Courage of falcons

by Holly Lisle

  He continued floating slowly toward Crispin. At the last instant before they touched, Crispin regained control of his body. He turned and tried to run. Hasmal enveloped him, and their souls connected.

  An immediate wash of sensations assaulted his heightened senses and sickened him. His first impression of Crispin's soul was of foulness layered upon foulness; of perversion and delight in perversion; of hatred piled upon rage stacked upon lust twisted up with greed and hunger for power. Each part of Crispin's soul yammered its desires in an unending stream; each separate memory and each separate perversion added to the babble. Hasmal tried to shield himself from the disgusting cacophony, but in this new form he could no longer summon a shield. Frustrated and overwhelmed by the noise of Crispin's mind, he pushed against the din, intending only to give himself a peaceful space in which to study his surroundings, unbothered by them. The blanket he created, however, did something to Crispin; the Wolf toppled to the floor, rendered senseless and still. He breathed and his heart beat, but his chaotic mind grew quiet, the many conflicting voices in it hushed completely or forced to whisper.

  Which was an improvement, Hasmal decided.

  He spent a few moments learning to read the shapes of the tumultuous thoughts, and sorting those which belonged to Crispin from those deep imprints which remained from Dafril's presence. Hasmal felt he was digging for diamonds in a river of filth, but he persisted. And he began uncovering his diamonds.

  His first gem of information was that Crispin lived in paranoid terror of the discovery of the single secret he kept hidden not just from the rest of the world, but also from his brother Anwyn and his cousin Andrew. He had fathered a child, a daughter, a baby born to him by a woman about whom he had actually cared. The mother had been involved in an intra-Family intrigue; when Crispin discovered her treachery against him, he'd killed her himself. But the child the two of them created he had spared. Fearing that a member of his own Family or one of the other Five Families would use the babe as a lever to move him, he'd bought a wet nurse for her and sent wet nurse and infant to Novtierra. For years, he'd kept the child hidden in the city of Stosta in the Sabirene Isthmus. She had been there, in fact, until he discovered the existence of the Mirror of Souls and first decided to make himself a god. On the day that the Wind Treasure had sailed into the Thousand Dancers and into his reach, he marked three albatrosses with the compulsion to fly across the sea to her, and banded each with the message that she was to come home, and was to wait for him in a secret apartment that he had prepared for her. She was not to try to contact him he would come to her.

  Of course Dafril had taken over Crispin's body at the moment when he had thought he would ascend to godhood. He'd never experienced his moment of triumph. His vision of being the god-king welcoming his beloved child into the realm that would become her own personal possession had not materialized. She had arrived in Calimekka, and was in the apartment at that moment. Dafril had noted her arrival, and had kept a spy checking to see that the girl had the necessities and that she didn't stray, but he had not come up with any compelling use for her yet. So he had left her alone.

  And because Dafril had controlled Crispin's body until the moment Dùghall exorcised him, father and daughter had not yet met.

  Hasmal knew her name; he knew where she was hiding; he knew the words Crispin had given her that would identify him to her and let her know he was the one person in all of Calimekka she could trust.

  Within the dark, strong traces of Dafril's presence, he found memories far stranger than Crispin's, memories that shook him to his core. Dafril and a colleague named Luercas had been the wizards who took the life of Solander more than a thousand years earlier. He and Luercas had worked out many of the details of the immortality engine. Dafril had been the sole leader of the Dragons in Calimekka, too for in returning from their long hiatus inside the Mirror of Souls, something had happened to Luercas. Hasmal could find Dafril's concern on that score. Dafril had believed Luercas might be working against him, or working on his own. Hasmal felt an uneasy chill at that thought, but kept digging.

  His greatest find waited amid the foulest of Dafril's thoughts. The Dragon Dafril had been the primary designer of the Mirror of Souls. He and Luercas and a few other Dragons had created it when they began to suspect that they might not win the Wizards' War. Dafril knew the meaning of every sigil inscribed on the Mirror, the use of every inlaid gem, the nuances of every spell the Mirror could build and channel.

  And as he knew those things, so did Hasmal.

  Hasmal recalled suddenly and with crystal clarity the words of the Speaker he had summoned long ago the Speaker who had launched him on his flight away from the safety of his home in Halles and into the path of Kait Galweigh and the fates. She'd said, "You are a vessel chosen by the Reborn, Hasmal. Your destiny is pain and glory. Your sacrifice will bring the return of greatness to the Falcons, and your name will be revered through all time."

  Perhaps in the nest of clever obfuscations and intentional cloudiness she had spoken, she had told him that one clear truth without ornament or trickery. If Hasmal could be quick enough, and if he could hold his incorporeal self together long enough, he could hand the Falcons the keys that would rid Matrin of the Dragons for good, and in the same stroke could give them a way to control Crispin, who now led Ibera's remaining Wolves. Before he fell into the Darkland, before he heard the karae sing their welcoming dirges into his dead ears, he would seek out Dùghall. If he could transmit his message to the Falcons, he would not have died for nothing.

  He focused his energy, located the talismanic connection that bound Crispin to Dùghall's viewing glass, and launched himself along it.

