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  "Have you ever tried flying a whole day on a blinkered bird?" she snapped. "While trying to fend off attack? That was how we escaped--our own mounts were fighting against us. Many fled the palace; very few of us made it to Ninar Foan.'"

  Her women had told him that this was one of her good days. She had seemed to be recovering her wits. But this?

  She guessed his thoughts and smiled. "Just a mad old woman? But that was why the blood. 'My troopers can fight birds,' your father said, 'and they can fight men, but they cannot fight ideas.' He suppressed the heresy."

  "Schagarn?"

  "Schagarn most of all," she agreed. "Karaman was a much better rebel than negotiator. He offered the truce as the price of a meeting. If he could convince the king, then the eagles would be freed in Rantorra. Of course he proved his point--I knew it all from Allaban, and so did Alvo. He made the birds do tricks and pass messages, anything your father could ask for. There was no doubt at all."

  "But Father was not convinced?"

  "So he told Karaman, and the truce had been promised. Karaman went back to Allaban, and the birds stayed in the aeries."

  "I should hope so!" Jarkadon Said.

  "And your father put the far Rand into quarantine, to keep the secret. That is why so few people have traveled between Ramo and Ninar Foan."

  "Until Vindax." Jarkadon snickered.

  "You have ended the treaty," she said, and smiled at her hands in her lap.

  "Shadow ended it! We had a trial--brief, but legal. But you were not at Schagarn."

  She did not look at him. "No. I went to Kollinor. I had a great-aunt whom I had never met. Your father went to Schagarn to hunt--it was a good place for a secret meeting."

  "He didn't trust you near dear Alvo?"

  Color showed in her face. "Perhaps not. There were certainly many troopers around Kollinor."

  "So Vindax is alive," he said. He rose and moved his chair around so that he was directly in front of her. Then he leaned back and sat with folded arms until she raised her eyes nervously to meet his. It took quite a while.

  "You think I should abdicate?" he asked. "Well, Mother, if you will give me your sacred oath that you never met Alvo after you left Ninar Foan, then I shall accept Vindax as my king. Go ahead."

  It should not have been possible for that dry-bone face to go paler, but it did. "You dare question my honor?" she asked pathetically.

  He felt an enjoyable sense of triumph. "I don't need to. I checked the aerie records--as I suppose Father did when he at last became suspicious, long, long after. Kollinor is not far from Schagarn, and between them lies Hiando Keep, and one of your ladies was graciously allowed to fly home for third watch each night, for some kissing and cuddling. I suppose the guards grew accustomed to the habit. But on the last night of your stay she flew on WindStriker."

  "That proves nothing!"

  "Mother, Mother!" he said patiently. "I talked this over with Father, not long before King Shadow killed him. He said I had reminded him of something. That same day he had Sir Whatever-it-is Harl thrown in the dungeons and his wife, too. I suppose he would have put them to death, except that their son was Prince Shadow and his loyalty was needed--until Vindax returned."

  He had been thinking that it was all a coincidence. Now he suddenly saw that it was not--Vindax had met Shadow, the Harls' son, in the palace school. The Harl woman was the connection--no real coincidence.

  "Had Vindax come back from the Rand, then there would have been a new Prince Shadow and two fewer witnesses. Of course Father had found out eventually about your little escapade, but he hadn't realized until we spoke that Harl was another Schagarn witness also. He had met Foan on the Range, perhaps even Karaman."

  She bent her head. "Yes."

  He laughed. "I pulled them out of the cells and explained that their son was now guilty of treason, because of Vindax. A royal pardon loosens tongues like nothing else!"

  She met his eye again momentarily. "A sealed pardon?"

  "Certainly," he said. Of course there were faults in the wording; the pardon could be repudiated, but that was none of her business.

  "So they will be willing witnesses if you decide to put Alvo and me on trial?" she asked, gazing at her own clasped hands.

  "Another interesting possibility. But if the likeness is as strong as I hear, then Foan's face at court should be enough." He giggled. "So you went to Hiando Keep and met dear Alvo. Only once...day 1165...but once is enough, and I expect you did it more than once."

