Mercedes Lackey - Anthology (13 page)

 
          
Kiva
had been borne of Lissa, as had been the rest of the hawks that wheeled in the
air above. But Kiva had been the first. She stood in much the same way as her
mother had, held her head in a similar fashion and moved on a perch likewise.
Strange, I thought. Or perhaps appropriate. Lissa had died a fortnight ago,
sending my father into the laboratory for his last feverishly pitched efforts
at developing new magics.

 
          
Now
both Lissa and my father were dead. And it was Kiva, Lissa's first daughter,
who brought me these gifts.

 
          
My
muscles ached from my day's efforts. My stomach growled and my thoughts wandered.
Without questioning her this time, I slipped the bone into my pouch with the
other.

 
          
Given
a hawk's eyesight, nothing alive can move so much as a hair's breadth in the
territory around Castle Talon without the knowledge of one of our—my—birds. So
it was no surprise when several days later, the hawks roused my attention.

 
          
Men
were coming.

 
          
As
always, I set the precautionary wardings, magical traps that would protect me
if I needed to retreat into the castle. Men had often come here seeking
sorcery,
and my father was nothing if not cautious.

 
          
Nervous
energy played inside me as I waited. This was the first time I would handle
business on my own, and I worried about the encounter. I used the time to play
conversations in my head until the words became a jumbled mess that was more
confusing than helpful.

 
          
Five
men arrived an hour later, riding horses that jangled with metal and leather
harnesses, and whose hooves beat heavy patterns on the earth. The men wore
brown and dark green. They carried weapons, but not in any outwardly aggressive
fashion. I stood before them in tanned breeches and a billowing blue tunic.
Leather talon guards were strapped around both of my forearms, their rawhide
cords tied with comfortable pressure.

 
          
Hawks
glided through the air above me.

 
          
"We've
come to see your father," the leader said. He was a rugged man with
sun-blond hair and a face chiseled from years on the trail.

 
          
"He
is dead," I answered, the words coming oddly to my lips.

 
          
"That's
damned unfortunate," the leader replied.

 
          
I
ignored his comment. "I am Cullen. I run Castle Talon now. My father
passed what he knew to me. If you require the aid of a sorcerer, I will listen
to your situation."

 
          
The
leader considered my statement, confusion written on his face. "I am Parr,
from Ellin-gsworth," he finally said. "The king's daughter has taken
a sudden illness, and he has need of a sorcerer's aid."

 
          
I
could not help but frown. My father had been born in, and had lived in,
Ellingsworth for many years before my birth. Yet while men from all across the
continent had from time to time come to barter for my father's sorcery, none
had ever arrived from that city. And now, scant days after my father's passing,
here stood five riders asking me to travel to that place with them.

 
          
"Ellingsworth
has a strong clergy. Isn't such a problem better handled by them?" I
asked.

 
          
Parr's
face darkened. "King's already tried that. The high priest prayed for days
but nothing worked. Now the church says she's been cursed by sorcery too strong
for them to break."

 
          
Lines
crossed Parr's face. He was anxious dealing with sorcery, as many are.

 
          
It
was a prejudice my father suffered often in his life. Sorcery is wild and
confusing to people who do not understand it. It is powerful beyond their
ability to comprehend.

 
          
"I
will go to Ellingsworth with you," I said. "Assuming the price is
acceptable."

 
          
"Princess
Terisa is the king's only daughter,"

 
          
Parr
said angrily. "The queen died years ago. Rest assured he'll pay you more
than you're worth."

 
          
I
snorted, surprised at the man's bluntness.
"Fair enough.
I'll travel with you. But let me tell you I don't take kindly to such pointed
comments, and you can rest assured that an upset sorcerer will cost your king
more than a comfortable one will."

 
          
Wheeling
in the sky, Kiva called and swooped down. I held out my arm, and she landed
lightly on it.

 
          
"We
are going on a trip, Kiva."

 
          
The
men looked at her, obviously distrustful of the bird and uncertain of its tie
to me.

 
          
"Tell
the others," I said, motioning her to the sky once again.

 
          
She
took to the air then, calling loudly with high-pitched screams. The rest of the
hawks flew around her, responding and gliding out over the prairie that
stretched away from the rolling ocean.

 
          
The
men remained quiet, but I could see the display had done nothing to reduce my
stature in their eyes.

 
          
My
father had taught me well.

 
          
I
offered to put the men up overnight in Castle Talon, but they decided to make a
campground in the hills to the east, explaining that they had not been near the
ocean before and wanted to be in the open while they were here.

 
          
I
smiled and pretended to accept their words, all the while sensing their
anxiety.

