She wished that her mother or the king had said what kind of baby Aunt Daine had birthed. No one could even magically tell the child’s sex while it was in the womb. It had shifted both sex and shape constantly, pummeling poor Daine with everything from elephant feet to ostrich claws.
“I’m glad I’m not a shape-shifter,” she told the younger goats, who were grazing nearby. “Well, there are advantages, but having a baby doesn’t seem to be one of them.”
Aly was studying the map she had made the day before when a shadow momentarily blotted out the light on her tablet. She looked up, to see a lone crow gliding overhead. At last he landed on a rock nearby and stayed there, flicking his wingtips. It was the crow’s way to say, “This is my territory.” Aly saw the white streak that marked him as Nawat, by far the most encouraging of her crow teachers.
“Nawat, it’s too nice a day for more lessons,” she called to him. “Didn’t we do enough last night?”
Nawat hopped down beside her, still flicking his wingtips. Overhead Aly heard the voices of nine more crows. They flew toward the cut where the road led east, naming the things they saw, starting with calling Aly and her herd of animals possible food. They also identified Nawat, a badger in the rocks, the human-made wide trail through the barrier edge of the plateau, a herd of deer retreating to the mountain forests, and a lack of humans on the deer’s trail.
Aly was quite pleased with herself. She had understood every sound they made. “I must be the best student you ever had,” she remarked. Looking from the sky to Nawat, she saw the marked crow had opened her pack and was eating some of her bread.
“Now see here,” Aly began. Then she remembered that Kyprioth had promised the crows would be fed. “He better not have told you I’d supply food for all of you,” she complained. She picked up the roll he had picked at and tore it into pieces. Slowly she sat next to him and offered a piece with her fingers.
Nawat accepted the offering, stuffing it and the remaining bread into his large beak into the pouch under his tongue. Once his beak was full, he flew off. Aly dusted off her hands. “You’re welcome!” she shouted after the retreating bird. When he was gone from view she picked up the parchment tablet and got to work.
In the days that followed, crows flocked to Tanair in their family groups. Nawat led them to Aly so they would get a good look at her. Once they were all familiar with her, the crows spread out over the plateau, relaying what they saw back to Aly through messengers, or describing the land during her dream lessons. These came at night, when Aly learned their speech as the crows learned hers. In the morning Aly rushed to write down all the crows had told her, forming a rough picture of the plateau from their descriptions. Nawat was always there to help, day and night.
She was startled by the complexity of the crow language. She also enjoyed their company, both in her dreams and out in the fields. She had always liked the glossy black creatures. Like Kyprioth, they were tricksters, stealing laundry, causing dogs to chase them until the dogs were exhausted, and trying their luck by interfering with pigs at their meals. Now she found their wicked sense of humor extended to their dream conversations with her. Only Nawat would not tease Aly, by day or by night. She seemed to fascinate him.
While the sun was up, as the crows described what they saw in the distance, Aly familiarized herself with the nearby village and farms. She struck up conversations with bakers, smiths, mothers, and herders. She helped women to hang laundry and tugged stubborn clumps of weeds or large rocks from the paths of farmers’ ploughs. She held straps for harness makers and chased thieving dogs. The people were suspicious and wary of her. She expected that and didn’t force herself on them. The important thing was that they got used to seeing her around.
A week after her first encounter with Nawat, Aly was mapping the ground on the southwestern side of the road when he told her that people were coming. Aly thrust her tablet between two stones and grabbed the staff that was the only weapon she was permitted as a slave. A few moments later she heard the approach of horses.
It was Sarai and Dove, dressed for riding and flushed after a morning gallop. Behind them rode their bodyguards: Fesgao and another man-at-arms. The girls swung out of their saddles and shook the stiffness of a hard ride from their bodies.
“We thought you could use company,” Sarai remarked, unhooking a canteen from her belt. She opened it and drank greedily, letting water spill over her cheeks. If she was aware of the two men watching her, she gave no sign of it.
Aly looked at the girls. “Not to say that I’m not honored, my ladies, because I am, but it’s hardly fitting for you to come see the goatherd,” she pointed out in her best good-servant manner.
