Because it's There
Soaring. . .high above all creation, seeing all infinity below you. . .
Thud.
The air cold and crisp, wings strong, swooping and diving and simply gliding
lazily, membranes up against the eye-biting wind. . .
Thud. Thud.
Folding wings for a dive, the ground rising slowly and then faster and faster still
until--
CRASH!
Torn from my dream, I sat bolt-upright in my bed and looked wildly
around.
ThudthudthudTHUD.
Someone, it seemed, was at the door.
The pounding increased in intensity, threatening to break my door off its
hinges. Stumbling through the darkness, I groped and grasped my way towards
the door, managing to open it before the visitor smashed it into kindling.
I peered out into the lashing night rain. The only light came from flickers of
lightning which intermittently sillouheted the tall, foreboding shape before me; I
peered at it more closely, cursing my bad eyesight and grasping even tighter the
dagger behind my back.
One should never be unprepared, after all.
"What? What?" I yelled above the storm, at my most irascible. Not only
had I been wakened out of a wonderful dream, but I was also getting soaked to the
skin.
"'Vea!" The figure bellowed, clasping me around the waist and lifting me
off the ground entirely. Before I could retaliate, my attacker had lumbered into the
cabin and started whirling me around, whooping.
"What?" I struggled out of the person's grasp, tripping my way over a pile
of books towards the fire. I stirred it up with a poker, and the coals flared into new
life; I squinted at the large and dimly-lit person who had invaded my room, finding
them vaguely familiar. "What?"
"Vea!" The woman's voice--for it was a woman--sounded delighted. "It's
me! Don't tell me you don't recognize your old buddy! Ar'ziel's shaggy balls, it's
great to see you!"
Oh, godlings. I closed my eyes. It was Rinn. Of all people, it would be
Rinn.
I dropped the poker I'd been holding in self-defense. "Close the door," I
said wearily. "The room's getting soaked."
She was only too delighted to obey. I tossed some wood on the fire,
lighted a couple of candles and set them on the mantel. Rinn fell into my best chair,
a broad smile splitting her knobby face as she swung her feet--encased in large,
heavy, and very muddy boots--onto my table. I tried not to wince.
"Rinnelie Tardin Shipdaughter, it's three in the morning." Useless though
it was, the ritual protest had to be made; Rinn shrugged it off, just as I knew she
would.
"I just got back," She said exuberantly, her face flushed. "And guess
where I was this time--just guess!"
"Lost on the moon, no doubt," I replied sourly as I settled myself in the
chair opposite. Looking at the two of us, you'd think there weren't two people
more unlike each other: Rinn tall, red-haired, and with a gawky length-of-limb that
made her seem forever growing out of adolescence, and I with my birdlike frame,
dusky golden skin, and the white hair of my kind that many people mistook for
age.
The woman's face fell. "Oh, Karavea, you're no fun."
"It's three in the morning," I repeated pointedly. "I'm never fun until after
noon, and then only when I've had my coffee."
Rinn flashed another smile at me, exuberant again. "Look at these!" She
said proudly, pushing up one sopping wet sleeve to show a pair of nasty looking
weals, shiny and obviously new healed. "Know what these are from?"
If you've never been closeted with Rinn when she's fresh returned from her
newest venture, you don't know what the term "captive audience" truly means.
"I have a feeling you're going to tell me," I sighed, resigning myself to the
necessary. Although, I must admit, I felt a bit of excitement as well. She'd been
gone the better part of three years this time--where had she been?
Rinn leaned back in her chair, her eyes half closed. "Dragons," she said
solemnly, a smile playing around the corners of her mouth.
"Don't be an idiot," I snapped. "If you'd been burned by a dragon, those
boots of yours would be the only things returning to tell the tale."
"I knew you wouldn't believe me, but it's true," she insisted. Then she
stopped, and beamed at me. "I found the Lost City."
"What lost city?"
"Namgalsi," she said impatiently. "I found the Forgotten City of
Namgalsi!"
I snorted. "And I climbed Lithir's Tower the week before last. Tell me
another one."
Rinn, long used to my scepticism, didn't bat an eyelash. "It's fantastic,"
She said, glowing with the memory. The whole place is covered with salt. Salt
crystals everywhere. During the day, it gleams like ice. And I found this pair of
dragons living in the main library--"
"Dragons don't live in pairs," I said, and then registered her next phrase.
