“You need to send a message to Terra Antiguo through those bedamned birds.”
Alasdair paused for a moment. “Fine. I’ll do it for you. Just let me get dressed. Do you have the message?”
“Oh, no, I’m watching you send it. I’m not having you tamper with things.”
“Tamper with things?”
“Get up!” said the Nazarien, Halish, moving closer to the bed. “Now!”
Alasdair scrambled out of bed. “I need to get dressed.”
“No, you don’t. Put on a robe.” Adison threw the robe at him. It hit him in the face and fell to the floor.
“I can’t walk about the castle in a robe…”
“Put it on or go naked!” growled Halish.
Alasdair grabbed up the robe and slipped it over his shoulders, belting it at the waist. Grabbing his upper arm, Adison forced him to stumble in front of him toward his chamber door. Alasdair felt a momentary wash of fear as they left the safety of his rooms, but the guards were in place, standing at attention.
They wound through the castle to the solarium, their father’s favorite place, and from there onto the roof of the castle. The dovecote stood at the front of the castle where it overlooked the main road leading up from the town. Some taller buildings had been built close to the castle walls, but nothing as high as this. From this vantage point, one could see the whole of the Dorlandian valley stretching away on all sides. The few people walking down the streets of Dorland looked like miniatures in a fanciful artist’s rendering.
Five neatly kept pens lined the edge of the roof and the birds cooed from inside them, preening feathers or sitting on their perches, their round, quick eyes blinking rapidly. A few light, downy feathers floated past on a stray breeze, but other than that, the roof was immaculate.
“What the hell?” muttered Adison. He’d never seen a use for the birds, never even came up here as a child, when natural curiosity should have compelled him. Alasdair was beginning to realize just how shallow his older brother was.
“I’ve seen the dovecotes in Chernow and Tirsbor. Never understood them,” said Halish, curling his fingers through the mesh wiring on one of the pens.
Behind the pens was a small shed. The door on the shed opened and an elderly man stepped out. Alasdair could just make out the attendant’s narrow bed through the open doorway. “Adison, this is Gib. He’s kept our father’s birds for the last fifty years or so.”
“Fifty-two, Your Highness,” said Gib, ducking his balding head.
Adison shook his head in disbelief. “I’ve heard this was up here, but I wouldn’t have believed it.” He looked over the side and marked the steep drop. “You’d surely die if you fell off here, brother.”
Alasdair took a step back from the edge.
Halish pointed to the multi-storied buildings just across from the castle. “Looks like you have competition with your view, Your Highness.”
Adison frowned at that, considering.
“How can I help you, Your Highness?” said Gib.
“I want to send a message to Terra Antiguo.”
“Oh, good, good,” Gib said, shuffling around. “This way.” He led them to a pen a few feet away, on the far edge of the others. “These are the birds that fly to Terra Antiguo.”
“How does it work?” asked Halish.
“The birds are born and raised in their native land, then brought here, where I care for them. When a message needs to be sent, I attach it to a special holder on the bird’s leg and off they go.”
“They always return home,” said Alasdair, adjusting his belt uncomfortably. “Even weeks and months later, they never forget.”
Adison produced a large piece of paper. “This is the message Kalas Eldralin wants sent.”
“Oh, pardon, Your Majesty, but that’s simply too large. We’ll need to transcribe it,” said Gib.
“Fine, but write what’s on here and nothing else.”
Alasdair and Gib exchanged a look, then Gib led Adison to a table affixed beneath a lean-to attached to the shed. He gave him the roll of paper and a quill. “Would you like to write it, Your Highness?”
Adison reared back. “Do I look like a servant, man?”
“Of course not, Your Highness,” said Gib quickly.
“Just get it done,” Adison grumbled.
Gib opened Kalas’ message on the table and began transcribing it. Alasdair wanted to see what it said, but Adison was eyeing him suspiciously.
