Shadow Page 21

  "Eagle comb!" he smiled. "Here, we shall share it with you." He dumped all of it on her plate.

  "Doesn't it hurt the eagle?" she asked, feeling sick.

  "Oh, they're useless for anything afterward," the king said. "Usually go mad. That's why it is so rare."

  She set to work on the horrible stuff.

  "Talking of eagles," the king said, "our cousin of Foan, you breed silvers, we understand."

  Her father said modestly that he had some silvers.

  "Our father was a great fancier," Jarkadon said, leaning back. Having given most of his dish to Elosa, he had plenty of time to speak, and she had to gobble so as not to keep him waiting. "We could never see the point in breeding birds--I mean, the damned birds get all the fun, don't they?"

  With much laughter the company agreed.

  "The royal breeding aeries," the king said. "You know them?"

  The duke said that he had not had the pleasure of visiting those.

  "They are not far off. Our father never flew in his later years, so they are an easy horse ride; a few minutes by bird. Vast! Huge! They are bleeding the exchequer dry! There must be some economies we could make there, mmm?"

  The subject was tossed around, and everyone agreed that economies could be found.

  "Foan!" Obviously the king had had a Good Idea. "You look into it for us. Go over there and poke around. See what can be cut. I mean improved. Give us your comments and suggestions. You're a knowledgeable bird breeder."

  Her father's face was quite expressionless. "I shall be honored to do so for Your Majesty."

  "Good," the king said with a smile. "Now?"

  The duke bowed to the king and to Elosa, then turned and walked away.

  "Eat up, my darling," Jarkadon said. "It's time for dessert."

  My darling?Elosa started gulping even faster.

  She was being tested! The unfair rush from eagle to royal table, the crude heaping of her plate, the dismissal of her father--they were tests of her nerve. To be queen she must have poise and grace, so Jarkadon was testing to see if she could be rattled. Obviously she had impressed him physically--the gleam in his eyes said that. Now she must impress him with her personality. When she was queen, she would sit by him at table every day.

  She decided to risk a joke and show him. Her father was just going out the door.

  "I thought I was the only one who could order him around like that, sire," she said.

  The sapphire eyes lit up with amusement. "It is nice to be king," he said.

  And nice to be queen, too?

  "I am sure Your Majesty does it very well."

  He switched his gaze to the onlookers. "Idodo it well!" he said. "I'm irresistible!"

  The company laughed loudly once more. She wasn't sure she understood that one, but she laughed too.

  "How old are you?" he asked.

  She gagged, then swallowed. "I am exactly two hundred days younger than Your Majesty."

  "Terrible!" the king cried. "Old age is upon you!"

  There was more laughter.

  "But then, you have a birthday coming in a few days?" he said. "Your seventh, too! We must find a suitable gift for the occasion."

  Elosa mumbled with her mouth full.

  "Meanwhile," Jarkadon said, leaning toward her, "here is a small advance on your birthday gift." He held up a brooch for her to see--two eagles, rubies set in gold. It was large and beautiful and obviously worth a fortune.

  She choked down the last horrible lump of comb and made appropriate thanking sounds. She knew that the rings he wore were there to be used as gratuities, but the brooch was worth many rings and was a woman's ornament. He must carry pockets full of things like that around also.

  "Allow me," he said. "A little premature, perhaps, but we can correct that...Oh! I am sorry, did I prick you? That was careless. Here, let me try again." This time he slipped fingers inside the front of her dress to make sure that the pin did not prick her, touching her nipple as he did so.

  She thanked him again. He seemed amused. She sensed something odd, looked across at the guests, and saw glances being exchanged. There was something more to that little episode than the brooch itself. Another honor?

  The meal ended, and the king withdrew. Elosa found herself in yet another luxurious courtyard with him and three men of about his age and half a dozen girls, all of them younger than she. Some looked hardly older than four kilos, yet all were dressed like grand ladies. She noticed that they all wore two-eagle brooches identical to the one she had been given. So those were obviously a sign of royal friendship and probably a great honor, especially when he had just met her. She must ask Feysa as soon as possible. Feysa did not have one.

