Page 46 of Firebird
Even in grief, my firebird let her voice be heard.
“There are some who believe that it doesn’t matter whose gods you worship. There is an order to the world we cannot comprehend. To life and death. Pluto will grant passage into the underworld for those who deserve it, where her soul will find peace whether she believes or not.” I looked on the woman in the bed, who seemed peacefully asleep rather than dead. “For your kind friend, he’d take her in.”
Malina pushed out of my arms and to her feet. “One of your philosopher’s beliefs?” She swiped the back of her hand roughly over her cheek. “It’s all nonsense.”
“Would it comfort you to believe she was granted passage to Pluto’s realm of peace?”
“Of course it would.”
I shrugged. “Then what could it hurt to believe?”
She turned to look at Enid. “It doesn’t matter anyway. I heard Ruskus say she’d be dumped in a mass pit outside the city where all the dead of the poor and enslaved must go.” She turned her head back to me. “She can’t go to any afterworld without the proper rites.”
“We could burn her in a pyre here if you like,” I offered calmly. “With whatever prayers and to whatever gods you’d like to send her on her way.”
“Why would you do that?” she asked, disbelief coloring her words.
“Do you want to? Because if you do, we’d need to do it now and quietly before the world awakens and wonders why there’s a plume of smoke coming from my back terrace.”
“Yes,” she rushed eagerly, “of course I do. But I need more time with her,” she begged.
“I can’t give you that. But I can give your friend a funeral pyre. We must do it before first light.”
She nodded, my brave girl. Then we both hastily wrapped Enid in the blanket on the bed together. When she grabbed an oil lamp to guide us into the corridor, I shook my head.
“We don’t need it. Just follow me.”
I could see clearly in the dark, and I didn’t want to wake anyone. Ruskus and Kara would ask, no doubt, when they saw the woman gone, but I wanted Malina to have time alone to say goodbye.
“We’ll need the lamp to set the pyre,” she protested.
“No, we won’t. Leave it.”
Frowning, she did as I said, then followed me. We walked brisklypast the atrium and to the larger back terrace that I used to entertain politicians and soldiers whenever I had to and the platform I used to come and go in dragon form. Malina followed me in silence, the half-moon shining softly on the expanse of white marble.
“I have no dais to raise her up. The ashes will simply blow away,” I told her as I set Enid’s wrapped body near the balcony railing, which was made of slim columns of stone.
“It doesn’t matter. The Celts often buried their ashes from the pyre in their native land. But Enid wouldn’t want to be buried here.”
“Stand back,” I told her, gesturing with my hand for her to move to the side.
I waited until she was a safe distance, then I summoned the fire and let the dragon overtake me. I gritted my teeth as the sound of my cracking bones splintering and lengthening filled the air. Rather than giving the dragon full reign, I halted the transformation, allowing my wings, horns, and tail to sprout, my body bulking into the beast in half-skin. The mutation took only a moment, but the power electrifying my veins made me feel like another man entirely. I was, actually, though I was still sound of mind.
It always made me wonder why I was able to hold on to my humanity in this form when so many others could not. There were many who couldn’t even speak in half-skin, so overwhelmed by the creature they shared minds and bodies with. But I always could. Even as a gangly boy when I first shifted into this half-formed beast, I kept my reason.
Lashing my tail, I pulled away my ripped tunic that still dangled at my waist and threw it aside. Finally, I chanced a glance at Malina.
She’d remained in place rather than cowering farther away, and her expression wasn’t one of fear. It was more of wonder and curiosity. She actually took a step toward me, seeming to want a closer look.
I faced her, knowing my red scales shone beneath the pale moonlight and that my body in this form was impressive. Her eyes rovedhungrily, which only made me stand straighter and spread my wings wider.
“Can you speak?” she asked.
“Of course,” I answered, noting that though my timbre rolled deeper, my pronunciation was clear.
“Why did you transform?”
“So that I could send Enid on her way.” When she only seemed more confused, I explained, “I can make fire in this form. And my fire will burn far hotter than the one from an oil lamp. We need to send her on quickly.”
