The girl still hadn’t woken up, and that worried Mikhel. The lights had played across the sky two moonsets ago. Since then, she’d been curled up on top of a couple of knitted shawls, a thick blanket over her. No food, no water, no time with her eyes open. But a constant heartbeat and steady breathing. Something about that scared him.

Mikhel downed another mug of burning liquid. This one didn’t seem to be alcoholic, but it did the same thing. His insides perked up and unfroze a little. He set the mug back down on the table and sighed.

His wife, Aina, came bustling in from the kitchen, a drying cloth over her shoulder. She sat down beside him and ran her fingers through his hair. “What is troubling you, my dear?”

“How long is she going to be like that? It’s not natural for anyone to sleep that long.”

“But is she natural? You said she fell from the sky. Perhaps for the people of the stars, sleep happens rarely, so they must take what they can in times like this.”

Mikhel raised his mug again, but only a few already-chilled droplets from the bottom slid out onto his tongue. “I still wonder if I should have just left her there. Perhaps others are looking for her.”

Aina rubbed his shoulders. “You did the right thing. What other choice does one have when they see someone asleep in the cold? I would question your judgement more if you’d left her there.”

The girl stirred, stretching her back and legs. Mikhel froze, mug halfway between his face and the table. Aina kept her eyes on her husband.

The girl in the corner sat up, stretching her arms gingerly like they were made of fine glass and cracking her eyelids open. She looked around the small cottage with an eye of interest. When she spoke it seemed like she had difficulty forming the words. “Hello? Can you tell me where I am?”

Mikhel finally set the mug on the table, his mouth still open. Aina walked over to the corner and knelt down in front of the girl, taking her hand. “You’re in my cottage, darling, in the Barrier Mountains. I’ll find you a map.” She paused. “Where are you from?”

The girl cocked her head, as if the question seemed odd to her. “I… don’t know. I can’t remember.”

“You don’t remember where you’re from?” The girl shook her head. “That’s okay, love. You fell a very long way before my husband found you. Perhaps the memories will return with time. For now, are you hungry?”

“Hungry? What is that?”

Aina stared at her for a second. “Do you want food? Something to eat? It’s hard to think on an empty stomach.”

“Yes, I think I am hungry. Thank you.”

Aina stood up. “Well you just wait right here. I’ll go find something for you to eat.” She motioned for Mikhel to follow her into the kitchen. As soon as the girl was out of sight, Mikhel let his tongue loose.

“She ‘fell a very long way’? Really?”

Aina put her hands on her hips. “Well what was I supposed to tell her? That she fell from the sky?”

“Well, no. But what if it sparks a memory? You heard her. She can’t remember anything.”

“The memories will come on their own. We’re not going to tell her. If she really doesn’t remember anything, then I want to make sure she has a fair chance at becoming part of the normal community. She might be a little odd all her life, but no one will take her seriously if she tells them she fell from the sky.”

Mikhel grumbled. “Fine. Now are you going to get her something to eat?”

Astoria slid down the edge of the slick rocks, back towards the village she hated. Each mooncycle after her visit, she swore she’d never come back. And every time the next mooncycle rolled around, she convinced herself she had to.

The sky had mostly cleared today, a welcome surprise. They’d had rain for the last several days. That just meant it could be clear and humid at the same time. She dodged around the blue-grey thinleaf trees and the few wild palefruit bushes as she wound her way down the side of Slantspire. The town had been built right at the foot of the Spire, a few hours’ hike from the coastline and the town there. Thank Yukima she didn’t have to go that far.

A few birds with a mix of black feathers and scales took flight from a nearby tree, circling above Astoria’s head before heading off opposite the nearest shore. She continued her trek down.

Just before the village, she stopped and pulled off her riding gloves and necklace. It wouldn’t do for them to have proof of her better life, even if some of them suspected it. She stuffed the items in her bag. Time to be a different person. Astoria shook her head. She’d used to be so good at that.

The familiar graveyard lay on the opposite edge of town, towards the coast. Astoria trudged through the streets, eyes firmly on the road ahead of her and not on all the people turning to stare at her. Technically, as she’d been told time and again, it was dangerous for her to use these roads. People could just attack her and the law would side with them. Well, fine. As if that had ever stopped her. She marched along, pointedly not looking at the housing district and the gaping hole in the center of it. Every mooncycle it got smaller, but even after two years it still existed. A void in the community. Maybe they left it alone and delayed the reconstruction plans just to spite her, knowing she’d come along and be reminded again.

