A train. They were riding a train!
Vantra, so accustomed to the old-fashioned modes of transportation throughout most of the Evenacht, wanted to sit in a comfy seat and watch the landscape go by faster than by wagon. So did many other beings; she saw members of every faelareign and umbrareign subspecies moving through the station and waiting on the platform, from the ashen-skinned Avies fluttering their red lashes, to sleek-furred, twitchy-eared Kimns and slippery-scaled, chameleon-nosed Nivs. She even noticed beghestern, though she had no idea how beings who reached three travel wagons tall could fit into a train car.
Then a larger train rolled in, with cars protected by magic shields rather than metal walls. Another shield arched over the entire train, preventing bugs and whatnot from decorating riders’ faces. Open air meant the largest umbrareign did not have to worry about fitting into a too-small unit and hope they could get back out. While others boarded, every beghestern on the platform took that train.
Most of those waiting appeared ready for the workday, carrying briefcases, backpacks, courier bags, and a few had modern Talin handheld computers. That shocked her; Tempest must have more power sources than other places. Not even the Finders Hall had electric power, and half the ghosts came from time periods after its discovery.
The Windtwists were not quite what she imagined.
The train Jare purchased tickets for, called the Scenic Express, carried travelers and tourists interested in the sights on their way to Mount Everzha. They would only stop at Andle’s Bottom and Crafters’ Row Stations before getting off at Bendsheen Shrine, approximately an hour after they boarded.
A short trip, with plenty of luggage room? Perfect.
The brochure Kenosera snagged said that Bendsheen Shrine worshipped the first wave dancer, who they claim ascended into divinity for his daring watery feats. The image that accompanied it, of a wicker statue holding a board and dressed in elegant, full-body religious robes, made Vantra smile; a culturally significant being, but they still had to put him in heavy ritual gear that would likely soak up the water and drag him under, rather than let him dance freely.
“Everything is low to the ground,” Yut-ta commented as they passed yet another squat building with greenert growing up the sides and small balconies decorated with bright flags and flowers. He leaned on his knees, face turned to the view, though without the intensity of Kenosera, who sat opposite him.
“Windhaven’s spread out,” Lorgan said. He had slid down next to Yut-ta, legs out and ankles crossed, his nose in a book he felt certain held the answer to the phrase Zepirz remembered. He could stretch as he studied because the train, unlike those on Talis, had fabric-softened benches facing one another rather than rows of forward-looking single seats. Leg room was not an issue, at least with the one they rode. “Even being on the lee side of the island doesn’t save them from all harsh winds, so they build structures similar to what we saw on Bask-ilisk. They sit underground rather than above it, with native trees providing a barrier against the worst gusts. You need to go across the strait to Respite to see taller ones.”
“What’s that?” Kenosera asked, pointing. “I’ve seen several on the streets, and they’re speedy.” Vantra leaned against his arm as the train sailed by his interest and smiled.
“It’s a modular vehicle, kind of like a wagon, but motorized. On Talis, people can pick and choose which features and looks they want, then the companies build it for them. Each is unique, and a lot of drivers don’t want to leave theirs behind after death, so factories have popped up to take orders. Evening has quite a few, though they’re banned from the interior of the city. They’re illegal in most Evenacht districts because those who drive them tend to go fast enough to cause property damage or worse.”
“Menaces, if you ask me,” Qira grumbled, his voice rising above the general chatter. He had a bench across the aisle from them to himself and he made the most of it, legs on the seat, a pillow stuffed under his head.
Every Light-blessed craned around to stare at him. Joila, Resa and Katta folded their arms and raised eyebrows, and Salan and Ravya, sacked out between the syimlin and the other three, growled. While he turned red, he did not rescind his declaration.
“The Windtwists aren’t as tech-averse as other places in the evening lands,” Lorgan said, stifling laughter. “You’ll see a lot of reworked Talin technology throughout the isles, especially on boats. Combine it with magic, and you can get some interesting gadgets.”
“Like?” Yut-ta asked.
“Like air conditioning. The combination does better at cooling homes and businesses than spells or machine alone. I’ve been in places that are downright frigid, and while it’s initially a respite from the heat, you will shiver before you leave.”