“Does each pen go to a different place?” asked Halish.
“Yes,” said Gib, his head bowed over his work. “Each pen represents a location we communicate with regularly, except for the larger pen over there.” He pointed to the biggest pen on the opposite end of the line. “Those are our birds, born and raised here.”
“Tell Terra Antiguo we want the bird to fly back with a response,” said Adison, motioning at the paper.
Gib gave him a puzzled look.
“It doesn’t work that way, Adison. The birds go only one way,” said Alasdair.
“How do they get back?”
“They’re carried back in the shipment we receive from that location. They come on horseback.”
“That’s inefficient. You need to train them to come back on their own, Alasdair.”
Alasdair opened his mouth to respond, then thought better of it. “I’ll get right on it, Adison.”
“Where all do you send messages?” asked Halish, walking among the pens and studying the birds.
“Terra Antiguo, as you know. Chernow, Tirsbor, and in the last few years, we’ve developed a healthy trade with Adishian. We regularly send orders there,” offered Gib. He finished the message and held it out to Adison for his inspection.
Adison glanced at it, then glared at Alasdair. Alasdair fought a smile.
“It’s fine,” he grumbled.
“How do you keep track of which bird goes where?”
“Well, at the moment, we have a full complement. We haven’t sent anything out since…” He paused and gave Adison an anxious look. “Since I sent the last bird to Chernow about His Majesty’s disappearance. That bird returned two days ago.”
“But when they’re out, how do you know which one’s gone?”
Gib reached for the ledger on the table and lifted it. “We keep track in here.”
“How many birds do you keep for each location?” said Halish.
Alasdair felt a wave of apprehension sweep over him. He followed the Nazarien with his eyes as he continued to wander around the dovecote. Gib didn’t seem to notice and Adison was peering over the side at the front gate again.
“We keep five for each location and I try to keep ten of our own in case something happens to one of them.”
“What do you mean if something happens to one of them?” asked Adison.
“Sometimes they don’t make it to their destination, Your Highness.”
“Oh, they fly off on their own.”
“No, they’ll always go back to their homes if they’re able.”
Adison frowned. “What do you mean if they’re able?”
“Sometimes they’re killed, Adison. Falcons hunt them. They’re attacked by other predators. Weather.”
Adison nodded. “What happens then?”
“The original location replaces them for us. That’s why I try to keep five for each pen. Five is a good number and keeping ten of our own assures a good stock for us.” Gib opened the pen for Terra Antiguo and removed a bird, kissing its head.
Adison made a face, but Alasdair walked over and stroked the downy feathers, while Gib affixed the message to the bird’s leg.
“Five birds in each of four pens and ten for your own means there ought to be thirty birds here before you send out that one, right?” asked Halish.
Alasdair went still, his fingers poised over the bird.
“Right,” said Gib, holding it out to Adison. “Do you want to launch her, Your Highness?”
“Gods, no. I’m not touching that fi
lthy creature. Just get it done. I feel like I’m crawling with vermin just being near them.”
Gib walked to the edge of the roof and tossed the bird into the air. Her wings opened and she flapped a few times, then she shifted direction, caught a wind current, and flew away to the west.
Halish moved into their line of sight, drawing Alasdair and Gib’s attention. “There should be thirty birds here.”
“Twenty-nine now, sir,” said Gib.
“There’s twenty-eight.”
Alasdair felt his mouth go dry.
Gib’s face fell. “What?”
Halish moved to the pen in the middle of the line. “There’s a bird missing out of this pen.” He pointed at it. “Where do these birds go?”
“Adishian,” said Alasdair quickly.
Gib turned and looked at him, puzzled.
“They go to Adishian,” Alasdair said with more conviction, giving Gib a pleading look.
“Right. Adishian,” said Gib, dropping his gaze.
“You said all birds were accounted for. Why is there a bird missing from Adishian?”
Alasdair’s mind searched rapidly for an answer. Adison gave him a suspicious glare.
