Mercedes Lackey - Anthology (7 page)

 
          
"No."

 
          
"Oh."
Arikan wrapped everything back up and slung the makeshift pack over his
shoulder again. "May I . . . ?"

 
          
After
a moment, the lean man grunted and waved him on. Arikan wandered through the
village, then sat down in the shade of a lodge, cross-legged, and pretended to
be nothing more than a footweary nobody.

 
          
All
around him, life went on. And for all the underlying tension, this was still
the ordinary life of ordinary people, women carrying water, gossiping, men
tending weapons, everyone doing their best to ignore the stranger in their
midst. The children, though . . . they must have been warned to stay away from
him, but that didn't mean that they wouldn't stare, curious as the young ones
of his own people. Too few of them, definitely, for a village this size, but
looking healthy enough. They also looked like the children of
his own
people, and Arikan reminded himself sharply again,
No. They are the enemy. These are
all the
enemy.

 
          
Where
were the eagles? They must surely be kept near the center of the village, near
where he
sat ...

 
          
They
were.

 
          
Had been.
Arikan fought a fierce battle with himself: He
must show no emotion at the sight of the cage and the charred bones within,
even though the shock of horror that raced through him was almost beyond
bearing.

 
          
They
can't be dead. They can't all be dead—

 
          
Not
quite. One bird remained alive, trapped in a cage far too small for it...a
fledgling eagle, its brown plumage still mottled with white, its gaping beak
evidence of shock and exhaustion.

 
          
It
will die before they can even sacrifice it!

 
          
No,
it would not. Not if he had any say about this. Amazed at the intensity of his
emotion, Arikan forced himself to continue pretending to do nothing but
resting. But his sly, subtle glances took in every detail about his
surroundings, about the eagle . . .

 
          
Maybe,
Arikan decided at last, then altered that to, no "maybe" about it.
Now that he'd committed to this, it was simply succeed or die: basic choices.

 
          
Assuming that poor bird lives long enough.
Till nightfall,
youngling, he pleaded with it, at least till then.

 
          
Had
the eagle somehow heard him? The beautiful, wild head turned to
him,
the savage, desperate eyes seemed to stare directly at
him.

 
          
Then
the moment passed. The eagle was but a bird, no more than that.

 
          
And I?
I am a fool.

 
          
Oh,
indeed. And a fool wouldn't sit here all day. Arikan got to his feet, forcing
an amiable, almost idiotic smile onto his face, and ambled about the village,
projecting I'm not quite right in the head with all his might. He let warriors
shove him roughly out of the way, helped the women carry their water skins as
though unaware that it was women's work, wearing his torn and badly stained
hide as a cloak—and all the while continued to subtly study the village and the
way it fit into the landscape.

 
          
The
cliffs here were barely more than half the height of those shielding his
village. A determined man could scale them if need be.

 
          
A
man burdened by a fledgling eagle? And, Arikan added with a sudden start, only
if those owls I see dreaming in those niches aren't trained to attack.

 
          
Could
owls be trained?

 
          
No,
Arikan scolded himself, he wasn't going to worry about what might or might not
be.

 
          
Enough of this.
If he hadn't established his slow-witted
harmlessness by now, he never would. Arikan returned to his resting place,
sitting back down with the air of a man prepared to stay the night.

 
          
It
would seem to be working. A woman threw him some scraps of meat, another
dropped a small watersack at his side, and Arikan, shrugging mentally, ate and
drank. This wariness of strangers, the lack of genuine hospitality . . . yes,
these people had been hurt by something. Disease, he thought again, gone now
but not without having taken its toll on the young.

 
          
Why
blame us?

 
          
Why?
Because we are the enemy.
Because, were the situation
reversed, we would surely blame them.

 
          
And
he, Arikan reminded himself sharply, was not there to solve the problems of
feud or enmity. He was there to rescue that eagle—and keep his life at the same
time.

 
          
The
day faded into twilight, the twilight into night. Arikan, wrapped in the dirty
hide, trying to ignore its sour smell, settled down as best he could,
wondering
if he was really going to be left unchallenged.

 
          
Not
quite. One warrior gave him a not too rough kick, and a harsh, "Are you
staying there all night?"

 
          
Arikan
blinked up at him, trying to look utterly innocent, utterly weary. "If it
is not inconvenient, yes, I was hoping to do just that. I will be off in the
morning."

 
          
The
warrior paused,
then
shrugged. "See that you
are."

 
          
Oh,
I will, I will, indeed.

 
          
And
still the night darkened. Little by little, the village grew quiet beneath the
heavy blanket of stars. Arikan waited. No sign of human life now, though he
didn't doubt that guards had been set: That was the way of his people, too.

