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The little magpie nested on his windowsill wasn't doing well. The other eggs hadn’t hatched and the mother hadn't returned.
Life in the city. A cat, a cart, baseless cruelty.
(It was actually a demon, throwing the blade that landed squarely through her chest. She was discarded without thought in favour of a clean bloodless sword to be presented to him, an act of contrition with a body count of two.)
The little bird peeped, crying for food.
Hal thought of that moment of hope. The little bird. The rising sun.
He thought of Thjazi. Of Shadia's life ahead of her, of Occtis Tachonis' cut short and remade into something unknowable. Of Bolaire unmasked and being the mask itself. Of Thaisha here and gone.
He grabbed some towels and carefully took the nest and baby bird together.
“You look like a Thjazi. Maybe you are.” He smiled at the thought. Maybe a falcon would be more appropriate for Thjazi's next life, but a clever magpie certainly suited his personality.
Not to mention their love of shiny things.
“You're a bit small though.” Hal thought of Thjazi small, when three years was enough to make him older and wiser. Thjazi toddling and introducing himself with a speech impediment he grew out of (their father forced out of him).
“Thazi suits you. Your namesake would hate it, but he's not here to protest, so Thazi it will be.”
Hal went to the garden and scooped up some of the crawling worms that had come up during the last rain.
He supposed it was arrogant to think his brother would be a bird. He could be a worm.
Hal shook his head. He wasn't the bird either, that wasn't how it worked, but grief was funny and the mounting problems felt impossible.
At least he could do this.
At least he could take in a little orphan hatchling and make sure it got to fly over the city his brother once loved. That Hal wanted to protect.
He mashed the worms up and gave little Thazi his first meal.
-
It worked!
He remembered.
Except he was cold and hungry and moving seemed really hard right now.
He looked over the city, his city, so close, and yet so far. He had wings, but they were too small to fly.
He cried for food. It would be a call for a parent. Mother, mother, mother, except to his new ears it sounded more like Hal, Hal, Hal.
Hal always made sure he got dinner. When they were younger, when they were together on the field, when Hal had his own place and family. Hal loved to host. To look after people.
He was small, and weak, and scared, and he wanted his brother so badly.
And then he was there. Scooping up him and the nest and bringing it into the warm familiar home he had always been welcome in.
The place that he thought of as home.
How many times had Hal sat him at his table and pushed food in front of him?
He didn't have to handfeed him the other times, but it was appreciated now.
He looked at Hal, familiar and safe. Something in his new body clicked. Instinct.
The same thing that sounded like Hal told him that yes, this was Hal, you're safe. He'll feed you.
He would laugh, but he wasn't sure how to show amusement as a hatchling. He wished he could tell him.
Hal was Hal.
‘Hal’lelujah. Heh.
But this was perfect. It couldn't have been long.
Some calculated memories flooded into him, which were hard to parse in his current form, but it couldn't have been more than a few days. Thaisha would either be in town already or be there soon. She could never resist speaking with animals.
The ritual ensured he would be reborn in the city, but still, he couldn't believe his luck. Hal's home, at a time when a druid and friend was sure to stop by. She was going to drop the coffin with Bolaire, and she wouldn't pass up the chance to visit Hal, especially with Thjazi dead.
Ah. Big thoughts, too big.
He focused back on Hal, who seemed to be poking around with something. Oh was that for him?
“I have… no idea what I'm doing,” Hal admitted to him. “But you need someone to look after you until your wings get strong, and everyone is always welcome here.”
Thjazi's heart warmed a little. Hal was Hal after all, even to a little bird, but then his brother frowned.
“Or at least… that used to be the case. Maybe that's… maybe that isn't safe anymore…”
Not safe anymore? What did he mean? Surely danger couldn't have moved that fast. He had… what had he told Hal? Murray, paint, right, that part of the plan shouldn't bring undue danger or eyes on him.
“Nothing you need to worry about,” Hal said to his unasked questions and angry peeps. “Hungry already?”
Yes, but also what exactly did you mean!?
-
“Your new pet is a menace,” Bolaire said, carefully grabbing the pesky magpie and untangling it from his wig. It had the audacity to peck at him!
“I slayed a god you know,” he growled under his breath.
Hal chuckled, his excellent hearing catching the idle threat.
“I don't know what it is,” Shadia said apologetically. “He's so sweet with dad and me.”
“Maybe the wig?” Hal suggested, rubbing his chin. “He gets tangled in it a lot.”
“Because he's going for my face, Hal,” Bolaire grumbled.
“Ah, maybe it's your masks eyes, he does like shiny things,” Shadia mused.
There was a knock at the door.
Bolaire hated the little pull of tension in Hal's shoulder before familiar voices called for Shadia to hurry up.
“That's the others, see you later dad! Master Lathalia!” Shadia kissed her father's cheek and headed for the door.
The magpie pecked at his gloves and Bolaire released it. It flew after Shadia, primly landing on her shoulder.
“Goodbye to you too Thazi, go back to dad, and stop giving Master Lathalia trouble! He's our important patron after all,” Shadia winked at Bolaire with a smile.
Bolaire smiled back, unable to pout in the face of her good cheer.
The bird obediently flew back over to Hal. Shadia waved one more time, grabbed her bag and left.
“That bird is smart. You're sure it's not a spy?” Bolaire asked moving back to Hal. The bird puffed up when he got too close.
“Arrogant little prick.”
Hal continued to be amused with his ongoing animosity.
“I've known him since he was an egg, so I'm pretty sure we're good.”
“A bad egg.”
“It's probably the mask.”
“So nothing I could change since that's me.”
“Ah…well…” Hal rubbed the back of his neck. Bolaire knew he still wasn't used to the idea, as much as he tried.
“Ugh, it's not like he's the only one,” Bolaire waved away the offense. “And honestly he's a lot easier to deal with than his namesake.”
He regretted saying it immediately. They hadn't completely worked through all their Thjazi related issues, but Hal's tension quickly softened.
He wanted to work through it. He wanted to be friends still, not just allies against the sundered houses.
Bolaire hated that there were these stumbling blocks between them. Their conversations used to be so easy, so effortless.
But he would take any amount of awkward cringes if it meant still being able to talk to him.
His attention instinctively went back to the magpie. It had an evil look in its eyes again as if it wanted to prove it could be a bigger piece of shit than Thjazi Fang.
Good luck with that.
Hal sensed his bird's malfeasance and reached up, stroking its head gently.
Thazi nuzzled against his finger.
“Suck up,” Bolaire said accusingly (as if he wouldn't immediately melt under the same attention).
The magpie glared (no matter what Hal said). Bolaire was sure he was plotting his next move.