Two years ago, she’d been at the height of her career. She could change her face and her personality just like that, slipping in and out of the circles as easily as walking. Each time, she left with something new. A few coins, a valuable heirloom, a piece of information for blackmail, she could get it all. Which meant if someone needed something and they didn’t care how they got it, they went to her.

The day she took her last job started like any other. A nice night in someone’s hayloft, swipe some extra food for breakfast while paying for the rest and making small talk with the bakery owner. She’d been headed off to the docks when a man had fallen in step with her. He’d called himself Rowan, and he’d had a job for her. In the heart of the housing district, an enemy of his had a hideout in a house registered under a different name. All she’d had to do was nick a small necklace with a red stone on it and he’d give her more money than she made in a few mooncycles.

The job looked straightforward, so, naturally, everything had gone wrong. When she’d finally made it inside the house, the man at the table acted like he didn’t know what she was talking about. When she pulled a knife, he held up a poker from the fire, hand shaking slightly like an innocent’s might. But it had to be an act. Astoria retaliated by lighting a torch and using it to keep him at bay.

He’d knocked her off balance, she’d dropped the torch, and the house had caught fire. While she ran, the man went into the flames, yelling for someone who never came. He died in that fire. So had all those who hadn’t gotten out of the neighboring houses before the inferno spread. He’d been innocent after all, just like everyone else.

Astoria pushed aside the rusty gate to the cemetery and turned to the right. Back in the far corner stood a raised plaque with a tiny dragon carved on top. It held the names of those who’d died in the fire. The names of the people she’d killed.

The grave immediately in front of the plaque knew her touch. A tarnished copper plate was set into the stone slab, the man’s name and life accomplishments etched into it. Astoria knelt down and pressed her hand to the copper plate, closing her eyes and forcing out a few tears. She didn’t know if she really meant them, but perhaps the others would look on her a little more kindly if she appeared remorseful.

She’d told Cirris she would be gone for a few hours, but she could only sit by a grave for so long, especially when the weather begged her to be up and moving. Besides, she hadn’t really meant to spend hours here in remembrance. She already did that enough on her own time. Now she had other things to attend to. Things that were probably best kept hidden.

Astoria pushed herself up from the decrepit ground and stepped out of the graveyard. A small shed sat right outside the gates, the lock always hanging unfixed. She pulled open the door and disappeared into the small space. Her bag didn’t have much in it, but the few items it did have were hidden away. She shoved aside a pair of grave shovels and a gravestone awl, placing her bag on a low shelf. The clasp on the front rotated sideways and allowed her access to the hidden compartment in the lining of the bag. A wig, a moonbeam, and a necklace with a crescent on it. Her actual uniform went in the normal part of the bag. That she could explain away if she needed to.

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The robe came first, replacing her riding pants and buttoned shirt. Her face needed a little dusting off, although she didn’t look half bad. But the paint on her cheeks had to go. Feeling almost normal, just like old times, Astoria pinned her red locks up and slid the wig over them. Without the paint and the hair, no one had a chance of recognizing her. Just another apprentice priestess, customary black hair braided in an intricate pattern, moonbeam down the center. A little box of glittering gel finished the persona, adding a shine to her eyelids. When it came to becoming someone else, the little details were the ones that sold the disguise.

This time around, she wasn’t disguising herself to steal something. Or, well, maybe she was. But if nobody was going to give her normalcy and belonging, she’d have to steal them. And maybe these religious people had the right idea. Several times in the last mooncycle she’d looked for things that seemed slightly impossible without divine intervention, and to her surprise a few had come up. One day, when she’d left this Spire behind, maybe she’d formally join. For now, they loved Priestess Astala. That was enough.

Astoria--Astala--opened the door to the shed and looked around. No one near. Perfect. She stepped daintily down onto the scrub grass. What a poor sight this was, an overgrown graveyard with not a soul sparing it a glance. Well, she certainly would give the dead the respect they were due. Astala adjusted one of the braids in her hairdo and walked lightly to the center of the graveyard, where a bronzed statue of the moon goddess rested, her gaze locked on something far in the distance as she sat on her pedestal. The fountain below hadn’t worked since Astoria had started coming here, but Astala remembered a time when it had been clean and the water flowed clear. Wonderful days, they were. If only they were not so far removed. She pulled a coin from her bag and placed it in the hand of the statue. With the fountain’s life gone, she doubted it would bring good luck. But someone might need a spare coin somewhere down the road. This would point them down the right path.

