Chapter One

"I was told," he said, his voice soft, almost musical, "that I had to come and ask permission to set up a canvas inside these walls, my Lord." Hale's eyes slid across the graying man on the high seat, standing atop the raised platform. The High Lord rested his chin in his hand, leaning on the arm of the chair, eyes studying Hale. Hale knew this man would find him odd. Most somehow did, be it his automatic friendly disposition or his ivory white wings, soft feathers perfect. One slim, fair hand rested on top of the brown leather sack over his shoulders protectively, holding all of his art supplies and few possessions, and the other brushed a strand of chin-length white hair behind his ear before trailing down and toying with the fine silver chain around his neck. A nervous habit he had yet to break.

But, the Lord's sharp, almost accusing eyes were not what made him nervous. It was the young man kneeling almost out of sight on the ground beside the oversized chair. The boy's hair was falling over into his face, over his lowered eyes, head bowed, hands in fists on his knees, almost hidden by the white linen that fell from under tight silver bracelets, black jewels looking out from the metal centered near the back of his palms. Hale wondered about the boy. He felt. different, somehow. But Hale could not say what it was. He was not one for the magical aspect of life; he only got vague feelings every once in a while.

"Nires?" Hale's eyes snapped back from the boy and to the Lord, who raised an eyebrow at him. Hale gave him a simple, apologetic bow, and muttered an apology for ignoring him for the moment he was thinking. "Hale Nires, I'll allow you to set up a canvas on the streets, but I do not want you pestering the people of Neffen when you cannot get a customer. Be patient, and wait for them to come to you." Hale nodded, making another short bow. As if he would cause any trouble. This man had some sort of hate towards anybody who was not normal by his standards. Anybody not Human, in other words. Elves, mages, people like Hale himself. Although the only people with wings Hale had ever known was himself and one other. Perhaps that boy was something else. Perhaps the Lord had decided to start recruiting mages into his personal servants. Or slavery. Hale did not think that unlikely.

"Thank you, my Lord," Hale murmured, and the boy suddenly twitched, his hand raising and making an elaborate movement. The huge doors at the end of the hallway opened as if on their own, and Hale turned towards them, walking out and wasting no time. How long until Hale himself became a carrier pigeon? The world of Human leaders was becoming more and more against people unlike themselves.

Walking down the corridor, Hale scanned the walls, lined with tapestries and elaborate vases on stands or in niches in the walls between the woven arts. Hale wished he could do such beautiful portraits with cloth or glass, but he supposed he had to keep with the paints and canvases. That was where he excelled. That was where he earned his living.

Raising a hand and fiddling with the thin silver ring in his left ear, he passed a hallway of doors, and suddenly he felt a hand on his shoulder, behind, pulling him back and through one of the entrances. The oaken door closed loudly as he tripped and fell on his rear with a soft sound escaping, and he looked around in the dark for a moment before a lamp was lit and he looked up at an almost short woman, brown hair framing her face, brown eyes peering out from it. He opened his mouth to ask what she meant by dragging him into a closet, but she interrupted.

"Are you Hale Nires?" she asked softly, and he frowned, pausing. What did she want? He had not a clue, but he nodded slowly once. She smiled, sighing with relief. "I need your help," she breathed. "My. My friend. He's in trouble. He's been in trouble for a couple years now. I need your help to get him out of it."

"Who says I'd help?" he shot back, standing slowly. "Likely you have some buddy in jail waiting for you to get him out, huh?" He shook his head, and smoothed down the white cloth of his tunic and pants, adjusting the leather sack over his shoulders. "And besides that," he added, more gently. "You just tossed me on my rear end with no apology whatsoever." Then, another question entered his head, which he was surprised he had not thought of right away. "And on top of that, why me? How do you know me?" She sighed, and crossed her arms over her chest, looking up at him with her chin raised. Somehow, she seemed taller than she was.

"I'm Chie," she stated. "I'm the captain of the guards in this city and it is my job to know who everyone is who walks in the walls, especially people like yourself." He frowned as her eyes darted up to his wings and back to his face, but waited for her to continue. Silence, at times, was the best when you wished to know something. "And I heard of you," she continued slowly. "I heard something of your. Your past." He shifted his feet slightly, and she caught his mood about that subject, moving on.