  Now he had roused some spark in her. "You disgust me more every time I see you," she said. "Yes, we met at Hiando Keep. Yes, we were alone there for many hours. Whatever else I say, you will believe what you will believe. Fill in the details from your own experience."

  "I can't guess," he said, grinning. "I prefer my women coy and reluctant, certainly not eager." That made her redden, as he had known it would. "What happened--afterward?"

  Darkside was warm compared to her stare.

  "The next day he went rightward on the Rand, and I came back to Ramo. And when your father and I were alone together, I asked him what had happened at Schagarn."

  "Ah! I want to hear that."

  She shook her head. "No, you don't! He said it was terrifying. He said he had won peace for himself only, for his lifetime. But..." She closed her eyes. "I think I remember his exact words. He said, 'But it will bring great trouble in future; great trouble for that son you carry, my darling.'"

  Jarkadon's mouth opened and then closed.

  "I was pregnant!" she shouted at him. "I had told the king. I told Alvo--he would have refused me otherwise. I was carrying Vindax when I went to Kollinor. That was day 1165, if you say so. And Vindax was born on 1374!"

  "It is still possible," he mumbled. "He was a very small baby. You could have been mistaken."

  "Yes, I could have been mistaken. It was very early. But I never doubted."

  "Wishful thinking!" Jarkadon could feel his face burning. "I'm told it is an incredible likeness. Which is more probable: that you missed a thirty, or that remote cousinship could produce that?"

  She turned away from him and spoke very calmly. "Neither is likely, but one happened. You make up your own mind--it won't change your plans."

  "Vindax is Foan's bastard!" Jarkadon yelled, rising. "I am the rightful heir. Why did you and Father not disown him? Perhaps you weren't sure when he was a child, but later it must have been obvious to both of you!"

  She stared up at him coldly. "I never believed. Perhaps your father did--he never said. And by the time the likeness became obvious, so had something else."

  He knew he shouldn't, but he asked. "What?"

  "That the alternative was unthinkable. And it was too late for me to have a third son."

  He turned to go, and she laughed. He stopped in surprise.

  "And the trouble Aurolron saw has not come to Vindax!" she said shrilly. "It is coming to you! I know him--he will demand his birthright. Train your birds, King Jarkadon! Sharpen your arrows! Prepare to defend your throne!"

  Chapter 15

  "Who has seen the wind?"

  --Rhetorical question

  PALM trees and rice paddies and sugarcane...The hot countryside unfolded gently below Shadow's bare toes. Prepared for the heat at Pharmol, he was wearing only shorts and a loose shirt, and he sat at ease in his sling and mused on what a strange way this was to fly. Now he could not command--he must humbly ask. NailBiter had considered carefully and then consented, but his comb had changed color at once at the question, because he was still a very young eagle and not yet accustomed to being free to choose. And he enjoyed carrying his friend Shadow around and feeling important.

  Shadow had changed color also. He was not as dark as Potro, but thirty or forty days in Allaban had browned him, except for the frost scars on his face. He thought he might even be putting on some fat for the first time in his life. That would not worry NailBiter. As Karaman had explained, eagles were not built to be ridden; girths constricte
d their lungs, and the weight distribution was all wrong. By choice and by instinct the birds carried their kills in their beaks or talons, and they found a human passenger in a sling a much lighter load than a rider on a saddle.

  Soon it would again be time for the ordeal of facing Vindax and telling him how much better he was looking. The prince would not be deceived.

  Off to the right was IceFire, with the tiny form of Karaman sitting below her beak. It was a great honor to carry him. Potro was just ahead, sitting on his mount's foot as usual, without a sling, but he had promised not to change feet in midair on this trip.

  Now the house and outbuildings of Pharmol were coming up ahead, set in a rare array of open water: paddies and canals and even a reservoir which also served as a swimming pool. One reason Vindax had been brought there was to exercise in that pool. Potro's mount was sweeping in low over it, IceFire following, NailBiter soaring in high circles, waiting until the little perching wall was clear.

