Kitemaster And Other Stories

Kitemaster and Other Stories

Copyright © 2011, by Jim C. Hines

Cover art by Daniel Harris.

The characters, incidents, and dialogue herein are fictional, and any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

"Kitemaster" originally published in Fantastic Companions, August 2005.

"Untrained Melody" originally published in Misspelled, April 2008.

"Blade of the Bunny" originally published in Writers of the Future XV, 1999.

"Over the Hill" originally published in Turn the Other Chick, October 2004.

"Spell of the Sparrow" originally published in Sword & Sorceress XXI, October 2004.

"The Creature in Your Neighborhood" originally published in Strip Mauled, September 2009.

"Libriomancer: Preview" from Libriomancer, forthcoming in 2012.

Author Website: http://www.jimchines.com

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Kitemaster

Osa's string tickled Nial's face, jerking her awake.

Wake up, sleepyhead! For a magically animated kite no larger than Nial's hand, Osa had quite the voice. You've got company.

Outside the tent, one of the rebels called out, Kitemaster, you're needed at the observation post.

Osa fluttered her panels in a rude, raspberry sound. The Kitemaster is needed in dreamland. She's exhausted! And you need to leave her alone before I get angry.

Thankfully, the rebel couldn't hear the tiny kite. Nobody else could. Nial stumbled out of her bedroll and fumbled with the ties holding the tent flaps shut.

The Imperials on the other side of the Rionto Valley must have launched scout kites. It was the only reason for Captain Shalen to summon her so early.

The instant the tent flap opened, Osa shot toward the rebel soldier. He leapt back, nearly dropping his lantern.

Osa floated up and began to circle, like a hawk preparing for a dive. Nial could hear her giggling.

Osa, no!

Osa returned at once, her string coiling around Nial's right arm. The miniature kite floated a foot or so above Nial's head, a hexagon of faded blue and white linen on a fragile bamboo frame. Nial grabbed her blanket and wrapped it around herself to fight the night chill.

He's only a messenger, Nial added. Leave him alone. Do you want Shalen angry at me? She glanced at the rebel, noting the tarnished patches on his ill-fitting armor. The reversed curve of the knife at his waist marked him as a northerner, probably one of the fishermen Shalen had recruited last month. The brass shoulder guards had been taken from an Imperial soldier's armor and hand-stitched to a battered leather breastplate. The golden lions had been scraped from the shoulder guards, replaced by crudely painted tigers, the sign of the Emperor's traitorous brother.

Captain Shalen said there were scouts, he said, confirming Nial's guess. But why would the Imperials fly scouts at night? The moon was a mere thumbnail. In the darkness, the men harnessed to the oversized kites would see little or nothing of use.

I don't need an escort, Nial said.

His cheeks reddened. I'm sorry. Captain Shalen's orders.

Osa floated beside Nial's ear, muttering.

No, Nial said. I don't think he trusts me either.

They walked through the small camp, ducking through the low, twisted trees that covered the valley.

The observation post was built between twin pines. The concealed platform held a spyglass and several spools of thick cable. It doubled as a launch point for the rebels' own kites. The valley provided a constant wind that whipped Nial's hair into her face and threatened to tear her blanket away.

Nial, excellent. Captain Shalen climbed down the rope ladder of the platform, jumping the last few rungs. Our men spotted three scouts flying from the Imp outpost.

Four, actually, Nial said. She could sense them riding the updrafts from the valley.

Shalen's shaggy brows lowered, but he gave no other sign of annoyance. Four, then. He pointed to the ladder. You know your duty.

What about Lin?

He nodded. You'll see your brother once those kites are taken care of.

Without another word, Nial climbed the ladder and hauled herself onto the platform. She could feel the Imperial scout kites straining in the night sky. To Nial, the bulky rectangular kites were alive, fighting to break free of their bonds and ride the wind, heedless of the men strapped to their bamboo frames.

Kind of like herself, she thought. Yearning to escape, but tied here by Shalen's hold on her brother Lin.

The Imperial outpost was on the opposite side of the valley. Nial could just make out the orange glow of the torches on the stone wall surrounding the outpost. Somewhere behind that wall, linemen stood by huge wooden spools, fighting to control the scout kites.

"Hurry, Kitemaster." Shalen's sneer twisted the title into an insult. They both knew she was no true Kitemaster. Nial was an untrained peasant. Her power was crude and clumsy. Shalen only kept up the facade because of the prestige he got from having a Kitemaster under his command.

Nial concentrated on the lines of the four scouts. They were taut as lute strings, and she could feel the wind strumming inaudible chords. She picked out the lead kite and imagined a puff of wind from the side, sending the scout into a spin.

The man harnessed to the kite remained silent, even as the ground rushed to meet him.