"Library?"
Rinn grinned. "Knew that would get you," she said smugly. "Thousands
and thousands of books, and scrolls--"
'Where? How many? Did you bring any back?"
"Oh, they were covered with salt," she said dismissively. Rinn had never
been the greatest of scholars. "The things crumbled when I touched 'em--those that
were still legible, anyway."
I squelched a stab of disappointment. "Dragons don't live in pairs," I said
again, returning to my earlier point. "Any dragon that finds another eats it."
"Well, these did." Rinn shrugged. I never got around to asking them, but
it seems it had something to do with the salt in the area. At least, that's what they
said."
"You talked to them?" I said disbelievingly. Rinn had told me some pretty
tall tales, but this was too much. "Rinn, noone talks to dragons. I don't talk to
dragons if I know what's good for me--and look at me." I gestured towards my
wings, cropped white hair, and golden eyes.
"Well, at first they weren't very happy to see me, but I showed them this
red jewel thing I got by the Lake of Tears, and they agreed to let me look around if I
would give it to them. They were pretty excited about it. I thought they'd just blast
me to cinders and take it anyway, but they're a pretty honourable sort, in their own
way. Said it wouldn't be right to simply take a Bloodstone from someone."
"A Bloodstone?" I squeaked. "Duma's icy teats. . . "
"It was just a rock," Rinn said, puzzled. And not a very pretty one at that.
Some chief gave it to me for rescuing his eldest son from drowning."
"Rinn, darling." I leaned forward over the table, grasping Rinn's arm in
one hand and running an extended talon gently down her cheek. "I love you very
much," I said slowly, "But for once in your life you're going to tell me a story
chronologically. You know, starting at the beginning, and going on from there?"
Rinn shrugged, somewhat taken aback. "If that's what you want." She
frowned, thinking. "It started with me heading up-river for Yspertl, looking for the
Shiei-folk I heard lived in the woods back there. . ."
It was almost noon when she finished, and both of us were red-eyed and
exhausted despite the numerous cups of special killer coffee I had brewed.
"Bed," I yawned, and Rinn agreed. We stumbled arm and arm into my
small sleeping chamber, where I scooped an indignant bird-lizard off the bed,
chirruped at the three canaries perched on my windowsill, and fell back with
unutterable relief onto the cushion-filled sleepshelf. Rinn crawled onto it beside
me.
"Um. . .'Vea?" She said cautiously, running a finger along the leading
edge of my wing.
"Sssrmurss."
"I was wondering. . .do you want to come along with me next time?"
I opened one eye. "You're kidding. You've got to be kidding."
"No, really." She seemed almost embarrassed. "I, um, I'd like you
along."
I rolled over. "So I can get bitten by insects and burned by dragons and
drowned in lakes of fire and eaten alive by invisible animals? I think not. Besides,
we wouldn't be able to stand each other after two weeks."
"Pleeease?"
I rolled over again, saw that pleading look in her eyes, and hardened my
heart against it. "Not on your life. I'm a scholar-mage, not a walking death-wish
like you. I'm staying right here. Now go to sleep."
"I don't believe it." Rinn spat over the side of the boat, wiped a strand of
wet hair out of her eyes, and gave the heavens which had bestowed this sudden
summer downpour upon us an evil glare.
"Believe it," I growled, huddled under the cover of my outspread wings,
plus an oil tarp for good measure. If there is anything more miserable than
Hawkfolk in a rainstorm, I've yet to find out what it is. I sneezed, shivering; my
wings were soaked. It'd take hours to preen the feathers back into flight-ready
shape. My stomach had been roiling all morning. It gave another heave, and I held
tightly to the edges of the small boat, closing my eyes.
How, oh how had I ever been talked into this?
"You're a mage," Rinn said. "Can't you do anything about this?"
I opened my eyes and glared at her. "I'm a scholar-mage, not the Lady of
Rains. And my book on Freshwater Elementals was Ôexcess weight', remember?"
Rinn consulted the damp map she held under the shelter of her cloak.
"We're almost to Mirrirl," she reported. It should be coming up right after the next
set of rapids."
"How big?" I asked warily. The last set of "rapids" had almost sent us
tumbling down a fifty foot waterfall.