Now she really did have to hurry. The worship service started soon, and the unity building sat on the other side of the town. It wouldn’t do to have an apprentice priestess late to a service.

Cirris made another loop around Slantspire before Darkcloud rumbled beneath him. “Well I don’t know. What do you want to do?” The dragon made a quiet screeching noise. “Are you hungry?” Darkcloud bobbed her head. “We can fix that.” Cirris brought them down low over the blue-grey trees and turned towards the nearest part of the coastline. “Does fish sound good to you?”

Slantspire was just so big, more so than any casual observer noticed. Even flying at speed, it took a rider a few minutes to cross the island, more if they wanted to crest Slantspire before going back down the other side. So Cirris pulled back and stopped long before the smoke cloud that billowed from the coastside town of Seaglade. He squinted through the haze, trying to see what had caused the fire. It looked like it had started from some of the coastside buildings, but that made no sense. They were the closest to the water. Why hadn’t the fire just been put out? He raised his gaze to the sea beyond and saw a fleet of ships, long and narrow with two sets of sails. Each set had two triangles of cloth set apart from each other at the top but connected at the bottom. A fairly common design, but not in those colors. The sails were rendered in black and maroon with a patterned sword and spear crossed on each of them. Cirris’s stomach dropped. Raiders.

“Get us closer, but stay out of sight. They’ll take us both down if they get the chance.” They crept forward, hovering just above the treeline. The flames had grown by the time they reached the edge of the trading town. The dockyard had been taken by the flames, along with the sails on several of the fishing ships. Cirris wanted to help, but anyone with half a mind would shoot down a dragon that came anywhere close to civilians. Even and especially one with a rider.

“Okay girl, set us down right on the sand. I want to see who these raiders are.” Darkcloud managed a scratchy purr and glided on the breeze over to the edge of the trees. Cirris swung his leg over and grabbed hold of the stirrup, dropping until he hung from the dragon by one arm. “Nice and easy.” Darkcloud swooped down, leveling out and giving Cirris time to jump before climbing back up to safety again. He pointed up at the dragon after dusting the sand off his clothes. “We’ll work on that.”

It looked like the raiders had come for supplies and stayed for the valuables. Several raiders were fastening a large crate to a rope hanging down from the deck of the foremost ship, which had sailed right up until it had hit the sandy beach. The others were heading into the town for runs on the stores there. They were probably after tools and cut gemstones again. Cirris had heard stories of raiders hitting other Spire towns, especially Widespire, but he’d never actually seen them. This looked like something out of a bedtime story that Rennick would tell the younger riders-in-training to quiet them.

Some of the raiders were returning, led by a woman with fishnet gloves (come to think of it, they probably were actual fishnets) and a short black dress, painted markings all around her eyes. She pointed the way with a darksteel sabre, a wicked grin on her face. The raiders pulled people along behind them, dressed very differently. Hostages? But why? In all of Rennick’s stories, the raiders never took prisoners. In fact, the more you worked with them, the better off you’d be. Sometimes they’d even offer you a place on one of the ships, although the stories cautioned that the raiders also liked throwing people off the deck, particularly into the maws of sea beasts.

Cirris waited until the raiders hoisting the crate were finished and had gone back for a second load before he darted between the trees and mostly-intact buildings. Even here on the edge of town, far from the flames, ash still floated through the air like corrupted snow. The heat washed over him as he snuck between buildings towards the flames. As a rider, he’d learned to tolerate more heat than most, but this temperature was still oppressive. He knelt down and peered around the edge of a building not far from the assorted raiders and the woman with the sabre.

A tall man with a small head pulled at his coat as he spoke. “The food is stowed. McKinley took the usual bunch to go find some extra crates for reserves. I told him he’s dull, but he went anyway.”

“Let him go. With a town like this, it couldn’t hurt to stay a few extra minutes. Besides, that’ll give us more time to see what we have here.” The woman strutted up to one of the prisoners and ran a fingernail from the girl’s neck up to her chin. “A real shame we won’t get to keep them. I could use a waiting girl on the Luxury. Ah, well. Take them onboard the Revenge and lock them in the far end of the brig. Next time I see Milton, I’m going to twist his ear so badly.”

