Hawkmistress!

by Marion Zimmer Bradley

  But at last he sighed and turned away. He said, "A good Festival to you, lad," and gave Romilly a rough hug. "If it's too cold here in the stable, you can sleep in Dom Carlo's bed, no one will know the difference."

  "I think I should stay near the birds," Romilly said, avoiding his gaze. It was not that she did not trust him, exactly; she had lived in camp among them, and if her real sex had not yet been discovered, he was unlikely to discover it now, even should they share a sleeping room. And if he should - she discovered that she felt shaky and weak when she thought about that - Orain was not a cristoforo and would not be bound by their Creed of Chastity - she had heard stories all her life, of how licentious were the lowlanders and the Hali'imyn - but somehow she could not imagine that he would attempt to force himself upon her. Still, she was uncomfortable at his touch, and pulled away as quickly as she could, remembering the dream she had had ... in the dream he had held and caressed her as if she was the woman he did not know her to be. ...

  She burrowed into the hay, still a little dizzied with the wine she had drunk, and after a time she slept. She dreamed, as she had dreamed before, that she was flying on the wings of hawk or sentry-bird, that there was someone flying at her side, who spoke to her in Orain's voice, and drowsily caressed her . . . she sank into the dream, never thinking to resist...

  She came abruptly awake in the half-light, hearing the clamor of bells - was it some observance of the cristoforo monks for the Festival? She sat up to see Orain, white as death, standing at the door of the little chamber.

  "Rumal, lad! Is Dom Carlo with you? This is no time for modesty-"

  "Dom Carlo? I have not seen him in days! What do you mean, Orain?"

  "There was a time-no, I see you know not even what I mean. Damnation!" He staggered, reeled against the wall. "I hoped against hope - it cannot be that he has been taken! Aldones grant he has already been warned and made his escape - listen!" He gestured and again she heard the alarm-bell ringing. "We have been betrayed, someone has recognized him, or recognized me - I knew he should not have ventured down there today!" He swore, striking the wall with his fist. "Quick, up, boy, search the guest-house! They know that where I appear, Carolin - or his men - cannot be far away! And while the Father Master might not violate sanctuary, I would not trust the Hastur-lord to keep it, not if the Lord of Light appeared before his nose and bade him."

  Orain was dead sober now; he looked ill and haggard, his gaunt face sunken, but his eyes blazing with anger.

  "That child of Lyondri's - did he babble, do you think, to his playfellows? Lyondri's son - like dog, like pup! I'd run the boy through with my skean and think the world a safer place lest the whelp grow up like his abominable father!"

  Romilly shrank back and Orain scowled. "No, I'd not harm a child, not even Lyondri's, I suppose - get your boots on, boy! We must make haste out of here, out of the city - if we are caught here, none of our lives are worth a feather's weight! Go and call - no, I will rouse Alaric and the others! You make the horses ready."

  It seemed suddenly as if Dom Carlo's face swam in the air before her - but he was not there! Still it seemed she could hear him saying to her, Bring the birds, go through the monastery to the highest gate, to the secret pass above the hidden cells on the glacier.

  "Move, lad!" Orain snarled, "What are you staring at?" Her voice shaking, Romilly repeated Dom Carlo's words. "He was here, I heard him; his very voice-"

  "Dreams," Orain said, jerking his head impatiently, and it seemed that Carlo's voice said in Romilly's mind, Bid him remember a certain belt of red leather over which we fought and bloodied both our noses.

  Romilly caught at Orain's sleeve as he turned to go. "I swear, Orain, I heard Dom Carlo - something of a red leather belt over which you both bloodied your noses."

  Orain blinked. He made a quick, superstitious gesture. Then he said, "You have laran; no? I thought as much. Aye, that belt was a jest between us for a hand-span of years. I will go rouse the men. Make ready, as quick as you can."

  Romilly found that her hands were steady as she got the saddles on the animals, wrapped herself in the cloak that had been Orain's Midwinter-gift - grateful for the fur lining - and stuffed a couple of saddlebags with grain and fodder for the riding-beasts and another with the smelly food for the sentry-birds. She hooded them - it would have been impossible to handle them in the middle of the night this way without rousing the whole monastery, but hooded they would at least be quiet - and fastened their blocks to her own saddle and to Orain's, and gave the third to Alaric's chervine.

