Free Forgotten Sea by Virginia Kantra Page B

summoned by the thought, the mews keeper appeared in the door of the cage. She was tall , like most of their kind, and striking, like all of them. But her wavy hippie hair was tied back with a leather jess, her strong, angular body swallowed by a shapeless brown tunic. Her blue eyes were cloudy and vague.
    “When you’ve finished sweeping, you can scrub out his bath.” Moon flapped her hand at the metal pan weighted by an old tire in the middle of the cage.
    Lara eyed the scummy water without enthusiasm.
    Self-knowledge and obedience, she reminded herself.
    She didn’t know what Simon expected her to learn in this dirty, shadowed hole. But she knew what she had to do.
    “Okay.”
    The keeper padded across the enclosure, her slippered feet silent on the newly raked floor. “There’s my lovely boy, then,” she crooned to the bird. “You’re one of Simon’s girls, aren’t you?”
    It took Lara a moment to realize Moon was speaking to her.
    She flushed. “I work for him, if that’s what you mean.”
    “I don’t care if you dance for him naked,” the keeper said.
    “But he found you.”
    “Yes.”
    “Thought so. I’m good with faces,” Moon said with satisfaction. “Better with birds, but still, I remember. You came in here with your class, a dozen years ago.”
    Lara’s heart beat faster at the memory. Bria had made her stay behind in the shadowed mews when the rest of their cohort had escaped to sunlight and safety. Her friend had been fascinated by the birds, their daggered feet, their cruel, curved beaks, their caged grace.
    She shrugged to hide her discomfort. “Everyone comes once. It’s part of the life science unit.”
    “But I remember you,” Moon said. “You were friends with that little blond girl. The flyer.”
    Lara’s mouth jarred open. No one talked about the flyers.
    Ever. After Bria ran away, it was as if the other girl had never been. Lara had grieved for her friend in silence and alone. “She was my roommate.”
    Moon cocked her head. “Never came back.”
    “No,” Lara whispered.
    “I meant you.”
    “Oh.” Lara fought an absurd urge to apologize. “No, I . . .”
    “Most of them don’t,” Moon said frankly. “Unless they want to use the birds in the flight cages to practice spirit casting.”
    Lara shivered. Under the Rule, only Masters had the authority to project their spirits into other creatures. The Gift was too close to the demonic power of possession, too much like usurping free will, to be considered quite safe.
    Even Masters were restricted to using it on birds, fellow children of the air.
    She glanced at the large golden-eyed raptor in the corner.
    “They do that . . . here?”
    “Not so much. All of the Masters at least try it. Most don’t have the knack. And even fewer have the inclination.”
    Raising her arm, the keeper pressed against the bird’s haunches until it either had to step back or be pushed from its perch. Lara held her breath as, with a disgruntled flap, the bird hopped onto Moon’s glove.
    Moon stroked its breast. “A lot of our birds come to us because they’ve been injured—trapped, maybe, or shot. That’s why they leave us alone, the Masters. They want to fly, but they can’t stand to be reminded they’re no different than my birds.”
    “Hunted?” Lara ventured.
    The keeper met her gaze, her vague blue eyes suddenly sharp and clear. “Caged.”
    Lara stared, speechless. She had a mental flash of Justin, lean and golden, balancing against the bright blue sky, plunging into the sea in a flourish of foam and daring. Free.
    Until now.
    She moistened her dry lips. “But . . . the birds are all freed eventually. When they’re well enough to survive on their own.”
    “That’s what they teach in your life science unit, is it?”
    Lara nodded slowly. She had never questioned the school masters’ expertise.
    “It’s true for some. The ones that aren’t hurt too badly to be rehabilitated and released.” Another sharp glance,