Where the Wind Goes

Chapter 15 - Cassia

Oliver was told it rained the day after the Queen's attack because the Herald had arranged it that way. Delly brought him into the city that afternoon with a wagon of supplies and a few of her staff. They rolled passed bent street lamps and buildings with dark char marks scarring their sides. Shattered glass glittered in the streets, and mosaic tiles dangled off the walls like hangnails.

A grey cloud of smog hung directly over the castle. The dome had been cracked open like an egg. Delly whistled. "That'll be hard to fix."

"This is terrible," one her employees muttered breathlessly. Rivulets of gray water streamed through the broken city, carrying away evidence of the attack like silt.

On the second day the rain turned to snow, and Delly kept everyone inside. Thick icicles dangled precariously from the roof of her parents' house. Oliver snuck outside late that night to have just one moment to himself. He watched clouds drift across the moon while his hands grew numb in the cold. Still Iri sent no word.

It was three days after the Queen's attack that the sun finally shone again. Oliver was standing beside Delly on the widow's walk, trying to ignore how the snow melted into his socks.

"There it is." Delly flung her hand out towards the forest while Oliver peered through the binoculars. "There you see the council's grand plan. And does Iri send me word? Ha!"

A cluster of tents had appeared at the edge of the forest overnight. Tall and stately, the ruby-red fabric stood stark against the deep green of the forest. Golden pennant flags snapped in the wind, bearing the council's metallic sun-shaped symbol. One tent bore a purple banner decorated with the shape of an iris flower. Oliver suspected that's where Iri was.

Lowering the binoculars he asked, "What are they doing?"

"No doubt they're going to stomp in there after the Queen like a herd of cattle."

"They have to find her somehow, don't they?"

Delly just shook her head and grumbled. A housekeeper appeared then, announcing that someone from the Council was at the door and positively would not leave until he spoke to Delly personally. Delly told Oliver to wait while she was gone.

But Oliver was sick of waiting. He had come back to Veralia for a purpose- to find his memory. But with every passing day that purpose became more muddled. Veralia was a world that did not operate by the rules he was familiar with, and if he was going to plunge himself into the unknown he needed a headway. He felt that way about a lot of things in life. Sometimes he wished someone would just come along and point him in the right direction, and then it would all be straight and narrow from there.

The house was a flurry of commotion- papers and medicines whizzing through the air while pots and pans clanged in the kitchen. Oliver ducked and skidded his way down the stairs towards what sounded like an argument.

A young man stood in the entryway looking like he deeply regretted getting out of bed that morning. His long wool coat hung heavily on his drooping shoulders, and his orange hair stood out in stark relief to his charcoal-gray skin. He had a dull stare in his eyes as he stood there dripping water onto the carpet while Delly berated him.

"Master Doldoorian-" he began.

"Master?" Delly scoffed. "Master of what? Did your professor tell you how he failed out of the Academy twice? Master. He is the weakest conjurer I have ever known."

Neither of them seemed to notice Oliver lingering on the bottom step. The red-headed boy yawned and leaned against the doorframe, either too bored or exhausted to hold himself upright.