The Eagle And The Nightingales bv-3

by Mercedes Lackey

  He had not been the only visitor, but Harperus' second guest had come as the bearer of bad tidings.

  The Captain of the Bodyguards left them after delivering his unwelcome news, and if a mans retreating back could signal chagrin, profound embarrassment, and disgust with a situation, his did.

  It well should have.

  "I cannot believe this!" T'fyrr exploded, once the Captain was out of the suite and out of earshot. Harperus shrugged, philosophically, from the shelter of his huge bed. The bruise on his forehead had faded to an unpleasant pale green and brown, and on the whole he was doing well. But the effects of the self-healing trance_and the exhaustion of handling what had probably been a cracked skull as well as a concussion_were longer-lasting than either of them had anticipated.

  "I had actually expected something like this," the Deliambren said with a sigh. "I didn't want to say anything, lest I be seen to imply that Theovere's people are less than competent, but I was holding my breath over it. If a man can be spirited away from a locked and guarded room in the Palace, surely the city gaols are no more secure."

  T'fyrr only snarled, and his talons scraped across the floor as he flexed his feet angrily.

  No sooner had the man Harperus identified been arrested, taken into custody, and turned over to a city gaol, than he was free again. This time it was nothing so obvious as a guard being seduced. No, the man escaped from a locked and barred cell, and a lace handkerchief had been left in his place.

  It seemed that their mysterious female adversary was not above taunting them.

  Damn her. Whoever she is. She had to be someone either in high Court circles herself, or with connections there. There was no other way that she could have known that the man had been arrested, much less that he had been taken to a particular city gaol. There were three main gaols, after all, and a dozen lesser ones, never mind the many Church gaols; he could have been in any of them.

  "And the King has not called for you once since my attack." Harperus pursed his lips unhappily. "He was displeased by Nightingale? Or is he displeased with your performances?"

  "Not at all," T'fyrr replied bitterly. "He made a point of thanking her for coming the day after you were attacked. No, the reason is that he has a new toy to intrigue him; I am no longer a novelty. I have been subverted, it seems, by my good friend Lord Atrovel."

  Harperus raised an eyebrow. "I had heard nothing of this," he said. "What new toy? And I thought Lord Atrovel liked you!"

  T'fyrr sighed and flexed his feet again. "He does_but he cannot resist a challenge, and the head of the Manufactory Guild set him one. Do you recall that box of yours that plays music? The one that Theovere has hinted he would like?"

  "The one that we will not give him because taking it apart would give these people too many secrets we do not want them to have?" Harperus responded. "Only too well. Why? What of it?"

  "That is what Lord Atrovel was challenged to reproduce," T'fyrr told his friend sourly. "And he did it, too."

  As Harperus' eyebrows shot toward his hairline, T'fyrr amended the statement. "It is not a recording device, nor is it small enough to sit on a table. It would fill_oh, a quarter of the room here. It is entirely mechanical, mostly of clockwork so far as I can tell, entirely human-made, and requires a page to push pedals with his feet, around and around, to power it." He brooded on his mechanical rival. "I suppose it is a kind of superior music-box. It has more than one instrument though, and three puppets to simulate playing them. There is an enameled bird_much prettier than I_that 'sings' the tunes, accompanied by a puppet harpist, flute player, and a puppet that plays an instrument made of tuned bells. It is all instrumental, of course_which means no awkward lyrics to remind Theovere of much of anything."

  "You've seen it, then?" Harperus asked.

  "How not? It was presented in open Court two days after your injury, with more ceremony than you made with me." T'fyrr stopped flexing his feet; he was cutting gouges in the floor. "It plays exactly one hundred of Theovere's favorite songs, which he can select at will."

  Harperus looked impressed in spite of himself. "I had not thought they had that much ability."

  T'fyrr only ground his beak. "It was pointedly said during the presentation that the device will always play exactly whatever song is desired, and play it in precisely the same way, every single time. This, I suppose, to contrast it with me, who may not cooperate in the choice of music, who sometimes sings things that make Theovere uncomfortable, and who never sings the same song in the same way twice in a row."

  Harperus pondered the implications of that. "Theovere may be tiring of the novelty of working against his Advisors; he may be recalling that responsibility is work."

  "And he may be weary of hearing me sing about those who take their responsibilities seriously." T'fyrr sighed. "I did not want to tell you about this, but since Theovere still seems enamored with his toy, I am afraid that I have been supplanted for the foreseeable future. I have not precisely been demoted from my rank, but I am no longer a novelty even with Nightingale to accompany me. I have not been called for in more than a week."

  Harperus rubbed his temple for a moment, his face creased with worry. "I am not certain that I care for the timing of all this. Within a day of the attacks on both of us, the Manufactory Guild presents Theovere with a new toy? Does that indicate anything rather nasty to you?"

  "That they thought either one or both of us might be removed from play and had their own distraction ready?" T'fyrr countered. "Of course it occurred to me. It could simply be good timing on their part, however_or they could have been holding this toy back, waiting for the best opportunity to present it. There is no point in assuming a conspiracy_but there is no point in discounting one, either. I wish that you were in place to collect Court gossip. It would be nice to know one way or another."

