In a few long strides, he leaped off the inn’s ancient porch and moved around to the side of the building. Out of sight.
Almost a minute passed before a commotion echoed from behind the inn, drawing all attention—including the phoenix’s. Seconds later, a darker trail of smoke climbed into the sky.
One by one, heads turned toward the growing smoke. The crowd was filled with enough regulars to know where it was coming from: the nearest public phoenix aviary.
Kel heard the crowd mumbling about another uncollared phoenix before they began trickling toward the smoke. Others crept back inside The Ferret while the phoenix was distracted. They were out of the way—but the phoenix was growing hotter, its head whipping back and its wings beginning to beat.
Kel crept forward. Muscle memory replaced her fear, born from years at Savita’s side. She pulled a handful of dehydrated insects and broken grains from her pocket. Kel felt the phoenix’s gaze jerk up, but she kept hers carefully on the ground.
She heard slow, careful footsteps behind her.Coup.He shuffled closer, shoving something small and silver into his pocket. The sudden movement made the phoenix grumble. More smoke trailed into the sky, crimson and black tangling in blistering ribbons. Kel swallowed a sharp wave of fear.
“I led everyone over to the public aviary and circled back, but they won’t be fooled for long,” Coup panted, voice low. “What’s the plan?”
“Go back and keep them occupied,” she whispered, not wanting to know how he’d started the fire. “I’ve got this.”
Coup moved closer. “Get over yourself. I’m not leaving you here to become a crispy appetizer.”
She didn’t have time to scold him, to tell him torun, as the phoenix loosed another deafening bellow. Pale flames climbed higher in the sky.
She exhaled through her nose. “Just stay low. Try not to aggravate the phoenix more than you already have.”
Coup shuffled a few paces to her left; a safe distance from the phoenix’s erratic movements. He moved slowly, squatting so he was lower than the phoenix, keeping his gaze downturned.
Kel tossed a few treats to the ground. The phoenix didn’t reach for them, but it did redirect its attention. Slowly, Kel lowered.
The collar lay among the ashes to her right. Her fingers ached to reach for it, but she couldn’t afford any sudden movements.
Squatting lower, she shifted a little, staying in the phoenix’s line of sight. She crawled to the right so she wasn’t directly between the creature and the waning sun—which could be seen as a threat. She breathed out in long, hard pants, loud enough that the phoenix could hear. Shuffling closer to the collar, her breaths turned to whistles, low and even.
She managed a few more low steps before the phoenix turned toward her, narrowing its great, black eyes. It cocked its head. Flames climbed even higher in the sky.
Kel’s calves burned as she crept closer. She changed the pitch of her whistle. A light, familiar flow of notes wove into the air.
It was a wordless tune she’d learned from her father. He’d told Kel that Savita had once sung it to him, years ago. He’d been planting new seedlings in the aviary, humming to himself. Between one moment and the next, Savita had joined his chorus.
Phoenixes so often screeched and squawked. It was only when they felt truly content, free, that they dared sing, with voices said to bring even the Four Alchemists to their knees. Kel used to dream of hearing Savita’s song, though it was a hope she’d buried with her father.
Kel kept whistling, crawling closer. She hoped her singing might show the creature that she was at ease. That she was no threat.
The creature watched her, snapping its beak twice. A sharper wave of heat sent sweat rolling down Kel’s back. The bird stepped forward and lowered its head to the treats, scraping its talons far too close to Kel’s knees. It devoured one treat, two, still watching Kel.
Kel let out a breath of relief and mingled it with her whistle.
“Coup,” she said, low and gentle, “grab the collar.”
The creature tracked Coup as he crept to the right and, slowly, scooped up the ashen collar. Loudening her song, Kel drew its attention back. She cocked her head and paused, just a few yards away. Finally, she lifted her eyes to meet the phoenix’s depthless gaze.
The beast clicked its beak a few more times, as if to communicate. All Kel could do was blink through the hot sweat dripping down her forehead and keep whistling. Keep forcing herself not to look at Coup as he crawled toward her.
She felt his rough hand press against hers. Without looking, she fumbled for the collar and curled her damp fingers around the hot metal. As Coup shifted away, she stood.
The phoenix rustled its wings and a few blush-red feathers stood around its neck, signaling its unease. She only had one shot at this.
Kel moved closer. It was hard to resist lifting a hand to block the scalding heat. Her steps were slow, steady—until she heard the scuffling of dirt. A stampede of feet.
The shouts of an approaching mob.
The phoenix reared its head. It spread its great wings, and pale flames exploded into the air. Kel felt her arms singe as holes burned into her sleeves. The phoenix lifted one of its talons—directly over her head.
