Shadow Page 15

  "I was doingwhat?" Shadow said, his eyes snapping open once more.

  Karaman laughed shrilly. "People don't copulate in front of the birds--they have trouble telling the males from the females among us. You fly right behind the prince all the time, so NailBiter assumes that he is your mate. You were going looking for him--or her. He knew that WindStriker would have gone to Allaban, and you were going to Allaban. He was sorry for you, so he helped. It was nothing to do with me, and there have been very few trainers who ever won loyalty like that from their eagles."

  "My God!" Shadow said, wondering if he was having his leg pulled. But Karaman seemed serious. In his weakness Shadow started to giggle at the absurdity--but to a bird his close attendance on the prince might seem like pair behavior. What would Vindax say to that? "Did WindStriker find her mate, then, too?"

  "Oh, no," Karaman said. "He died years ago, in the fighting. She knew that, but she still had to go back to the last place she saw him. The eagles are much smarter than you think, my young friend, but that is a compulsion."

  "Yet she knew he was dead?" The sleep was rising again, drowning him. "Somebody told her, I suppose?"

  "There can be few more barbaric ideas ever invented by the kings of Rantorra," Karaman said, "than the post of Shadow. Yet you came after the prince. Why?"

  "He gave me his trust, I suppose. I had to do what...I had to."

  "You see? We have compulsions, too."

  "Then you know who your prisoner is?" Shadow said.

  Karaman's voice was coming from farther away. "A guest, not a prisoner. He wears the trappings and the signet of the crown prince of Rantorra. I don't know his name; we get little news from the kingdom."

  "Vindax."

  "And Aurolron is still king?" Karaman asked. "And is Alvo still duke of Foan?"

  "Yes," Shadow said cautiously. Why should Karaman ask about him when they were talking of Vindax?

  NailBiter reared up and flapped both wings to ease them, then went back to preening.

  Shadow suddenly found that his eyes were full of tears. "You won't let me shackle him, will you?" he asked.

  "No!" Karaman snapped in a totally new tone.

  "I'm going to miss that big mutt," Shadow growled, mostly to himself.

  "NailBiter?" Karaman asked. "You're fond of him, aren't you?"

  Fond of an eagle? Strange idea!

  "Yes, I suppose so," Shadow said. "But he'll try to go back to IceFire. Will the wilds let him by?"

  Karaman rose and stepped over to adjust Shadow's pillow. His face was a blur against the veranda roof. "Yes, and back again. But he isn't going back to IceFire just yet."

  "Huh?" Shadow murmured sleepily. Doctor or not, he couldn't keep those eyelids open...

  "I said NailBiter isn't planning to leave just yet," Karaman said from a great distance. "He is going to wait until you're recovered. He wants you to go back to Ninar Foan with him and release her, so they can both be free. He told me so himself. I told him I thought you probably would."

  PART TWO

  PUNISHMENT

  Chapter 12

  "A bird in a hood is worth two in the hills."

  --Skyman proverb

  VICE-MARSHAL Ninomar was drunk.

  He felt good.

  His face was streaming, possibly steaming, and probably as red as the logs in the fireplace. He sprawled on a cushion on an oak settle with his legs stretched out in front of him and an enormous tankard of hot mulled wine in his hand, and he was very, very content.

  A jeweled star hung on a ribbon around his neck, and every few minutes he found himself fingering it and took his hand away quickly. Order of the Eagle, Second Class! That felt best of all.

  There had been long days of waiting for orders from Ramo after the search had been called off, and he had not been relishing the prospect of returning to the capital to face a king whose son had been lost. Now the royal courier had arrived and there was a new king. The castle bell had summoned the townsfolk and the castle workers to the gate, and there the proclamation had been read:

  BY THE GRACE OF GOD and the Love of the People,

  JARKADON THE TENTH,

  King of Rantorra and Allaban,

  Sovereign of Range and Rand, Lord of Land and of Sky,

  Fount of Justice and of Honor,

  Giver and Upholder of the Laws,

  Supporter of the Poor, etc.