"Pretty tame," she returned. Was it my imagination, or was there an actual
note of disappointment in her voice?
I swallowed, forcing my stomach to behave and wishing I'd never agreed to
come.
It was the mention of Aerie, fabled citadel of the Hawkfolk, that had won
me over in the end. I knew there was a reason Rinn had wanted me along; if she
was to find Aerie, who better but one of their own to help her find it? Not that I
believed the place actually existed. Hawkfolk had been wanderers since before the
Fire; my family--what was left of it, anyway--lived in the Scarpathian Hills, far to
the east of here. Aerie was, according to general opinion, about as real as
Namgalsi. And Rinn, having found the one, would find the other if it killed her.
Which it probably would; Aerie was somewhere in the World's Teeth, the most
impassable mountain range on the continent. When I mentioned this fact to Rinn,
she had merely given me her fierce, fey smile: "Sounds like fun!" she'd said.
That should have sent the warning bells off; Rinn's concept of "fun"
differed radically from mine. When young, she had regularly dived off of the 100-
foot cliffs bordering the Summergreen River into the raging waters below.
For kicks.
I've often wondered what it was that made a smart, relatively well-off
merchant's daughter decide to wander off and find out just what kind of "Beastys
and Dragones" the cartographers meant when they mention them on maps.
Restlessness? Curiosity? A wish for fame?
Mental instability?
I sneezed again, and sniffed. If it was the last, I must be just as crazy as
her. A cold droplet trickled down my nose. I knew I should have tried a water-
warding on the boat, but I'd thought to save my strength for an emergency, and
now it was too late. I tried for some flame, and got a rather desolate sizzle in the
palm of my hand. Squinting and concentrating, I tried again; this time the resulting
blast almost knocked over the boat.
"Watch it, woodswitch!" Rinn yelled irritably over her shoulder. "Rapids
ahead!"
"I hate water. I hate it, I hate it, I hate it," I muttered. And forced my
breakfast to stay in its place.
Some uncounted time later, I uncurled to find the town of Mirrirl spread out
on both sides of us. "Land?" I said hopefully.
"In a while," Rinn replied. Got to find the private docks, first."
We found the docks, paid an obscene fee for the privilege of tying up there,
and, goods hoisted on our backs, set out for the nearest inn. I made sure to keep
my wings well covered with the tarp and my cloak's hood up. After that incident
with the circus in Greenishton, I'd kept my differences to myself as much as
possible. Damn narrow-minded Southroners; run screaming or try and kill me, one
or the other. You'd think humans were the only creatures on two legs this side of
RaŽl.
We trudged up the slick, cobblestoned hill towards the. . .what was it? I
squinted fiercely, willing myself to make out the letters. "The Bent Feather." Oh,
that was bloody marvellous. Talk about omens. I tugged at Rinn's sleeve with my
one free finger.
"Rinnellie, um, let's find another place to stay. I really don't want to bed
down at a place called the Bent Feather."
Rinn slowly turned, glaring at me through the rain. She was more heavily
laden then me, and obviously at the end of her patience. "Why not?" she growled.
"It's cheap, and relatively safe. Aren't you the one that's been harping about
saving money?"
"Well. . .it doesn't feel right." I shrugged, unable to name the shiver in my
bones.
"Oh, that's brilliant. It doesn't feel right. How should it feel? It's a
fragging Inn, for crying!"
"It doesn't," I insisted. "Remember the last time I felt this way? Lightning
struck the tree you wanted to camp under. And--"
"And the time before that, you dragged us out of a warm bed and into a
raging storm simply because you didn't like the looks of the family that put us up.
You have "feelings" like I have bowel movements, Vea! Lightning's not gonna
strike the chasmspawned inn, and they're not gonna murder us in our beds!" She
whirled, continuing her was up the narrow, empty lane. "You sleep wherever you
want. I'm staying here."
I glared impotently after her. Rinn's belief in the psychic bordered on nil . .
. but I was a mage! you'd think she could give me a little respect!
There was nothing for it, however. This was the only inn to be seen, and
Rinn had the money pouch. And I was entering the first stages of hypothermia.
Teeth chattering, I followed.
