Lyn expected Moira might give an obfuscated introduction; Rezzan's guess wasn't correct, but it was too close for comfort and would need some handling. Instead, she'd apparently decided to lean into it fully. The question Lyn was waiting on an answer to, was why.

  Rezzan just stared at the tiny figure, momentarily speechless. So, they were — in fact — relatively new to this.

  First, let me clear something up. Nat and I are a partnership in the making — I don't want to overstate things, but I do want to be as accurate as possible. It's a work in progress.

  Moira's tiny form turned to face Nat, arm out — encouragingly, I certainly wouldn't want to speak for him in this, however.

  “I think that says it pretty well, really.”

  Second, you're not just negotiating with Lyn — if you would like the best possible care, we come as a package deal. The pretense of the humble hiding healer, I think, is unnecessary — and perhaps harmful — at this point.

  Rezzan's eyes narrowed, but they still said nothing. Probably wise, Lyn thought — get the new lay of the land before selecting a new conversational tack.

  Moira's ghostly image turned back to them; Lyn noticed that it didn't move naturally, but was instead like a clay sculpture being posed in quick succession. Though only during the fast movement could Lyn see it blinking out of existence before coming back in a new form.

  And last, just so we're clear — my existence isn't common knowledge — and I'd ask you to respect that, but Lyn is my best friend, and I'm willing to take a risk to help them with their goals.

  Lyn couldn't help but smile — Moira could be so sweet.

  “Just so it is clear — just because there are more of you, does not mean that we will negotiate a price with each. The burden of Lyn's request is already high, unless they would like to make an alternative request.”

  I myself would simply like to help, both Lyn and your — is flight the proper term? Consider it a favor, in return for the right to have a future favor taken into consideration. The others can speak for themselves.

  Ellie simply chimed in, “I'm here for the pay, simple as that.”

  Novek's response was even simpler. “I have my reasons.”

  Nat's response was similar to Moira's, “I'm just happy to help, if I can.”

  Rezzan collected their thoughts before responding, “Alright, it sounds like you're all in agreement, if nothing else. But explain to me the care — the fledglings mentioned the aetheric voice, but how exactly are you involved in this?”

  Ah. And now the demonstration portion. Lyn's tapped out, I think. Ellie — have you recovered enough for a round two? Since you're going to sleep immediately after.

  “If it gets me back to business as usual faster, then sure. I guess this means you can start on the coach, Novek — could you grab one of the new bedrolls for me, please?”

  “Sounds good to me, unless I'm needed for something else?”

  Lyn turned to him, “Unless you've got an injury you want taken care of?”

  “No, I'm good from the prior effort, and I can't afford to be tired tonight, if you could avoid including me this time, I'd appreciate it.”

  Sure thing, Novek.

  Turning to Nat, Lyn kept their voice carefully neutral, “Nat? Could you help Novek with that — and maybe grab the other bedrolls from inside the coach, while we start? I wouldn't want anyone to freeze tonight.”

  Lyn imagined that Moira was speaking in his ear, but either way, he seemed to get the message — he simply answered, “Sure thing, Lyn.”

  Moira's ghostly image made a show of jumping off of Nat's hand, and floating through the air towards Lyn. Ah — they put their own hand out, and empowered it slightly to give Moira a point of reference. The tiny ghost form landed — Lyn almost expected to feel some weight, but did not. They did, however, feel an aetheric field press against their palm gently — this little show apparently wasn't trivial to put on.

  “There's no need to obfuscate the boy's Talent, by the way. I'm already aware.”

  Nat froze mid-motion.

  Lyn could have put a hand to their forehead — if Rezzan was bluffing, he'd blown it right there. Time to see what she knew, and if the situation was salvageable. “He does have an uncommon Talent, for a Human. It's not something he wants to get around.”

  “I'd imagine — a Human helmsman — I imagine that's going to ruffle some feathers. What must AMA be thinking? Or perhaps it is the agent's influence?” Rezzan turned to look directly at Moira's glowing form.

