He rolled his eyes. “No, sweetness, he’s a refugee from the City. We’ve been on a grand adventure to bring him here to see the Council.”
“A recent refugee?” Innan took another, longer look at Hendrik, then held out their hand to him. “This is how you do it, in the City, yes? Welcome.”
Hendrik glanced at Dagan before accepting the hand and shaking it. “Hendrik,” he said, somewhat shortly.
“Innan.”
“Innan is the finest earthsinger of my generation, and they also happen to be my greatest friend,” Dagan explained, slipping his arm through theirs.
They patted him. “He probably says that about everyone he introduces, doesn’t he?”
“Actually, no,” Hendrik said.
“See.” Dagan bumped their hip with his. “Did you find out why they called you here?”
“The Blue Bird.” They turned to Hendrik. “Did you see it? You must’ve.”
Hendrik was looking at their linked arms, but his gaze snapped to meet Innan’s as he replied, “Yes. Well, the estuary.”
“It’s pretty dire,” Dagan said, making a mental note to check on Hendrik later. He seemed distracted, again—perhaps the settlement, quiet though it was, was too much for him just now. “I poked at it from afar and nearly got sick.”
“That’s the word. The Council are beside themselves. They asked me for my full report, so here I am.”
“What does an earthsinger do, exactly?” Hendrik ventured.
“It’s like lifecasting—you know about that?” They paused to make sure. When Hendrik nodded, Innan went on, “But I feel the pressures in the plates beneath the earth, the shifting of the soil, the layers of the rock. Sometimes even the hot core beneath, if I go deep enough. I can affect them, too, to stabilize or destabilize.”
“If we need to sink a mine or just glean more information about the state of deeper things in the forest, we go to them,” Dagan added.
“Oh. I don’t think we have earthsingers, either.” Hendrik seemed a little disappointed by this.
“You used to,” Innan said. “We have stories about the mountain, when both the Wood and the City shared it equally. Earthsingers would come and go between them.”
Hendrik looked doubtful. Dagan felt doubtful but knew better than to question Innan’s knowledge of arcane subjects.
“I’m headed to the Council now; they sent me to see if you had any news. Will you come?” They let go of Dagan and looked to Hendrik. “They’ll want to see you, once they know you’re here.”
Hendrik, once again, glanced at Dagan. “Should I?”
“Yes, of course, and then we can make camp or find a room, whatever you prefer for the night.” Dagan smiled encouragingly—or hoped so, anyhow. Hendrik had been so easy for that last week on the forest path, so calm and curious and bright-eyed, despite the occasional bout of daydreaming. This uncertainty, though understandable, felt like a step backwards, somehow.
Hendrik nodded at Innan. “Okay. We’ll come.”
Dagan almost pointed out that he didn’t actually need to go immediately, as it was Hendrik they wanted to see. But he caught the look Hendrik was giving him and decided now was not the time to separate. Dagan took a few steps toward Innan. “I’ll bring my map for them.”
Hendrik hesitated.
Instinctively, Dagan held out his hand.
This time there was no hesitation. Hendrik threaded his fingers through Dagan’s as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Innan eyed this with a faint, knowing smile, and Dagan gave them a look that he hoped expressed something along the lines of, Don’t make it weird.
Thankfully, they didn’t. Innan led the way toward the winery, which was the largest hall in the settlement. As they padded after them, Hendrik said quietly, “What did they mean, another one?”
“It’s a joke.” Dagan rolled his eyes and squeezed Hen’s hand. “About how I tend to have pretty people trailing after me when I’m in a settlement.”
“Are they jealous?”
“Innan? Never!” Dagan laughed. “It’s probably why we’ve stayed friends so long, really. They have standards.”
Hendrik eyed the back of Innan’s copper-red head with suspicion.
“I don’t think they meant it to sound insulting,” Dagan hurried to explain. “Sometimes they say things before thinking how it might sound. But that’s also my favorite thing about them, really.”
Hendrik grunted faintly but didn’t complain further. Dagan wished he’d explained better that Innan’s joke was meant to show their concern, not their judgment. They, of all people, knew the most about Dagan’s little struggles with himself, his hedonistic avoidant tendencies and quest for peace of mind and self-knowledge through scouting. Seeing him with a handsome stranger first thing probably suggested that Dagan had not, in fact, been on the quest he’d been so keen on, when last they spoke, but had fallen into some kind of spiral of pleasure that he’d bitterly regret in a week or so. And then, Innan would have to hear all about it.
It wouldn’t be the first time. In fact, that was precisely what Dagan would’ve done, in the past. But that was before he was a scout. Now he was, and, as it turned out, it suited him very well indeed.
The winery was also the brewery, as sometimes happened in smaller settlements, and the large hall teemed with activity as locals began to filter in from the forest after work. The Council had taken over a smaller chamber, separated from the greater hall by a wooden screen. Most of the seats at their round table were filled when Innan, Dagan, and Hendrik entered.
Jessica, Alonza’s master and the Head Verder, was there, and sent him a warm smile of acknowledgement. The rest were elected from their own conservancies. Thad also waved and mouthed hello by way of greeting. A few of the others looked familiar, but most were unknown to Dagan.
“Ah, you found him!” Thad said once they were all in the little room. “Thank you, Innan.”
They gave a little bow and stepped off to the side but didn’t leave the room. Dagan wasn’t surprised; Innan had as keen a political mind as they did earthsense. It was just a matter of time ‘til they were on the Council themself, but potential councilors must be 30 years old to be considered.
“This is Hendrik.” Dagan stepped around to stand behind one of the empty chairs. Hendrik followed on his heels, then nodded solemnly at the Council before standing upright, hands folded in front of him, as if on guard duty. “He left the Stone City some three moons ago—almost four, now.”
“And why did you leave?” Jessica asked, her voice brittle with age and yet somehow still gentle.
