Ruffled Feathers Read online

  “They won’t regret it.” She nodded.

  Cygne grabbed a whisk and began sweeping the floor. She soon found herself humming and stopped. It had been a while since she’d been in the mood to sing. Cygne peeked into the dining hall, and finding it empty, she resumed her song as she swept.

  The melody she invented as a hatchling, when she used to serenade the puffy-tailed yelzek in the trees, came back to her in pieces. Cygne smiled as she sang to the dishes and produce, regaling them with her silly tale of stashing nuts away for a colder day.

  Cygne spun with the whisk, then froze seeing the barrow dame standing in the doorway.

  “I-I’m sorry I bothered you.” Cygne shrank back.

  Things were looking up and then she ruined it.

  “How can a creature that looks so tragic have a voice like that?” the dame asked, her dyed crest wavering.

  “I—” Cygne paused, realizing she didn’t know what to say. She was a bit confused about whether she’d messed up her chances or not.

  The barrow dame looked around the scullery, and shook her head some more.

  “Did I do something wrong?” Cygne hesitantly inquired.

  “No. You’ve earned yourself a room for the night, although it’s closer to morning.”

  “Thank you,” Cygne sighed, her feathers falling back into place as her wings eased, and her shoulders relaxed.

  “Come with me, hatchling.”

  Cygne didn’t mind the way the dame called her immature, it wasn’t said in a cruel way, and Cygne sort of resembled a newly hatched Braccio. Compared to the dame, Cygne was terribly innocent. That became more apparent when she followed the dame through the upper canopies of the tavern. The grunting sounds coming from behind closed doors made her blush.

  “Focario can still roast a leg of vacca, but the scullery hasn’t shined quite so much in a long while.”

  Cygne smiled, hearing the praise. The dame noticed and laughed.

  “You take pride in a job well done. I wish you weren’t so homely. With an attitude like that, you’d do well with my patrons.”

  Cygne sobered. The thought of entertaining the males threw cold water on her good mood.

  “I’ve never—” she stammered.

  “Don’t worry.” The dame waved her off. “If I was going to demand anything, I’d demand you sing. But you’d have to wear that ratty cape, and I’d have to find you a mask.” The barrow dame stopped in her tracks. “That’s it.”

  “What?” Cygne asked nervously.

  “I’ll get you a new cape and a mask. You’ll sing for the evening crowd.”

  Horror quickly engulfed Cygne. She hadn’t sung for so long, and certainly not in front of others. Now the barrow dame wanted to put her in front of people. The same people who ridiculed and jeered at her on the auction block.

  “Can’t I just clean?” she pleaded.

  “Not when I know how much more you could be earning for the room and food I’m giving you.” The dame shook her head.

  “I don’t do well in front of others.”

  The dame turned, crowding Cygne against the wall. “Life is not always a soar through the sunlight. You’ll be covered. Imagine you’re someplace else, or someone else, I don’t really care. And if it makes you happy, you can clean during the day.”

  The dame turned, effectively ending the discussion. She opened a door and pointed inside. It was a simple space, with no decoration. There was a woven blanket on a leaf mattress, and that was it.

  “Thank you,” Cygne whispered as she went in.

  “Lock the door. It will keep you from getting unwanted visitors.”

  Cygne quickly threw the latch when the dame left. She curled onto the mattress, but as tired as she was, she couldn’t close her eyes. Cygne thought things were going to be all right, then she was reminded of where she was.

  The knock on the door startled her awake.

  “The day’s wasting,” Focario huffed from the other side.

  She couldn’t have been asleep for more than a few minutes. And even that was plagued with dreams of standing in front of a crowd, as they shouted and threw food at her.

  “I’ll meet you in the scullery,” Cygne called out as she threw on her cape.

  Cygne raced to the washroom, and nearly ran right into a trio of females on their way out.

  “Watch where you’re going.”

  “Sorry,” Cygne quickly replied to the female painted a shade of violet, then eased past the grimacing group.

