“I’m off to the northern squirrels, then,” Daine said. “And everybody?” They all looked at her. “Be careful,” she cautioned, eyes stinging a little. “Goddess bless us all.”
“Goddess bless,” whispered Maura and Tait. Silently the animals called on their gods, and perhaps the immortals did the same.
When the others had gone, Daine turned to Cloud. “If I tie myself to you and make sure Kittens’s secure in her pack, can you carry us to the place we were last night? I don’t want to linger here while I talk with the creatures in the north and south if I can help it.” She studied her friend: Cloud looked fresh. “If you can’t, say so. I’ll call another horse from the village, if I must.”
And risk thief catchers coming after you? retorted the pony. I think not. I can do this. You forget, I took my time walking here, and I’ve had plenty of rest and water and grazing. How will you be traveling?
“I thought to try that eagle again.”
So much the better. You won’t weigh as much as you do now. I noticed the first thing that seems to change is your bones. If you have bird bones, you’ll hardly weigh anything, just like her. Cloud nodded to Kitten, who was tucking herself into Daine’s pack. And make sure you bring that bow.
“Cloud, it’ll be too much, me and Kit and a crossbow—”
Don’t be a fool, retorted the mare. You need a weapon.
The girl sighed and got the rope. “This is going to be fun.”
With the help of some birds and a marmot colony from inside the barrier, Daine tied herself, her crossbow, and Kitten to Cloud’s back, with the knots in easy reach. When everything was secure, the pony set off at a walk.
As Kitten chirped soothingly, Daine relaxed and listened for Huntsong, the golden eagle who had taken her so far the day before. She found him nearly a mile away, about to leave his treetop nest. When she explained what she needed, he agreed to help. Quickly she slid into his mind, and they were off.
Word of Flicker’s adventures had gone from tree to tree in the days since the making of the Coldfang statue. The eagle too had been gossiping with other birds, and the Song Hollow bats had added their information. Daine was startled to find that the woods and rocky slopes all along the western side of the Long Lake buzzed, not only with her name, but with the names of her companions—humans, immortals, and animals. When she called from Huntsong’s mind to the squirrels near the north fort, they asked what they could do to help end the destruction. Wood rats, overhearing what she told the squirrels, wanted jobs of their own. Three flocks of starlings reminded her that they had come at her call before, to drive off Stormwings. Did she have more fun for them?
With the wild beasts clamoring for Daine’s attention, the domestic animals who lived in the fort were eager to listen to her. The dogs and cats left right away, not waiting for the next sunrise. The horses agreed to flee to the docks, once Daine promised that the wolves and other hunters would leave them alone.
As Huntsong wheeled south, Daine saw the pack running single file down the trails, the steady pace eating up the miles between them and the fort. Iakoju, heavy legs pumping in an equally constant tempo, brought up the rear. When the eagle dropped down to eye level, the ogre realized who it must be and waved, grinning cheerfully.
On their way to the southern fort, they found a trio of Stormwings going from there to the castle. With a shiver, Daine saw Rikash was one of them.
Have they ever bothered you? she asked Huntsong.
The great bird glared at the approaching immortals. Not in a general way, he replied, talons clenching. We had a few misunderstandings when they first came here, until they learned the error of their ways. His wrath faded, and he added, All the same, I shall give them a wide berth. They cut my mate to ribbons when she defended our nest.
He drifted to one side. Two Stormwings flapped past, making rude noises. Only Rikash changed course, to fly around Huntsong in a wide circle. The other two, a blond female and the K’miri male, came back and joined him.
“They soar, don’t they?” Rikash asked them. “Wheeling, wheeling, always in the same place?”
“Like toy kites, and twice as wood-skulled,” joked the K’mir.
“But now here is this one, flying in a straight line, going somewhere. You don’t see prey when you go too fast, am I right?”
Get ready to drop, Daine warned Huntsong.
Rikash spat, not looking to see if anyone was below. “This valley has a disease, one where cute little animals don’t act like animals. Did I tell you about the squirrel?”
“Only a million times,” said the K’miri Stormwing with a groan.