  There was a distant roar from Karaman--Potro had dismounted in midair, vanishing in a cloud of spray as the bird soared away. After a heart-stopping moment he reappeared, paddling to shore. The young idiot could easily have broken his back, and his grandfather would have words for him when they met, but Shadow doubted that they would make much impression on Potro.

  NailBiter spread his primaries and landed gently at IceFire's side on the worn stone wall of the perching. Then he bent his head, and Shadow's feet touched down also. Shadow stepped aside, smiling at Karaman, and as fast as he could he made the carefully rehearsed gestures which meant "thank you":Sase SEso noboSObo...Nine of them: "My kill is your kill."

  NailBiter's comb flickered almost too quickly to follow, but Shadow caught the meaning: "chick signals." Baby talk--the bird was poking fun at him. Shadow laughed and raised his hand. The huge fierce eye met his, then the great head was lowered and he reached up to stroke the comb. Then he saw what was coming and braced himself.

  Darkness and hot, rank breath...Shadow froze as the enormous beak enclosed his face and a black, slobbery tongue ran over his hair--NailBiter was stroking his human friend's comb. The experience, though nauseating, was oddly touching, but he was glad when it stopped.

  He rubbed the bird's comb then, wiped his own sticky hair with an arm, and trotted down the steps to join Karaman. He was surprised at the expression on the wrinkled old face.

  "What's wrong?"

  "It's dangerous," Karaman muttered. "He means well, but you don't taste right. That can trigger a nasty reflex. I've warned him before not to do that--but you can't argue with an eagle."

  The sun was gentle, padded by atmosphere, but the wind in their faces was a furnace breath, lip-cracking and harsh, drying sweat before it could even appear. They walked slowly together over to the buildings of Pharmol. The farm was an untidy scattering of unroofed sheds and fenced vegetable patches, clumps of fruit trees and junk piles. Chickens paced stiff-legged, studying the ground, but there was no larger livestock in sight.

  Suddenly Shadow realized that he was alone with Karaman, and that was a rarity. "May I ask you a question?"

  "Always. But you won't necessarily get an answer."

  "About Schagarn," Shadow said. "Why did you agree to such a truce? You had won the battle of Allaban. Why not press on to conquer all of Rantorra?"

  "Ah!" Karaman said, strolling head down, studying the ground like a chicken. "Well, you are not the first to ask. Some think that Aurolron outfoxed me."

  "I didn't say--"

  "No, that's all right. You should know. Quite simply, my young friend, I had no choice. I had no army left."

  "No army?" Shadow repeated blankly.

  The silver mane nodded. "The eagles had had enough. Fighting is horrible to them--bird against bird. They are not cowards, but war is not part of their thinking--and remember, they have much longer life spans to risk than we do. They drove the monarchy out of Allaban for us, and so freed their captive cousins in the aeries, but the cost was too high for them. They don't count very well, but they could see the bodies. There were many more dead birds than dead men."

  Shadow had learned as much as he could about that ancient war, but he had never thought to consider it from the eagles' viewpoint. A skyman with a bow, against birds armed only with their talons--were he a trooper in such a battle, how would he fare? How many eagles would he be able to shoot before they got him? That would depend on how badly outnumbered he was and how well he was able to control his own mount.

  And when the man was eventually killed or crippled, then his mount was helpless and died also, falling blind from the sky.

  "I hadn't thought of it from their side," he admitted. "How do they feel now?"

  "Still the same," Karaman said. "You are a new generation, but they are the same birds. Does your Vindax dream of returning to Ramo at the head of an army of wild eagles? I should have thought you would have known better by this time."

  Shadow felt himself blush; though Karaman did not appear to notice. Yes, he had been thinking along those lines, and so was Vindax.

  "How about one on one?" he asked. "Man-on-bird against man-and-bird?"

  Karaman glanced at him cryptically and then dropped his gaze to the path once more. "The republic has very few troopers, and it has no pigeon-hunting aristocrats any more. Work it out."

  Shadow visualized. "I would have an advantage in a sling," he said, "because my bird is more maneuverable, but I couldn't direct him with my hands full, and a sling sways around, so I suppose my archery would be no better. But if he gets me, then my bird escapes."