“That’s why the room was so nice last night?” Kenosera asked, raising his eyebrows in surprise.
“It’s why we stay at that inn,” Qira said. “A bit much for the average traveler, but they keep the building delightfully cool.”
The inn suite had the feel of a modern Talin one as well. It contained a sitting room as well as two bedrooms, large beds, thick carpets, broad windows with blackout curtains, paintings on the walls, padded lounge chairs, a desk, and a counter with chilled juices, a kettle for teas and coffee, and a mister. The bathing room equaled the size of the bedroom, delighting Yut-ta, since he could step in the shower and his wings had room to flutter.
And it was nice, to doze without the floor rocking.
She felt Fyrij stir, the first time since they left the inn. He had slept with Yut-ta just fine, curled against his neck and snoring, but once they walked out of the room, he flew into her hood, tangled in her hair, and refused to budge, even to eat. She stroked his soft breast fur, and while he mumbled something, he kept to his hiding place.
Hopefully, once they reached Zephyr Ranch, they could coax him out so he could stuff himself on fruit.
The city never disappeared, but fields spotted the landscape, some lush with bright green crops, some with grazing horses and the heavy-set, floppy-eared, curve-horned bovines called sloggers. Orchards grew at random places, surrounded by the stouter wind-resistant trees whose branches drooped groundward and leaves broke up the fiercest gusts.
“This is bigger than Selaserat,” Kenosera breathed.
“Wait until you reach Evening,” Lorgan said with a smile. “Windhaven and Respite make a decent metropolitan area, but Evening is millions more, plus they span up, not just out. The skyscrapers touch the clouds, and you’ll encounter someone from every culture around the three continents.”
“Baby steps, I guess,” he sighed, patting the fuzzy seat.
“I remember when I first visited Esket,” Yut-ta said. “I was a bitty one clutching my mother’s hand and staring at building after building after building. I grew up on a ranch with the nearest town a quarter-days’ ride by wagon. Seeing a sprawling urban area frightened me.”
“I like Esket better than Maress,” Lorgan said, lowering the book. “The afterglow of the Beast’s attack lingers there. I don’t understand why the residents don’t leave.”
“The Beast’s attack?” Kenosera asked.
“It’s a historical victory by those who gave the Beast his first defeat,” Katta said. “He was from the Sun Plains and resented the restrictions placed upon him by its peoples. He decided, after conquering the beghestern villages, that he needed to take on a prize worthy of his strength, and he chose Maress.
“He failed because the Astri Patriarch’s son lived there. The Pact is very clear about the immortality of the family, and the son relied on it to defeat him. Basically, the Beast couldn’t take him out. That remained his only loss until he marched on Vasquerat and ended his living existence face down in a piss puddle.”
Kenosera winced. “Really?”
“Vasquerat’s on the edge of the plains and the Scorn. The people there are hardy, and quite a few ghostly mercenaries call it home. Neither appreciated his attention, and Yrss Gesstir, of Baastic warlord descent, brought him to his knees. Literally. Peed on the ground in front of him, had his warriors follow suit, slit his throat, and dumped him face-first in it. And that is why the Beast’s first attempt at mephoric emblem destruction was at Vasquerat. He wanted revenge, which he got, but not in the way he wished.”
“The plains still tell tales of the ombiardi and the elfines whisking the populace away before he killed them, then the dispossessed building on the edges of the pit,” Yut-ta said. “They braved further retaliation and flipped their wings and tails at him, daring him to prove his weakness by destroying homeless, helpless beings.”
Katta humphed. “He hated their goading, but he believed his new mantle would disappear if he showed any weakness because of a wayward thing Old Man Death said before he sent him to the Void—and retaliation for failure is considered a trait of the powerless and soft among the beghestern. So he left them alone. He raged about their successes, but nothing came of it. He never showed mercy for any other, using them as stand-ins for Vasquerat.”
Somberness descended. Both Rayva and Salan whined and shoved themselves into his legs; he bent over, slipped his arms around their shoulders, and held tight. The mini-Joyful returned to staring out the windows or at their feet, lost in contemplation. Kenosera slid his arm around her, and she snuggled close, absently watching the lush green, then hard concrete, landscape as it flashed past.
