The Bird of the River by Kage Baker

to Yendri just as though they were people too. There's one old man, Mr. Yellow Broom, and he makes musical instruments-- pipes and harps and even a fiddle. And the musicians from our boat were buying things from him. And they were telling each other how great he is, that he's just a master craftsman. Everybody up this end of the river knows about Mr. Yellow Broom, they said. And I got to meet him. He said I had good manners, considering I'd been raised by--by other people."
    "Mama taught us good manners," said Eliss.
    "The Yendri are good ," said Alder. "They aren't sneaky, or poisoners, or, or anything. Do you know what I found out? They--we-- used to live in this valley far away a long time ago, and then some bad people came--but it wasn't the Children of the Sun--and conquered them, but Mr. Moss said then this holy man came, a real holy man who could do all this magic to help them. And then there was this other holy man who got turned into this bird? And he flew into the spirit world and brought back this magic child who made all the bad people let them escape? And it was only a little girl, and she was only a baby at the time!"
    He was speaking rapidly, almost as if to himself, eyes wide.
    "We have legends too," said Eliss.
    "But these aren't just legends," said Alder. "They're real ."
    "Well, so are ours."
    "If you say so," murmured Alder, not meeting her eyes.

    EARLY NEXT MORNING HE WENT ashore again with Mr. Moss. Eliss, to show that she didn't care, threw herself into helping with the preparations for the Summer Party, and actually forgot about
    Alder for a while. As the men moved the trimmed snags down into the hold, the women drew up buckets of water and sluiced down the broad expanse of the deck. The children--and Eliss--moved across with push brooms, scrubbing the bare planks until they were clean and smooth. Then a crate was brought up from belowdecks and opened, revealing dozens of blown glass oil lanterns, in all shapes and colors.
    "Where's the blue fish?" fretted Tulu as Mr. Riveter dug through the box.
    "There's mine!" Wolkin reached in and pulled out an amber demon-head. The other children crowded around, picking out green stars or fat red birds or purple seashells. The topmen strung lines out along the rail and hung up the lamps. As they were so engaged, the happy air was disturbed by Mr. Pitspike storming up the companion-way from below.
    "Stone!" he roared, and glared around. "Where's the wretched boy? There's coal needs to be fetched up, and the baking ovens to be lit!"
    To Eliss's mortification, everyone turned and stared at her. "I don't know where he is," she said. "The last time I saw him was yesterday. He changed his clothes in my tent."
    "He went ashore," said Mr. Riveter, turning to Mr. Pitspike. "I saw him hiring a boatman to take him over to Prayna, across the lake. That was yesterday afternoon. He isn't back yet?"
    "No, the slacker," said Mr. Pitspike. "So he's gone over to visit some of his lah-di-dah friends in their palaces, has he? When I only gave him the afternoon off? So much the worse for him! Triple potscrub duty when he gets back." Rubbing his hands together, he went into the deckhouse. Somehow the coal was fetched and the ovens were lit, and good smells came wafting from the galley as people baked goods for the party. Wolkin and Tulu stationed themselves on the roof above the galley skylight, watching avidly as the sweets were prepared.
    Eliss carried the folded-up tent and her bundles below to the Riveters' cabin, where she had been invited to spend the night. She found herself wondering where Krelan was, and when he'd be back. She blushed, annoyed, when she realized what she was doing. She went back up on deck and looked across at Prayna-of-the-Agatines, with its palaces, its beautiful white walls and red roofs.
    Places like that are as far away as the Moon, for people like me , thought Eliss. And, really, they're pretty, but who'd want to live there? Always fighting to keep your