TWO
THE HAWK
A week later they crossed the River Drell into Tortall on a ferryboat. Watching the Gallan shore pull away, Daine searched her soul. I should tell Onua all the truth, she thought. (By then she had given her new friend the less painful details of her life, and had come to see Onua was right—it felt better to talk.) I should tell the rest—but won’t she turn on me, like they did? Maybe it’s best to keep shut. The madness, the scandal—it’s all back there. Maybe that’s where it should stay.
She went forward to took at Tortall as it moved closer. I could start fresh. It can’t be worse than home, with folk calling me “bastard” and scorning me. Nobody here knows I’ve no father, and they don’t know about the other thing—the bad thing. They don’t need to know.
“You worry too much.” Onua ruffled the girl’s hair. “It’ll work out. You’ll see.”
Cloud butted Daine’s shoulder; Tahoi pawed her leg. Their concern and Onua’s gave her comfort. I’ll manage, she told herself as the ferry bumped the landing dock on the Tortallan shore. Silence is best.
The country beyond the crossing was a mixture of hills and wide valleys, some of it farmed and grazed, but most left to the woods. Towns here were back from the road, and traffic this early in the spring was thin. There was little to keep them from their usual routine of camp and march, riding the ponies, hunting for game birds or fishing for their supper.
The third day from the river brought rain, slowing them and the animals down before the sky cleared at day’s end. Both women were up late, getting mud out of shaggy coats and off their own skins and clothes.
It was the first time on that trip that no animal crawled in with Daine overnight. She slept badly, flipping back and forth, never quite waking or sleeping. Her dreams were thin and worrisome. She remembered only one:
The badger was in his lair, neatening up. “There you are. I’m glad to see the claw works so well.”
“Excuse me, sir—” she began.
“No questions. Kits must listen, not ask. Pay attention.” He squinted at her to make sure she was listening “If you look hard and long you can find us. If you listen hard and long you can hear any of us, call any of us, that you want.” Rolling onto his back, he added, “The madness was to teach you something You should mind the lesson.”
She woke a little before dawn. The sky was gray and damp, the air sour.
“Onua.” When the woman only stirred and muttered, she went over and shook her. “I think trouble’s coming. Last time I felt this way, a rabid bear came out of the woods and killed the blacksmith.”
“A rabid bear?” The K’mir yanked on her clothes and Daine followed suit. “Goddess, how many of those do you see in a lifetime?”
“One’s more than enough.” She rolled up her bed and fixed it to her pack. The animals were restless and ill tempered. Tahoi paced the camp, his hackles up. He stopped often to look down the road, only to resume pacing.
“Maybe it’s another storm?” Onua suggested over breakfast.
“I don’t think so.” Daine gave her barely touched porridge to Cloud. “My head aches—not aches, exactly. It’s—itchy.” She sniffed the breeze, but picked up only the scent of water and plants. “The wind’s not right, either.”
Onua looked at her thoughtfully, then doused the fire. “Let’s go.” She hitched the ponies to lead reins while Daine secured the packs. “There’s a fief on the other side of this next valley, near a marsh. If need be, we’ll ask for shelter. I’d prefer not to.” She strung her curved bow. “Lord Sinthya doesn’t like the queen; he loathes the Riders. Still, we can wait a storm out in his barns, particularly if no one tells him we’re there. If we’re caught in the marsh, we’re in trouble. I don’t have any marsh craft.”
Daine warmed her longbow and strung it. The quiver’s weight on her back made her feel better as they took the road. Past the next ridge she saw a wide, shallow valley filled with reeds and water, with nowhere to hide.
By the time they reached the center of the green expanse, the hair was standing straight out on the back of her neck. Where are the frogs, and the birds? she wondered when they stopped for a breather. I don’t even see dragonflies.
Something made her glance at the wood that bordered the far edge of the marsh. “Onua!” She pointed as a bird shot from the cover of the trees. It was black and hawk-shaped, flying crazily, as if drunk.
Shrieks, metallic and shrill, tore the air. Eight giant things—they looked like birds at first—chased the hawk out of the cover of the trees. Immense wings beat the air that reached the women and ponies, filling their noses with a stink so foul it made Daine retch. The ponies screamed in panic.
