the island would pack their goods on small sail boats and fly flags and sails in advertisement. The bright blue lagoon was abuzz with these small boats that flit about to one another like social butterflies safely within the protection of the crescent.

Ara found the smell of the ocean nearly intoxicating. It gave her a sense of vastness matched only by the sky. The beating of the high sun was thwarted by a cool gentle breeze. The tropical environment and busy community always lifted her spirits to unbelievable heights. Jimalia was a proud and happy place, Ara loved her home deeply.

Sprigg pulled the carriage up to a public stable where they rented a stall for the carriage. Ara opened her small purse and paid the rent with the small shells that the Jimalians used as currency. Different species of the cowrie shells represented different values, and Ara made sure to conceal her large valuable shells at the bottom of her purse.

It was a short walk to the Sayer’s Silver Sails where they always rented their boats. The shop was right on the water, elevated on beams to compensate for the changing tide. One gained access to the dock behind it through the shop. The business was run by the Sayers, a small family with two young sons.

A bell tinkled above the door as they entered. Good morning, Dockmaster. Ara greeted cheerfully as they entered the shop.

Mr. Sayer seemed in a sore mood, but as he looked up to see Ara entering with Sprigg a smile crossed his face. Good morning to ye, my Lady Ara! he greeted them warmly. He shouted a sharp order out the window to one of his sons to ready Ara a boat then hurried to take her arm to lead her to the dock.

Mr. Sayer was going on about a new boat that he’d recently acquired that he intended she try. The pier was lined with rigged boats, sails luffing in the wind. The Sayer sons were busy polishing rails and organizing lines. Pride in the business was clear, each little boat was pristine and uniform. Ara listened to Mr. Sayer intently, nodding and laughing politely into her hand at his banter. As usual he scolded her like a daughter for not carrying a parasol.

This spurred her typical response, Oh Mr. Sayer, if I hid beneath a parasol how would Trekker find me?

He looked eagerly into the sky for the bird. A person was considered fortunate to see wild macaws in the distant sky. They would be purchased as pets by wealthy families, but seldom were they cared for correctly. When not properly stimulated they become extremely loud and destructive, they also ended up plucking most or all of their own beautiful feathers out of sheer boredom. A loud, smelly, featherless bird was rarely welcome for long in a noble household.

Ara’s birds were different. They were happy, well cared for and given constant attention. Their feathers gleamed in their health and their behavior was intricately managed. Ara was the awe of macaw keepers in Jimalia. Some even rumored that she had a sort of beast magic that enabled her to communicate with them. Of course, this was nonsense. Ara possessed no magic, but she was happy to allow this rumor.

The training techniques and care methods that Ara had defined over the years were well documented in her study. Because of the work she did for the King, some people showed high interest in her methods and this made her uncomfortable. Let them wonder at the details of some imagined telepathy rather than focus their energy on seeking out the truth of it.

Trekker startled Mr. Sayer as he approached from much lower than the boat merchant had expected to land on Ara’s shoulder. He grinned wildly, enchanted by what he saw as Ara controlling this wild bird, when really it was just two close friends in their routine.

Trekker sat on Ara’s shoulder, tolerating being gawked at shortly before saying, "Hi pretty bird." Then taking back off to settle on the mast of the Sayer’s newest boat. Mr. Sayer cried out like an excited boy. His demeanor changed abruptly as he noticed his sons, paused in their work, mouths agape at the parrot. He shouted crossly at them to get back to work, making everyone jump and spurring the children back into their tasks.

Satisfied, he turned his attention back to Trekker on his new boat, Now there’s a bird with fine taste! Please, my lady, enjoy the market.

Sprigg hopped into the boat and glared fiercely at the younger boys until they fled to the pier. He rearranged the lines to suit himself and pulled a rolled up Vertrees House flag out of his pack to hoist up the mast. Ara pulled out shells for payment with a generous tip before Mr. Sayer took her hand again to help her carefully onto the boat. It was an admirably streamline vessel, carefully crafted for efficiency. It was about ten arm lengths long, more than enough for her purpose. Ara complimented Mr. Sayer profusely and they were on their way.

Sprigg was a skilled sailor. He comfortably managed the lines and sails. He was familiar with the Jimalian winds and in an instant he had the fenders inside, the sails full and the craft flying across the water. Trekker amused himself by gripping the mast and holding his wings open in the wind while chattering busily before taking off to glide above and besides the vessel.

Merchant boats would glide in front of them and slow to a stop as they passed, hoping for them to stop as well to view their goods. They hooted and called out their wares, sometimes lifting them up for Ara to see or pointing to their sails at symbols of their goods. The mainsail of their rental boat had only a large silver sun near the top, the symbol of the Sayer’s Silver Sails, more than anything else this declared them a consumer vessel. Flying above that was her Vertrees House flag which was purple with a yellow parrot, wings spread with a decorated circular emblem on its breast.