  Harperus picked fretfully at the comforter covering his body. "And here I am, incapacitated. Trust me, Tyladen is doing all he can; he has responsibilities you are not aware of. He is not a coward, he simply cannot do his job and mine as well."

  "I will believe it if you say it," T'fyrr told him finally. "Though I doubt you would get Nightingale to believe it; she is not terribly fond of Tyladen and has called him a spider sitting snug in a safe web more than once. I am not sure she cares for Deliambrens at all, right now; Tyladen hasn't done much about the troubles in Lyonarie, either. I have more bad news from outside the Palace, I am afraid. There is more unrest in the city. The situation is deteriorating for nonhumans: more beatings, slogans written on the walls of nonhuman homes and businesses, vandalism, gang ambushes outside Freehold."

  "More attacks?" Harperus started to get up, and fell back against his pillows again, turning a stark white. "Damn!" he swore, with uncharacteristic vehemence. "Why must I be confined to my bed at a time like this?"

  T'fyrr only shook his head. "I have been spending more and more time in Freehold with Nightingale. We have been trying to do what we can with the tools at our disposal. At least there we can do some good; our music is heard, and the message in it."

  "You are preaching to the choir," Harperus reminded him. "No one goes into Freehold that is not on the side of the nonhumans."

  T'fyrr could not reply to that; he knew only too well that it was true. But the message he and Nightingale were placing in their music was a complicated one, and one he thought would have some effect on those who might otherwise not take a stand but would rather stand aside. He hoped, anyway. There were plenty of those, visitors to Freehold out of curiosity, or those who only came occasionally.

  It may be that what they need is a leader, and one has not stepped forward thus far. I had hoped Tyladen would be that leader, but I fear he is a weak branch to land that eyas on. Harperus would, but he is not physically able. Which leaves_us. I could do with a better prospect.

  "I must go," he said finally. "I'll probably be staying there tonight again. It's safer than flying back, even after dark. I'll tell Nob to come here and help you, as usua
l."

  At least Nob would be safer with Harperus than alone in T'fyrr's suite, especially now that Harperus had raided his traveling-wagon for more protective devices. Tyladen had actually ventured out of Freehold to fetch the mechanisms and to set them up in Harperus' room_while Old Owl was well enough in mind and spirit after his ordeal, he needed someone to look after him. So Nob could be useful and protected by staying with the Deliambren. Right now, T'fyrr would be much happier if he were working alone_but since that was impossible, better to get those who were not flying the attack under cover of the trees.

  "Thank you," Harperus said with real gratitude. "The boy is an endless help. I'm thinking of checking where he came from and offering to purchase his services if he hasn't any parents about. We can use young humans like him in the Fortress-City."

  "What, in your_ah, what did you call it? The 'exchange program'?" T'fyrr asked, getting up from his stool. "He'd be good there; he has an open mind, and a clever one, and I have to keep restraining him from taking apart your devices to see how they work."

  Harperus held up a hand just as T'fyrr began to walk toward the door. "Wait a moment, please. You and Nightingale_" he began.

  What? Is he going to try to interfere there now? I think not!

  T'fyrr shook his head and began an annoyed retort, but Harperus waved his hand before he could begin to form it.

  "No, no, I don't mean to tell you to leave her alone_dear Stars, that's the last thing I'd want for either of you!" T'fyrr relaxed a little at that, and Harperus continued, with an expression of concern on his face. "I just want to know if_if you are weathering these stresses as a couple. I want to know that the two of you are still together and not being torn apart by the situation."

  "Better than we would alone," T'fyrr said softly. "Much, much better than we would alone. She is the one unreservedly good thing that has happened to me since I came here. I tell her so, at least twice a day."

  Harperus smiled, his odd eyes warming with the smile. "Good. Good. I feel rather paternal about both of you, you know. I have known her for most of her life_and if it were not for me, you would not be in the Twenty Kingdoms at all." He hesitated a moment, as if deciding whether or not to say something, then continued. "I want you to know that whatever I can do for both of you, I will. You have both been involved in situations you would never have had to deal with if it were not for me. I am very, very pleased that the two of you have found happiness in each other."

  T'fyrr looked down on the Deliambren, sensing nothing there but sincerity. "I think I knew that," he said finally. "But thank you anyway." He shook himself, rousing all his feathers, and bits of fluff and feather sheath flew through the air. "Now I must go. Nightingale is waiting, and we have work in the city, even if I have none here."

  Harperus nodded, and T'fyrr took himself out, via Harperus' balcony. It was safer that way; he no longer trusted even the corridors and hallways of the Palace.