Daine tried to soothe them, though she wanted to scream too. These were monsters. No animal combined a human head and chest with a bird’s legs and wings. Sunlight bounded off talons and feathers that shone like steel. She counted five males, three females: one female wore a crown of black glass.
Onua gave a two-fingered whistle that could be heard the length of the valley. When the monsters turned to find the source of the noise, their quarry dropped into the cover of the reeds and vanished. The monsters swept the area, over and over, trying to find the black hawk, without success.
“Look at them,” Onua whispered. “They use a grid pattern to search by—they’re working that part of the marsh in squares. They’re intelligent.”
“And they can’t land easy on level ground,” Daine pointed out. “Those claws aren’t meant to flatten out. They have to fly—they can’t walk.”
When the creatures gave up, they turned on the women.
Daine watched them come, her bow—like Onua’s—ready to fire. The attackers were smeared with filth. When they spoke or smiled, she saw razor-sharp teeth caked with what she knew was old blood. Halting over the road, they fanned their wings to stay aloft. Their smell was suffocating.
“We almost had the motherless spy,” one of them snarled.
“But you had to interfere,” another said. “Never interfere with us.” It lifted its wings above its head and stooped. The others followed.
“Daine, fire?” Onua shot: her arrow struck the first, hitting a wing with a sound of metal on metal, and bounced off. Daine struck a man-thing square in the throat. He dropped with a cry that brought sweat to her face.
Onua and Daine fired steadily, aiming for the flesh of heads and chests. A female almost grabbed Daine by the hair before Onua killed her. Cloud got one by a leg, and Tahoi seized its other foot. Together pony and dog tore the monster apart. Birds—herons, bitterns, plovers, larks—rose from hiding places to fight the creatures, blinding some, pecking others, clogging the air so the enemy couldn’t see. Many paid for their help with their lives.
The glass-crowned one was finally the only monster alive. She hovered just out of Onua’s range, one of the K’mir’s arrows lodged in her shoulder.
“Pink pigs!” she snarled. “How dare you defy me, maggots! You filth!”
“Look who’s talking,” Daine shouted, sliding an arrow onto her string. She lowered her bow, wanting the creature to think she was done. “Your ma was a leech with bad teeth,” she taunted. Onua laughed in spite of herself. “Your da was a peahen. I know chickens with more brains than you!”
The queen screamed and dropped, claws extended. Daine brought the bow up, loosing as she reached the best point in her swing. Her arrow buried itself in the queen’s eye as Onua cheered.
Daine had another arrow on the string and in the air, but the queen pulled away. Blood dripped from her ruined eye. If she felt pain, she ignored it, hovering well out of bow-shot, her good eye furious.
“Ohhh, I’ll remember you, girlie.” The hate in her voice forced Daine back a step. “Your name on my heart.” She looked at Onua. “I’ll return for you two ground crawlers. You belong to Zhaneh Bitterclaws now.” She launched herself into higher air and was gone.
“I can’t believe it.” Onua sounded as if she were talking to herself. “The rumors said there were monsters abroad, but these? Where did they come from?” She went to examine the body of one of the creatures, the stink so bad she had to cover her nose to get close to it.
Limping, Daine followed. She was unhurt, but she felt battered and cut and torn in a thousand places.
A chickadee lay in the road. She picked it up, to find a wing was attached by only a bit of skin. Tears rolled down her cheeks to fall on the dying bird. All around her, birds lay in the rushes, bleeding, dead.
“I’m sorry, little ones,” she whispered. “You should’ve stayed hid.” Her temples pounded. Stripes of black-and-yellow fire crossed her vision. Her ears filled with a roaring sound, and she fainted.
Onua saw her fall. The bird that had been in Daine’s hand jumped into the air and zipped past, nearly missing the K’mir’s nose. In the marsh, she heard a rush of song. Birds took off, clumsily at first, as if they were stiff. An owl that lay in the road moved, then flew away as she stared. She was positive that the bird’s head had been cut half off.
Shaking her head, she went to the fallen girl. As far as she could tell, Daine was unhurt. With a grunt the K’mir levered her onto a shoulder, surprised by how light she was. “You need to eat more,” she told her burden as she carried her to the ponies. Cloud trotted over to nuzzle Daine, worry in every line of the pony’s body.
“I don’t suppose you know a place where we can get off the road,” Onua asked, half jesting, never thinking these animals would understand her as they did the girl. Cloud trotted into a nearby stand of reeds. Just beyond her Onua saw a clearing, floored in solid ground.