  After a bit she looked up and found Alaric working at her side. "Some bastard betrayed us," he said shakily, listening to the distant clamor of bells - it was growing nearer and nearer now, "They're searching the city house to house, when the time comes they reach the monastery, they'll search every cranny, the monk's cells, the very chapel! What is it, lad, you know Orain's counsel - are we to ride them down at the gates?"

  "I am not in their counsels," Romilly said, "But something of a secret gate at the highest part-"

  "And while we waste time looking for the secret paths, Lyondri's men find us and I dance on a rope's end?" demanded Alaric. Romilly said steadily, "I do not think Dom Carlo will abandon us like that. Trust him."

  "Aye; but the vai dom is Hastur, when all's done, and blood's thicker than wine, they say.. .." Alaric grumbled.

  "Alaric!" she turned round to him, shocked beyond speech. After a moment she found her voice and said, "Surely you can't believe Carlo would side with the Hastur-lord against - Well, - against us, and Orain-"

  "Well, not against Orain," he said, "Get that saddle on, boy, if there's a chance...but how do I know? Likely ye're of the gentlefolk yourself. . . ." his voice trailed away, uncertain.

  "Finish with the saddling, and don't talk nonsense," she said sharply. "Will you lift that grain-bag to the saddle? I can't lift it alone-"

  He helped her to hoist the heavy pack to the back of the chervine, and led the beast out of the stable. A hand seized her wrist in a hard grip and she started to cry out before, not knowing how, she recognized Orain's grip, even in the darkness.

  "This way," he whispered, and, knowing his voice even in the silenced whisper, she relaxed and let him lead them into the dark passageway. She heard the other men, trying to move silently, only small creaks and rustles; someone bashed a toe against a rock wall and cursed softly. Then, she heard a soft childish voice.

  "My lord Orain-"

  "Ah - it's you, ye devil's pup-"

  Caryl cried out, a muffled squeak. "I won't hurt you," he said, gasping - Romilly could not see in the dark, but sensed, from the pain in the small voice, that Orain had grabbed him harshly. "No, I only - I meant to guide you on the secret path - I don't want my father to find the vai dom - he will be angry, but-"

  "Let him go, Orain," Romilly muttered, "he's telling the truth!"

  "Ah - I'll trust your laran, boy," said Orain, and she heard a little whimper of relief as, evidently, he loosed his punishing grip on the child. "A path you know? Lead us. But if you play us false-" he added through clenched teeth, "Child or no, I'll run my skean into you."

  They followed through the narrow passage, crowding together, bumping, the sentry-birds making uneasy squealing noises in the darkness. Someone cursed in an undertone and Romilly saw the flash of flint on steel, but Orain commanded harshly, "Put that out!" and the light subsided, with someone grumbling and swearing.

  "Silence," Alaric commanded harshly, and there was no sound except the uneasy sounds of animals crowded in the narrow stone passages. There was a place where they had to go single file in the dark and one of the loaded chervines stuck between the stone walls. Alaric and one of the other men had to off-load the beast, hastily, swearing in whispers, while they hauled and shoved. Later they came to a place where the air was bad, coming up as if from the sulphurous center of the earth, and even Romilly could not stifle her coughing. Caryl murmured, "I am sorry - this is only a little bit, but watc
h your steps here, there are cracks and fissures, someone might break a leg."

  Romilly groped her way along in the dark, scuffling her feet slowly against the possibility of an unseen crack underfoot. At last they were all through, and there was a breath of icy air from the glacier, a little riffling wind, and they stood out of doors in chilly starlight. The pallid face of a single moon, the tiny pearl-colored Mormallor, hung just above the hill, hardly bright enough to lighten the darkness at all; and underfoot was pale slippery ice.

  "No one travels this path," whispered Caryl, "except for a few of the brothers who practice their mastery of the ordeals by living here, naked, and even if they knew you were here, they would not know or care who you were, they think only of the things of the heavenly realms, not of kings and wars. But oh, go carefully, my lords - there are dangers-"

  "What dangers?" demanded Alaric, grabbing his throat Caryl squeaked softly, but did not cry out.