"I thought you might be able to help somebody like yourself," she continued. "I saw you looking at the boy by the Lord's throne. His name is Kiv Nirali, and he has been held here for a few years against his will. We're a pair, the two of us, but I can't go with him. All I can do is perhaps get the Key to you and you could help him out of here. He can't stay any longer. He's losing his will. You simply have to help. Get him out of the city."

"Key?" It was the least of his questions, but the most curious. The boy had not looked chained up in any way. He seemed tame as a loyal dog. But the title was evident as a name to something significant.

"The Key to Kiv's power," she replied, sounding automatic. "He doesn't look like anything, but he has been sought after as a weapon for years. The Lord caught him some time ago - rather, I caught him and brought him back here. But I can't see him like this much longer. He just sits there like a well- trained servant all day, silent as death." Her voice dropped low, sounding sad, eyes lowering. "And as cold." Shaking her head, she looked back up to Hale, and he raised an eyebrow. "You can fly," she said softly. "Can you fly him away?" Hale hesitated, frowning, but her eyes were pleading. He did not think he could refuse if he wanted to. And, she was right; he had been staring at this Kiv boy. He had gotten a feeling from him.

With a sigh, he nodded assent, and she jumped up and down, clapping softly, holding in giggles by the sound of it. Jumping up and throwing her arms around Hale, she laughed and hugged him about the neck, and he blinked several times. "Thank you!" she squealed, and he laughed.

"You're welcome, I suppose," he replied, and she hopped nimbly away from him, blushing. Hale tilted his head slightly to one side, smoothing out the front of his tunic with one hand.

"I. Shouldn't get carried away." she stated with a breathy laugh. Hale smiled lopsidedly and shrugged before she turned seriously business-like, planting her fists on her hips with her thumbs hooked behind a braided leather belt that held a quiver at her side. "I'll give you the Key when you come. Come tonight, after dusk. The Lord will have gone to his study then. Kiv will be in his quarters just off the side of the great hall. I would just go with Kiv, but." She shook her head. "I can't leave here. I have to stay. It's my home." She sighed, and glanced about the small room. "The door to the left of the great hall. I'll meet you on the way, and give you the Key. Kiv won't know you're coming, and don't tell him I did this. His pride will get in the way." She smiled sadly, and nodded to Hale before darting out the door, leaving Hale no chance to reply.

Sighing, Hale let his hand drop to his side, which had half-reached out to stop her from leaving. This was interesting, to say the least. He wondered for an instant whether he could carry the young man in the air. His wings were not all that strong, with old injuries making them ache even still. But he supposed he would try, and, leaving the tiny room, he headed outside, walking down the small flight of marble steps leading up into the manor. Indeed, it would be an interesting thing.

Looking to the heavens, he estimated the time of day.

He should be returning in three hours.

--

Hale finished sketching the building across the street from where he had set himself up, a two-story inn with peeling plaster, showing through with red bricks in more than a dozen spots. This was where he had been allowed to stay, after having a street guard tell him to move on in several different places. The people of Neffen had an unnatural racist personality. Sighing, he used his pinky finger to smudge a shadow, and looked across at the inn with annoyance. He had only had one customer; a small girl who scurried up to him and pet his wings with awe.

"Angel?" she cooed. Hale smiled softly, almost sadly, and shook his head a fraction. She peered up at him out of a dirt-scuffed face, brown clothes patched in innumerable places.

"No," he replied to her. "Just an artist. Would you like a portrait? I'd love to sketch your pretty face." The girl giggled. Hale laughed. He ended up doing a small sketch and rolling it up, giving it to her with no fee. She was happy as anything to peer at her own likeness, cleaned up and accented. It was a beautiful picture - Hale could have gotten silver from anyone with money for something like that - but she scuttled off happily with the portrait held dearly to her chest, disappearing in the sparse crowd.