Daine saw muscles bunch in Rikashs neck. Drop! she cried. Huntsong threw up his wings and dropped, hurtling earthward at terrifying speed.
“Go, go, go!” screamed Rikash.
The female whooped, and steel-winged bodies followed Huntsong down. Grimly Daine hung on, urging him into the trees that covered the road south. The eagle shot into the clear space between road and branches, scudding down the corridor they made. There was a scream and a crash: a Stormwing had come to grief. Huntsong risked a glance back. The female, scratched and bleeding, was trying to free herself from a chestnut. Seconds later the K’mir came in view, fighting to pull out of his stoop before he slammed into the dirt. He failed.
Relieved, Huntsong looked forward. Rikash awaited them ahead, where the trees fell briefly away from the road. Land, Daine urged.
I look stupid when I walk, complained the eagle as he obeyed. Hopping like a sparrow is not eagle’s work.
If you think you look stupid, imagine how he will look, Daine consoled him.
Rikash cursed and darted forward, flying low, trying to keep his great metal wings from clipping the earth or trees. Called from their nests, the squirrels leaped on him, biting with very sharp teeth. Rikash screeched, tried to cover his eyes with his wings, and slammed into an elm. Now run, Daine told the squirrels; they obeyed. Huntsong liked that advice, too. He took off, flapping lazily past the spot where Rikash fought the elm’s entangling branches. The air filled with the Stormwing’s curses as Huntsong broke free of the trees.
With battle already joined, Daine had no trouble persuading the southern animals to do what they could to help Tkaa, Maura, Tait, and Flicker. The fort’s animals, told what was going on, were as eager to stop the use of the bloodrain as Daine was.
I think we’re done, the girl told Huntsong, feeling more tired than ever. Let’s go home. I’d return by myself, but I’m prob’ly outside the range of my magic, and I don’t know if I would make it.
Would you mind terribly if I left you inside your range, and went back to that fort? the eagle inquired. I could help there. It would be a pleasure.
Daine smiled and replied, Of course.
Flying low over the treetops, keeping away from the road, they passed Tait, Maura, Tkaa, and the others. Daine pointed out the basilisk. Talk to him, she told Huntsong as they continued to head north. He can translate for the two-leggers, and they should know of something you can do.
The moment she felt the tug of attraction that was her true body, she wished the eagle good luck and separated from him. Instantly he turned south again as she slid into her human self. With regret she changed his farsighted eyes to her own, limited orbs, and his hollow, light bones into a human’s heavier ones. Talons became feet; wings became arms. When she opened her eyes, all that remained was a layer of down between her clothes and skin.
“I’m back,” she muttered. “Huzzah.”
Cloud halted. That crow came by, the mare said. She wanted to tell you she dropped the note into the man’s lap. He read it, and the last she saw of him, he was on his way to the castle.
Daine took a deep breath. “I hope he’s as trustworthy as Tait says.” The girl extracted herself and Kitten from the ropes that kept them on the pony’s back. Then, with Daine afoot and Kitten walking or riding, they took the remainder of the day to approach the village, staying clear of outlying farms.
They stopped as the shadows lengthened, so Daine could catch and cook some fish and Cloud would have a chance to graze; it was near dark when they moved on.
Everywhere the People were talking. Dunlath’s nonhuman residents had much to say about recent events. They spoke to kinfolk, distant relatives, even enemies (at a safe distance). Their opinions and questions were so loud that Daine wondered if the two-leggers didn’t guess something was up.
If they did, she saw no sign of it at the village. Hidden in the trees at the spot where she had left her bedroll and saddle, she watched the local people go about their end-of-day chores, then vanish into their homes. Lamps flared briefly in most houses, then went out; farmers rose and went to bed with the sun. Only the inn and the castle windows stayed lit for any time after dark.
Over the night the Song Hollow bats checked in, waking her with news of her friends. Iakoju had made it safely to the ogre dwellings around nightfall, starting a great deal of movement between buildings and a constant hum of ogre voices. The Long Lake Pack busied itself among the mine wagons, working pins that held wheels to axles out of their settings with their teeth, and chewing the reins until only scraps held them together. In the south, wood rats laid dry twigs and grasses at the base of the wall and around all structures but the gate and the stables. Dogs howled incessantly outside, as little fires erupted in the commander’s office, the mess, and the barracks, keeping the men up all night.