  Given under Our Hand this First Day of Our Reign, being the nine thousand two hundred and forty-third day of the reign of our dearly mourned and honored father, AUROLRON XX, now deceased.

  GOD SAVE THE KING!

  And all had responded with loyal cheers for the new monarch, led of course by the duke.

  The vice-marshal was relieved. The new king could hardly look so coldly upon Ninomar, for it was partly the loss of Prince Vindax which had put him on the throne. But the great surprise had been the award, the jeweled star. The courier had produced it, and the duke had hung it around the vice-marshal's neck in the king's name, and there had been more cheers, although not so loud, naturally. It was astonishing, indeed almost embarrassing. And there was no accompanying citation to explain. Most odd. It was almost as though he were being rewarded for the accident. He took a swallow of wine and dabbed his mustache with care, wondering uneasily whether he would even dare wear the medal at court and what sort of looks he would get if he did.

  In law he had been responsible for the safety of the prince--he was the officer. In practice Shadow had made all the decisions but those sorts of things could not be said. A commander must be a noble, naturally. He could not be expected to know everything, and he might well seek advice from the lowly born, but the prince had not even made the pretense of letting Ninomar do that. He had allowed the kid to give orders in public, and that had been very annoying. Still, it seemed that all was going to be well.

  The duke lifted the copper jug from the hob and offered it around. Ninomar accepted a refill, Ukarres declined, and the courier was given one without asking. Sir Griorgi Rolsok was a tiny scrap of a thing, barely old enough to shave from the look of him, but he had set a new record from Ramo to Ninar Foan, even with nine stops on the way, and was obviously proud of it. He was also exhausted, and the duke was relentlessly plying him with drink beside the roaring fire. Very shortly the other three were going to get all the court gossip out of the kid. That was not difficult to figure out.

  Ukarres was only pretending to drink, but the duke seemed to be doing so and holding it very well. Foan was a fine gentleman; Ninomar had come to like him very much. They were about the same age and both keen skymen, and it was a heady business to be a drinking buddy of the premier nobleman of the realm.

  Before sitting down again, the duke tossed some more wood on the fire. "This is marvelous stuff, Ukarres," he said. "Where did you get it?"

  "From the aerie," Ukarres said with amusement. "For years I have been scouring the Rand for firewood, and Vak has been hoarding it, apparently. When he cleaned up, he had it thrown over the side. I sent the lads out to pick up. Have you any idea what happens to a table when it drops that far? Some of it was halfway to Allaban. That junk pile had all sorts of..." He stopped and suddenly took a drink--and it looked like a real one.

  Ninomar drank also. Of course the junk pile had been exonerated by the inquiry. The possibility of foul play had been ruled out completely. He had not been present in the aerie when the terrible incident occurred, so the duke had appointed him and the local bishop as commissioners; they had interviewed all the witnesses and proved beyond doubt that the affair was an accident. Their official report had already been sent off to Ramo on the last of the single birds.

  "Time!" the duke said suddenly. All eyes looked to the table. There stood the great hourglass that was the master timekeeper for Ninar Foan, both castle and town, and beside it sat the three small hourglasses that every royal courier carried--and the sand was running out.

  The duke reached for the big glass as it dropped its last grains an
d turned it over. The great bell of the castle rang: once...twice...

  It was the start of third watch. "Bedtime, everyone!" the courier said with a giggle. He took another drink.

  The other hourglasses emptied also, and the duke turned them. "Yes, we run a little fast," he said, frowning.

  "Not enough to worry about, surely?" Ninomar asked.

  "It mounts up," Ukarres observed. "When Sir Jion arrived, we were almost a whole day ahead of the court."

  The duke rose and ceremoniously pulled the drapes, dimming the room. The firelight danced and flickered. It was curious to see so ancient a religious ceremony still being performed among these country folk; in Ramo people no longer bothered with such superstitions. Who knew how they originated, back in the mists of time? Whatever mists were. Whatever time was--now, there was a good subject for a drinking session. Ninomar took another swallow, and the duke lifted the big steaming copper jug from the hearth and politely topped up his tankard and Sir Griorgi's.

  "How is Sir Jion?" the old man asked.