  He no longer made a target of himself by flying low over the city; he gained altitude while he was still over the Palace grounds, taking himself quickly out of the range of conventional weaponry. He would drop down out of the sky in a stoop, once he was directly over Freehold, landing on the roof, though never twice in exactly the same place. He hoped that this made him less of a target for projectiles from the other roofs, although a skilled hunter could probably track him in and hit him_

  He tried not to think about that. He was no longer the only target in this city. He had not wanted to worry Harperus further by giving him details of the troubles in Lyonarie, but it was no longer safe for most nonhumans to walk alone in certain districts even by day_and by night, they must not only go in large groups, but they must go armed with such weapons as the laws permitted them. Some of them had gotten immensely clever with weighted clubs, tough leather jackets, and things that could legitimately be considered their "tools."

  They were harassed and attacked by pairs and large gangs of bravos armed with clubs. There had been no deaths_yet_but at least a hundred males, two dozen females, and a handful of children of various nonhuman races had wound up with broken bones or concussions. That was not even detailing the beatings that left only bruises, or simple harassment or vandalism.

  Nor was Harperus' attacker the only escapee from justice in the King's gaols; even when attackers and vandals were identified and brought to justice, the very next day they would no longer be in the gaol. Some were released "by accident," some released when other parties posted bonds, and some simply slipped away.

  There were ugly rumors in the streets, making even ordinary folk look angry whenever nonhumans were mentioned. One of those rumors claimed that the Manufactory Guild planned to release all of the human workers and import nonhumans, since they were not subject to the laws of the Church. As miserable as working conditions were inside those buildings, apparently having any job was better than being out of work, and the folk who filled those mills and tended the machinery were looking blackly at any nonhuman who crossed their paths.

  Other rumors were wilder, less believable, yet some people believed them: that the nonhumans had a new religion that required each new initiate to sacrifice a human child and eat it; that they were spreading diseases deliberately among the humans to weaken or kill them, softening up Lyonarie for future conquest; that the Deliambrens were going to bring in a huge, invulnerable, flying ship and from it lay waste to the Twenty Kingdoms, turning each of the kingdoms over to a specific nonhuman race and making the humans into slaves.

  As if we'd want humans as slaves. They'd make poor slaves; not as strong as a Mintak, not as versatile as a Jrrad, not as obedient as a Fenboi. They are too self-determined, strong-willed and clever to be slaves. The spirit that makes them poor slaves is what makes them good friends.

  T'fyrr reached the top of his arc, turned, and plunged downward again, his goal a tiny speck among the rest of the rooftops below him. Wind rushed past his face, tore at his feathers, thundered in his ears; he brought the nictating membranes over his eyes to protect them. At this speed, striking a gnat or a speck of dust could bring much pain and temporary blindness.

  That last rumor was interesting, since it had just enough truth to supply a seed for the falsehood. The Deliambrens were bringing in a huge flying ship; the platform from which they were doing their intensive survey. It wasn't armed, couldn't be armed, in fact, nor was it invulnerable. It leaked air like a sieve, and couldn't go much higher than treetop level. But it did exist, and to the ignorant, it must look frightening enough. It was certainly larger than most villages and many small towns, and the vast array of nonhumans swarming over it might be taken for an army. The strange surveying instruments often looked like weapons, and the engines that bore it up in the air did sometimes flatten things below. That was one of the reasons for getting the High King's blanket permission to mount the expedition; to keep people from panicking at the sight of it, thinking it was a military operation.

  As for turning humans into nonhuman slaves, now that was a clever twisting of the truth, since that was precisely what some of the humans were trying to do to the nonhumans in their midst.

  The Law of Degree would do that very nicely.

  The rooftop of Freehold rushed up toward him, filling his vision; he flared his wings at the last possible moment, and the air wrenched them open as if they'd been grabbed by a giant and pulled apart. He flipped forward in midair, extending his legs toward the rooftop as he flared his tail as an additional brake. His feet touched the surface; he collapsed his wings and dropped down into a protective crouch, glaring all around him for possible enemies.

  As usual, there weren't any. As usual, he was not willing to take the chance that there might be some.

  Neither was Nightingale. She slipped out of the shelter of one of the cowlings covering some of Freeholds enormous machines, but stayed within reach of other such machinery as she joined him.

  But for one transcendent moment, all caution and fear was cast aside as they embraced.r />
  As always.

  Ah, my bright love, my singing bird, my winged heart_She could not hear the endearments he whispered to her in his mind, but he knew she certainly felt the emotion that came with them. Whatever happened, they had this between them_a joy he had never expected to find. If tomorrow a hunter's arrow found him, he would go to the winds with a prayer of thanks for having had this much.

  "Anything new?" he asked into the sweet darkness of her hair.

  "More of the same," she replied into his breast feathers. "I'll tell you inside."

  They sprinted for the door to the roof, hand in hand, but ducking to remain out of the line of sight of possible snipers. Once they were safely on the staircase, she sighed and gave him the news.

  "Outright sabotage, this time," she said. "Three incidents, all uncovered this morning. Someone burned down a Lashan-owned bakery; the printing presses at Kalian Bindery were smashed, the page proofs and manuscripts there were burned, and the type cases overturned all over the floor. And the furnaces at the new Ursi glassworks were_just blown up. They say that no more than two bricks out of every five will be salvageable."