That encounter had flashed him back to unpleasant memories. The girl thought he was an angel. People had thought that of him once before. But then they changed their minds, thinking he was a demon of the devil. When he did not seem to be blessing the town. Shifting slightly, he moved his wings, feeling a dull ache at the base of the extra limbs. His final days in that village had been hard. Somehow, they people thought they had to 'punish' the demon. Sighing, he put a hand over his chest, feeling the dozens of scars crisscrossing his chest under the cloth of his tunic. Indeed, that had been a tough time. He wondered if the boy Kiv had the same problems, to keep him in line. If he had such power.

Looking up, he noticed the light in the sky. The shadows were lengthening - in fact, had extended past across the street - and the light was failing. He stood, and packed away his supplies, folding up the collapsible easel that could fit in his sack, and he slung the leather bag across his shoulders. He made his way through the street, head down to avoid meeting the eyes of anybody around him, especially the street guards in their polished breastplates and helmets. None of the people in Neffen had a great love for men walking down their roads with wings. And Hale had no great love for them, though, unlike some people he knew, he would never hurt any of them. With a soft sigh, he turned down the main street heading towards the manor on the top of the hill in the center of the city. It was a large city, but not large enough for a palace. But the huge manor did well enough for the Lord of Neffen. Well enough.

Stepping up to the marble steps of the front entrance, Hale hesitated. What would anyone say, seeing him here? But he shook his head. The Lord's manor was open to anyone who wished an audience. Just. He was been there already today. Shaking his head again, he made himself continue up the steps, and into the doors, making his way the same as he had going in the first time. Down this corridor, and another, turn at this intersection. The manor was a difficult place to navigate, but Hale had a sense of direction like a migrating bird.

"Hey!" Someone's voice called behind him. Hale jumped, and froze. He'd have questions to answer. Sighing resignedly, he turned and looked at the man who walked up to him, a slim servant in white and black livery, eyes bright. "I was told to give something to a. a Master Hale Nires. I'd know him by his white wings." He smiled, and held out a hand, on which laid a short black rod, the width of a thumb and the length of a hand. Hale took it cautiously, frowning slightly. The man grinned. "It's the Key," he said softly. "Don't give it to Kiv until you've been on the road a week at least. He'll try to return for revenge, and. Right now, that's not a good idea."

"Why not?" Hale questioned, frowning at the servant. The man glanced over his shoulder as if someone would be walking down the corridor at that moment before leaning forward slightly.

"The Lord caught him and Chie talking," he said softly. "This afternoon. He had Kiv set a spell on the both of them to forget their love and go their separate ways. It's an irreversible spell. But Chie's the one who caught him in the first place. She's good with her bow, and the entire guard is under her service. Just be cautious, for now. I'd like to see that boy free of here. He's turning into a caged lion. If he decides to strike. I'd hate him to get the Lord's whip." The man shook his head, somewhat sadly, before spinning on his heel and scurrying off before Hale could ask any more.

Frowning, Hale looked down at the Key. It looked so simple. Just a smooth black piece of. Stone? Maybe. How could this do anything at all? Shaking his head once again, he put it in his leather bag and continued on his way. Chie and Kiv were no longer a pair. And because of a spell that the Lord of Neffen put on them both. Using Kiv, Hale might add. That was an important part of it, in his mind.

Coming up on the huge, now closed doors of the Great Hall, Hale glanced around. To the left was a smaller door almost hidden behind a column. He paused only a moment before walking towards it and putting a hand on the handle, turning it carefully until the latch clicked. He pushed it open and stepped inside carefully, and blinked a few times to see the boy from before falling the last inch into a kneel, head down towards the door, hands in tight fists on his knees. His hands were shaking, as if he was trying to keep from striking out. Hale cleared his throat, and Kiv jumped slightly, raising his head a fraction before standing smoothly and stepping back, quickly, as if standing where he had been had burned his feet.

