“Didn’t Ro tell you about the osmurs?”
“Osmurs? Oh, the other day. Yes, she said you’d had a close brush with them … “
Hawk gestured to the half-healed wounds that spotted his arms and neck. “These scars will tell you just how close it was. Ro sliced the head right off that monster.”
Coleman nodded, not surprised to find Ro’s true role in the encounter far less modest than she’d claimed. “Well, you swallowed a lot of smoke yesterday. How are you feeling today?”
“Fine. A bit hoarse maybe, and I’ve got a few burns, too, but that tomaad really lived up to its reputation as a cure-all. How did you get it from the Sylvan, anyway? I’ve heard that they guard it more jealously than the N’Omb priests guard their relics.”
“It’s a long story, but I have some friends among the Sylvan,” Coleman answered.
“Really? I thought they didn’t like humans. I guess I don’t know too much about them, though, even if I do live in an old Sylvan watchtower. I’ve never even met one—they moved out of my forest years ago.”
Coleman seemed thoughtful. “Maybe you will. Although most Sylvan hate us, there have been some friendships between the two races, even a few intermarriages. Generally the only humans they respect are those with psychic powers. They’d probably be comparatively friendly to a bird-path.”
He clapped the younger man on the shoulder. “Maybe I’ll have a chance to tell you about the Sylvan sometime, but right now I have to finish rounding up my men and supplies.”
“I hope you will tell me,” Hawk replied, thinking that the exiled lord probably had a wealth of stories.
As they headed toward the front of the tavern, he continued, “I’ve got to report to Derek about what I’ve just seen. Evidently Ramsey was injured, possibly seriously.”
“Now that is good news,” replied Coleman.
Derek S’Mayler stood just inside the inn’s courtyard talking to a messenger from Brian S’York. The man had given him a number of letters and now looked rather anxiously toward the inn’s front porch, where Stephen had set up a large table of food.
Noticing the man’s gaze, Derek motioned toward the innkeeper. “Go ahead, get some food and rest. It will take a little while for me to answer these.”
The messenger smiled gratefully and headed for the porch.
As the man passed Hawk and Coleman, Hawk recognized him. It was Bill Loehr, the human-telepath stationed at Castle York. He wondered why the man was delivering messages. However, before Hawk could question it, Derek looked up from a half-read letter and called them over. “Any sign of S’Stratford’s troops?” he asked Hawk.
“No—my birds have flown only about halfway to Swego so far. But I do have some interesting news. When my eagles passed over a group of Empire soldiers about ten miles down the Tompkins Road, they spotted Ramsey. He was on a litter, apparently unconscious.”
“I hope he’s out for good,” said Derek.
“One other thing, though. That falcon-telepath I fought the other day is still alive. I saw him clearly. By the way, he’s also a sorcerer—he has a large amber spellstone on a pendant.”
Derek slapped the letters against his thigh. “That must be the same man who started all those fires yesterday. He seemed to come out of nowhere. I had thought that Ramsey’s men included only a few minor sorcerers, like the fellow we captured the other day. However, this man is quite powerful, although he didn’t seem too well trained.”
Coleman spoke. “Did you say it was an amber spellstone?”
“That’s right,” Hawk answered.
“Wasn’t Geoff S’Akron supposed to be with Ramsey? He controls the Pendant of Thantos,” Coleman continued.
“Of course!” Derek remembered hearing of the amulet. “But S’Akron is supposed to be an extremely poor sorcerer, and isn’t he in his late forties? The man I fought looked to be in his early thirties. He was a medium-sized, blond-haired man riding a bay. Didn’t you notice him when they rode into town? He seemed to realize that something was wrong and galloped forward, shouting, but he couldn’t stop the men.”
Coleman thoughtfully brushed back his long gray hair. “Wait a minute—I do remember that man. He wasn’t wearing any pendant that I noticed when he rode in, but … wasn’t the fat fellow leading the column wearing one? Yes, the man in front could have been Geoff S’Akron.”
“Well, evidently S’Akron died during the ambush, and this other man, whoever he is, grabbed the Pendant of Thantos.” Derek frowned. “And he can use the Thantos stone. A telepathic sorcerer? That’s a combination I don’t like.”
“It will take awhile for my birds to reach Swego,” Hawk interrupted. “I’ll have to give you more details then. Meanwhile I’d like to see a few of my friends who were wounded.”
“Sure, go ahead.” As Hawk moved off, Derek S’Mayler handed a letter to Coleman. “You’d better take a look at this—Brian wants you back at Castle York.”
Hawk ran up the steps of the inn and walked quickly through the common room, which was crowded with the wounded. As he headed toward Ro’s room he felt uneasy and anxious, yet eager. However, when he reached her door he suddenly felt too embarrassed to knock. She was a beautiful woman, and not just any woman; she was a S’Cascar. He was a nobody; a nameless orphan, smelling of birds and mud.
He touched the door gently with his fingertips, longing to knock but not knowing what to say. Although he didn’t think he’d made a sound, to his dismay Ro called out, “Come in,” as though he had tapped.
While he hesitated, the door swung open.
“I thought someone was there,” she said.
Hawk glanced up at her and felt again the inadequacy of his height and bearing. He managed to nod and step inside.
Turning toward the mirror above the dresser, Ro waved him toward a chair. He sank into it gratefully and watched as she picked up a pair of scissors and began to cut off singed ends of hair. She seemed to have recovered completely.
Then she glanced at Hawk and smiled. “I’m afraid I don’t remember much about the fire. It’s almost like a dream, except for my hair and a few burns. But Coleman told me what you did.”