  Chapter 5

  Luercas said, "A little faster, Danya. It would not be seemly for you to trail behind me when we make our triumphant return to the village. You are, after all, my mother... and we know how the Kargans revere mothers."

  They rode giant lorrags bigger versions of the deadly predators who hunted the Kargans across the tundra of the Veral Territories. Luercas had lured two of the beasts to In-kanmerea, the citadel of the Ancients buried beneath the tundra near the Kargan village. When the two predators skulked down the steps and into the huge, vaulted entry chamber, they had been of normal size. Luercas had used one of the Ancients' magical engines to steal energy from the lives and souls of the Kargans, and had twisted that energy into a spell to increase the monsters' size and suppress their will. They were still vicious brutes, and still deadly, but now they could do nothing to harm either Luercas or Danya.

  Luercas added, "This is the moment you've been waiting for, girl. You needn't sulk."

  Danya nodded, but did not speak. She rarely said anything to Luercas anymore; he took delight in turning her words back on her, in humiliating her, in making her feel like a fool. He never did anything of the sort when anyone else could see them; his plans for the Kargans demanded that both he and she become not just beloved but actually worshiped by the furry Scarred tribe. But when they were alone, he goaded her mercilessly for her weakness, her cowardice, her lack of foresight, her poor magical abilities, and anything else he could think of to remind her that no matter what their outward appearance might be, he owned her.

  She glanced over at him. Luercas looked about twelve years old, though he'd been born only half a year earlier. His golden hair hung down his back in a short braid, his blue eyes studied her guilelessly. He was as beautiful as any human child she had ever seen, and she hated him with a depth and a ferocity she did not even have words for. When she slept, she dreamed of hurting him; when she woke, she sometimes wept to discover that he had not died at her hands.

  She comforted herself with the fact that she had sworn revenge against him at the same time that she had renewed her vows of revenge against the Sabirs and her own Family, the Galweighs. She had sacrificed her son to seal that oath and if Luercas's soul now inhabited her dead son's body, her dead son's blood would see that the Dragon wizard would suffer and die
for doing so.

  They rode through a stand of fireweed, the flowers in full and glorious bloom. Had she been on the ground, they would have towered over her head. Astride the lorrag's gaunt back, she could just see above the waving sea of fuchsia blooms.

  "So, Danya Two-Claws, are you ready to become a goddess?" Luercas asked.

  She said nothing.

  He turned and stared at her. As he did, she felt his gaze take on weight and form. Her throat tightened, and continued to tighten. She gasped, and her airway closed completely. Invisible fingers squeezed it shut, and though she grabbed her neck with both hands and opened her mouth and tried to suck in air, nothing happened.

  "I'm tired of riding in silence," Luercas said. "I want someone to talk to... and since the lorrags can't talk, that leaves you. Are you going to talk to me?"

  A faint film of red glazed the world, and darkness moved toward the center of her field of vision. She nodded.

  He laughed. "You'll learn that you can't fight me, Danya. You might as well become my friend."

  He still held her airway closed. She nodded.

  "You'll be my friend?"

  She nodded again, frantic. The world reeled around her and her skull felt like it would explode.

  "Well, good. I'm so glad."

  Suddenly air rushed into her starved lungs. She sagged forward, relieved and terrified at the same time.

  He was staring at her, that same fixed, humorless smile stretched across his face. "Don't you feel better now that we're friends?"

  She nodded again.

  He smiled. "We're ready, then. Friend. I'll take Kargan form before we reach the village. Keep the red cloak on when you ride in, but after I change to human shape in front of them, throw it to the ground at my feet so that I can dismount on it. Their prophecy of their savior's arrival states that he 'walks on red.' The cloak should meet the requirement well enough. And as long as we ride the lorrags and I'm Kargan in form some of the time, they'll be ready enough to accept that their prophecy has come true."

  Danya nodded. "You said you wanted me to say something."

  He said, "Raise your right hand so that they get a good look at those two claws of yours. Say, 'You welcomed me and made me one of you. You accepted me in forms both strange and stranger, fed me from your tables, gifted me with home and hearth and friendship. Now, my good and faithful children, I reveal myself to you as Ki Ika, and I give you my son Iksahsha as I promised long ago.' "

  "Ki Ika and Iksahsha the Summer Goddess and her son Bountiful Fishing. You truly believe they'll look at us and see their heroes? I'm not even Kargan."

  "Their legends speak of the day when they were human they fully believe that they'll be human again someday. If Ki Ika reveals herself to them in human form, what of it? You're what they hope to be. Besides, we're riding lorrags, I can become Kargan at will, and we control magic. We're as close to their gods as they'll ever see walking."

  "If you say so. Then what?"

  "Then I'll tell them that the days of the prophecy have come, when the Scarred shall be returned to their rightful places in the lands and the homes of Man, and shall once again, if they so desire, take back their forms as Men." He shrugged. "I'll tell them to follow us that we'll lead them to the Rich Lands, them and all the rest of the Scarred."

  "And we use them to raise our army and attack Ibera."

  "Yes. Why do you sound so doubtful now?"