“When we sent to Chernow after Aiden’s disappearance, we also sent to Adishian, hoping to catch Kalas in one of those locations. The bird sent to Adishian hasn’t returned yet.”
Halish pointed at Gib. “He said they were all accounted for.”
“And they are,” said Alasdair, trying to control the tremble in his voice. “Show them the ledger, Gib. Let them see where the bird left for Adishian and hasn’t yet returned.” Alasdair held out a hand. “Still accounted for, but not physically here.”
“Right,” said Gib, giving him a confused look. He walked over to the table and picked up the ledger, thumbing through it until he came to the entry for Adishian. His eyes rose and met Alasdair’s.
Alasdair took the ledger from him and glanced over it. The entry carefully detailed the last time a bird left, but the bird had been marked returned. Clenching his teeth, he held the ledger out to Adison. “See for yourself, brother. Gib’s made a careful notation as usual.”
Adison leaned over the ledger, looking at the spot, then he glared up at Alasdair. “Yes, it’s there, all right? See for yourself, Halish.” He pointed to the wrong spot, but Alasdair didn’t correct him.
“I can’t read your Nevaisser chicken scratch!” snapped Halish, “and I don’t have time for this. Now that the message’s sent, I need to be off.”
“Right,” said Adison, his eyes never leaving his brother’s. “Let me see you down to your horse.”
“I want supplies too.”
“Of course, I’ll arrange those as well.”
Alasdair closed the ledger, proud that his hands didn’t shake.
“We’ll talk more later, brother,” said Adison.
“Certainly.”
Adison pointed around them at the birds. “I want these birds to learn how to fly back here on their own. Do you hear me?”
“It will be my primary function, Adison.”
“Good.” He pointed a finger at him, then shot a glare at Gib. The old man ducked his head. “I expect a report in a week’s time, from both of you.”
Alasdair inclined his head as Adison and Halish moved toward the door. “And I’ll see you tonight for our lesson,” Adison called over his shoulder.
“I’m looking forward to it,” Alasdair returned, watching until the door shut behind them. “You thick-skulled imbecile,” he muttered under his breath and handed the ledger back to Gib.
CHAPTER 23
The sun was cresting toward midday when Aiden and Le worked their way down from the caves and wandered toward the river, which shimmered like blue glass in the distance. They found Naia returning from the river, carrying a basket filled with wet laundry. She smiled at both of them and Aiden felt his heart soar. Such a beautiful woman, and she felt the same way about him as he did her. He treasured that knowledge.
She set the basket down and made hand motions. ‘Good morning.’
Aiden recognized that one. She’d made it every morning of their captivity. When Aiden asked Le how she could think any morning in slavery was good, he responded that a morning where you woke up with hope for freedom had to be good.
‘Good morning,’ he signaled back.
‘You look better.’
Aiden laughed, patting his stomach. Every bone in his body showed, but Naia and Le were worse off than he was. They’d been captives longer. “Food and real sleep helps,” he said.
Le translated for him and he followed the boy’s motions, wanting to absorb everything he could. When he questioned a movement, both Le and Naia showed him how to make it, but his movement would always be sloppier than theirs. He figured it was like someone who had a speech impediment, his words would always be just a little more difficult to read.
Naia took his hands and tried to form the word with his fingers. When he failed, the three of them laughed, Naia’s laugh silent. Aiden pulled her to him and hugged her, then he hugged Le, enjoying this moment with the little family he’d created out of the most dire circumstance.
“Your Majesty!” came a stern voice behind him.
Aiden turned to see Zander standing a short distance away. “Zander?”
“Tovan would like a word.”
Naia motioned that she would come. He nodded and reached to pick up her basket for her. Zander’s eyes widened at his action, but Aiden ignored him. “Let’s go,” he said.
“No, just you. He has information for you alone.”