  “Isn’t that who the dame just hired for the scullery?” the one with the red and gold crest asked, her voice laced with disgust.

  “I think so,” the one with aqua-tinted wings responded.

  “She’s so ugly. What was the dame thinking?”

  “I don’t know,” the violet one trilled as they left.

  Well no amount of shimmery paint will help what’s wrong with you, Cygne retorted silently, as she did her business and washed up. It was sometimes very hard, but Cygne did her best to treat others the way she wanted to be treated, even if they didn’t return the kindness. The last thing she needed was to lose her temper, and get kicked out of her new home.

  She found Focario already busy in the scullery.

  “I see you didn’t just do the dishes. No wonder you’re exhausted. I’m making meal cakes for the day. We get patrons for the morning meal, but nothing like the evening.” With those few words, Focario had exhausted his conversational quota for the morning. That was just fine with Cygne, since she was used to keeping her own company anyway.

  Focario prepared the food and Cygne cleaned up after him. She stayed busy enough to hold off her anxiety about the dame’s decree, but as evening approached, Cygne grew increasingly nervous.

  “Hatchling, it’s time to go clean up and get dressed.”

  Cygne nearly cut herself with a dirty knife hearing the barrow dame’s summons.

  “Don’t tell me you’re stealing my help, so some bashed fool can mount her,” Focario rumbled, sounding displeased.

  A smile cracked Cygne’s mouth. The old coctor might’ve only been miffed that he was losing his helper, but she chose to believe she heard a hint of concern in his gruff voice.

  “You’ll get her back,” the dame hollered over her wing as she led Cygne to the office. “Put those on.”

  “Yes, Dame.”

  The dame sat down and proceeded to review her ledger, ignoring Cygne. With shaking fingers, Cygne held up the indigo hooded robe. It was the most colorful thing she’d ever worn. Something dropped out of the sleeve and she glanced at the floor. There lay a shimmering mask. It looked like a series of intricately woven feathers, enameled with silver and sapphire. The filigree would hide her face but wouldn’t muffle her voice. It was gorgeous.

  Cygne shed her well-worn cape, and quickly washed up in the chamber attached to the dame’s office. She carefully draped the robe over her folded wings, put on the mask, then pulled up the hood. When Cygne glanced into the reflecting glass, something she generally avoided, she was shocked by what she saw.

  “Not so bad,” the barrow dame commented. “I made sure the cape was large, so your hands and feet won’t show.”

  Cygne could still see her dull blue eyes, but that didn’t matter. She tried to never judge others by the way they looked, since she knew how much that hurt, and it never truly reflected the real person. But seeing herself in the costume, she could almost imagine what it was like to be beautiful. The static mask hid the wistful smile that split her face, but didn’t conceal the tears welling up in her eyes.

  “Come on.” The dame broke through her thoughts.

  Cygne’s stomach clenched, remembering why she was dressed this way. Dutifully she followed the barrow dame out to the dining hall. Her steps slowed the closer they came to the head of the room.

  “Shut your bony plates,” the dame called out, and the jovial crowd quieted. “Tonight, I have something a little different to entertain you.”

  Cygne s
tepped forward. She was hidden, but everyone was still staring at her.

  I should’ve thought harder on what I was going to sing.

  Cygne clenched her hands inside the long sleeves. She closed her eyes and pictured herself by the secret falls back in her valley, took a deep breath, then let the song spill out.

  3

  Swan Song

  “Where words fail, music speaks.” Hans Christian Andersen

  * * *

  “I can’t believe how many people are out there waiting to hear her.” Cygne overheard Rialzo scoff to her cranky cohorts through the closed door, while she waited in the barrow dame’s office.

  I don’t know what Rialzo’s problem is. You’d think after me being here for over a moon, she’d get over it. She’s just jealous of the crowds coming to hear me sing. Cygne covered up a snort at the thought. She rarely incited envy if ever. Well they should be grateful, I help to keep their bellies full. She’s just like Flot, rallying others to her side, making sure I never forget I’m unacceptable.