  "Because now I'm sitting on the back of the lorrag and not merely imagining it. And I'm looking at you on the back of your beast, and you look neither immortal nor particularly impressive. We have no cloth-of-gold robes, no jewels, no servants. I was raised in a House, gods know. I've seen what power is supposed to look like. We're not it."

  "Dear foolish child, I was the leader of the most powerful guild of wizards in the known world a thousand years ago, when aircars flew through the skies powered by wizard thoughts and gardens grew in the air and people wandered through them walking on clouds. I have seen power in forms so beautiful and wondrous you would fall to your knees, believing yourself in the presence of your own puny gods if you had ever seen them. I tell you they'll believe what is power to you would be an alien thing to the Kargans. What they will see when they see us will be power in a form they can understand. We'll be what they have prayed for and dreamed about for generations uncounted."

  Chapter 6

  Dùghall saw Crispin Sabir's viewing glass go dark. He waited, holding his breath, looking for a sign from Hasmal. He didn't know what his young colleague might do, but he hoped Hasmal might find a way to control Crispin's body. That he might even discover a way to oust Crispin's soul and claim the body for himself.

  Then the darkness in the glass changed to radiant light, and Hasmal's voice filled the tent.

  "We have to hurry," Hasmal said. "I have so much to tell you, and so little time. Crispin will wake soon, and before he does, much of what we need to accomplish must be completed."

  Dùghall suppressed his desire to ask questions about where Hasmal was and what was happening to him, or to offer him comfort or encouragement. He said, "Tell me."

  Hasmal's voice spoke from the light. "Take me into your body and your mind, that you can know what I know."

  Dùghall hesitated only for an instant. Then he picked up the viewing glass and stared into its depths. Immediately Hasmal made the connection with him. Dùghall felt reassuring warmth and Hasmal's familiar personality flow into him and half a heartbeat later, he felt the sharp memories of Hasmal's torture and death, his grief over his loss of Alarista, and his discoveries of Crispin's daughter and the operation of the Mirror of Souls. While he was learning what Hasmal knew, Hasmal was discovering that Kait and Ry had already escaped, that Ian had not betrayed them, and that the Mirror of Souls was already back in the hands of the Falcons.

  He felt Hasmal's imprint on his soul and Crispin Sabir's, and the Dragon Dafril's, too. And he felt Hasmal discovering the price that Alarista had paid to send rescue, and Hasmal's anguish at the discovery.

  She loves you still, Dùghall told him.

  I know. As I love her. Right now, it only makes what has happened hurt worse. Please just tell me you can use what I've found, Hasmal said. That this has not been for nothing.

  We can use it. We'll get the girl before Crispin can wake and find her. We'll activate the Mirror and call back the rest of the Dragon souls, then send them through the Veil. And when they're gone, we'll destroy the Mirror. You've saved us, Hasmal. You've given us the chance to win everything. You will be written into the Falcon annals, your name remembered until the end of time.

  And I would trade all the Falcons' memory and honor for a single day with Alarista.... Touch her for me, please. Let me be with her this one last time.

  Dùghall moved to Alarista's side and rested a hand on her forehead. Light poured down his arm, and only in that instant did he realize that while Hasmal had been inside of him, he had glowed like a small sun. As Hasmal left him, he once again felt the cold of the tent. The light poured into Alarista's frail body and illuminated her, erasing her anguished expression and replacing it with a beatific smile.

  Dùghall looked for just a moment. Then, feeling that he intruded on something private, he turned away.

  "Get me Kait's and Ry's viewing glasses," he said to Yanth. He spoke around the lump in his throat, and his voice sounded rough in his own ears. He blinked back the blurring in his eyes and growled at Jaim, "Don't stare at them. For decency's sake, man, turn away. Better yet, bring me pen and paper and ink. I've spells to cast that have never been set before, and I'll only have one chance to set them properly. I'll do it the child's way, with the words before me."

  * * *

  When the tasks he had to accomplish were clear in his mind and on paper, Dùghall knelt again in the center of the tent. "Ry first," he said.

  They had reached their inn. Ry and Kait were eating, Ian was pacing the room, stopping from time to time to stare out the window.

 
; Dùghall felt the familiar darkness take him as he connected with Ry's viewing glass, and an instant later he looked out of eyes not his own.

  Ry, it's Dùghall, he said.

  Ry grew still. I know your touch.

  We've almost won. Hasmal found out that Crispin has a daughter. Her name is Ulwe. He's hidden her in an apartment on Silk Street, in the outlanders' ghetto of the Merchants' Quarter, just beyond the Black Well and above the dyeing shop of Nathis Farhills.

  Dùghall could feel Ry absorbing the information. The revelation of his cousin's daughter stunned him, but he moved quickly beyond that.

  How will I get her? Why would she come with me?

  She has not yet met her father. When Crispin wakes, he will no doubt go to her first Hasmal's thoughts will be in his mind as clearly as his were in Hasmal's. He now knows everything Hasmal knew, and that's a deadly danger for us. But if you hurry, you can reach her before he does and take his place. With Crispin's daughter in our care