Daine
inspected his face. "Are you sure you don't mind? I would be at loose
ends, it's true, but I can always amuse myself!"
He
grinned, teeth flashing wickedly. "I would like something to do, frankly.
We're between quarters at the imperial university, and there's little going on
for me until classes start."
"Then
I accept with pleasure," she replied, seeing no resentment in him.
"I'll
come for you tomorrow, when the talks open," he promised, bowing over her
hand. He left her there, and once more the girl, marmoset, and dragon had the
terrace to themselves.
Taking
advantage of her solitude, Daine went down and around the side of the steps,
where the raised wall of the terrace met the ground. Out of sight in this
niche, she slid off her surcoat, folding it neatly and giving it to Kitten to
hold. Zek she placed in an opening of the marble banister, where he would be
safe. Unencumbered, she let the garden bats come to say hello, as they had
clamored to do since she had walked into die open. They arrived a dozen at a
time, to cling to her hair, dress, hands, and shoulders, talking in their high,
clear voices. She loved bats, but had learned years ago that few humans agreed.
It was always better to sit and gossip with them in private.
She
didn't keep them long. There were still pounds of insects for them to catch,
and she ought to return to the silk-and-perfume air inside. She sighed as, one
by one, the bats left her, and wished them good hunting. More than anything,
she would have liked to shape-change and go with them, but she had the feeling
that Alanna and Numair would frown if she did. That was funny in itself,
because Alanna liked elegant parties far less than Daine did.
"And
I'm getting fair tired of them myself," she murmured to Zek. "Kit,
would you do the neaten-up trick?"
The
dragon drew herself up. Suddenly her eyes glowed silver; she made a soft,
cooing sound. Curl by curl, Daine's hair, mussed by the small mammals that had
clung to it, straightened to lie neatly under its lilac velvet ribbon. Small
threads in her gown, pulled free by claws, plunged back into their proper weave
once more. Little spots, the kinds left by creatures who never had to worry
about clothes, vanished. Creases flattened; pockets of musty odor evaporated.
It never would have worked on a dress saturated with bird droppings, but it was
perfect for little messes. Daine had discovered this bit of dragon magic months
ago, when Kitten fixed her appearance after she'd been called from riding to
hear a noble s complaint about winged horses.
"Thanks!"
The girl accepted the surcoat from the dragon and donned it, "Why did you
do it so quiet? You—"
The
dragon held a claw to her muzzle, signaling Daine to hush, and pointed to the
terrace behind them. Confused, Daine peered through the openings in the rail.
In the shadows where terrace met building, hidden from the view of those
inside, was the old slave woman. Perched on the rail in front of her, talking
softly and fiercely, was Rikash,
Daine
frowned.
She
wasn't sure
which
was odder: the conversation itself, or the parties to it. Why would
Rikash talk to a slave, any slave? He was hopping in fury, waving his wings as
he tried to make a point; the slave shook her head. A slave, refusing an order
from anyone}
Something
else troubled Daine. She was sure this was the slave she had seen that morning,
but now the woman's shaved head was covered by stubbly hair. Her rough gown
hung from both shoulders, not just one, and her sandals were leather, not
straw. They laced all the way up to those bony knees.
Suddenly
the old woman produced a gleaming silver cup. Showing it to Rikash, she rattled
it, producing the unmistakable sound of dice.
Daine
collected Zek and marched up the short flight of steps, Kitten beside her.
Rikash would get the poor old thing into trouble, and the gods alone knew what
might happen to her if one of her masters saw this.
"Seven,"
the slave remarked. She and Rikash stared at the flat surface of the rail
beside the upended dice cup. "You win. For now." She turned, and
winked at the approaching Daine. "Push this bad boy off the rail, there's
a dear," she said. "He's going to beat a poor old lady out of her
life's savings."
Grabbing
the dice cup, she placed a hand on the rail and nimbly vaulted over. When Daine
ran to stare down at her probable landing site, sure the woman had broken an
ankle at least, she was nowhere to be seen.
"Who
was that?" demanded the girl of Rikash. "What were you doing with
her?"
The
immortal's eyes danced. "You saw her? Who was she?"
"The
poor old slave they made clean my rooms this morning!"
The
Stormwing guffawed. "Oh, indeed?" he said when he had calmed down.
"Well, if you want to believe that, go right ahead. You'll learn."
"There's
something you're not telling me."
"No,
it's her. Ask her what she's not telling you. And be careful. She's
tricky."
Something
glittered on the rail where the dice cup had been. It was a metal feather.
"Are you molting?" asked Daine. "Do you molt? You don't look
like you lost a feather."
"Never
mind that," he snapped. The girl shrugged and turned to go. "No—wait.
Please."
She
moved to stand upwind of him. "Well?" she asked, when he didn't seem
inclined to speak again. "Anything?" He remained silent, frowning in
thought. "You left in a hurry before."
"I
would apologize for my rudeness, if I had manners. Happily, I don't. You ought
to try our shape sometime. People expect you to be crude. I'm told it's
liberating for most humans."
She
snorted "You won't catch me that way. Numair warned me what happens when
humans take on the shapes of immortals—we can't change back."
"Wanted
to try dragons shape, did you?" She stuck her tongue out at him, and he
smiled.