This was food for thought. Onua followed Cloud. The remainder of the ponies followed her, Tahoi bringing up the rear.
Coarse hairs tickled Daine’s face. Opening her eyes, she saw nothing but Cloud’s nose.
“Let me up.” Her voice emerged as a croak. “I’m fine.” She wasn’t really—her whole body ached—but the pain that had knocked her out was over.
“Swallow this.” Onua brought over a cup of water. Drinking it, Daine tasted herbs. A tingling filled her veins and left her feeling much improved. The only sign of the pain that had knocked her down was mild stiffness.
“I didn’t faint ‘cause I’m a baby or anything—” she began, afraid the K’mir would be disgusted by her weakness. She struggled to sit up, and finished the water.
“Don’t be silly.” Onua gave her a silvery feather. “Don’t touch the edges,” she warned. “They’re razor sharp.”
It was metal, etched and shaped like a feather. If it was steel, as it seemed to be, it was paper thin, impossible to bend. Moreover, it felt wrong, as the sight of the creatures had felt wrong. If she knew nothing else, she knew nature. Such creations did not belong in the world: seeing them made her feel wobbly and sick. “What were those things? Do you know?”
“I’ve heard tales, but—they aren’t supposed to exist, not here. They’re called Stormwings.” She heard awe and fear in Onua’s voice.
“What are Stormwings?”
“The Eaters.” Onua wrapped the feather and put it away. “But they’re legends. No one’s seen them for three, four centuries. They lived on battlefields, desecrating bodies—eating them, fouling them, scattering the pieces.” She crouched beside Daine again. “Listen—I need to leave you and the ponies for a while—I hope not too long. I can’t tell you why.”
“Then I’ll follow.” Daine was comfortable enough with her now to be blunt. “This is a marsh, remember? Quicksand, mud bogs, snakes—you told me you don’t know anything about marshes.”
“I can’t help that. What I must do is important. You stay put—”
A picture of the Stormwings as they’d first seen them flashed into Daine’s mind. “It’s that hawk, isn’t it?” she asked, and Onua looked away. “That black one. You tried to call him, but he couldn’t make it, so he hid in the reeds. Now you want to go after him. Why is a bird so important?”
Onua’s eyes glittered with annoyance. “Never you mind. He is, that’s all—he’s more important than you could imagine. If something happens to me, take the ponies to the Riders. Tell Buri or Sarge what happened—”
Daine saw how she might repay some of what she owed this woman for taking her in. “I’ll go.”
“Out of the question.”
She retrieved her crossbow and quiver from the packs. “Don’t be silly. It’s only a few hundred yards out. How much trouble can I get into? Besides, I know about bogs. And I can find lost animals.” If she waited, the K’mir would find a good reason to keep her back. She saw a game trail leading into the reeds and took it. “I’ll yell for Tahoi if I get stuck,” she called.
“Daine! “There was no answer. “When I was that age, I listened to my elders,” Onua muttered, conveniently forgetting she had done no such thing. She grabbed Cloud’s rein as the pony tried to follow her mistress. “No, you stay here. And don’t try to argue.” She tied the mare’s rein into a string for the first time since they’d left the fair, and settled down to wait.
The trail took Daine to a pond. She skirted it, always making for the spot where the monsters had left the wood. A grouse darted out of the brush. Following it, she walked a trail that lay on firm ground to reach the trees at the marsh’s edge. There she sat on a rock, wondering what to do next. If the bird was alive, it had come down somewhere nearby to hide from the Stormwings.
It was nice, this green wilderness. The scents of growing things filled her nostrils; the sounds of animals and plants waking from their winter sleep filled her ears. What had the badger said, in her dream? If you listen hard and long, you can hear any of us, call any of us, that you want.
Surely listening wouldn’t bring on the madness. She wasn’t trying to be an animal; she just wanted to hear them. Definitely she’d taken advice from worse people than badgers in her time.
Besides, if the hawk was alive and hurt, it might be thrashing or crying its pain. She’d hear it, if she listened.
She’d have to be very quiet, then.
She settled herself and slowed her breathing. Her blouse itched; she eased it. A burn throbbed on a finger; she put it out of her mind.