 
          
So
I slept alone in the castle, the physical separation of the men from
Ellingsworth speaking volumes, telling me that I was not like them, that I was
dangerous.

 
          
I
suppose I could not help but dream about my father. As the night passed around
me, I asked him questions that he would not answer. I requested advice he would
not give. Despite these rebuffs, or perhaps because of them, the conversation
felt warm and familiar. His voice rumbled, and his breathing rasped nasally
like it always had. When the beam of his concentration would fall fully on me,
he was gentle and easy to talk to, a natural teacher with a calm demeanor and a
lighthearted approach.

 
          
I
woke fresh and oddly confident, feeling close to my father, a sensation that
fought with my ingrained fears and doubts to make a mixture of emotions that
was not completely pleasurable.

 
          
By
the time we left, Kiva had placed three more bones on my windowsill—one a round
vertebra the size of a pea, one the curved
needle
of a
rib cage, and the last a small pelvic segment. I placed each into my pouch,
still no farther along in puzzling out why she was leaving them.

 
          
But
my collection had now grown to a firm handful.

 
          
The
city was large and sprawling. It smelled of baked bread and fried meats.

 
          
Buildings
of white stone and yellowed brick towered over the landscape. A large river ran
past to the east, glittering with the silver-gold reflection of the setting sun
as we entered the main gates. Men pulled carts through rutted streets. Women
carried ceramic bowls and woven baskets on their shoulders. I caught a whiff of
cinnamon, and my stomach growled.

 
          
Parr
had no time for my hunger, however, and directed us toward the king's castle.

 
          
This
was the city my father had grown up in. I stared at it as we moved, dwelling
over the buildings, imagining him as a boy playing tag or kicking rocks, and
wondering with each moment if he had ever stood in the exact spot where I was
now.

 
          
I
glanced at Kiva.

 
          
She
rode anxiously on my arm. At first I attributed her demeanor to her distaste
for the city's closed space. But as we progressed she grew more agitated,
ruffling her feathers and stretching her wings often. A hawk's silhouette
graced the sky above, another of our birds following at a cautious distance.

 
          
I
had never previously known any of the birds to follow my father and me when we
traveled, and the novelty of its appearance in conjunction with Kiva's odd
discomfort made me feel uneasy.

 
          
As
we neared the king's castle, the gates opened and an armored guard approached.

 
          
"How
is the princess?" Parr said as he slid from his mount.

 
          
The
guard grunted and pulled at his well-trimmed beard. "Worse off, from what
I hear," he
said,
his expression grave.

 
          
Parr
gave a deflated sigh. "The king?" he asked.

 
          
"With the princess."

 
          
"Come
on," Parr said to me. "There is no time to spare."

 
          
I
swung my leg over my horse's saddle, glad for the opportunity to stretch.

 
          
The
guard pointed at Kiva. "We can put the bird in the aviary," he said.

 
          
Kiva
had not calmed any, and I would not leave her alone for fear of adding to her
anxiety.

 
          
"Thank
you," I responded. "But I will keep her with me."

 
          
The
guard glanced at Kiva,
then
looked to Parr with a
question in his gaze.

 
          
Parr
merely shrugged and motioned me to follow him.

 
          
"It's
all right," I cooed as I went, noting Kiva's heightened nervousness with
each of my steps and hoping my assertion was correct.

 
          
Kiva
opened her wingspan,
then
settled in a little.

 
          
We
walked across the manor yard. It was a large, rolling field that seemed to
absorb sound. Crows strutted across the green grass, scattering as I drew near,
their shoulders shimmering with blue-sheened lurching motions.

 
          
The
fragrance of corn and beans and tomatoes came from the king's garden.

 
          
Members
of the manor stopped as we passed them by. The weight of their awkward stares
burned on my back, I felt the presence of my father then, so close I could
smell the bitter reek of sorcery that had always hung around him. I had watched
him handle this situation time and time again, walking into a place where
people around him feared what he was, feared the whole of what he stood for.

 
          
In
an unusual burst of verbosity, he had once talked to me about it.

 
          
"You
must go into a
new city
as if you own it, Cullen. Or else it will own you."

 
          
Remembering
his words, I threw back my shoulders and set my face with the same firm
countenance that had once been his. We are very similar in features, my father
and I. I know this. And now I cast myself as him, twenty years younger and
walking into Ellingsworth with all the confidence in the world.

 
          
A
doorman opened the gates.

 
          
We
entered the castle, our footsteps muffled by plush rugs that lined the floor.
Clean-burning candles lit the expansive hallway of gray stone.