  "No dangers of man; banshee-birds live here, though our Brothers have a pact with them, as they say the holy Saint Valentine-of-the-Snows had a pact when he preached to them and called them God's little brothers."

  "You led us into a nest of banshee-birds, ye devil's pup?" Alaric demanded, but Orain said, "Let him go, damn you, man; touch the boy again and I'll give you something you'll remember! The banshees are not of his calling, he thought to warn us, which is more than even the Father Master thought to do!"

  "Take your hands from the boy, Alaric! Are you mad?" demanded a new voice, and Dom Carlo stood among them. Romilly did not see from whence he had come; he was simply there. Later she realized he must have come through another secret tunnel or path, but at the moment it was as if he jumped up among them like magic. Caryl gave a little startled cry; Romilly's eyes were adjusting to the darkness now, and she could see the child's face. He held out his arms to Dom Carlo for a kinsman's embrace, saying simply, "Uncle. I am glad you are safe."

  "It makes my heart glad to know you are not my enemy," said Carlo, not as if he spoke to a child, but as if he spoke to another noble, his equal in rank and age. He kissed the boy on either cheek. "Walk in the Light, lad, till we meet again."

  "Vai dom-" Caryl's young high voice suddenly wavered, "I am your friend, not your enemy. But - I beg you - if my father is in your hands - spare him for my sake-"

  Dom Carlo held Caryl's shoulders gently between his hands. He said, "I wish I could promise you that, son. I do swear this, by the Lord of Light, whom I serve as you the Bearer of Burdens; I will make no quarrel with Lyondri while he makes none with me. For the rest, I will hope with all my heart that Lyondri stays afar from me; I wish him far less ill than he wishes me. He was once my friend, and the quarrel was none of my making." He kissed Caryl again, and released him. "Now get you back to your bed, child, before your father hears that you have been abroad this night, or Father Master seeks to punish you, May the Gods walk with you, chiyu."

  "And with you, my lord." Caryl turned and started back into the dark mouth of the passage. Then Alaric grabbed him around the waist. He struggled, but one quick blow from Alaric sent him sagging softly, with a little sigh, into the man's arms.

  "Are you mad, vai dom?' he demanded, "Lyondri's own son in our hands for hostage, and you'd let him free? With this whelp in our hands, we could bargain our way out of Rakhal's very clutches, to say nothing of being secure against Lyondri Hastur!"

  "And you would reward him like this for guiding us to safety?" Romilly cried in outrage, but Alaric's face was hard and set.

  "You're a fool, boy. And you too, under favor, my lords," he said to Orain and Dom Carlo. "The boy may have led us honestly - who'd seek to distrust a little one with angel face like this? But his elders have laran even if he means us no harm, how do we know they haven't trailed us through the boy's laran! I won't hurt the least hair on his head, but he stays with us till we're safe from glacier and Lyondri's men! We can leave him in Caer Bonn, or some such place!"

  "If you've hurt him-" Dom Carlo said with soft menace, and Romilly hoped his wrath would never be turned on her. He felt the boy's forehead. "I wouldn't reward the child's loyalty like this! But we can't leave him here unconscious, to die of the cold," he added. "Bring him with you, then, if you must; we dare not delay for him to recover. But you'll hear of this after, Alaric," he said angrily, and turned his back on the man. "Set the boy on one of the horses, and you, young Rumal," he added, beckoning to Romilly, "Ride behind him, for he cannot keep his saddle as he is now, and I am reluctant to tie him as if he were a prisoner. Now come, make haste!"

  The limp unconscious form of Caryl was lifted into the saddle and Romilly, mounting behind him, had all she could do to hold the child from falling on the uneven, icy path. They went upward and upward in silence, with no sound but the small, uneasy cries of the hooded sentry-birds. Riding in the dark, holding Caryl, small and limp, in her arms, Romilly thought of Rael, sleeping against her shoulder; missed him, sharply and with bitterness. Would she ever see her little brother again?