“Slacking on cleaning duty again?”

“That boy is hopeless.” The woman sheathed her blade. “Go! Come back when our real prizes are secure. I’ll probably be on the Hugo when we set sail. And I want three skirtbows following me when we shove off.”

“As you command, Kaptain.” The prisoners were shuffled away into a small boat waiting on the shore. Cirris watched them row away. Oddly, most of the hostages had been priestesses or priests, the color of their robes giving them away. Wasn’t it some kind of war crime to kidnap a priestess? He leaned a bit too far around the corner of the building, losing his balance and falling out into the open. The kaptain’s head snapped around, staring right at him. The same cruel smile darkened her face.

“Now what do we have here?” She took a few steps toward him, ignoring the ash that settled in her hair.

Cirris pushed himself to his feet, brushing off the ash and dust. The best way to deal with a raider, at least according to Rennick, was to match their attitude. Cowards were weak and raiders treated them as such. “Now kaptain, I’m sure you already have lots of people, many of whom look better than me. Besides, I’m somewhat already taken. Although for the right price…” He mimed holding a sack of coins.

The kaptain’s smile became a little more genuine. “Now here’s a man who knows how to speak my language.” She closed the distance to him and offered an arm. He took it, holding onto her forearm and shaking it. “Kaptain Rin. Not currently from anywhere.”

Cirris laughed, trying to keep the small amount of panic inside under control. “Cirris Dawnbreaker, Slantspire.”

The kaptain released his arm. “The actual Spire? Not a town?”

“Exactly.”

Rin looked him up and down. “That’s quite a uniform. I don’t think I’ve seen it before.”

“Then you’ve never met the Riders of the Spire.” Cirris tapped the emblem on his left breast, a slim dragon made of flowing red fire. A black spike shot up in the background.

The kaptain took a step back. “You’re a dragon rider?”

“That’s not the only thing I ride, but yes.” Cirris pulled out his dagger and balanced it on one finger. “Why do you ask?” The dagger wobbled a little, almost falling to the sand.

“I’ve always wanted a dragon to add to my fleet. Just think about it. What if you could launch fire at your enemies and not have to waste ammunition? What if you could tear off their sails without losing any able-bodied sailors?”

“You’d get shot down. All ships nowadays plan for things like that.” Cirris glanced up at the net launchers on the deck of the nearest ship. “All the smart ones, anyways.”

Rin winked. “For wild dragons, yes. But not for one with a rider.”

Cirris thought for a moment. “Perhaps. But it’s not a theory I’d stake my life on just yet.”

“Man of your talent and experience? I’d expect as much.”

“But hey, it’s always nice to have some options. And if you’re ever around here, I might know a place you could stay. Although it’s a little higher up than you're probably used to.”

Rin smiled. “You’ve got some guts, Rider. I’ll tell you that.” She pulled a dark sphere from the pocket of her dress and tossed it to him. “Once every so often, I stop by the western isles. If you decide you can’t live without me, show this to the gentlemen at the bar.” She looked over her shoulder at the boats. “Now I suppose I have a raid to finish.” She turned to go.

Cirris caught her shoulder. “I do have to say, I love your hair, but it seems a little long for your profession. And you would look lovely with a fairy’s cut.”

She raised her eyebrows. “I’ll keep that in mind.” She turned back to the ship and spotted a young boy poking his head out a porthole. “Milton! I’m going to throw you over and let the fish bite off your ears!” She took off towards the ships. The boy disappeared inside the ship.

Cirris walked back through the burning town, finally letting his hands shake with nervous energy. It took several tries to resheathe the dagger.

That had been close. Too close. He needed to watch where he hid from now on. Although this would make a good story to tell Astoria about…

He took one more look at Seaglade. The flames had started to die down, but the damage stayed. A real shame too. This had been a nice town. He shook his head slowly. They’d rebuild eventually. But he’d probably have to hold off on dock-skimming until they fixed the dockmaster’s office.

Cirris found Darkcloud right where he’d left her, peering down through the trees at the beach. She descended enough to let him climb up and then rose above the branches. “You ready, girl?” She roared a reply and took off back towards the Spire.