Aside from a few glances, I was by and large ignored. People in long,
dark, hooded cloaks generally are; probably because the kind of people that by and
large wear long, dark, hooded cloaks aren't the kind you fool around with. So I
skulked in the corner while Rinn paid, followed her upstairs, and breathed a sigh of
relief when the door closed and I could dump the mass of wet, heavy wool I'd been
wearing into a heap on the floor, along with my portion of our gear. And then I
stretched my wings and flapped them violently, getting rid of the water that had
been collecting along my primaries all afternoon.
"Hey!" Rinn looked daggers at me, her overtunic even wetter then it had
been before.
"Sorry, love." I sat down on the bed, flexed my talons, and began
preening.
"Hmmph." Rinn stretched, sighed, and shook herself. Then she turned
back to the door.
"I'm going down," she said
"Rinn. . ."
"What?" She stopped, looking innocently back at me.
I held out a hand. "The money pouch?"
"Oh. . .yeah." She glanced down at the sack buckled to her belt, and threw
me a hurt look as she removed it. "You wouldn't think I'd spend our expedition
money? Leri's Tits, what kind of person do you think I am?"
"A person who drinks far too much." I knew Rinn's binges; You could no
more stop them than you could the summer monsoons, and I'd stopped trying a
long time ago. This was the first civilisation we'd seen for three weeks, and it
didn't take a mage to know what Rinn'd be doing for most of the night. And after
her gambling disaster in Jingaree, I planned to take safety measures; I didn't want
to spend the next week chasing after rogues who'd made off with all our money.
"You sound like my mother," Rinn grumbled sourly.
"Smart woman," I commented.
"Well, you can skulk up here as much as you wish; I'm going to relax and
enjoy myself a little. You should try it, Vea. A couple of mugs aren't going to kill
you."
I arched an eyebrow, and grinned. "You know my tolerance level. A
couple of mugs and I start flapping around the chandelier and thinking I'm a
nightingale."
"Fine. " Rinn closed the door, and I sat back and sighed. Much as I loved
Rinnelie, it was nice to finally have some time alone; we'd been getting on
eachother's nerves in a big way, espeically with the foul weather.
Anyway, if she was going to destroy her digestive system and carouse till
dawn, someone'd better figure out just how we were getting to Aerie. Wherever it
was. I searched through her bag and pulled out the map.
It wasn't a very reliable map. It's creator--if we'd known who that was--
probably hadn't been a very reliable mapmaker. in fact, I had my doubts as to
whether there was anything authentic about it whatsoever. Maps found on
mouldering skeletons in caved-in caverns, in my opinion, weren't worth the paper
they were written on. Rinn, however, claimed it as gospel truth; and it was a
map, better then nothing by a long shot. Even if it did have zoological
impossibilities surfacing in the unknown seas of the west, and inscriptions reading
"Here there be Beasties" all around the edges.
And so I perched on the baseboard of the bed and continued combing
through my flight feathers. I studied the map resting across my knees, munching
on some aggregate and trying to figure out just how, by larks and little sparrows,
we were going to get to the forbidding peak labelled, in suitably florid writing, Ye
Aerie of ye Hawkefolk.
It was long past midnight before Rinn came wandering in. I turned over.
"Took you long enough," I said. "Let's hope you left some for the locals to
drink."
Rinn smiled smugly. "Din' drink much. and I got lots o' imfirmation."
She nodded. "It'll be a cinch. Aerie, here we come. 'Ll be famous."
"You're famous already." A grin tugged at my mouth. Rinnelie's appetite
for notoriety was almost as insatiable as her appetite for alcoholic drink; there was
nothing that cheered her up more than having her name recognised.
"Mm." She untangled herself from her shirt and pants and fell into bed
beside me. "'Night, Vay."
"Goodnight."
Soaring. . .soaring high above earth, water, mountains, the clouds small
smudges beneath me and the wind sharp against my face. The horizons were
endless, the sky shading from celadon to a deep indigo above. I went higher and
higher, straining my wings and becoming short of breath; Was it my imagination,
or could I see the stars? The sky grew darker, The sun seared down and I strove to
reach it, higher, higher. . .almost there. . .my lungs burned and each gasp was a
knife sharper then the last. Frost was forming on my primaries, and my wings
were slowing despite everything I could do. I struggled for air. Oh, I could
almost touch it, burning brigh--
"You got her?" The voice said roughly, somewhere above me, and my eyes
flicked open. "Shite, it's awake! Tikko, get over here!" The speaker held a knife
against my chest, and prodded me with it. "No movey, no get hurty.