  Nope, not me. In all honesty, we've just met recently, and I'm unfamiliar with the process of making those kinds of requests. I am somewhat eager to learn, however.

  “Ah. It would seem that we are not the only ones new to the game, then. We might have more to speak on in the future. For now, I'll simply issue this caution to you, Nat. If you don't want information to spread, you must stop thinking of Ber as animals. It is true many have only rudimentary intelligence, but I know that Lyn warned you on the first meeting with my brothers. Do not take their wisdom lightly — because it is true, we are absolutely terrible gossips. Also, we can communicate far faster between ourselves than we let on; keep that to yourself, healer.”

  Lyn's thoughts had begun to race at the mention of the Skill, and were thrown into further disarray at the repetition of their initial warning. What had they seen? What else had been said? AMA's breath, they'd fallen into the Human habit of dismissing Ber — as if they were beneath notice. Rezzan clearly knew what Lyn was going through Lyn's mind. “The boy used his Talent — or is it a Skill — to get up and down from the rock in front of the fledglings. They weren't sure, but there are only a few Skills that would fit that description. They simply thought you were a Human-like Ber'Duun — you are not the only fleshy bipeds with a single mane of hair in the world, after all.”

  If you come across this story on Amazon, it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.

  Nat turned to look at Lyn, a sheepish look on his face, “Ah, sorry, Lyn.”

  “What's done is done — it is not as if you are trained for subterfuge. But try to keep it in mind — the stakes may be higher, next time.”

  Even though Nat was apologizing, Lyn felt that the mistake was theirs — they had failed to truly impress on the others the level of self-policing necessary for information security. If Rezzan — no, if the wing of clackaw — weren't worthy of trust, then they'd effectively done worse than stand in a town square and shout their secrets.

  “I can't promise it won't happen again, but… yeah, lesson learned.”

  Lesson learned, indeed. Lyn hoped that the clackaw wing did not try to use the information for a better negotiating position, or worse, have their own goals in opposition — now or in the future. They'd need to inquire about the other wing, carefully.

  “All you can do is your best. Go ahead and come back, then, but I do actually want the bedrolls laid out. If the earlier work was any indication, we're all going to want them immediately after — let's eat, handle dusk, and then it's showtime.”

  Nat laid out the bedrolls around the cooking stone while Lyn and Rezzan talked about some Ber'Duun goings-on that he hadn't a hope of understanding.

  Moira re-heated the stone for some light cooking of a selection of Ellie's purchases, though the Maw — Siya — didn't wait for his kebab to finish cooking before he leapt over the stone and grabbed it in his mouth, landing nimbly on the other side. He pranced over to Novek, who was laying out tools and materials, then curled up around the meat. The particular odor that signaled his high speed eating wafted through the air — it wasn't quite offensive, to Nat's nose, but the acrid smell did make his eyes water if he got too close.

  Nat wasn't sure, but he thought that Siya had put on at least a kilogram and maybe five centimeters in the last week — a sizable shift given how small the kit had been when he had first laid eyes on him.

  Most of the clackaw stayed with juice and tea, though Rezzan also partook of the kebab — they'd said something about females having a more developed digestive tract. Only they'd said it much longer than that, with at least two conversational detours, and he couldn't remember the details.

  Food in hand, Nat and Lyn wandered to the far side of the stones for their twice-daily ritual — awkward handholding. They were joined by Moira's miniscule form, which she had declined to put away.

  I don't see from the projection, so the glances and facial expressions people use for sideband communication is getting lost, but minor pulses of aether show me what materials are most absorptive, so I can discern some material differences.

  As Lyn and Nat held hands for the transition, Moira sat atop their pressed palms and kicked the legs of her tiny figure back and forth.

  Nat found it endearing. And also creepy — the puppet was just subtly off. He wondered if there was a word for that. Lyn was mostly quiet — having living sound recorders in the camp was certainly putting a damper on their conversation. A few minutes of the usual nothing, and they returned to the stone.