Sprigg tacked abruptly when he caught sight of a boat they typically made purchases from. The sail was white with a broad green stripe through it representing perishable produce. The family flag represented a notable family of science. It was blue with a green image of the island of Sakora with a white building inside it. The sailor waved at them enthusiastically. This merchant was a dear friend, her father was a professor at the University of Sakora, an island across the small Jimalian Sea southwest of Capital. Her father was famous for his work in medicine, while his daughter Klaidia and her own young apprentice were bold adventurers who braved the Bird Wilds, collecting exotic plants and fruits from the inhospitable cluster of islands. Many of the plants they collected were extremely rare and expensive. Her father used what they found for his studies and the making of medicine. She brought whatever he didn’t want to the market shallows to sell for cooking and remedies.

Klaidia carried some of the macaws’ favorite berries and nuts. Ara always spent a great deal of shell on these rare goods. Trekker also recognized this boat and became very excited. The working birds were always eager to discover what behavior Ara sought when Bird Wild nuts were about.

The boats glided in next to each other. Sprigg grabbed a hold of the stern of the other craft while Klaidia’s apprentice scurried away from his tiller to the bow of his own boat to grab hold, effectively securing the two boats together as they floated into irons.

Ara and Klaidia greeted each other warmly, politely inquiring on one another to catch up. As it turned out, Klaidia was going to be married soon and they discussed when Ara would next be in Sakora to see if she could possibly attend. This was followed by unrealistic but entertaining fantasies of training Trekker to deliver the wedding rings. Sprigg eyed the other apprentice across the ladies’ conversation, maintaining the fear in him to always hold the bow at their meetings.

Ara pulled up her purse as Klaidia held up a tray of small square wooden containers lined with white tissues. Each had a different kind of colorful leaf, nut, dry fruit or berry. They were artfully arranged in a spectrum and each one had a tiny sign displaying their prices.

Ara ended up taking about a quarter of everything Klaidia had on her tray. Klaidia provided small canvas bags for the foods and after being encouraged, bravely offered Trekker a nut which he took eagerly to the top of the mast to crack open.

They stopped with three more familiar merchants to pick up some silk, polish, flint, ink and bound parchment. With their carrying sacks full they headed back to the Sayer’s dock.

The Sayer sons met them there and waited patiently for Sprigg to toss them the stern and bow lines after he secured the fenders on the starboard side. Sprigg swung the stern about expertly and they were pulled up to the dock. Mr. Sayer was already running down the pier to take Ara’s hand and help her out of the boat.

Ara entertained these courtesies from gentlemen constantly. Most would gawk if they saw her effortlessly scale the tree in her aviary as she did daily to check the nests. In reality she had little need for assistance with a task as simple as disembarking a small boat. However as a lady of court she played this role comfortably and took no offense when those courtesies were offered.

Once they returned to the public stable, the carriage was packed with their purchases. Trekker was somewhere off in the sky unseen. The ride uphill to the palace was a little longer, but the sun was still high in the sky when they arrived back at the stable.

The man that had assisted them earlier came up to help them. Sprigg tried to glare him away but he barely noticed this childish attempt at intimidation. This man was not a young boy. Ara noticed this visibly startle Sprigg and couldn’t help but smile as the stablehand plucked control of the situation from him.

Sprigg was at the age where he was becoming a man but was still a boy. He had an incredibly strong personality and was very assertive. She witnessed him constantly seizing command with young children who fell right into line for him. She mused that he would have made an excellent mate on a trading ship one day, but it was still a budding skill. She constantly watched him feel his way into situations, both failing and succeeding, learning more and more every day. She preferred not to interfere with his social escapades and allowed him to experience the consequences of overstepping his boundaries, especially with those men older than himself.

Never had he shamed her with wild exploits, he knew well enough his place in the world and sought only to please and impress Ara in any way possible. With time he would grow to be a strong, influential man, hopefully carrying on her craft.

He sent a quick glance her way to see if she had noticed his subtle defeat. Her grin told him she had. He looked hard to the ground with red cheeks. She imagined that perhaps he would have made an attempt to contend with the stablehand had it not been for her recent rebuke for disrespecting him.

Chapter 2

That evening, Ara left Sprigg to watch the birds and took only Trekker with her. With a small list of errands she wanted to personally run before council, she left the apartment and headed down the long corridor of the north wing towards the center of the palace.

She entered the tailor shop and was greeted by an apprentice. The tailor shop had enormous windows showing a beautiful view of the shallows to help the seamstresses and cobblers see their work. The smell of leather and fresh dye filled the busy room. Towers of silk and lace were stacked against one wall, all but covering a tapestry. Treadle looms and sewing machines sat near the large windows, each occupied by a seamstress or apprentice. Overseeing everything was Penny, the head seamstress.

Penny, who had been instructing a young girl near a mannequin handed her tool to the apprentice and turned her attention immediately to Ara. Lady Ara! What brings you here?

Good afternoon, Ms. Penny, I hope I’m not interrupting any urgent work. Ara reached into her purse and pulled out three long tail feathers. Penny gasped and cooed, feeling them gently. "The green and yellow one is from one of my birds named Coco Love and