Dove sighed. “We’re desperate, Aly. If we have to work in the stillroom one more day, Sarai will bite someone’s head off. Then Papa would be disappointed in her. We thought a gallop would air us out.”
“I hate stillrooms,” grumbled Sarai as she took the saddle from her mare. Dove unsaddled her own mount. It seemed the girls planned to stay awhile. “If I have to stew up any more smelly plants, I will scream.” Sarai placed her horse’s blanket on the grass and sat on it. Aly watched Fesgao and his companion as they dismounted at a distance to leave the girls and Aly in relative privacy.
“Sarai is happier on horseback,” Dove explained. “I don’t mind mixing up spices and medicines, but it’s hard to concentrate when Sarai starts to mutter.”
Sarai plucked out the jeweled pins that held her coiled and braided hair in place. She set them in a pile beside her and pulled her heavy black hair out of its style as she lay back on the blanket. Once down, she arranged it in an ebony fan around her head. It was still wet from a morning’s wash. “You could take my place, Aly. I’m sure Rihani would be happy for you to work in the stillroom. I’ll tend goats.”
“My heart just stopped dead with anticipation,” asked Aly. “But no, I cannot leave the goats. They would bleat for me. I would hear their cries with the ears of my heart.”
“You weren’t really a maid, were you?” asked Dove. She had settled on a rock that overlooked the valley and the guards’ position. “You don’t talk like you were a maid.”
“I’m an educated one. Most of us Tortallan common-born are, these days.” Aly kept her eyes on her map as mentally she kicked herself. She could not act like her old self here. Just because there was no age difference between her and Sarai, and only four years between her and Dove, she could not treat them as equals. It didn’t matter that on her mother’s side her blood was far bluer than that of descendants of a ruffian lot who had invaded the Copper Isles scarcely three hundred years ago. “They insist on it. All children attend school for five years to learn to read and write and figure. The priest said I was his most promising student,” she added proudly, the country girl praised by an educated man.
“King Oron says that your king and queen will regret educating their people one day,” mused Sarai. She turned her face up to the sun. “An educated populace makes trouble, that’s what he thinks.”
And he’s as daft as a Stormwing, Aly thought. Aloud she said meekly, “It’s not my place to say, my lady.” Motion drew her attention as Nawat landed beside Sarai. He poked his beak through the shimmering heap of hairpins. “Lady Sarai, look out.”
Sarai sat up and yelped to find a crow so close to her. The bird snatched two jeweled pins and bounced back, steadying himself with his wings as the girl scrambled to her feet. “Give those back, you!” she cried, reaching for him. He leaped away again and again, leading Sarai on a chase across the grassy meadow. Aly gathered up the other hairpins before he returned for those as well.
“He’s not at all shy of humans,” Dove remarked from the rock where she sat, her arms clasped around her drawn-up knees.
“He isn’t a normal crow,” Aly admitted. She hid a smile. The crow jumped higher and higher each time Sarai lunged, but he never actually took flight. Aly knew he was tormenting the girl on purpose. “Perhaps he’s someone’s runa
way pet.”
“Oh, no,” Dove replied. “It’s illegal to keep crows as pets. Well, not illegal as in a law written in books, but the raka get really upset by it. Even luarin won’t defy the custom.”
“Why not?” Aly wanted to know. She knew two people at home who kept pet crows.
“They’re sacred to Kyprioth,” replied Dove. “Since tricksters have to be free to create mischief, the raka say it’s bad luck to the house to hold a crow against its will.”
“Well, nobody’s holding this fellow now,” Aly pointed out. “He just seems to have adopted me.”
“I give up,” Sarai told them, panting, as she returned. “He can keep them.” She collapsed on the blanket and fought to catch her breath. Aly wordlessly leaned over and poured the other pins into Sarai’s lap.
“Kyprioth will be pleased,” observed Dove. “He likes bright, shiny things, they say.” She looked at Aly as Sarai began to braid her hair once more. “Do you have other stories about Alanna the Lioness?”