Understand?"
I was bound, gagged, and lying awkwardly on the floor. How had they?. .
.I looked across the room to where Rinn was sprawled on the floor, unconscious as
well.
The knife jabbed me again. "Don't move, I said!" The man sounded
panicky. "Damn, Tikko. . .it's come around already! Check the other one. you
sure this stuff works?"
The man's companion held up a small green bottle. "Do you wish to sniff it
for yourself? Don't worry. I'm sure the alchemist had humans in mind when he
spoke of timing." He spoke with a light, cultured accent; from The south coast,
most likely. Dondarin, I'd bet my wingtips. "And our prisoner is a Ôshe', Tom.
Not an Ôit'. Some courtesy, please!" he flashed me a pleasant smile and began
trussing Rinn up as thoroughly as I.
I glared up at my guard. The knife was hardly necessary. With all the
ropes wrapped around me, I couldn't move. But I glared as best as I could, and it
had it's desired effect: my knife-happy captor turned a bit paler, and licked his lips.
I've been told that a Hawkfolk's golden glare is distressingly like that of a very
large, very hungry and very insane falcon.
"Tikko. . .um, Tikko, are you almost done?"
"Patience," the Southerner replied, and after one more tug on Rinn's knots
stood up. He was slight and short, almost as small as I; he had middling-brown
hair and middling-brown eyes that matched his indeterminate skin. Dressed in his
ragged collection of clothes, he was as pleasantly nondescript a person as I'd ever
seen; he'd have made the perfect spy. Probably was one, at that.
"Well," Tikko said brightly, "That's that." He strolled over and looked
admiringly down at me. "A Hawkfolk, and female at that." He shook his head.
"Damme, what a price you'll fetch at the Bazaar."
I was right; he was from Dondar’n, capital of the entire Empire and location
of the Grand Bazaar, the largest, most expensive and best stocked market in the
world. I'd been there, once. You can get lost for days in the vast maze of market
stalls, booths, tents, and stores. Anything you want, and I do mean anything, can
be found there--riches from around the world, immortality, death in many varied
forms--providing you had the price. Including such exoticisms as me, it seemed.
"Don't worry; We'll take good care of you on the way," he said
reassuringly. "It's a long journey, and I wouldn't want you to be in anything but
the best condition when we arrive." Tikko winked, and smiled again. If he hadn't
trussed me up like a prize waterfowl and been planning to sell me into slavery, I
would have almost found him charming. "We don't want to break any of those
delicate bones of yours." and to the other man: "Wrap her up well, Jo. Don't
want her getting wet in the downpour outside."
A sweet-smelling cloth descended over my nose, and blackness with it.
For once in my life, I wished I'd stuck with hedge-witchery rather than
studying for a scholar-mage; I have power, true, but it's mostly in books. I'm
good, very good; give me some chalk, blood and the right tome and I could call up
all of Ar'ziel's demons at once. And send them back again, which, though people
don't realise it, is twice as hard as summoning them in the first place. But here,
with every talisman, spell and incantation I had out of reach, I was as helpless as a
babe.
It rankled.
It rankled a lot. I don't like being helpless. And if I was a hedge-witch, I
could have...I don't know. Scared them off with howling wolves. Somehow
convinced some birds to come down and untie my bonds. Something. They'd
ungagged me. . .but I'd kept silent, probably convincing them (Jo, at least; I wasn't
too sure about Tikko, he was a clever one) that I couldn't talk. Besides, tongue
magic wasn't big enough to do anything. Even with freedom of one hand, I could
have conjured up enough illusion to let me escape.
But no luck. they'd kept me bound hand, wing and foot.
And here I was, hunched by a fire in the middle of the wilderness, with
Tikko, Jo, and one other who had joined us. He was large and mostly silent, and
had the flat, dull eyes of the hired thug. And to add insult to injury, they were
offering me beans.
I shuddered, making a face. Next thing you know, it'd be raw salad.
"Meat-eater," Tikko commented from across the fire. "You should know
better than to offer her food like that."
Jo looked over at him. "All right, what then? I don't see no rabbits around
here."