  There was King Shadow, too, of course, in matching gold and mauve and a black baldric. He was a surly-looking young man with an irritating habit of sniffing.

  The king's attention was still for her alone. "Now, what trifle can we find to amuse you, my dear Elosa," he said, "while we wait for the rabble to eat? Cockfighting? Do you have cockfighting at Ninar Foan?"

  They didn't, and the king conceded that it was technically illegal--but what was the use of being king if you had to obey all the silly rules like everyone else? So they spent an hour watching the bloody business of cockfighting. A couple of the girls seemed to be nauseated by it, but Elosa joined in the cheering and was adamantly not rattled at all. The king was an avid spectator.

  Then they rejoined the rest of the party to view the masque. Elosa knew that she should be exhausted, but she was soaring, buoyed up by the excitement as though she were riding an invisible eagle. She was making a good impression--that was certain. He could not keep his eyes off her.

  The masque enthralled her. She had never seen professional acting and singing; she gloried in the music and the costumes and the acting. The king sat her beside him in the front row, with the rest of the dinner guests around and behind, and the artists were right at her toes--a very intimate command performance. The king's hand settled on her arm, and she thrilled at his touch.

  He began to stroke her skin with his fingertips.

  A boy soprano was singing a glorious aria, high as the Rose Mountains.

  "You don't get much of this stuff at Ninar Foan, I suppose?" the king asked loudly.

  The boy's voice cracked on a note, and the musicians missed a beat.

  He was trying to rattle her again. To whisper back would be a criticism.

  "No, nothing more exciting there than bird breeding, Majesty," she replied in the same tone, and he bellowed with laughter.

  He was stroking her arm with his nails now, very gently, but the constant scrape was beginning to hurt.

  "We usually get much better talent," he said, still loudly.

  She said that she was no judge but was enjoying it.

  The other guests remained silent while the performers struggled along, now obviously terrified. The king kept up his conversation and his insidious gentle scraping. She responded as naturally as she could, deliberately not moving her arm or even looking at it, although the pain was intense now and was making her eyes prickle.

  The players were dancing a gavotte. The king had stopped scraping and put his arm around her. Her heart started beating faster than the gavotte.

  The gavotte ended; jugglers and comedians sprang into action.

  Jarkadon's hand slipped lower, and his fingers reached around to fondle the silk over her breast. She moved away, dislodging them.

  The king yawned and stood up. Instantly the performance stopped, and everyone else rose also.

  "We are a trifle fatigued," he said. He pulled off a ring and presented it to the leading lady. "Please continue for our guests. A charming performance! No, the rest of you, do stay. Lady Elosa, we welcome you to our court and we hope to seemuchmore of you in the near future." He kissed her hand as she curtsied.

  The king walked out with Shadow behind him. The door closed. Everyone sat down--except that Feysa had appeared from nowhere and had hold of El
osa's elbow. "Come!" she said.

  "But...I was enjoying..."

  Elosa was led firmly from the hall.

  Chapter 17

  "You can't teach an old bird new tricks."

  --Skyman proverb

  THE eagles came to Ninar Foan.

  How many? Shadow had no idea. He was the leader of an army whose size he could not guess. There were three hundred men in it, young farmhands mostly, eager and excited at the novelty. Many could shoot a fair arrow, but few could handle a sword as well as they could a sickle, and the rest would be almost as dangerous to their companions as they would ever be to an enemy. A surprising number, though, knew bird speech and an ever more surprising number of birds seemed to have learned the halting, tortoise-slow gestures required to speak to mankind.

  He had organized the men into six companies and put the best commanders he could find in charge. It was all very hasty and makeshift--and it was a bluff. The birds were the army, and the only real weapon he had was the idea which had come to him when he saw NailBiter cleaning his toes. Now he must test it, and if it did not work, the great war would be over without a bow being bent.