A jerk of her hand left a smear of charcoal on Aly’s map. She painstakingly rubbed it off the parchment. Guilt flooded her veins as she remembered her mother’s worry in the dream. “Why such interest?” she asked, glad she didn’t blush easily. “I mean, forgive me, ladies, but I can see why the little ones are interested. All that fighting, and adventure. Children love heroic stories. You aren’t children.”
“It isn’t just children who need heroes,” Sarai replied, shocked. “Don’t you see what she’s done for women, for all women? The Lioness, your queen, Lady Knight Keladry, they’re living proof that we have a warrior spirit, too, that it hasn’t been bred out of the luarin blood. The Lioness is a true hero. She protected her country when no one else could, man or woman. Mithros, she found the Dominion Jewel, she’s killed giants and monsters to defend those who can’t fight them! That proves that we can do things men do. Not in the same way, perhaps, but we can still do them!”
“Everybody needs heroes, Aly,” Dove added. “Everybody. Even grown women. Even slaves.”
Aly looked at the younger girl. Dove’s small, dark face was alive with enthusiasm. Keen intelligence shone in her dark eyes, and fire burned in her tawny cheeks. Something about her reminded Aly of the Lioness herself, though she would be hard put to name it. “Even the raka, my lady?” she asked.
“Especially the raka,” Sarai told Aly.
Dove shrugged. “There’s room enough in the Isles for both peoples, if only everyone could be brought to see as much.”
Fesgao approached them and bowed. “My ladies, it is almost noon. Your father will be concerned.”
Groaning, Sarai and Dove got to their feet, saddled their mounts, and rode away. Dove turned in the saddle just before they reached the road, and waved goodbye to Aly.
The dust had settled from their departure when Nawat returned. He walked over to Aly and dropped the two jeweled hairpins into Aly’s lap. She grimaced and wiped crow saliva from the pins.
“Thank you, but slaves don’t own jewels,” she told him. “I would get in trouble if I’m caught with these. I’ll give them back to Sarai. But it’s sweet of you to want to give me a present, though,” she said hurriedly. Without thinking, she reached out and ran a hand along the crow’s glossy back. “I’m sorry,” she said, pulling away. “I forgot you’re wild. I didn’t mean anything by it.”
Nawat climbed onto her lap and gently ran his beak through Aly’s growing hair. She closed her eyes, relaxing in the sun.
Hours passed. Gray clouds slid across the sky while Aly, Nawat and the goats prowled the countryside. By late afternoon rain began to fall. Aly wrapped her map book in oiled cloth, whistled the goats in, and led them home. Nawat flew overhead, perching under the roof of a village barn as Aly took her charges through the castle gate. She was soaked clean through. She wanted nothing more than dry clothes and a hot meal.
She put the goats in their outer courtyard pen. Entering the inner courtyard, she found the slaves and the six former bandits huddled under the eaves of the barracks and the kitchen. All stared miserably at the sky. The rain showed no sign of letting up. Unless they found room in the stable, they would have to eat in the wet, doing their best to keep rain out of their bowls.
The door to the keep opened to frame Duke Mequen, flanked by his duchess and Ulasim. “This is ridiculous,” he said. “All of you, come into the hall. We’ll manage for tonight, but I’ll see to it that we get more tables and benches for the future. From now on, this household eats together.”
“The servants won’t like that,” Lokeij murmured in Aly’s ear.
She looked at the old hostler. “They’ll learn to live with it, I suppose,” she replied. “Somebody told me that’s how it used to be done in older castles—the household ate and slept all together. It’s only been the last two centuries that nobles took quarters of their own and the servants had a separate hall to sleep in.”
Lokeij gripped the back of Aly’s neck with a friendly hand. “A word of advice. Slaves aren’t so knowledgeable about history,” he murmured. “Not raka slaves, not luarin slaves, unless you’ve been specially educated and sold as a tutor. Are you a tutor?”
Aly smiled at him. “That’s so sweet,” she replied. “My da always said my brains were too big for my head.”
Lokeij looked into her face, his rheumy dark eyes inspecting her almost pore by pore. “If I were you, little parrot, I’d rub dirt in my bright feathers and work harder to pass for a sparrow,” he said.