  “I think the occupants of every vessel in port are out there.”

  “There’s so many strange breeds,” Uccello, the one who liked to paint her red crest gold, exclaimed in awe.

  Cygne didn’t get out of the scullery much, and she was often caught up in her performance, so she tended to miss seeing the unusual people whenever foreign merchants came into the tavern.

  “I hope the dame doesn’t expect us to serve up anything more than brew to the furry ones.” Rialzo made a gagging sound.

  “The scaly males I just served weren’t that bad.”

  “Back to work.” Cygne backed away from the door when she heard the dame bark at the females before entering the office. “Ready, Cygne?”

  “Yes, Dame.”

  Cygne followed the barrow dame out, and took her place on the stage.

  “Quiet down. Quiet down,” the dame trilled. “I know who you’re all here to see, so I present Cygne.”

  The tavern was more crowded than usual. Cygne didn’t know how they could pack anymore bodies into the place. It was a daunting sight, but she’d done this before, and being disguised helped ease her nerves. The anticipation was palpable. Cygne took a deep breath and began the song she recently created while washing dishes.

  “How bright does your light glow?

  Somehow, I feel I should know.

  Like a whisper on a breeze,

  I hear you speak to me.”

  Her voice cut through the silence. It began as a captivating whisper, then rose in volume; the melody filling the room. With just a few notes she had everyone sitting on the edge of their seats, hanging on her every word.

  “But no matter how high I soar;

  the distance feels greater than before.

  I cry into the dark of night,

  lit only by your light.

  I am here! Don’t you remember me?

  I’m the star you lost among the trees.”

  The bittersweet lament poured out, beautiful and forlorn in the same breath. She wasn’t performing an act, but instead bared her soul. The poignancy of it giving voice to emotions few dared to admit.

  Cygne panned the crowd, though it was hard to see beyond the front row. She suddenly faltered, nearly losing her place, when she spied a group of five large males.

  They’re like me! She tilted her head in amazement.

  Their skin was bronze and bare, rather than covered in fine feathers to match their wings. They had manes of different lengths, instead of plumed crests. Cygne’s hand drifted to her mask, as she sang, realizing her jaw was also like theirs. They had full, fleshy lips and strong chins. The dark-winged male and the rainbow-feathered one even had a bit of scruff on their cheeks.

  A strange feeling surged through Cygne. She always thought she hatched wrong, like everyone told her. But she wasn’t Braccio at all. She was one of these stunning creatures, whoever they were. She had to be. The resemblance was too uncanny.

  I’m not deformed! She shook with excitement.

  The males followed her every move, and Cygne found herself singing to them—for them. The male on the end was dark in every way, from his short mane to the tips of his wings. The way the light hit his feathers, they were actually a deep midnight blue. Her gaze shifted down the row to the male with pinions the color of new grass. The emerald color even ran through his shoulder-length blond hair. There was one with bright cerulean wings and black long hair, seated next to a male who resembled the Braccio in color, with flaming red wings. Cygne couldn’t help but stare at the male with impossibly broad shoulders and a strong jaw, who possessed wings that shifted through all the colors of the rainbow. His coloring was not from a bottle, like many of the tavern females’. Even the Braccio females who treated Cygne like a pariah for how she looked were drawn to him, refilling his cup over and over.

  That’s because he’s incredibly attractive, even without a high crest and sharp mandible. They all are. So many handsome colors. And in that way, she couldn’t begin to compare to these males.

  Cygne froze as the realization struck her like a punch to the gut. She didn’t know what she was, but it was apparent that even among her own kind she was drab and lifeless. For a brief moment she knew what it felt like to be normal, only to have it snatched away again.

  Her song ended on a sad note. As the crowd began to whistle their appreciation, Cygne saw a flash of violet in her periphery. Rialzo snagged her mask, tearing the lace bow. Cygne pulled away, but the awful female had hold of her cape, yanking it off her shoulders. She scrambled to cover herself, but the damage was done.