  Here on the Rand he would have died in the flimsy clothes of Pharmol. Soaring high over the bright, bare mountains, he shivered even inside the fleece-lined flying suit which Ukarres had given him. Close at NailBiter's side floated IceFire, and the three of them seemed to have the whole vault of the sky to themselves. The naked sun glared angrily through the thin air over the distant plain.

  Yet if he peered hard in any direction, he could see eagles, some from Allaban and also local wilds gathering to watch the outcome. He had not understood in his days as a skyman that the eagles were never alone, that the constant and seemingly meaningless rippling of their combs was conversation. He had the world to himself, yet he had a vast and uncountable audience also.

  IceFire signaled: "There are one-comb-and-four eagles in the aerie. One has left and is coming." Shadow acknowledged.

  As he had expected, a messenger had been dispatched from Ninar Foan as soon as Shadow's army appeared in the sky. That was why he had bypassed the castle and positioned himself along the path to Vinok, and soon he would see this solitary courier racing to warn the men of Rantorra that the invasion had started.

  One-comb-and-four? A human mind had counted and sent the word--there were only twelve eagles left. Then it was certain that the duke and his household were gone, and a fair guess that they were in Ramo. That should make the coming battle easier.

  "It is my father that comes," IceFire signed.

  IceStriker, he remembered--a huge silver, as big as NailBiter. The cautious duke would have left his best silvers at home in case Jarkadon took a fancy to them.

  Shadow was unarmed, but around his neck hung a priceless farewell gift from Karaman, a pair of binoculars from the Holy Ark. With those he could see far better than with his own eyes, although still poorly compared to the birds. Hopefully he raised them and peered toward Ninar Foan. He saw nothing but wildly swaying rock and scrubby hills, and put the glasses down again before he became nauseated. This sling riding was much less stable than straddling a bird; good archery would be impossible. It was also chilly work, for he could not stretch out along his mount's back to seek shelter from the wind.

  Then he saw the lone flier, floating down in a long glide toward an obvious thermal, and he signaled IceFire to intercept. She passed the word to NailBiter, and the two veered in unison.

  "Speak to your father. Tell him that we come to free him and he must not resist his rider. He is to do what the man wants until you tell him."

  IceFire's comb flickered the message. Shadow just caught the start of it--"This one flies behind Friend-of-eagles..."--but the rest was much too fast for him.

  About ten minutes later they drew close, as the lone rider circled for height and Shadow came gliding in at about the same elevation. He tried the binoculars again.

  He almost dropped them in surprise, seeing Vindax, the hooked nose below goggles. Impossible! It had to be the duke himself--but surely he would never flee his own castle. No, it was the young groom, Tuy Rorin, the duke's other bastard. Rorin was a good skyman, too; he was handling his bird beautifully. He had seen Shadow and was waiting with bow in hand. Shadow held out his arms to show that he bore no weapon, then signaled IceFire--and so NailBiter--to approach as close as possible but to look out for the bow.

  "Rorin!"

  Back came a faint reply. "Shadow?"

  The air grew warmer as he entered the thermal. Then the birds were level, facing one another across the invisible column of wind and apparently almost motionless, rising and falling slightly with respect to one another, although all were steadily gaining height.

  "Turn back!" Shadow called.

  The reply was an obscene gesture.

  "You will die!" Shadow yelled. "I can free your bird. Turn back, lad, and live!"

  This time the obscenity was verbal, and Shadow was not surprised. Why should Rorin believe him? He hardly believed himself. Rorin was studying the terrain, planning the next hop of his journey.

  "Your last chance! Turn back or die!"

  Shadow was ignored, so he started the war.

  He signaled to IceFire. "Tell your father that it is a downdraft to hurt the man. I ask him to spare the man."

  IceFire's reply was too fast for him, which perhaps was deliberate. Perhaps her father was using bird obscenities.

  "Tell your father to do three things. First he must raise one talon and scrape along under his beak. He will break the strap which holds the front of the helmet. Then he must dive, and the wind will blow it away from his eyes. Lastly, he must keep on diving until he lands."