At last, with only a few hours left until dawn, the activity ended. The People, and Daine, used the time in unbroken sleep.
She awoke at dawn, aching from tense muscles. In contrast to the racket of the day before, the animals were quiet. Even the birds who greeted the sun were silent, awaiting events. From the trees Daine watched as castle servants crossed the bridge in pairs, small groups, or alone, to enter the village. Parlan waited on the other side of the causeway, steering them to the inn. There were no soldiers to worry about; Yolane relied on Tristan and the forts for protection.
Daine called to the castle mice as the sky brightened. Soon they reported back to her: only the nobles and Tristan remained there.
The sun rose. In the north and in the south, squirrels were working hard to free the fort horses and do as much damage as possible. The soldiers were finding that their morning bread, tea, porridge, and cheese were inedible. The ogres were collecting weapons and moving their children to safety.
Daine combed her hair and tied it back, then removed her clothes and shook them out before putting them back on. She ate cheese and stolen apples, groomed Cloud, and fed Kitten what remained of their previous night’s fish. Last of all, she saddled the mare and tucked Kitten into her carry-sack.
Give them time, Tait had said, but she hadn’t known the hours needed by her allies would strain her nerves so cruelly. Her tension was made worse by the fact that she heard little movement in the village. The cows had been milked before sunrise, livestock had been fed, but apart from that, the local two-leggers kept out of sight. It made her feel as if she had a ghost town at her back.
At last, she heard a sound like a huge bell hit from the inside, as loud here as it had been in the caves. It was followed by another sound from the south, a hollow thwap! Billows of smoke appeared on the lake’s southern shore. She would have to ask Maura what on earth her friend had managed to blow up.
Silver caught her eye from that direction: Stormwings, flying hard and homing in on the castle. She noticed they were as soot-blackened as chimney sweeps as they vanished inside the curtain wall.
She felt the hurrok trio come from the north. One bore a scroll in its left forepaw, and the gems in all their collars burned a bright yellow. They were in pain, clawing at the bands around their necks. Screaming in rage, the hurroks darted into the circle of the castle’s wall. Checking the northern sky, she saw faint columns of smoke. Something was afire, but she couldn’t tell what it was.
She waited briefly, and the fliers reappeared. This time the hurroks had riders who controlled them with reins and bit. They fought these as they had the collars, with no success. Two flew north. Daine shut her eyes and thought of Huntsong, then opened them to an eagle’s vision. The mages on the hurrok pair were Redfern and Gissa. One hurrok tried to turn back, but Gissa was having none of it. Her mouth moved. A cloud of orange fire appeared on the immortal’s rump. From the way he leaped forward, the fire must have hurt.
She turned to check the others. The Stormwings bore two humans in rope slings. Tristan rode the hurrok: he too used fire to sting his mount forward.
Daine made her eyes human again, then mounted Cloud. “Now,” she told her companions. The pony raced for the causeway. All down its length, past the dock where the nobles kept a few boats and through the gate, Daine cringed, feeling exposed. Only when they were in the courtyard did she dare to sit up. There were no watchers on the castle walls, and the courtyard was empty.
Don’t bother unsaddling me, Cloud told her when she dismounted. Find what you came here for. I’ll hide in the stables.
“And rob every feed bag you see, right?” Daine whispered as she freed Kitten from her pack and put her down on the flagstones. Hanging the crossbow on her belt and the quiver over her shoulder, she trotted into the castle, the young dragon close behind.
Blueness and Scrap met her in the great hall. They looked smaller this way, though Daine could see that Blueness was a creature of noble bulk, for a cat. Scrap was a dainty thing, and fascinated by Kitten.
Have you seen anything like this? Daine asked the cats, picturing what she thought the model would look like.
No, said Blueness. Scrap! he said imperiously when the youngster, sniffing Kitten’s muzzle, didn’t reply. Answer the question!
