Erin Evans - The God Catcher

A man dressed in a green velvet coat was sitting in her chair. He looked young, perhaps a little older than Tennora herself, with pale skin and eyes the shady color of set emeralds. Across his knees rested a cane with a crystal set in the handle. He had turned the chair to face the door, and he greeted her with a razor-sharp smile.

"Well met, Lady Hedare," he said. "I believe you have something that belongs to me."

Nestrix stormed through the city and down Market Street, no longer noticing where she was. If she'd had her wings, she'd have relished her dark mood, used it as an excuse to swoop low over the crowded stalls, scattering fat merchants and dawdling maids, breathing great gales of lightning until the colorful cloths ignited and the curios melted and the fruit roasted whole. Maybe tear the mast off a ship or two and frighten the sailors off the deck and into the deep. Remind the world of who she was. She shivered.

But trapped on the ground, all she could do was stomp through the crowded market until the cobblestones made her feet ache through the boots she was supposed to be finding a spot for in her new hoard.

This was Tennora's fault. She should turn back right now and crack the little bitch's head open on the windowsill. Leave her there and go after Aundra Blacklock herself. Teach the sorceress to meddle with her. Teach Tennora to speak to her like a common dokaal nothing! Even diminished as she was, she could make them fear her, make them wish

… make them…

Nestrix heaved a great sigh. The truth was she didn't want to kill Tennora or hurt her-or even particularly frighten her. She wanted Tennora to be sorry for saying those things-that she was a monster, that she had done something unforgivable-and she didn't want to force the words from her.

And why was that? The girl was helpful, it was true-but helpful or not, what more was she going to do? She thought of the way Tennora had brushed her hair, and rolled her eyes at her own growing sentimentality. As if the girl would polish her scales and help organize her treasure once Aundra had fixed everything. Everything would be over once Nestrix was a dragon again. Tennora had said it herself: Nestrix wasn't the color of dragon she could trust.

A fat drop of rain hit the crown of her head, jarring Nestrix from her thoughts. She looked up in time to see a bolt of lightning race across the horizon before the rain began to fall in earnest. A shiver ran through her. What she wouldn't give to dance in the lightning again.

The crowd scattered for the relative shelter of the shops and the tents. Nestrix watched the rain coming down for a few minutes before she became aware of the sensation of her dress sticking to her skin.

It wasn't a sensation she'd bothered to notice before, but now that Tennora had shown her she didn't have to be wet when it rained, Nestrix found it extremely irritating.

A man on the street whistled lasciviously at her. She turned and glared at him, and the catcall died on his lips. Not being soaked through would prevent that too. Hooting and cackling like a rooster-she'd long realized it was a dokaal's way of trying to mate, but Tiamat take her if she understood any of it.

Tennora had a cloak for the wet weather. Nestrix could go back and take it. Tennora might even give it to her. Maybe she'd apologize and then make her some tea…

"No," she said to herself. She didn't need Tennora's help. She would find her own cloak and show Tennora she could take care of herself just fine.

A few minutes' walk down the street brought Nestrix to a shop with an elaborate gilded sign- Valhana Darvien, Fine Clothingand Tailoring. In the window, two wooden forms of women were posed, both wearing ruffled dresses.

The memory slid into her thoughts like a sharp knife-the golden-haired woman, a cloak around her shoulders, a wooden form in the corner, someone measuring the cloth asking if she didn't want to buy a nice dress or perhaps a new set of "Stop it!" Nestrix hissed and clutched her head. The memory retreated.

Nestrix stared at the window for a moment. It looked a little like the one in the foreign memory-the fabrics heavier, the gowns unfamiliar. But… those strange memories had recognized it.

Shown it to her.

She shook her head. It was just a likely place to have cloaks. Nothing more.

Bells strung on the doorframe tinkled merrily as she stepped inside. The carpet was green and very thick, as if it grew out of the floor in tangled mats. Nestrix rocked her weight against it, finding her balance. A slim girl looked up from behind a counter's table. Her dark eyes flicked over Nestrix, and she didn't bother to hide the sneer that curled her lip.

"Well met," she said. "I believe you want the seamstress on the other side of the market. Goodwoman Laever."

Nestrix frowned. "I came here to buy clothes."

"We don't have what you're looking for," the girl said, coming out from behind the table. "You should move along."

Nestrix narrowed her eyes. "Why? I want to buy some clothes. You're selling clothes."

"Yes, and this is a very high-quality establishment." She looked Nestrix over once again. "We don't have anything in your… size."

The rear of the store was filled with row after row of fabric on bolts, ready to be fashioned into all manner of garments. Nestrix looked at them pointedly, but the girl didn't budge. She looked at Nestrix as if she were defending her hoard against something weak and trembling. Something cowardly.

Rage swelled inside Nestrix like a physical thing, a force that might push through her skin and make wings and claws and teeth. She felt the dragonfear racing ahead of it like lightning before thunder. The girl's eyes widened a little as it wrapped itself around her, and Nestrix smiled, ready for the rage to crash and rumble and storm through her.

All at once, the fear slipped out of her grasp, taking the force of her anger along with it. The vacuum left her dizzy, and when she put a hand out to steady herself against the desk, the world spun and she fell to one knee on the thick carpet.

The alien memories surged into the void and pressed on her the feeling of killing a man in a dark alley, a soldier of some sort, with a sword that didn't belong to her. The air overflowed with the stale, fishy smell of a dockside, and another man was shouting at her, shouting at Lyra.

Nestrix gasped and pulled herself up.

"Get out!" the girl said, recoiling.

"I have coin and I want to buy clothes," Nestrix growled.

"Get out or I'll call the Watch!"

"Chennae, what's going on out there?" a new voice called out. Nestrix pulled herself to her feet in time to see a plump woman in neat work clothes come in from the back room. She glanced over Nestrix. "Good afternoon. Is there a problem?"

"Yes," she said, shoving the memory aside. It wouldn't budge, and it filled in the dead man's rusty armor, the stubble on his cheek, the whites of his eyes. "I'd like to buy some clothes."

The woman folded her hands in front of her. Though her skin was pale and sun-sheltered, her hands looked as if they had known many years of work. "Very well. How much were you planning on spending?"

The other man-his name was Gralik-he grabbed her by the arm, pulling her back, saying they had to run. She'd loved him… no, someone had loved him.

Nestrix focused on the seamstress, her head pounding with the effort. "I… don't know. What do they cost?"

The remembered affection swelled up in her, threatening to overwhelm her. He had been kind, clever, short-tempered, but so had she been. A match, an equal.

No, Nestrix thought, and replaced the man with the sinuous coils and sharp eyes of Tantlevgithus, a true match, a true equal, lover, and opponent in all the ways a mate should be.