  Cygne stared in horror at the suddenly quiet crowd. The five colorful males jumped to their feet, their wings shooting wide. They appeared more shocked than anyone else in the room, mouths open, eyes wide. Cygne felt more exposed than ever before as she glanced from one handsome stunned face to the next. Seeing her own kind look at her like everyone else did was more than she could bear. Cygne couldn’t get out of the tavern fast enough.

  Cygne flew past all the barrows as fast as her wings could carry her, angry tears streaming down her cheeks. As she barreled toward the stand of trees at the edge of town, Cygne heard several pairs of wings following her. She glanced back but it was too dark to see.

  Probably Rialzo, Uccello, and whoever else they recruited. It would be just like those females to follow me, just to continue their torment.

  She couldn’t believe Rialzo pulled the awful stunt. The violet-painted female usually didn’t act out when the barrow dame was watching. But the jealous females had become more and more aggressive as Cygne’s performance grew popular.

  I can’t even have that one thing for myself. The tears whipped off her cheeks as she zeroed in on the jungle.

  The shadows pursuing her spread out as they closed in. They were attempting to surround her. It was shocking how fast the females flew. She always took them for lazy. Cygne hit the tree line, landed, and darted into the undergrowth. She tucked herself behind the first massive trunks she could find, hoping to evade her jealous pursuers. Cygne didn’t know what they planned, but doubted it was good. She would fight if she had to, but she’d be lucky if the barrow dame didn’t kick her out of the tavern after this; roughing up the pretty working females was the surest way to guarantee that.

  “Greetings.”

  “Ahhhh,” Cygne screamed, hearing the deep voice of a male emerge from the shadows.

  “No, no, no. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.” The voice was anxious but warm.

  She could just make out his outline. He was huge. Her eyes widened when she saw the shadow of four more giant males hovering near her hiding place. This was the last thing she expected.

  “We followed to see if you were all right.” The second voice was gentle.

  “You worried us with the way you took off so fast.”

  “I hope we didn’t frighten you. I can’t believe the tavern owner let such a rude thing happen.”

  “Cyg
ne’s your name, correct?”

  The different voices came out in a rapid barrage, making her head swivel back and forth.

  “Yes.” Cygne nodded in confusion, surprised that perfect strangers had followed her from the tavern. Focario was the only one she knew who cared enough to bother with her.

  “I am Kaede. Please come out. I imagine there are predators lurking about.” He sounded authoritative and concerned.

  Cygne didn’t know a Kaede. She warily looked at the five ominous silhouettes as they loomed uncomfortably close, wondering which was more dangerous; the seen or unseen predators?

  Don’t be stupid. He’s right. It’s foolish to be out here at night, even if it is close to the city. Cygne hadn’t considered that, she just wanted to get away.

  A large, warm hand suddenly grazed her bare arm. She flinched, unaccustomed to people touching her.

  “I’m sorry,” Kaede apologized. “Are you hurt?”

  “No. You startled me,” she replied, embarrassed by her skittish response.

  Cygne picked her way out of the jungle. The sound of crunching boots behind her was disconcerting. In her experience it was never a good thing when others stalked so closely. Cygne turned when she reached the open field.

  “It’s you,” she exclaimed, stunned not only to see the colorful males, but that they’d followed her all the way out here.

  “Aye, it’s us.” The side of Kaede’s mouth tipped up in a wry smile.

  Up close, Kaede was more handsome than she’d previously noticed. She repressed the crazy notion to reach out and touch the stubble on his jaw, and feel his firm lips. His short, nearly black hair matched his wings, which were a deep raven blue that shimmered in the moonlight. Cygne gaped at their unbelievably broad span. Kaede dwarfed her, and most Braccio males she’d met. But it was his glacial blue eyes that struck her. They were like hers, except on him they didn’t look dull. The pale blue was compelling framed by his dark lashes and strong brow.