  "That is forbidden!" IceFire replied.

  Forbidden? Shadow was nonplussed. Forbidden by whom? In all his plans he had not expected argument from the eagles. Forbidden?NosoNEne...he needed young Potro!NosoNEne...forbidden...off limits...inadvisable!

  "Forbidden by whom?" he asked.

  "When I was a chick, my father himself told me."

  Rorin banked IceStriker and dived away steeply.

  Please. Shadow begged. "Tell him to try!"

  IceFire's comb reddened angrily, but she sent the message, then passed the reply. "He says it is forbidden. He cannot land on one foot."

  The straps were thin leather. The stitching holding the buckles was only thread. Shadow thought of those mighty talons and beaks carrying goats--carrying him. There was far more muscle there than was needed...

  You can't argue with an eagle.

  IceStriker and his rider were dwindling in the distance. Shadow felt panic. "Tell him Friend-of-eagles says it will work. Tell him...if I lead badly, then NailBiter will drop me...Tell him!"

  He caught IceFire's ferocious glare and thought that perhaps, just this once, that expression represented her true feelings. She passed the message.

  His suicidal offer was accepted, as he had known it would be. The eagles were literal. The eagles were also fast. The signal, IceStriker's reaction, and NailBiter's surge of excitement seemed to be simultaneous. Rorin hardly had time to scream as his mount bucked and dived. The reins went slack, and the helmet flipped inside out and flapped back toward him, useless. The great raptor beak flashed around momentarily, for just long enough to bite off his head.

  Then the whole world whirled and swayed, and Shadow yelled in terror and grabbed his harness straps as NailBiter did a dance of joy. For a moment he thought the bird would drop the sling in his excitement and the victorious general would fall to his death, following IceStriker as he plunged earthward, still trailing a long plume of blood. IceFire was tumbling around like a new-flown chick. Far beyond human sight in all directions the watchers would have seen, and perhaps they also pranced and gamboled in the sky. The secret was out: The eagles could free themselves.

  When NailBiter calmed down and Shadow's stomach returned, he signaled again. "Tell your father that we shall send a man to take the body off his back
, but the man is a friend and must not be harmed."

  IceStriker was already lost to Shadow's sight against the bright hills below, but the reply came at once. "My father will not hurt the man you send. His kill is your kill, One-who-came-through-the-dark."

  "Return to the castle," Shadow ordered. He asked for the rescuer to be sent but was told that he was already on his way--his eagle would know where to go.

  Then IceFire relayed another message. "My father has landed safely. He has bitten through the saddle straps but cannot reach the one around his neck. Send an eagle to do that. He does not need a man."

  Shadow acknowledged sadly. He had seen that possibility and had been waiting to discover if the birds were smart enough to work it out. Obviously they were. He had hoped to keep some part for men to play in this, but they were not needed. Yet the birds in the aeries were still hostage, and it would not be difficult for Jarkadon to have all the bird helmets fitted with chains instead of straps.

  "Speak to the High Ones. I have hatched the egg as I promised. They must send word to all slaves that the army is coming. The slaves must wait. Any slave who does this thing before we arrive will warn the men, and the men will kill the chick. The slaves must wait."

  Who were the High Ones? He did not know. Perhaps two or three, perhaps hundreds, but they spoke always with one voice, through whichever bird was nearest, who in this case was IceFire.

  "You have hatched a fine chick, One-who-came-through-the-dark. The eagles will follow."

  The point was critical. The birds could not keep a secret--certainly not news like this. It would flash from comb to comb along the Rand with the speed of sight, from wild to aerie and wild to wild. The courier bringing news of Jarkadon's accession had taken thirteen days to reach Ninar Foan, and that had been good time. An unladen bird could do it in two. How long would it be until this message reached the birds in the capital? Probably only hours. The race was on.

  Shadow was surprised by the swarm of birds over Ninar Foan--there were at least two unladen for each one carrying a man. So he must have a thousand eagles at his command. He was going to seize a whole country with three hundred men and a thousand birds? He was crazy.