 
          
But
they would be bordering the village, looking out to potential danger. No one
seemed to be watching him, so Arikan folded up the hide, slipped the roll of
twine on one arm, and stood, picking out his path, shadow to shadow to shadow,
then moved forward as silently as ever he had in the desert. The fledgling
eagle woke, staring at him from its cage, and for a heart-stopping moment,
Arikan was sure it was going to start shrieking. Could it know why he was here?
Was that possible?

 
          
It
is a bird. No more than that.

 
          
And
it wasn't going to know he was a friend, or that he was trying to rescue it.
The cage was sturdy wood, too sturdy for an eagle's beak or talons, and it was
held together by thickly woven reed rope. Arikan studied the knots, as much by
touch as sight in the dimness, and warily began to untie them, keeping a
cautious eye on the eagle.

 
          
He
had it. Arikan took a deep breath, bracing himself. Then he hurled open the
cage, enveloped the eagle in the folds of the hide—and instantly had his arms
full of terrified, furious chaos. The fledgling was heavier than he'd expected,
not that he could tell accurate weight from the frantic struggle the creature
was putting up. At least he didn't have to worry about those sharp talons
raking him; they had damped shut on the hide with alarming strength. The eagle
was trying its best to get him with its beak, and Arikan got another fold of
the hide over its head, praying that he wasn't going to smother the creature,
or kill it from the sheer shock of being handled so roughly. But no, if it was
going to die of shock, it probably would have done so already.

 
          
Don't
die, Arikan told it silently, repeating it like a prayer, don't die.

 
          
Amazingly,
no one had heard, or else was so used to the sound of frantic flappings not to
notice. And the hide was muffling the eagle's attempts at shrieks.

 
          
Now,
Arikan thought breathlessly, to get out of here.

 
          
Oh,
indeed. Just walk right out of the village with a squirming bundle about the
size—and, he thought, the weight—of a child. No problem at all.

 
          
Well?
Didn't really think this part through, did you, clever one?
That
the eagle might not want to be carried out like a package.
There really
is a gap between "clever" and "wise."

 
          
Never
mind self-mockery. Arikan wrapped the eagle-bundle about with a few loops of
twine, just for security's sake. No need to worry about airholes—that sharp,
wickedly curved beak had already stabbed a few in the hide. Gingerly, trying to
keep the beak pointed away from him, Arikan shouldered what now looked, at
least in this darkness, like his pack, and— walked, keeping to the shadows
since he wasn't suicidal.

 
          
Too
easy, his mind kept whispering, far too easy.

 
          
Never
mind, he snapped back at himself. I'll gladly take the "easy."

 
          
At
least the eagle had stopped its wild thrashing. It must be exhausted. It ...
was only exhausted?

 
          
Don't
die, Arikan repeated yet again.

 
          
"Hai.
Where are you going?"

 
          
One of the warriors.
Arikan, heart pounding, smiled his most
innocent smile and told him, "Out there. The stars, you know. They talk to
me."

 
          
"Of
. . . course they do." The warrior hesitated,
then
shrugged. "Who am I to deny the stars? If you want to spend a night out
there, so be it."

 
          
Arikan
walked on, willing to the eagle, Keep Still. Keep quiet.

 
          
They'd
be in utter darkness soon enough, the heavy shadows cast by the cliffs—

 
          
Just
then, the eagle decided it was unhappy enough, and began a shrill series of
furious yeep-yeep-yeeps. And that, of course, was a sound that had to be
familiar to its captors.

 
          
Arikan
didn't hesitate. He broke into a run, the eagle a shrieking, bouncing weight on
his back, hearing shouts behind him of:

 
          
"After him!"

 
          
Arikan
kept going, stubbing his toe on rocks unseen in the darkness, staggering,
stumbling, but refusing to stop.

 
          
"The
shaman!" someone yelped. "Rouse the shaman!"

 
          
No
need. The shaman must already be awake and aware, because suddenly a cliff was
blocking Arikan's escape, looming out of the darkness where there'd been open
space before. And even though he knew it must be illusion— it was, wasn't
it?—even so, the sheer rock face looked utterly real, so very solid that Arikan
stopped, whirling to face the village, the eagle protesting on his back—

 
          
But
that way was blocked, too, warriors rushing toward him. A quick glance forward
again: the shaman's cliff was still there, still seemingly solid. If he charged
through it—no! Who knew what sorcerous traps lay hidden there?

 
          
Still,
he was rapidly running out of choices—

 
          
Hah,
no, not quite.

 
          
You
said that the cliffs, the real ones, looked scalable. Now's your chance to
prove it!

 
          
No
way to see the easiest route up. No time to be fussy about it. Arikan all but
threw himself at the nearest cliff, finding hand- and footholds through sheer
desperation, almost totally blind in the darkness, frantic to get
himself
and the eagle out of range of spear or arrow, sure
he was going to be struck down or simply fall. The eagle wasn't helping, one
heavy, squirming bundle on his back, nearly pulling him off-balance. At least
it couldn't get its beak or talons into him, but it was yeeping and yeeping in
his ear.