  Rezzan, sipping her tea and throwing their head back to drink, paused to ask, “I take it that's something to do to the pulses?”

  Sitting down on their bedroll, next to Ellie's, Lyn answered, “Nat's Talent doesn't always react well to them. It activates, or deactivates without warning. There's some danger, if we're unprepared.”

  “Ah. Interesting. Our males aren't affected as severely, but it is deleterious at best to myself, and especially our mother.”

  “Was it that which pulled her from the sky?”

  “In a way. A number of the flight overnighting did not return after the first two — due to mishap or malice is unknown still. She descended to seek them, and was attacked by feral Ber. The rest of the flight fought them off, but some of her flight muscles were torn, so a glide was all that she could manage.”

  “Attacked after the pulses? Not during the panic they cause?”

  “Yes, a group of fliers swarmed from the treetops as she flew overhead at low altitude. I wasn't there at the time, you'll have to ask her yourself if you think it could be relevant to the plan of treatment — there is no venom or infection that we detected.”

  “It could be. I'll be sure to ask. Shall we get started?”

  Rezzan hopped over with her gangly legs — which Nat found even more awkwardly adorable than the males. Then she asked, “How does this work? May I sit close, to observe?”

  “By all means. Ellie? We're starting. Are you ready?”

  “Yes, I just had to fashion some earplugs — Novek's planning on making some modifications. He says he'll be as quiet as possible, but I've seen what he's got planned, so I stopped listening to him at that point. I made spares for Nat, but I don't know how your ears are shaped, Lyn — sorry. I brought you wax, just in case.”

  Lyn made a waving gesture — dismissing the concern. “That's fine. I've done a stint as a battlefield medic — I can sleep anywhere. Let's get started — Moira…”

  Rezzan broke in before Lyn could finish, “Before we begin, I would like to add one additional patient to the demonstration.”

  “Oh, does one of your flight—” Lyn stopped short as Rezzan reached down with their finger-like wingtips, and deftly moved the feathers covering their upper leg out of the way. Then suddenly their head darted forward and left a deep gash, that immediately swelled with blood.

  The clackaw spoke calmly, despite what to Nat's eyes must be a painful wound. “How Humans recover from injury is unknown to me. But I know how long this would take to heal, both unattended, and with expert care. So, show me your best.”

  Slip? The question was quiet, only in Nat's ear — Moira must not want all of their secrets to be out in the open.

  [Slip]

  Well, at least we know she's committed to finding a capable healer. Could you give me a few minutes to build the pattern, please?

  No problem. But I think you know my price.

  Ah, such a heavy one to pay. Ok, I'll read that one to you — but I want to re-iterate that it is highly unrealistic for an agentic intelligence to be so fascinated by feet.

  Well, in return, how about I help you refine your little aether puppet? It's cute, but some details are just slightly wrong, and it comes off a little creepy.

  It's a deal. That's called the uncanny valley, by the way. I'm building the pattern now. What did you think about our friends here?

  I think they're not telling us the whole story — no surprise there. And I think we should be ready for anything.

  Oh? Anything you can point to that made you think that? Do you think they're negotiating in bad faith?

  No, I don't think they're bad people or anything like that. It's just — there are a few things they said, and some they didn't; My mind is still working through it. As Novek said earlier — I'm trusting my gut. You know what? Let's save the story for later — I think I have a few ideas for your puppet. For instance, if we get into another situation, why not have more than one?

  Well, I have to position and pose them — which is a fair amount of work to create — no eyes, remember.

  Would it help if I posed for you as a reference? I mean, we're just killing time in here at this point, right?

  Nat stood, and the puppet Moira stood to mirror his motions as he made them. He went through a few poses he thought would look striking or imposing. Somehow when he looked at the puppet mirroring him, they did not quite come across as he'd intended — apparently there was some skill to this.

  Oh, my. You are absolutely adorkable. Let me describe a few that I'd like to be able to call up as needed — stock poses, if you will.