A Whisper of Wings by Paul Kidd Read Free Book Online

Did you ever think about the benefits of entering the Healer’s calling?”
    “No Reverence, I have not. There are too many important things for me to do.”
    “I quite understand. We must follow where our hearts lead us.” The High Priestess opened up one eye, peering blearily up towards Shadarii. “Oh what is it child? Must you fidget so?”
    Shadarii knelt beside the bathing pool, trying to snag the Priestess’ attention. She waved her hands, pointing urgently towards the stand of wattle trees, and the Priestess watched the girl in utter mystification.
    “What on earth is she doing? Is it some silly dance?”
    Zhukora flicked a glance towards Shadarii.
    “No, Reverence. The creature cannot speak. Pray forgive her stupidity.”
    The old woman frowned as she watched Shadarii’s hands.
    “What’s that girl? You want to leave us? Why by all means…”
    Shadarii sighed in frustration and tried again. She made the sign for insult and tried to mime a little dance, but the Priestess cut her short.
    “What’s that? Rude? No my dear. You aren’t being rude.”
    Shadarii shook her head and pointed up towards a huge old tree where a Ka hovered in the roots, resentfully aware of the intrusion in the pools. Shadarii pantomimed the giving of a gift, ïsha sparkling from her hands as she tried to make her message clear. The Priestess finally seemed to understand.
    “Oh that! Well if you insist. How very quaint.” She called imperiously up into the air. “Kanoohï, pay the Ka for granting us his home space for our bath.”
    A male priest flicked a ball of energy before the Ka. The being grumbled, sucking in its payment with ill grace, and the priests went back to their baths without a second glance.
    Shadarii knelt beside the tree and wrapped the Ka around her, pouring apology out into the ïsha. The spirit grudgingly forgave her, its ego stroked by Shadarii’s promises; she would tend the plants and heal their wounds, chasing off the grubs that bored deep within the tree.
    Her task completed, Shadarii bowed before the High Priestess then pointed back towards the village, acting out her need to return. The old woman watched her closely.
    “You may leave us child. As the chief’s daughter, it would please me if you danced for us tonight. I shall so instruct your dancing mistress; I’m sure it will be a performance worth remembering.”
    Shadarii whirred away, leaving Zhukora trapped beside the pool. The fat old Priestess lounged back in the water, idly inspecting the back of her pudgy hand.
    “You are not happy with your father, are you?”
    Zhukora’s back stiffened; she kept her face firmly turned away.
    “He is my father. He is the clan lord. I shall do my duty.”
    “But the duty becomes harder, does it not?”
    “He is my father.”
    Sprits emerged from the rocks to slide across the cliff face like irridescent butterflies. In their wake, the ïsha sparkled, making trails that drifted slowly past the High Priestess’ eyes. The old woman kept her eyes upon Zhukora as she ran the strands of magic through her hands.
    “Nochorku-Zha is dangerous. So devoted to his useless rules that he cares for nothing else. A blind old man who has not even thought to secure a future for his eldest daughter.”
    The words bit home, and Zhukora whirled, only to be caught and held by the Priestess’ gaze.
    “Tell me Zhukora, are the young folk happy? Do they laugh with joy to find that food is growing scarcer? Do the jiteng³ games take away the anger? Have you never thought that someone else might make a better clan leader - a better tribal leader?”
    “You-you speak treason!”
    “I speak survival! Don’t act the fool with me. I know you, girl. I know you better than any father ever has.”
    Zhukora stood and thrust into the bushes. Moments later her angry wings could be heard whirring through the underbrush. The Priest Kanoochi rose, one hand slowly stroking across a dead, dry skull.
    “Shall I send a Ka to follow