  "I believe he has been sick," the courier said. "Haven't seen him around."

  The duke had resumed his seat. He lifted a big roll of parchment. "You have proclaimed this all along the Rand, have you not, Sir Griorgi?" he said. "I may add it to the family archives, then? We have many similar."

  "I am tired of hearing it," Griorgi said. "You can stuff it anywhere your ducal honor wishes, Your Grace."

  Impudent young brat--they all laughed heartily.

  The courier hiccuped, and that seemed to be a signal.

  "I am a little confused," Ukarres said quietly. "When exactly did the terrible event occur?"

  The courier blinked a few times and decided they were speaking to him. "Just after His Grace's first letter arrived."

  "And what day was that?" Ukarres asked.

  "That was the thirty-eighth, I think," Griorgi said.

  The other men exchanged glances. "It took a few days to straighten things around, then?" the duke murmured. "Normally a new king is proclaimed at once, I thought."

  This was what they wanted to hear, of course. "Well, it was a little confusing," the boy mumbled. He proceeded then to make it seem very confusing. "...and then the traitor striking down the king and abducting the queen...There were no precedents."

  Ukarres chuckled. "It must have been absolute chaos."

  "Some of the high officials were a trifle perturbed."

  Ninomar started to giggle and stopped when he caught the duke's eye. Then they both laughed aloud. Tragic...terrible...but the confusion in the court...

  Ukarres nodded to himself. "Getting back to the timing of the new king's proclamation," he said, "the duke's third letter reported that the search had been called off and that there was certainly no hope. But that message can hardly have arrived before you departed, so when you left there must still have been some doubt about the fate of Prince Vindax."

  The boy tried to think that through.

  "There is no doubt now, though?" he muttered.

  "None at all. Prince Vindax is dead," the duke said.

  "Ah!" Young Sir Griorgi bent over and picked up his pouch, almost falling from his settle. "I have some more documents, Your Grace."

  So that was what the duke was after! The courier produced a bulky package, wrapped in black ribbon. The duke rose and almost snatched it.

  "One for you, my lord," he said to the vice-marshal.

  Ninomar took the document and examined the royal seal carefully, then broke it open. It was the missing citation, explaining his star. He squinted in the firelight. For diligence in searching for the body of...well, that was better. A little weak, though. He wondered uneasily if he had merely been given a bribe to make sure that he was on the right side.

  But there was more. He looked up in surprise at the duke.

  The duke was scowling at another parchment. "I am summoned to court, Ukarres," he said. "At my earliest convenience, to do homage to the new king."

  "Your post is here!" Ukarres said sharply.

  "The frontier is quiet, surely?" Ninomar muttered.

  "It may not be so much longer," Ukarres replied cryptically. He and the duke were frowning about something. The courier was slumping on the settle, sliding silently into one corner, his eyes closing.

  "And here," the keeper said, "a death warrant for the man hitherto known as Prince Shadow, convicted in absentia of high treason, the sentence to be carried out in accordance with the law of..." He read on for a while and then growled. "That belongs with the cooks' recipes!" He tossed the parchment onto the table with an expression of disgust.

  It was very fortunate, thought Ninomar, that the man in question had taken the hint and drilled a hole in the sky. Not a bad kid, really. He had even had the tact to leave the fake orders which Ninomar had made for him--and had so quickly destroyed when he recovered them. He hoped that young Shadow would find a better life in Piatorra, if he had the sense to go that far. He should be there by now.

  "And," the duke said, "a royal letter addressed to my daughter."

  He stared at it thoughtfully and again exchanged glances with Ukarres.

  Ninomar coughed politely. "I am instructed to escort Lady Elosa to court, Your Grace."

  The duke took the orders from his hand without asking and read them through. His face grew grimmer than ever.

  "Her mother is not invited also?" Ukarres asked.

  "No," the duke said. "And the letter to me suggests that she is to remain and hold the castle."

  Sir Griorgi was asleep, snoring. The duke leaned down, peered in the courier pouch, and took out a second package, this one wrapped with red ribbon.

  Ukarres chuckled.