A breeze fanned the tips of the reeds, making them sigh.
Two plops ahead: a pair of mating frogs. She had no interest in that.
A rustle on her left, some feet behind: a pair of nesting ducks. Didn’t people think of anything else?
A gritty noise at her side was a grass snake, coming up to sun. It was nice on the rock, the warmth just perfect on her face and on the snake.
There—left, closer to the trees. She frowned. It didn’t sound like a bird—like the hawks and falcons back home. She felt dizzy and befuddled, almost like the time she had swiped a drink of her mother’s home-brewed mead.
That yip was a fox, who had found a black bird. A large one.
Daine headed in his direction. The fox yipped again when she almost made a wrong turn. She found him next to a large, hollow log. The hawk had concealed itself inside.
“Thank you,” she said. The fox grinned at her and vanished into the reeds while Daine looked at her new patient. “Clever lad, to think of hiding there,” she murmured. (And since when did hawks ever think of concealing themselves?) “Come on out—they’re gone” She put her hands into the log’s opening, praying she wasn’t about to get slashed.
The bird waddled forward, easing himself onto her palms. Moving very slowly, she lifted him out and placed him on top of his hiding place.
He stared at her, beak open as he panted. One outspread wing seemed broken in two places, maybe even three. Her hair prickled at the back of her neck. Anyone less familiar with hawks might have taken this bird for one: she could not. He was too big, and hawks were not solid black. His color was dull, like velvet—there was no gloss to his feathers at all. He wasn’t wrong as those Stormwings were wrong, but he was not right, either.
She cut reeds for splints. “I’m from Onua—Onua Chamtong of the K’miri Raadeh,” she told him. “You recognize the name?” She didn’t expect an answer, but she knew a kind voice was something any hurt creature responded to. “I have to splint that wing. It’s broken.” She cursed herself for not having bandages of any kind, and cut strips out of a petticoat.
“It’ll hurt,” she warned. “Try not to peck me, or we’ll never get you fixed.” Ignoring his gaze, she gently spread the wing. The hawk cried out only once. That was another strange thing, she thought; other birds had savaged her for less pain than she was giving this one. She secured the outspread limb onto its reed framework, feeling him shake under her hands. “You’re being a fine, brave lad,” she crooned, securing the last cotton ties. “Your ma’d be fair proud of you—wherever she is. Whatever she is.”
Repairs made, she slung the crossbow on her back. “I’ve got to carry you,” she explained. “Try to keep still.” When she gathered him up, taking care not to bump the wing, he trembled but didn’t bite or slash. “You’re the oddest bird I’ve met in my life,” she murmured as she followed the trail back to the road. “Heavy too.” She was sweating by the time she found Onua. “His wing’s busted.”
“Horse Lords be praised, you found him!” The relief on the K’mir’s face was scary, as if he’s a friend or something, Daine thought. Onua lifted the hawk from Daine’s arms, examining him with delicate fingers. Somehow Daine wasn’t surprised to see that he was as calm with Onua as he’d been with her.
“If we move the packs onto one of the gentler ponies, he can ride on them,” Onua suggested. “We have to get well away before we camp.” Daine nodded and shifted the packs to a mild-mannered chestnut gelding. On the road, the bird rode quietly, panting without making any other sound.
They left the marshy valley and entered the wood, moving on after dark. Onua lit the way ahead with her magic. They had walked for hours before she took them off the road, onto a small path.
Here she lit a torch and gave it to Daine. “Farther up there’s an open shed for drying wood. It’s big enough to shelter us and the ponies.” She dug out the materials she used to work her magic. “Get a fire going. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” She went back to the road, a bag of powder in her hand. Tahoi started to follow: she ordered him to go with Daine.
“I think she wants to hide our trail,” Daine told the dog. She led the pack pony, and the others followed obediently. “But why? The monster—what’s her name? Zhaneh Bitterclaws—can she see in the dark? Apart from revenge, why follow us?” She glanced at the hawk. Meeting his eyes directly still made her head spin. “Not for you, surely.”
The bird shuddered.
The shed was big, with three walls to keep out the wind. Moreover, it had a fire pit inside, and a well outside. With relief she freed the ponies, watered them, and fed them grain from the extra stores.