Nial felt the line tighten again as the kite's lineman reeled in slack, trying to catch the wind before the kite crashed. The kite began to rise. Nial blew it sideways, tangling the line in the trees and swinging the scout into the branches.

The second and third scouts followed quickly, and Nial turned her attention to the last. This kite was larger than the others, hovering perfectly still in the wind.

Nial, I don't like this, Osa said.

I know. How did it float so precisely?

Nial tried to send it into a spin, as she had done with the others. The kite drifted lazily to one side, the only sign of Nial's power.

How goes it, girl? Shalen shouted.

Osa's line snapped from side to side. Give me two minutes, and I'll turn him into a girl!

Not now, Nial said, trying to shut them both out. She summoned a gust to hit the Imperial kite head-on, but the kite twisted aside. Finally, Nial reached for the cord itself, hoping to disrupt the scout's lineman.

Nothing happened. The kite's line dangled free, unanchored. How can he fly without a lineman?

She concentrated harder, putting all her strength into a single wind, trying to batter the kite back to earth. She pounded it again and again, beating it from above and below.

Finally, the kite began to swoop gracefully back to earth, leaving Nial gasping for breath.

Good work, Shalen said. The sky had lightened enough for him to see the other kite's descent.

Nial's stomach hurt. She knew the effort it took to control the oversized scout kites. The rebels often needed two or three linemen per kite, even with Nial's assistance. But that last kite had moved like a sparrow.

Nial, he flew with no lineman, Osa whispered. She sounded awed.

I know, Nial said curtly. There was only one answer. After weeks of losing their scouts to Nial's untrained power, the Imperials had acquired their own Kitemaster. A real Kitemaster, strong enough to fly unassisted.

Fear followed Nial down the ladder. Shalen was bound to learn about the Imperial Kitemaster sooner or later. What would he do with her then? She found herself wishing again for the safety of a home that no longer existed.

* * *

Nial's mother had died giving birth to Lin. Their father died a little over a year ago, in the wave of sickness that washed through the village.

Nial spent a week building a spirit-kite for their father. She used his favorite cloak, the faded blue one with the white trim. She had painstakingly patched the rips and sewed the material to sticks of black-painted bamboo.

It won't fly, Lin said. His clothes were damp and soiled. Only twelve years old, he had worked extra time in the grain fields so Nial could finish their father's kite.

It will. Nial's fingers moved slowly and precisely through the knots. She had chosen a simple rectangular kite, to reflect their father's straightforward and honest manner. She looped the kite's line through the twin bridles and adjusted the knots.

The cloak is too heavy. Lin shook his head. It'll be like trying to fly a rock.

Heat flowed through Nial's hands as she worked. It had frightened her at first, feeling the unfamiliar power seeping through her fingers into the kite. Now the sensation was a comfort, bringing a sense of rightness. The material rustled at her touch, as if it could taste the winds outside the hut. When she stood to stretch her back, the kite glided to the dirt floor, toward the door.

You need to rest, Lin said. You can finish tomorrow.

No. She picked up the kite, heading for the door. She hadn't realized how late it was. No wonder her eyes ached.

Insects chirped by the riverbank, falling abruptly silent as Nial and Lin walked down the trail.

It's too dark, Lin said. Unless you've suddenly gained the senses of a bat?

It will fly.

Come to bed, bat-brain.

Nial kept walking. She could feel something stirring in her chest, power bubbling to life. All the grief was forcing its way upward, fighting for release. Fighting to fly.

Nial, you'll ruin the kite. There's no wind, and...

His voice trailed off as the spirit-kite leapt to life. Nial had wrapped the line around a piece of maple branch as thick as her forearm. Now that branch whirled like a spinning wheel as the kite soared skyward.

She felt...joy. Freedom. A giggle slipped past her lips.

What have you done?

She didn't answer. For the first time since losing her father, she felt alive. Her heart pounded, her breathing came in gasps, and tears blurred her vision. She ran toward the river, allowing the kite to choose its own path.

She sensed other kites, far downstream. Tiny kites, woven of expensive silver and gold thread that glinted in the moonlight. She could see them, not with her eyes, but with whatever power her father's spirit-kite had awakened within her. Caught up in the excitement, she called those kites to her. She felt the lines snap as the kites raced toward her, and she sent them skyward in tribute to her father.

The spirit-kite tugged her arms. The line was completely played out. Her bare feet sank into the muddy riverbank.

Lin grabbed her arms. Nial, get back here before the water takes you.

Let me go! she yelled, struggling to wade deeper. Cold water pounded past her legs. All she could think of was the spirit-kite, tugging her onward.

Think of father, Lin said. "That's his spirit-kite. How can his soul travel the skies in peace if you drown to send him there?"

Even that might not have broken