  "If you get him, then you kill his bird also."

  "True," Shadow admitted. "And he can shoot my bird, which is an easier target than I am, and I may hit his by accident. It's still no better than even, is it?"

  Karaman nodded once more. "And being blind in the air is deepest hell for an eagle. They can imagine no greater torture, nor any worse way to die."

  "So if Aurolron had spurned your truce and moved against the republic..."

  "The birds would have stayed out. It would have been the skymen against the peasants again--no contest."

  It had been Aurolron who had been outfoxed at Schagarn.

  With a deep thunder of wings, NailBiter and IceFire passed overhead and settled on the ridge of the house to watch the coming proceedings.

  The meeting place was a semicircle of chairs set out on grass in the shade of the house. Toys were scattered about. Vindax was there already, waiting--he did not like people to see him being carried around. He was talking to two small, naked children idling on swings which hung from a frame in the center of the lawn. They jumped down and fled at the sight of the newcomers.

  Shadow put on his cheerful face and made the formal nod that Shadow should give his prince. But this was not the prince he had served--and failed? The old Vindax had gone. The new one was a poor fragment of a man, shrunken and crippled, paralyzed from the waist down, a noseless horror. He had lost ail his fingers and thumbs except two stumps, on one of which blazed the gold signet of the crown prince of Rantorra. Gone were the fine clothes of royalty; he wore only the brown homespuns of the peasants who supported him on their charity, and even those looked too big for him. Always Shadow wondered what Elosa would think if she were to see her handiwork--and what thoughts of Elosa burned inside that tragic ruin.

  And was Elosa perhaps already floating among the silks and glitter of the court, even now betrothed to the reigning king?

  Shadow took the chair on Vindax's right, moving it back slightly as though he were taking his proper place behind, but really so that he need not look too directly into that ravaged face.

  "Shadow?" Vindax sighed. "I should not be calling you that now. Sald is your name, but you are the chief and only minister in my government, so you should have a title. Pick a name and I will make you a duke." That was at least an attempt at humor, which was a small improvement.

  "I am honored, King," he replied. "But a coronet would not suit me,
I think, and I do not feel like Sald Harl anymore. The eagles call me 'The-one-who-came-through-the-dark'--which isn't far off being called a shadow, is it? I think I shall stay with that name until we shed some light on Rantorra."

  Karaman, having finished a feeble lecture to an unrepentant Potro, sat on the other side of Vindax. The three of them were looking darkward, across a wide grassy place. The grass that grew in the fixed shade of the house was not the same as the sunlit grass next to it. Beyond the little meadow was the pool, and trees and then fields.

  And hills--hills stretching up endlessly, ridge after crumpled ridge, growing bluer and dimmer with distance, as far as the human eye could see into the sky. Beyond that stood the cobalt canopy of space, crenellated along its lower edge by faint icy peaks.

  "Those are volcanoes, you know," Karaman remarked, making safely neutral conversation. "It is geothermal heat in this area which melts the ice of the High Rand, feeding springs and making Allaban so fertile." He was knowledgeable on almost any subject after a lifetime of studying the ancient lore. The conversation continued on impersonal topics.

  The wind was a gentle torment, hot from its long fall off the High Rand, growing ever hotter as it sped past toward the deserts far below, but soon Shadow could see tiny specks drifting down that unlimited hillside--others coming to the meeting.

  It took an hour or more for them all to assemble--farmers and merchants mostly, both women and men. Some of the men were enormous compared to Shadow and Karaman and Vindax, but the eagles could manage them in slings. There were introductions to "Citizen Vindax" and "Citizen Shadow," awkward attempts to shake hands with Vindax's stump, and courteous chat. Then they all settled into the chairs of the arc and waited.

  NailBiter and IceFire were preening themselves on the roof; the birds had infinite patience. A few of the arrivals' mounts joined them, while the others returned to the sky. Shadow did not know whether that was a personal choice or whether juniors were not allowed to join in the meeting--the other half of the meeting, high in the air.