Tahoi had brought in three rabbits that afternoon. As soon as the fire was going, Daine skinned and gutted them. Two went on the spit for her and Onua; Tahoi got half of the third. Cutting strips from the remaining half, she offered it to her patient. He turned his head away.
Perhaps he hadn’t gotten the scent. Daine waved it in front of him. Again he turned his head aside.
She sniffed the meat: it was no different from what Tahoi crunched so happily nearby. She laid it on the pack in front of the bird, having moved his travel arrangements to the floor of the shed. The hawk picked the morsel up in his beak and threw it away.
Getting the rejected meat, she offered it to Tahoi. The dog ate it and returned to his bones. Planting her hands on her hips, Daine scowled at the bird. She’d heard of captive animals refusing to eat, but such a thing had never happened to her.
“There’s many a hawk would be happy for a nice bit of rabbit,” she told him, not even realizing she sounded like her ma. “Now, I’ll give you another piece. Don’t you go throwing that away, for I won’t give you any more.” She offered a fresh strip to the bird, who sniffed it—and turned his head. She placed it before him, and he threw it to Tahoi.
“He won’t eat,” she told Onua when the K’mir joined them. “What’s the matter with him? I never had an animal that wouldn’t eat for me.”
The woman crouched near the hawk, her gray green eyes puzzled. “Let me try, Maybe it’s ’cause he doesn’t know you.”
“I’ve fed plenty of animals that never met me first,” Daine snapped, cutting another strip of meat for Onua. The hawk refused it as well.
Onua scratched her head. “Try cooked meat. I have to ward this place. There’re armed men all over the road, searching.” She walked outside the shed.
“For us?” Daine asked. Onua shook her head and began the now-familiar spell. “Not for you, surely,” the girl whispered to the hawk. Cutting meat off the spit, she cooled it with water and offered it to her patient. He sniffed it for a while, but refused it in the end.
“Maybe he’s sick,” Onua suggested as she ate. “I broke my collarbone once, and I was queasy for a day or two.”
“That’s shock.” Daine rested her chin on her knees. “I s’pose that might be it.”
“He’s not just any creature.” Onua finished her meal. “He may be a little strange to care for, Daine. Just do your best—please?”
The girl awoke in the night to hear a quiet murmur. Peeking with a half-closed eye, she saw that Onua sat with the hawk, talking softly to him. And Ma said I was fair foolish with animals, she thought. Rolling over, she went back to sleep.
They moved on in the morning. Searchers passed them on the road, men on horseback and men afoot, but none appeared to see the bird riding in state on ponyback. “I can’t throw fire or heal,” Onua told Daine, “but when I hide a thing, it stays hidden.”
For three days they pushed on. The hawk’s eyes still would not focus, and his balance was poor. After some debate with herself, Daine lightly bound his claws to the pack he rested on. He didn’t seem to mind, which bothered her still more. Even the mildest sparrow would have fought the ties.
Her patient worsened. He refused any and all meat, raw or cooked. Their third day together she offered him raw egg and then cheese. He ate both, to her joy, but vomited it up later. That night she woke to hear Onua chanting a spell over him, but it didn’t seem to help. The K’mir still talked to him about human things—road conditions, the fair in Cria, the doings of the Queen’s Riders.
Once, after meeting the bird’s eyes, Daine walked into a ditch. Another time she fell over her own feet. After that, she avoided his gaze and resented it. Why couldn’t she look at this bird? And why did she not feel connected to him, as she felt with other creatures?
His wing did not heal. The fourth night she stayed up with him, coaxing water mixed with honey into his beak. It did no good. The fever she had fought to prevent set in and began to climb.
She woke Onua sometime after midnight. “He’s going to die. Not today—tomorrow, maybe. I hate losing one I’ve nursed!” To her shame, she felt tears on her cheeks, and wiped them away with an impatient hand. “He’s not right! He’s not like any bird I ever met, and I can’t fix him! Can we stop at a village or town, and find a sorcerer who might—”
Onua shook her head. “Out of the question.” When Daine opened her mouth to argue, the woman said, “There are reasons. Important ones.” She tugged at her lip, and came to a decision. “All right. Get some rest—I’m calling for help. Horse Lords willing, somebody will be in range.”
Daine was too exhausted to protest or ask questions. It was hard even to crawl into her bedroll. The last thing she saw was Onua, kneeling before a fire that now burned scarlet, hands palm up in a summoning.