"Jerky," the ringleader suggested. "In the saddlebag."
It tasted awful, but I gnawed at it anyway. At least it wasn't vegetable
matter. And I did need strength.
Jo looked mistrustfully at me, as if he still expected me to breath fire.
"I didn't b'lieve creatures like that really existed. ÔS like sommat out of a
tale. . .what'd you call it?" he asked Tikko.
"Hawkfolk," he replied lazily. "Supposedly, they come from this area. . .
but it was pure blind luck that we found this one."
"Hmmph." Jo shivered. "Should be in a zoo, I say. Don't want to know
what some pre-verted old official's gonna get up to with that thang."
My eyes blazed, but I held my tongue. The oaf! The narrow-minded,
wingless, slack-jawed little idiot!
Tikko's eyes lingered thoughtfully on my face. "It's said they're intelligent,
but it's never been proven," he continued, looking back at his younger accomplice.
"Some of them still live up in Rimmon-Corandy, or so it's said."
"Rimmon-Corandy?" Jo snorted, throwing more wood on the fire.
"Likely, that. With Shiei-folk, and wizards, and all. They say what Rimmon-
Corandans are half demon-blood, accounts for that red hair of thars. Care for game
o' dice?"
I struggled not to shriek my rage at all of them. Demon blood, indeed!
Wherever Jo came from, it was obvious the snotnosed, pimple-picking savage had
never travelled beyond That Mountain Thar. To think that such stupidity ran
rampant in the backwaters of the world! I made myself as comfortable as I could
with my wings and hands bound and my feet tied by a rope to a nearby tree, and
tried to sleep.
The next day was spent slung over the back of a horse, and the next evening
almost identical to the first--save for my aching arms and wings. The horse, as a
method of transport, leaves a lot to be desired. They're almost as bad as boats.
By this evening, however, I had a plan. it was nothing spectacular, but it
might work.
I needed books for Creation and elemental Changes, and hands for Illusion;
tongue magic was generally used for spells of sleep, luck and health charms, and
not much more. I could have tried lulling them to sleep, but what then? I still
couldn't move, all their knives were firmly tied in their sheathes, and I had a
horrible singing voice, anyway. But there was one other thing Tongue could be
used for, though it wasn't widely-known; I'd found it mentioned in a mouldering
book, somewhere. Entropy, it's called. Not changing something into something
else, but speeding up its decay. it was a simple enough spell; the problem was, it
speeded up the decay of everything in the vicinity made of the affected material as
well, which didn't make it one of the more popular tongue-spells in use.
And the other problem was that it worked incredibly slowly.
I'd started in midafternoon, and had been humming almost nonstop since
then. Jo (I had the privelege of his saddlehorn, that day) had looked down at me
curiously, decided it was some strange farn type o' behavior, and ignored me. I
hummed while they set up camp, hummed while I fertilized the moss behind a
strategic tree (the Thug on guard, of course; noone ever mentioned his name) and
hummed while Jo rubbed down the horses and Tikko started boiling the everpresent
beans for supper. I hummed while I chewed on that Godless jerky; it wasn't meant
to be eaten with pointed teeth, I'll tell you that. By the time the three of them
crawled into their bedrolls, I was more than happy to stop. My throat was dry as
sand, and I probably couldn't have talked if I'd wanted to.
The next day was worse. At least I got to sit upright this time, which was
an improvement; and I was in front of Tikko, whose breath smelled far better than
his accomplices'. But I hummed and hummed until it was as natural as breathing, i
hummed until my throat and sinuses ached and the tune was little more then a three
note drone. I hummed until finally Tikko stopped the horse with a jerk, pushed me
off, and swung down beside me.
"Stop it!" He said between gritted teeth. "Will you stop it! I'm going nuts!
Any more and we're drugging you." He gestured to the others. "We're stopping
to eat. And Jo, you take her when we start again."
Damn. I tested my bonds; yes, they were a bit weaker. I wished that
they'd tied my hands in front rather than behind me; I might have had a chance to
chew through them. They felt soft and slightly frayed, like rope used over and over
again. I took my ration of Jerky--Ar'ziel, but I was starting to loathe the stuff--and
started humming again, very, very softly.