  "These, I suppose," the duke of Foan said, "were to be delivered in the event that Vindax had been recovered and was alive?"

  "A reasonable supposition," the old man said, grinning.

  Both of them glanced at Ninomar, who smiled politely.

  The duke laid the package on the table and opened it.

  "Another for you, my lord."

  The vice-marshal felt his hands shake as he opened it. He peered at the writing, finding it very hard to focus. Then it was removed from his hand.

  "You had it upside down," the duke said. "Let's see...an order for you to conduct the man calling himself Prince Vindax to court at once, regardless of his physical condition. Mmm? Also to conduct myself. At once. Interesting. I think you would have earned your bauble, my lord. Yes, here is the citation for it. Postdated, this one, I see. You would have had to deliver the goods."

  Ninomar took a long drink, emptying the tankard.

  "And a summons for me," the duke said. "To come at once, though--no mention of convenience. No mention of Elosa. And a proclamation of bastardy against the person calling himself Prince Vindax! Well, well!" He was almost as red as the unconscious courier now, flaming with anger. "It takes two to make a bastard, I understand. I wonder how the little punk's mother feels about this, if she knows. And here? A warrant, promoting Ensign Harl to flight commander!"

  Ninomar was speechless.

  "I wonder what he would have said? I think that young man's price might have been higher than flight commander." The duke glanced thoughtfully at the vice-marshal's chest.

  Ninomar quietly tucked the Order of the Eagle, Second Class, inside the edge of his tunic, out of sight. Dukes should be humored when in this sort of mood.

  Foan read on. "Ah! There's more. Sir Hindrin Harl and his wife have been released from jail." He looked thoughtfully at Ukarres.

  "Aurolron said that his background was relevant," the old man wheezed. "It would be Schagarn he was covering, I should guess. Both, maybe. The new king would prefer willing witnesses?"

  The duke frowned angrily. It was all well above Ninomar's head, but he was not going to ask.

  "The little creep has been busy," Ukarres remarked, probably referring to his liege lord, King Jarkadon X of Rantorra.

  "Very." The duke bundled up the
second group of documents and stuffed them back in the courier's pouch. "We'll let this lad worry about these, I think. They are irrelevant, as the prince is dead."

  He sat down and reached for the copper jug. "Now, Ukarres, do I run to court like a whistled dog? Or do lock up my daughter and tell the king to--" He stopped. "Well?"

  There was a thoughtful silence. Ninomar remembered that he had orders to escort Elosa and began to sweat even harder than before.

  "Aurolron is gone," Ukarres said. "How long until they find out?"

  Who?

  "He will not know of that," the duke said. "Vindax did not. Do I write or dare I go in person and warn him?"

  "He will not believe," Ukarres said. "It will be Schagarn all over again."

  What? Where?

  The door began to open even as someone knocked on it. Vak Vonimor came bursting in, panting, his straggly gray hair awry, his shirt half out of his belt. He was too out of breath to speak and just stood there, gasping, pointing behind him.

  Ninomar felt suddenly less drunk.

  "Well?" the duke demanded.

  "Shadow..." Vonimor said.

  Ninomar laid down his tankard. If Shadow had not gone to Piatorra...if Shadow had returned...

  "He's back?" Foan asked, frowning.

  Vonimor nodded. "Up in the aerie...wants to speak to you...and Vice-Marshal..."

  "Then invite him here," the duke said, folding his arms and crossing his ankles. "I am not summoned to my own aerie."

  The eagler shook his head. "I did, Your Grace. He won't come."

  Foan scowled. "Bring him."

  "I daren't...I can't..." A few more pants, and Vonimor said what Ninomar had been dreading. "He says he has a message from the prince."

  Halfway to the aerie, Lord Ninomar concluded that he should properly have waited for the duke to move first, but it was a little late by then. Word had spread throughout the castle, and there seemed to be runners everywhere. He passed the duchess, tall and bundled in a burgundy robe with her gray hair flying loose; he was himself passed by Lady Elosa, still wearing the pink dress she had worn at dinner but with her black hair also unfastened and streaming behind her.