The young cat sneezed. No, she replied. But I have not seen all there is to see. We are not allowed in the mages’ workrooms.
Show me where those workrooms are, Daine said. Quickly, please.
The cats led the way up a broad flight of stairs to a gallery on the second floor, and down a hallway. Kitten made as little noise as they did: her talons, which Daine thought might click like a dog’s, only made tiny scratching sounds.
The new humans sleep here, Blueness said, stopping at the end of a long corridor. In those two sets of rooms, and those two.
Daine tried one door: it was locked. “Kit, remember how you popped the lock at the inn?” The dragon nodded. “Give this a whirl, will you?”
The dragon sat up on her hindquarters and eyed the lock with interest. She gave a soft trill, as she had at the inn. The lock shone gold for a moment, then went dull. Kitten made a clucking sound and trilled again, breaking the sound into a high note and a low one. The door swung open.
Can she teach me to do that? asked Scrap as they entered the suite.
You do not need to know it, replied Blueness, disappearing into the bedroom. You are too much of a pawful already.
The model was not there, nor in the other three suites. Daine frowned as they finished their search. They had seen magical workrooms, but none had contained models. Also, she had seen nothing that looked like the room where she and Scrap had heard of bloodrain.
“Where are Tristan’s rooms?” she asked. “The man with yellow magic?”
They are near the ones of the human female who hates cats, replied Blueness. This way.
They returned to the gallery and circled its rim, then went down a short hall. Scrap’s tail twitched angrily when they reached Tristan’s door: it was shut. Daine grabbed the knob. It stung her hand, making her yelp. “Kit? This one’s magicked. Can you do anything?”
Kitten stood on her hind feet and peered into the lock, then whistled two cheerful notes. Nothing happened. She scowled and whistled again, less cheerfully, more as a demand. Nothing happened.
Daine was trying to decide what to do now when the dragon moved back and croaked. The lock popped from the wood to land at Daine’s feet, smoking, and the door swung open. Kitten muttered darkly and kicked the lock mechanism aside as she we
nt in. Daine followed, trying not to laugh.
I wish I could do that, remarked Scrap wistfully as she and Blueness brought up the rear.
Tristan’s suite was bigger than those granted to his fellow mages, the furnishings more expensive. The central room was where Scrap had brought her last time. A study and a bedroom opened onto it; a dressing room and privy opened onto the bedroom. Unlike the other mages, Tristan did not have his own workroom. There was no sign of a model of the valley in his study. Indeed, except for a few scrying crystals and assorted books, they found none of the tools commonly used to work magic.
“What are you doing here?” a shrill, furious voice demanded. Daine, Kitten, and the cats faced the unlocked door. Yolane, in a thin nightdress covered by a lace robe, stood there. “Where is Tristan?” With a sneer she added, “I should have guessed you’d be a thief.”
Daine put a hand on her bow. It was loaded, but she didn’t want to kill Maura’s sister. “I wouldn’t call names, if I was you,” she retorted.
Yolane backed up. “Tirell! Oram! Jemis! To me! Oram, on the double!”
Daine shook her head. “Yell all you like, they won’t come. They’re gone.”
“What do you mean, ‘gone’?”
“I mean it’s at an end—the king knows what you’re up to. The rebellion’s uncovered. You’ll never be queen.”
“Tristan!” called Yolane. “Gissa! Alamid?”
“They have more important things to do right now,” Daine told her. “The southern fort is burning. The ogres in the north are fighting the overseers. The mages went to deal with all that.”
“You—” Yolane’s face wasn’t so attractive, twisted as it was in rage and hate. She turned and ran.
Kitten whistled an inquiry. “We can’t,” Daine replied. “The model’s the important thing right now.” Mice! she called silently, and added a picture of the model. Have you seen this? Will you look for it?
All over the castle the mice stopped to think and answer. Soon she knew none of them had seen it. “I don’t understand,” she muttered. “It’s got to be somewhere. They haven’t seen anything like this bloodrain, either, and I know that has to be cooked in something.”
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