She slept until dawn, and Onua greeted her cheerfully. “I got lucky—help is closer than I thought. Eat something, and you might want to wash up. There’s a bathing pool behind that hill. They’ll be here around noon.”
“They who?” Daine’s voice came from her throat as a croak.
Onua shook her head.
“Wonderful. More secrets. My favorite,” Daine muttered grumpily as she found towels and soap. Since the day was warm, she washed her hair and took extra time to scrub every inch of her skin. Why hurry? she thought, still feeling grouchy. They won’t get here till noon—whoever they are.
The hawk’s eyes were closed when she returned, and he was shivering. She warmed small rocks and wrapped them in cloths—towels, scarves, handkerchiefs. Carefully, talking to him the whole time, she cocooned bird and rocks in a blanket, hoping to sweat the fever out. After an hour of the extra warmth, he took some heated water and honey when she coaxed.
Onua had worn herself out with her magical efforts, and slept all morning. Daine had to content herself with frequent trips to the road, looking for the promised help. Cloud and Tahoi followed her, as worried as she was.
The sun was at its height, covered by thickening clouds, when she saw movement to the east. She raced back to camp. “Onua, there are people coming.”
The K’mir grabbed her bow and arrows; Daine got hers. They went to the road to wait. It wasn’t long before Onua said, “It’s my friends. The ones in white are in the King’s Own. They answer directly to King Jonathan.”
Daine gaped at the company that approached. Mail-clad warriors on beautiful horses rode in four rows, their white, hooded capes flapping grandly at their backs. The earth shook with the pounding of their steeds’ hooves. Before them came a standard-bearer, his flag a silver blade and crown on a royal blue field.
Beside him was a full knight in gold-washed mail, his gold helm mirror bright. He bore a lance; on his left arm was a red shield with a device like a gold cat rearing on its hind paws. The knight’s horse was larger than those of the white-caped warriors, though not as large as the chargers normally used by those who wore full mail or plate armor. It was as gold as the cat on the knight’s shield, with a black mane and tail.
Together the company made a picture out of legends. “Oh, glory,” whispered Daine.
Reaching Onua, the knight halted the warriors with a raised hand. His horse refused to stop and walked up to butt his head against Daine’s chest.
“You beauty,” she whispered, running her hand along his mane. “Oh, you pretty, pretty thing.”
Laughing, Onua went to the war-horse’s head and gently made him back up. The knight peered down at the K’mir through his open visor. “Are you camped here?” Onua nodded, and he turned to his company. “Hakim, this is it.”
A brown man in the front rank of the white-caped riders nodded and called out instructions. The result was instant activity: men dismounted, giving their reins over to a few of their number while others removed packs from their mounts and from the spares. Within seconds they were off the road, erecting tents to share the clearing with the ponies and Tahoi.
The knight secured shield and helm to his saddle. Dismounting, he gave the reins to one of the others, then stripped amethyst-decorated gauntlets from his hands. “I should’ve changed to leather,” he complained. “My back has been one whole itch the last mile.” He grinned at Daine. “The outfit looks nice, but it’s not very comfortable.”
Daine was very confused. Out of the saddle, the knight was two whole inches shorter than she was, and built on stocky, not muscular, lines. His cropped, coppery hair was tousled from being inside a helmet. Amethysts winked at his earlobes, stones that matched the color of his eyes.
“My wits have gone begging,” Onua said. “Daine, this is Sir Alanna of Pirate’s Swoop and Olau—the king’s champion. Alanna, this is Daine. Wait till you see what she can do with animals.”
Daine stared at the hand offered her, then into purple eyes. “The champion? The knight they call ‘the Lioness’?”
“Don’t tell me,” Alanna said. “You expected someone bigger.”
Daine took the offered hand. Remembering her patient, she asked, “Can you help? I can’t fix ’im at all.”
Onua took the champion’s elbow. “Alanna’s a healer and a sorceress—if she can’t come up with something, no one can.”
“Aren’t you going to be sorry if I can’t?” the knight asked as Onua steered her toward the ailing hawk.
Daine unwound the bird from his wraps. “He won’t eat anything but a little honey and water,” she explained. “Not meat or fish. And he’s dizzy all the time.”
The purple eyes looked at her sharply. “How would you know that?”
