Free Heroes Return by Moira J. Moore

with you here?”
    I was going to get sick of that question. Taro gave her the standard lie about having to get used to the post.
    After our coffee had been consumed, Radia took us to the second floor, which was, she said, where she slept.
    “That’s a huge bedroom you have,” I exclaimed.
    She laughed again. “No, no, it’s divided into four rooms. If I ever have a partner and children, they will live here with me.”
    “Of course, you’ll never have either if you insist on hiding in your tower,” Tarce said. Radia said nothing.
    The top floor was all stone and huge windows. Within the bare room was a loom and a huge, long brass instrument, some kind of long horn, on a stand. The horn had no keys, and was just a mouthpiece attached to an ever-widening tube. “This is how you warn everyone?” I asked.
    “I’ll show you,” she said, standing on the small stool that sat beneath the mouthpiece. “I’ll blow a light note, so you’ll recognize it when you hear it again, but it won’t be as loud as I usually blow it. I don’t want anyone else to hear it and get confused.” She put her mouth to the mouthpiece, pulled a breath from deep in her stomach and blew.
    The sound that came out was like the lowest, most rumbling trumpet note I’d ever heard. It made the pit of my stomach vibrate.
    Radia took her mouth away. “I usually play three notes in succession, again and again, until I see black spots in front of my eyes. That gives everyone time to hear and understand. And I only play when I see the slab move. I don’t play for entertainment or other trivial reasons.”
    “And when you hear it, you get inside,” Dane told us. “Drop whatever you’re doing and run to the nearest shelter, whatever it might be. No one will deny you shelter. And you don’t delay. I don’t care how important whatever you’re handling is. You run. People have been killed by the wind.”
    “How often does this happen?” I asked.
    “It varies. Not every day. Not even every week, usually. But it’s very unpredictable.”
    “So it’s not according to season,” I said.
    “No.”
    It seemed to me a lonely life. I wouldn’t like it. Yet while Radia offered an open invitation to visit when we left, she didn’t seem desperate for company.
    As soon as we left Radia’s tower, the odor hit me again. I couldn’t help wrinkling my nose. “What is that smell?”
    “I’ll show you,” Dane said.
    “I think I’ve had enough fresh air,” said Tarce. “Have a glorious day.” Without waiting for a response, he headed off toward the ridge.
    Dane took us down a rocky path to the waterfront, and then along it, around a sharp bend that suddenly revealed to us the sight of a huge carcass on the rocks. It was a whale, an animal I’d only ever read about and never thought to see. What I saw was a disgusting violation of the animal. And it stank.
    It was a gigantic creature, even stripped of its fins and tail. Swaths of skin had been peeled away, and people were engaged in the process of cutting out strips of fat and dumping them into large copper cauldrons.
    “They’re rendering the blubber into oil,” Dane explained. “Much of the duchy’s wealth comes from whale oil.”
    That surprised me. I didn’t think I’d ever encountered whale oil in my life. And when I thought of Flown Raven, I’d always thought of farming.
    “Please don’t get too close,” Dane said. “The oil can spit, and your clothes aren’t fit for protecting your skin.”
    I had no intention of getting any closer to that smell. And the people working around the whale and the cauldrons were not only covered in leather but seemed really competent as they moved about. I would just get in their way.
    As we walked about, I noticed people spotting Taro, nudging their neighbors, and then all of them watching him. I assumed they were merely taking note of his beauty. That was what such attention usually meant. But then a man came charging over, glaring at Taro, and