I kept on humming when I got back on the horse, too. My thigh muscles
were screaming at me, and I didn't want to that sweetcloth against my nose again--
but I had no choice. Sure enough, not twenty minutes later and Jo gave me a clout
across the head, muttering at me to shut up. He did it again ten minutes later, and
finally Tikko drugged me again, as he'd threatened to.
Almost immediately, I came out of it.
I was just lucky, I suppose. Why it didn't affect me, I've no idea; not that I
was complaining. Human and Hawker composition are so similar that they can
interbreed, and you'd think a simple chemical would work on both of us. Tikko
tried again a couple of times, but then gave up; maybe he feared side affects.
And I kept on humming. They pled, and yelled, and hit me--the Thug
almost broke my arm before Tikko stopped him, but I kept it up. They'd probably
had doubts about my intellegence before, but by now I think I'd convinced them all
that Hawkfolk were about as sentient as sparrows.
We stopped for lunch beside a shallow spring in a clearing, and Jo's
bootlaces snapped when he retied them. Both of them.
"Damn cheap boots," he muttered. The Thug smiled at his anger.
He didn't smile, however, when his own rope belt broke midafternoon.
And that evening, when both Tikko and Jo accidentally ripped holes in their
heretofore sturdy trews and one of the saddlebags came apart along a seam when
they opened it, one could definitely call the mood of the camp less than jovial.
They ignored me, for the most part, and talked among themselves, and
played at dice--except for Tikko, who kept looking over at me and frowning. I
prayed he didn't suspect anything.
He kept winning at dice, too. Definitely a part-time spy.
And my bonds...almost. My mouth felt like a cotton ball. If only they
hadn't used such godawful strong rope! I hummed, my voice now down to a
squeaky whisper. And twisted my wrists back and forth, back and forth.
The escape, when it came, was ridiculously easy. The others had long ago
gone to sleep--as had my hands--when I was finally rewarded by the soft crackle of
old, weak ropes tearing apart. It was hard to believe, at first. But tensing my
wings, I felt the rope on them snap as well. I caustiously stood and stretched,
hands above my head and full extension.
So. I rubbed my wrists, flexed my fingers, and made short work of the
rope tying me to the tree. Good spy material Tikko might be, but granny knots?
Please.
They hadn't set a watch. I guess they'd thought me too well bound (and
too stupid, hopefully) to bother with one. And so, armed with a knife from the pile
of supplies, I went around the fire methodically slitting throats. The Thug didn't
blink an eye; Jo jerked a little, and I felt a savage, unsettling sort of pleasure in
drawing the knife across his throat. Demon blood, indeed. Ought to be in a zoo,
should I? But Tikko. . .his eyes flew open as soon as the knife touched his neck.
Not soon enough to save him, though.
"You should have kept me gagged," I said conversationally, the sharp edge
pressed against the flesh of his throat. He was wide awake and tense, his muscles
trembling.
"Please--Listen, you can go, take the horses, anything--"
"And have you after me, again? A professional like you? you'd have us in
no time." And with the price I'd fetch in Dondar”n, he'd stop at nothing to get me
back.
"I promise--"
"I really am sorry, though," I said apologetically. "it would have been nice
to know you, under different circumstances. Prepare to meet your god."
He didn't, though. He just kept on babbling; and after I'd given him the
respect of Preparation, too. One swift stroke, and he was silent for once and all. I
murmured the ritual phrases for him and Jo; they had been decent human beings,
after all. No need to let them go wandering forever through the mists.
And then I stirred up the fire, put some new wood on, and cooked up some
dinner. After days of that hideous jerky, I was looking forward to something
fresh.
I bumped into Rinn the next day, as I was walking with the three horses
back towards Mirrirl. (Riding, according to my thigh muscles, was most
emphatically out of the question.) She'd first appeared as a speck cantering down
the dirt road on a roan stallion I'd never seen before. Either she'd bought it, or--
knowing Rinn--surriptitiously liberated it from it's previous owner. Seeing her,
her face drawn with worry and messy red braid flying behind her, I realised how
much I'd missed the woman. She could be juvenile, and narrow-minded, and
thoughtless, and had a horrible sense of humour to boot, but still I broke into the
widest smile I'd had in a long time and, tying the horses to a tree, headed for the
sky.