Daine met that gaze squarely. “I just do. I’ve—”
“‘A knack with animals,’” Onua chorused along with her, and grinned.
Alanna lifted the bird with a care for the splinted wing. The hawk blinked, looked at her—and buried his head against her chest. “He knows me. Good.” She carried him to a tent the warriors had set up, and went inside.
“Wait here,” Onua told Daine. “Don’t let these men bully Tahoi or the ponies.” She followed the knight inside.
Daine realized she ought to picket the strings so the smaller horses wouldn’t disturb the big ones. Tahoi stuck close to her as she worked, and Cloud was on her best behavior. The warriors smiled at her as they set up more tents and built cook fires. A handful went to the nearby river with fishing lines in their hands. She would have liked to go too, but she couldn’t bring herself to ask these businesslike Tortallans.
“Great merciful Goddess!” The shout came from the tent where Alanna and Onua had taken the hawk. “Of all the gods-cursed, simpleminded—”
Daine gaped. The man the knight had called Hakim smiled. “The Lioness has a temper,” he told the girl. “Sometimes it gets the better of her.”
The knight stamped out of the tent. She had discarded mail for breeches and a white shirt. At her throat a red gem burned like a coal in the fire. “I can’t see—” Her purple eyes lit on Daine. “You, girl—come here!”
Tahoi growled, bristling. He didn’t like the knight’s tone.
Alanna stared at the dog, and then smiled. “I’m sorry. Daine, would you come here, please? I think I need your help.” Steering the girl into the tent, she said, “Onua says you found him under—unusual conditions.” The hawk lay on a man-size cot, his eyes wide and frightened. “How?”
There was something here that pounded on her ears, making her nervous. “Honest, Your Ladyship—”
“Alanna,” was the firm interruption.
She thought of calling the champion, the only lady knight in living memory, by her first name, and winced. “I listened for him, is all. I sat down and just—listened.”
“Would you do it for me now, please?”
Daine swallowed. “But he’s right there, mum. Lioness.”
“Turn your back to him, if that helps.” Alanna fiddled with the red gem at her throat. “Listen for him exactly as you listened back then.”
Listening’s fine, Daine thought nervously. You only listened before, and had no trouble. And the badger said it was all right. Well, then!
Closing her eyes, she emptied her mind, letting her breath slow until she couldn’t hear it. She concentrated on her ears. Outside, Cloud chewed on a clump of grass, thinking she ought to check on Daine, alone with strangers. The gold war-horse shifted; he wanted to run some more.
There! A strange and distant voice, one that sounded like no animal she knew. That had to be the hawk. Was he muttering to himself?
“I hear him.” That sleepy voice was hers. “He’s a prisoner. He can’t get out. But he’s just on the bed—”
“Hush.” Purple fires played inside her eyelids. “Call him, Daine—with your mind. His name is Numair Salmalín.”
“Alanna—maybe Arram’s better.” That was Onua, sounding distant. “He’s only been Numair for eight years—he’s been Arram all his life.”
“True. Call to him as Arram, Daine.” The fires evened into a steady purple light, warming her face like the sun.
“Why—”
“Call him.” The knight’s voice was gentle, but firm.
Daine sighed. “Arram Salmalín? Arram—come on. You’re too far off. It’s all right, Arram—it’s safe—”
Something behind her snapped, breaking her concentration. She opened her eyes as wooden sticks hit the tent wall in front of her: the hawk’s splints, “Now look at this,” she scolded, picking them up. “His wing won’t get any better that way.” She turned to show them the evidence.
The hawk was gone. Onua pulled a sheet up to cover a large, naked man.
He smiled drowsily at the three of them. “Can I have something to eat?”
Daine’s jaw fell open. “Where did he come from?”
Alanna bent over the newcomer, peering into his eyes. Onua grabbed the girl’s elbow and steered her out of the tent. “Explanations later,” the K’mir said. “There’s a lot to be done for him still.”
“Onua, where’s my hawk? Where’d that man come from?” Her knees shook.
Onua put a hand on Daine’s mouth. “Hush. No more questions. I’ll explain everything—later.” She went back into the tent, pulling the flap tightly shut behind her.
“Later,” Daine muttered to herself. “Wonderful. Hawks disappearing, men appearing—why not? Later.” She stamped off to look after the ponies, who at least would tell her things and not wait for any “laters.”