"I
wasn't lying—about the Stormwings in the menagerie." She fiddled with the
feather on the rail, careful not to touch the edges. If it was one of his, it
would cut better than a knife.
"I
know. I saw them—Barzha and Hebakh. They told me how they came to be
there."
“I’m
sorry.”
"I
am angry, not sorry. Jokhun lied when he took over our flock. He said he killed
Barzha and Hebakh in combat, and their bodies dropped into one of your
oceans." Rikash had begun to rock from foot to foot; his green eyes
sparkled angrily as his feathers bristled. "We believed him because we
were tired of battles.. .Stormwings—tired of battles! We betrayed her, just as
he did. And to find this smiling, lying mortal in league with him—"
Humans
came onto the terrace. Globes sailed overhead to light the darkness. Ozorne was
in the forefront, with Alanna on his arm and Duke Gareth on his other side.
Seeing them, he came over.
"Follow
my
lead,"
Rikash
muttered
softly.
"Please."
She
looked at him, puzzled, but nodded. She didn't think he would get her into
trouble, enemy or no. She did have to admit their talks here weren't
hostile—more like the exchanges between friends who enjoyed a good argument.
That was enough to make her head spin.
"Veralidaine
and Lord Rikash," said the emperor, smiling mischievously. "Now here
is an odd pairing. We had heard this young lady hates Stormwings."
The
immortal shrugged. "We value a good enemy, Imperial Majesty. If I may be
permitted to say so, opponents come in many guises. It is well to get to know
them alL"
The
emperor nodded. Alanna frowned, looking from him to Rikash to Daine. The girl
shrugged to let her friend know that she hadn't the least idea of what the
Stormwing meant.
"Forgive
me for my departure earlier, but I had thought of a gift to make to you, as a
personal token of my appreciation for our association. It would be my very
great pleasure if you would accept it." Rikash nodded toward the feather.
"Give it to him, if you please."
Daine
carefully picked up the feather and offered it to Ozorne, who smiled and took
it, holding it with care. "Is some particular virtue attached to this
gift?" he asked.
"Indeed,"
replied the Stormwing. "Any such token from an immortal
has—qualities." Daine touched her throat, brushing the chain for the
badger's claw.
"Heed
me," Rikash went on. "If ever you are in peril of life and throne—and
it must be peril that drives you, not curiosity—take this feather and thrust it
into your flesh. When it mixes with your blood, you will fly from your enemies
as if winged with steel, and escape beyond the Black God's reach for all time."
Ozorne
replied evenly. "Neither our life nor our throne is in peril, Lord Rikash,
nor do we believe they will ever be. Our hold on our empire is
firm
indeed."
"But
the wheel turns," Rikash answered. "What is up may come down; what is
brought low may rise. The gods are not fickle—but they have been known to
change their minds. One day you will know the value of Stormwing esteem."
He bowed to the emperor, then looked at Daine. "I never know what to make
of you," he said dryly. "I suppose I never will-He took off, and
vanished into the dark. Daine watched for the last sweep of his wings. You
aren't alone, she thought.
The sun
was not even above the horizon when she woke the next morning. It would be an
hour or more before Numair and the others began to stir, and Kitten and Zek
were still deep in slumber. With no mind to go back to sleep and no books to
read, she decided to visit the emperor's birds. Leaving the dragon and
marmoset, she asked the mousers and rat catchers for a path to the aviary. The
one they gave her took her through gardens to a door in a glass wall. It was
open, with no magical lock to undo. She slipped inside and closed the door
softly behind her.
The
first to come meet her were small, green birds with red faces and tails, called
parrot finches. They eyed her from a branch several yards away before dropping
to her shoulders. The next arrivals were unlike any bird she'd ever seen,
finches who looked as if they had rolled on an artist's paint board, sporting
red, yellow-orange, or black faces, aqua collars and tails, emerald wings,
yellow bellies, and purple breasts. Twittering, they hopped on nearby twigs and
on her fingers, eyes bright in their vivid faces. What had she done to herself,
to be dressed as a dirtwalkeri1 they asked.
I was
born this way, she told them silently, hearing quiet male voices from the
direction of the door into the palace. I'm a two-legger and People.
The
finches were not sure they approved.
Red-crested
cardinals arrived. With them came tanagers whose plumage shimmered green and
gold or green and blue. None of the birds could remember much of their first
encounter with Daine; they had been too sick. Now they inspected her eagerly.
Greetings
over, a tanager pair invited Daine to come see their nest. Finding the stair
nearby, she accepted the invitation, ascending as quietly as she could.
Most of
the birds stayed with her, though some left to get food. Chattering, being rude
to their companions, they explained that the Man fed and talked to them. He
came at all hours, but he didn't wake them if it was dark, and he always
brought their favorite treats in his pockets.
Daine
shook her head. The more she saw or heard of the emperor, the more confused she
felt.
At the
topmost level of the aviary, she found a very small colony of leafbirds, some
with blue-violet stripes breaking their bodies into halves, the top green
and
the
bottom
orange-gold,
some
with orange heads
and red edges to their wings. Here, too, were royal bluebirds, who appeared drab
until they turned in the light to reveal wings and tails of a blue so intense
it seemed to glow.