I climbed and climbed, until she and her horse were a tiny dot; and then I
folded my wings and dove. Nearer and nearer the ground rushed, and with an ear
piercing screech I pulled up right before I hit her, her hair ruffling with the speed of
my passage. The horse, naturally enough, went wild and almost bucked Rinn off
before she got control of him again. You should have seen the look on her face
when I came back to earth.
"Ar'ziel and all of his minor chasmspawned demons, just what--"
She shut up when I pulled her off the sweated horse and smothered her in a
hug.
"I thought you and your big mouth deserved something," I replied once
she'd extricated herself from me.
Rinn's face was a study in very sweaty confusion. "What do you mean?"
"Rinnelie Shipsdaughter, who was the only other person besides myself
who knew I was at that Inn?"
"Huh?"
I could just imagine Tikko being his usual charming self, plying a soused
Rinn with more liquor and careful questions along the line of just how she thought
she could find Aerie where so many others had failed. And Rinn giving me away
with drunken blitheness.
"Anyway, call it quits. The look on your face was worth it." Rinn opened
her mouth. "And don't worry about the men that kidnapped me; I took care of
them." Rinn opened her mouth again. "And no, they won't be bothering us
anymore." Rinn opened her mouth yet again. "Of course I brought the horses
back with me. i'm not utterly without sense. There's three; one for me, you, and a
packhorse. We're going through Mirrirl again, and you'll be giving that horse back
to it's proper owner--explorers we may be, but thieves we're not, clear? Anything
else?"
Rinn gave me her exasperated look, and then picked me up and swung me
around.
"Riiinnn!" I struggled to get free; I hate it when she does that.
"Don't do that!" I said when she finally let go.
"Sorry. Couldn't help it." she grinned. "Are you okay? What's with your
voice? It's all husky. Your dignity not too bruised, I hope?"
The trouble with Rinn is, you can almost always tell when she's trying to be
funny. Except for the rare occasion when you can't. This was one of the latter.
So I conjured up an illusory fireball in both hands and flung them at the
sky, where they collided with a satisfactory boom. "I'm fine," I said, giving her a
small smile. "I've just been exercising my voice recently; I'll probably be
whispering for a few days. But you know, I could get to like this adventuring
stuff. Just no more rivers, please. "
"Uh-huh." Rinn gave me a funny look. "Vea, are you sure you're okay?
"Except for my flight feathers. They're in a state," I said. "It'll take at
least three days to get them looking right again. Wings were not meant to be tied
up. I suppose I should be glad they didn't cut the wingtips off and be done with
it."
"You should be glad they didn't decide to stick a knife in my heart and be
done with it; you'd be going to Aerie on your own." Rinn had remounted her
stallion, and we were walking back to where I'd tied the horses. "Probably didn't
want to cause much of a fuss. I mean, if they'd murdered me--me--can you
imagine the uproar it would have caused?"
"Terrible," I murmured.
"And I wish I'd been around to help you with those kidnapers. How did
you escape?"
"The ropes were weak; I escaped with the horses last night."
Rinn shook her head. "Damn! You were lucky; men like that can be
dangerous. They'd murder you in your sleep without a second thought."
"Mmm."
"Do you think they'll follow us?"
"I'd say we were beyond their reach, by now," I answered.
"If you say so." There was silence for a while. The cicadas buzzed in the
tall grasses bordering the road.
"The brown-haired one was kind of nice, though," Rinn said reflectively.
"Yes. Delicious."
Rinn violently reined in her horse, and turned to stare at me.
"Well, a bit on the stringy side," I added.
She still didn't move.
"Come on, Rinn," I said wearily. "You go down fifty-foot waterfalls for
fun. I'm Hawker. And meat is meat. You take it where you can find it, right?"
She swallowed. "Aaaah. . . ."
"Fine. Then let's get the horses before they run away." I continued down
the road, and heard Rinn's slowly click to her horse to start walking again. She
has this strange prejudice concerning scholar-mages, see. Thinks we can't protect
ourself against a rabid mouse, and faint at the sight of knife-play. . . back when we
were childer, she always got upset if I was in a fight and she wasn't there to help
me. I suppose it was a shock, learning I could actually defend myself.
The sky was blue, and there was a cool bite to the afternoon air; evening
was approaching. Adventuring, I decided, was fun.
Aerie," I called,
Here we come!
ÿ