  The narrow path was steep, so steep that Romilly had to lean forward in the saddle as they climbed; it was narrow, and icy underfoot, and it was all she could do to hold Caryl's

  unconscious weight against her so that he would not fall from the saddle. But the men, too, had all they could do to manage the nervous chervines and the sentry-birds, who were uneasy, and, even hooded, kept making little squealing sounds and trying to flap their wings and hop around restlessly on their blocks. This made horses and chervines even more nervous; she wondered what their sharper senses saw, and would have tried rapport to find out, but it was all she could do, on the steep path, to hold herself and the unconscious child in the saddle without falling.

  Once there sounded a high screaming wail, a paralyzing sound that seemed to turn Romilly's blood to ice. Her horse started and snorted nervously under her, and she fought to control it. The sentry-birds fidgeted on their blocks, flapping their wings in panic. Romilly had never heard such a cry before, but she needed no one to tell her what it was; the cry of a banshee, the huge flightless birds who lived above the snow-line; all but blind, but sensing the body warmth of anything that lived, and their powerful claws that could disembowel horse or man with a single stroke. And it was night, when they actually could see a little, blind as they were in the light of the red sun. Their terrible cries, she had heard, were intended to paralyze prey with fright; hearing it now in the distance, she hoped she would never actually see one.

  At the sound Caryl made a small pained noise and stirred, his hands going up to feel the lump on his head. The movement made the horse startle; his hooves all but slipped on the icy path. Romilly bent forward and whispered urgently, "It's all right, but you must be quiet; the road is dangerous just here, and if you frighten the horse, he may fall - and so would we. Be still, Caryl."

  "Mistress Romilly?" he whispered, and she said crossly "Hush!" He subsided, looking up at her. Her eyes had adjusted now to the darkness so that she could see his small frightened face. Still gingerly feeling the lump at his temple, he blinked and she hoped he would not cry.

  He whispered, "How did I get here? What happened?" And then, remembering, "Someone hit me!" He sounded more surprised than angry. She supposed that he, a pampered lowland child, had never been struck before, that no one had spoken to him other than gently. She held him tight in her arms.

  "Don't be afraid," she whispered, "I won't let them hurt you." She knew, as she said it, that if Alaric offered any further violence to the child she would set herself between them.

  He wriggled himself into a more comfortable position on the saddle; now that he could sit upright, and was no longer a dead weight who must be held to keep him from falling, it was easier to control her horse.

  "Where are we?" he whispered.

  "On the road to which you guided us; Dom Carlo brought you with us because he could not leave you lying unconscious to die of the cold, but he means you no harm. Alaric wanted you as a hostage; but Orain won't let him
hurt you again."

  "Lord Orain has always been kind to me," said Caryl after a moment, "even when I was very small. I wish my father had not quarreled with him. And Father Master will be very angry with me."

  "It wasn't your fault."

  "Father Master says whatever happens to us is always our fault, one way or another," said the child, keeping his voice low, "If we have not deserved it in this life, we have certainly done so in another. If it is good we have earned it and may enjoy it, but if it is bad, we must also believe that somehow we have deserved the bad too, and it is not always easy to know which is which. I am not sure what that means," he added naively, "but he said I would understand when I was older."

  "Then I must be very young too," said Romilly, unable to keep back a laugh - talking elevated cristoforo philosophy on this dangerous road, with the king's men, for all they knew, hard at their heels! "For I confess I do not understand it at all."

  Orain heard the laugh; he pulled his horse aside and waited for them to come up with bun, where the path widened just a fraction. "Are you awake, young Caryl?"

  "I wasn't asleep," the boy protested, scowling, "Somebody hit me!"

  'True," said Orain seriously, "And he has heard about it, believe me, from Dom Carlo. But now, I fear, you must ride with us to Caer Donn; you cannot possibly return alone over this road. I would have trusted you not to betray us willfully, but I know from old that Lyondri has laran and might read in your thoughts which way we had gone. I give you my word, which, unlike your father, I have never broken, that when we reach Caer Donn you will be sent back to him under a flag of truce. He-" with an eloquent shrug of his caped shoulder, he indicated Dom Carlo, riding ahead, "wishes you no ill. But in this company I should warn you to guard your tongue."