Aiden wasn’t certain what to make of that, but Le patted his back. “I’m just going to nap on the riverbank in the sun. It feels so good, it does.”
Aiden gave an absent nod. Naia reached for the basket, motioning a quick goodbye. He motioned back and watched her walk toward the clotheslines where other Nazarien garments were drying in the sun.
“What information?” he asked, falling into step beside Zander as they headed for the caves.
“It is not my place to tell you that.”
Aiden dismissed him then, focusing on what Tovan might want to say.
“You do know this...relationship can go nowhere, right?”
Aiden glanced at him. “What?”
“With Naia. You are from different worlds.”
“I’m not discussing this with you.”
Zander stopped walking and faced him. “I’ve pledged myself to her. I’ve agreed to take the most sacred oath a Nazarien can take.”
“I know, and I also know she didn’t accept.”
“Not yet, but she will. She’ll realize that she belongs here with her people. She will never be welcome in your world and you both know it. Why do you persist in this?”
Aiden started to explain, then he thought better of it. Zander would never understand what they’d been through, no one could unless you’d been there yourself. “Let’s go.” He pushed past the man and headed for the caves.
He was winded by the time they climbed to the council cavern. He paused outside, bending at the waist and bracing his hands on his thighs. He wondered how long it would take for him to regain his stamina. A lot more rest and a lot more food, he figured.
Zander parted the tent flap and announced him, then held it open, waiting while Aiden regained his breath. Only Tovan and his second were inside, seated in their low-slung chairs. Tovan motioned him to a seat across the fire pit from them and Aiden adjusted the backrest to suit his height. Zander stood at attention by the door flap. Aiden figured he was charged with keeping their privacy. This made him more suspicious about the news Tovan had.
“Good morrow, Aiden Cerik,” said Tovan.
“Good morrow,” Aiden replied. His attention shifted to the second. “I’m afraid I never did get your name.”
“Beck,” said Tovan with a negligent wave. “He leads Tirsbor in my absence.”
“Pleased to meet you, Beck,” said Aiden.
; Beck pressed a fist to his breast and inclined his head.
“Zander tells me you have news.”
“That will wait. I want to discuss something else with you.”
Aiden sighed. He could guess what Tovan wanted to discuss. “Go on.”
“We are pleased to offer you our assistance, Aiden Cerik. You were correct when you said a strong Dorland ensures a strong Tirsbor. You were also correct when you said the slavery problem is a problem we share.”
“Good, I’m glad we’re in agreement.”
Tovan held up a hand. “Where we aren’t in agreement is our conduct with one another.”
Aiden tilted his head. “Explain.”
“Frankly, you came to us, not the other way around. You sought our help.”
“I did. I had nowhere else to go.”
“Precisely, which is why I ask that you respect our ways.”
“What ways?”
“We live very sequestered lives. We choose to remain apart from the rest of the world even more so than Chernow.”
“I’m not following.”
“Our ways have withstood the test of time. In our culture, men and women play very different roles. Our women satisfy our basic needs and in turn, we grant them protection and sustenance. It works for us. We keep each to our own, unless necessary, and in doing so, we thrive. I must ask that you observe and obey these guidelines while you are among my people.”
“Meaning that I’m not to see Naia.”
“Precisely. I’m glad we understand one another.”
“Oh, we don’t. Not at all.” Aiden glanced over his shoulder at Zander. “You don’t understand what the three of us endured. I can count every rib on my body by sight alone. I can’t walk up your ladders without getting winded. Every day I was sure I was going to die, and people did. We were all chained together and every morning, we discovered we were lying next to corpses.”
Tovan reared back and Beck’s brow knit.
“We had no blankets at night, so the only thing between us and the cold was the warmth of the bodies next to us and the tatters of clothing on our backs. Our bellies ached with hunger, our feet burned with blisters, and every muscle writhed with exhaustion, keeping us awake.”
The World of Samar Box Set 3 Page 126