"Who are you?" he asked in a soft voice, sounding tired compared to Hale's musical tone. Kiv brushed some of his black hair out of his eyes, and Hale blinked as the boy's eyes became visible to him. They were clear white. Not so light it was close to white, like Hale's, but actually a pure ivory white. There were not even pupils in those eyes. Hale could not even tell if Kiv was looking at him. But he must be blind? "Stop looking at my bloody eyes and tell me who you are and what you are doing here," Kiv growled. His voice was not so soft any longer. Hale cleared his throat again and smiled.

"I'm Hale Nires," he replied. "I've come to get you out of here. I'll fly you out, and we'll travel together for a while." Since Hale had this Key, and could not give it to Kiv for a while, he figured he would have to go along with the boy for some time.

"Who put you up to this?" Kiv asked harshly, and Hale blinked. He'd been told not to tell. And besides that, what would he think about Chie asking Hale to help him now that they supposedly hated each other? This was all quite confusing. Hale didn't think he deserved this. But then, did Kiv deserve to be stuck here?

"No one-" Hale started, but Kiv cut him off.

"Is this a joke?" he said, taking a few firm, angry steps towards Hale. "You come in here, tell me you'll help me out, and maybe I'll think you just conveniently have the Key handy. Get my hopes up, then laugh at me, huh?" Kiv stood nose to nose with Hale, now. They were both of a height, both quite tall, though Kiv might be slightly taller if you did not count the foot of wingspan above Hale's head.

"I've had this before" he continued. "Saere sent a man to fool me into hoping I was free. He laughed his rear end right off when he walked me back to the manor. I won't be fooled. That man loves his bloody servants, and me most of all. There's no way he'd be stupid enough to let anyone get me out of here." Hale tried pointlessly to get in a word edgewise, and finally waited until Kiv turned away haughtily before searching with one hand in his art bag for the small rod. He pulled it out from under some canvas, and held it out on a palm. Kiv looked sidelong at him, and Hale could not tell if he was looking at the Key or at him, but his eyes widened slightly, and his hands twitched anxiously.

"You have it?" he breathed. "How--?" He shook his head, and extended a hand to take it, but Hale put it back in his bag.

"I can't give it to you for a while," Hale stated. "Sorry. It's a condition I was given." Kiv let his hand drop to his side, frowning, and Hale thought he was looking at his face.

"I won't ask. I'll only thank you." He paused, glancing around the room a moment before picking up a small brown cloth bag. "Please. Let us go." Hale smiled a fraction, and stepped over to the wide shutters letting onto the balcony. Overlooking a small garden, it was not a bad room. Perhaps the Lord had tried to make Kiv comfortable, though the boy did not seem to care. It did not look like anybody tended the garden, anyway.

Working the stiff muscles in his back a minute, Hale hopped up onto the railing around the platform, three or four stories up, and extended a hand to Kiv, helping him up. "Put your arms around my neck and keep as close to me as possible," Hale said softly, taking a deep breath. "Try not to move much." The extra weight would not be pleasant. "Just. Think light." Once Kiv had grabbed hold around Hale's neck and Hale had put his arms around the boy, putting his leather art bag in a more convenient place, he sighed, closing his eyes momentarily, preparing himself. Then he extended his wings and jumped off the balcony.

A few great sweeps of his feathery wings made a painful sound escape before he could silence himself, and he felt Kiv turn his head slightly. "I'm okay," Hale assured, almost hearing the question from the boy. They rose in the air, and Hale looked down at the buildings passing below them, and the people. He thought he saw someone point up at them, and the heads around the pointing hand turned upwards to see what it was, but he did not care all that much. He concentrated on ignoring the pain at the base of his wings where they connected to his back.

Fifteen, maybe twenty minutes of painful flying, and Hale let Kiv drop softly to the ground before collapsing beside the boy, wincing as he folded his wings carefully on his back. He adjusted his pack, checking that it was still closed, and looked around at the small clearing they had landed in. An old fire pit sat in the middle, from Hale's previous night out.

"Gather some wood," he said to Kiv as he stepped over to Hale, a worried look on that blank-eyed face. "I'll start a fire." How on earth would he be able to deal with Kiv's empty stare for a week? "We'll camp here tonight." He'd have to find the better qualities. He hoped to the Winds Kiv had some.