Aly spread her tunic, streaked with grass and mud stains. “The goats have taken care of that, don’t you think? I’m sparrowing already. Chirp. Tweet.” She winked at him and entered the castle. She wanted to change to her spare set of dry clothes before supper and to return Sarai’s hairpins.
That night, when she dreamed her crow lessons, Nawat was not there. Instead the senior female crow took over. In addition to teaching Aly new sounds and hearing Aly’s explanation of sounds and behaviors made by humans, she introduced Aly to the new crows who had come to Tanair.
Aly saw no sign of her friend the next day, either. She heard and easily interpreted the calls of the crows, but Nawat had become company for her, out alone with the goats. She missed him as she took shelter under a tree from the daylong drizzle. With Nawat to talk to, she wouldn’t have been so aware of the cold and damp. To warm up she tried some of the hand-to-hand combat exercises she had learned, but soon found that mud and wet grass made for tricky footing. More often than not she went sprawling, which amused both the goats and the crows.
When she returned to the castle at the end of the day, she found that long tables and benches had been placed in the main hall. There was an order to the seating. The duke and his family were on the dais, near the big hearth. The servants were arrayed at a long table set at right angles to the left of the dais. The men-at-arms who were not on duty took their seats at the first long table to the right. The slaves had lower tables—those with special skills like carpentry and smithcraft on the right, with the soldiers, general slaves like Aly, and the slave maids on the table below the free servants.
The new arrangement did not sit well with everyone, particularly the free luarin servants and the men-at-arms who had come with the family from Rajmuat. Ulasim and the fifteen other full- and part-blood raka seemed perfectly comfortable. Aly was just happy to be warm, dry, and sitting down.
Once the weather cleared up the next day, Dove and Sarai began regular visits with Aly after they and their guards took a morning ramble through the country around their new home. Sometimes they brought Petranne and taught the four-year-old to ride her pony, as her guard guided it on a lead rein.
Aly welcomed their company, particularly since Nawat had not returned, neither in her dreams nor during the day. She soon saw that, on the older girls’ part, her attraction lay in her stories of Tortall, those too bloody or full of bedroom gossip for Petranne and Elsren. In exchange, Aly extracted Isles gossip from her visitors. Sarai knew most of the luari
n and raka nobility, as she had been presented at court. Her descriptions of life there were precise, cutting, and without illusions. Dove seemed to have spent her time in Rajmuat in different circles, among the capital’s intellectuals and more worldly merchants, studying politics, trade, and the affairs of foreign nations.
The more time she spent with those girls, the more respect Aly had for them. They would have been at home in the circle of clever, observant women that were Aly’s adoptive aunts. More than once Aly caught Dove eyeing her after she’d asked a question that a slave might not be expected to ask. She had to wonder if Dove, at least, did not suspect there was much more to Aly than a metal ring around her neck.
Sometimes the Balitangs stayed long enough to eat lunch with Aly. More often they visited for a short time before they returned to the castle and the duties Winnamine had set for them. With only a fifth of the servants who’d worked at the Rajmuat house, every member of the family was now required to help with chores. Mequen met with villagers, supervised repairs to the walls, and oversaw the building of new sheds and sleeping quarters within the castle walls. Sarai and Winnamine plied their needles, not on ladylike embroidery and tapestry work, but on plain sewing for the household. Dove, who loathed needlework, worked in the stillroom and learned to spin. When the older girls described their labors to Aly, they spoke as if work were an adventure. Aly hoped they would feel the same when winter made it impossible to leave the castle.
Twice a merchant caravan came to Tanair with supplies. On both visits Aly saw the merchants reach the Balitang lands through the road in the rocks. The crows warned her ahead of time so that she could look over the merchants and decide if they were a threat or not. They were always welcomed at village and castle, both for the items they carried and for the news of the realm.
Two weeks after her arrival at Tanair, Aly was drowsing in the late morning sun when the crows set up a racket that made her jump to her feet and draw the stolen knife from her waistband. She couldn’t tell what they were saying—none of their sounds were those she had been taught. Skeins of shrieking birds flew by, bound for the southern road, where they circled and dove at a man who walked there.
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