She turned toward him. “Thank you.” Then she stepped forward and impulsively bent to kiss him chastely on the cheek.
His lips moved automatically to return her gesture, but just brushed her skin as she straightened. Hawk felt himself blushing, so he pushed deeper into the cushions and looked away, hoping she had not noticed.
“I didn’t do anything,” he mumbled. While she returned to the mirror and began to braid her hair into a gold rope on one side of her face, he watched her from the corners of his eyes.
“Coleman also told me I was delirious and blurted out my real name.” She glanced at his face, which was reflected behind hers in the mirror. “I’m relieved, really. It’s nice to be able to talk to someone who knows. You can’t imagine how hard it has been not to give myself away. Things keep coming up about Cascar that make me want to say things that would be, well, odd coming from a hunter’s daughter. I wish everyone knew—of course, with the way I was babbling yesterday, it could already be all over camp.”
“Oh, no. No one heard you except S’Wessex’s aide, Hank Siclari, and me, and I gather he already knew about it. And I won’t tell anyone; Lord S’Wessex stressed the importance of that.”
Ro looked at him with concern. “I didn’t think you would. I just thought that someone else might have overheard me.”
“I’m sure they didn’t.”
“That’s what Coleman said.” She tied off the end of the braid. “Still, I almost wish they had. I just hope I can end this pretense soon.”
She grabbed her swordbelt, bow, and quiver and slung them over her shoulder. Then she reached for her small pack of belongings.
“Here, let me help you.” Hawk took the pack and opened the door.
Picking up the brown traveling cloak laid out on the foot of the bed, Ro said, “We’ll be moving out soon. Will you be going along the
Tompkins Road with S’Mayler?”
Hawk nodded.
“We’re to move south to the Kellerton area around the Shrine of the Three Miracles,” Ro continued. Then she stopped abruptly, just outside the door. “Hey, Coleman said I did manage to get all the horses out of the stable in time, but what about saddles, bridles, and so on? Are we going to have to ride bareback?”
Hawk laughed. “I really don’t know. I don’t think so, though. I noticed they’d salvaged some of the equipment; and last night some extra supplies were brought in from nearby farms; they probably brought some extra saddles as well.” His face grew somber as he remembered the dead and wounded. “There won’t be as many of us riding out anyway.”
They walked slowly through the common room, bidding reluctant good-byes to wounded friends being sent back to Castle York, knowing that they might never see some of them again. Once outside they breathed deeply of the fresh, rain-washed air until the smell of disinfectant and death faded into memory.
“Miss Roslyn, how are you feeling?” said Stephen, waving them over.
Ro gratefully accepted a cup of steaming broth and a hard roll. “Fine this morning, thank you. But what about your head?”
The innkeeper patted his bandages gingerly. “Oh, it’s quite a bump, yes, miss, but you should have seen what I did to the guys that gave it to me! Three of them, miss, climbing through the window, right into my kitchen. Good thing I had a meat ax, wasn’t it?” He winked and nodded. “But that didn’t stop me from fixing supper. I knew that when the fighting was over everyone was gonna be real hungry.”
Hawk couldn’t help but smile at the man’s irrepressible good humor.
“Hank Siclari is over there, rounding up your company, miss,” Stephen continued, pointing to the archway that led to the stable. “Here’s a package of food for your journey; it’s not much, most of our supplies got burned up, but it will last until you can go hunting. And one for you, Master Hawk.” Stephen grinned half-heartedly. “Safe journey to you. Good luck.”
Hawk nodded. “Thank you, good luck to you too.”
Ro said graciously, “I’ll miss your cooking when we’re on the road. Keep up the good work and take care of yourself.”
“You too, Miss Roslyn.”
They found Hank Siclari at the corral behind the ruined stable. “Ro! You are looking so much better,” said Siclari, “a bit pale, perhaps, but I think I’ve got something that will put a little color in your cheeks.” Taking the girl’s hand, he led her toward the end of the corral where most of S’Wessex’s company had gathered to saddle their horses and await the order to move out. There were only a few women among the group.
Hawk was surprised at the warm way the men greeted Ro—clapping her on the back, hugging her, and kissing her on the cheek while they wished her well and thanked and congratulated her for saving the horses. He envied their easy camaraderie, and wondered if he would ever be able to accept such a woman as a friend and companion so easily. But it seemed that S’Wessex’s men considered her just another one of their company. She had evidently earned both their respect and affection.
At the end of the row of well-wishers stood her chestnut gelding. Ro threw her arms around the horse’s neck and rubbed its forehead. “This isn’t the surprise, is it?”
“I’m sorry about the saddle, it’s the best we could do. Your saddle wasn’t one of the ones salvaged,” said Siclari. “But your surprise is what David managed to save.”
David, a tall, gangling youth with curly dark hair stepped forward and handed her a guitar.
“I can’t believe it!” Ro smiled at Hawk. “I had left this hanging in the stable.”
“It’s a little bit scorched on the underside, and it got a little rain-soaked, but David says it will play,” continued Siclari.
The youth said, “I tuned it, Ro. I’ve got my autoharp here, how about playing a tune together?”
As he pulled out his instrument, Ro strummed a few chords. The company shouted encouragement, eager to hear a cheerful song.
Then Ro and David began to play a lively ditty. The tune was fast, catchy, and punctuated with a long series of funny, slightly ribald verses that Ro sang with a rich soprano voice. The men stomped their feet, clapped, and chimed in on the chorus. For a moment the war was forgotten.
When Ro and David finished the song, everyone hollered at once requesting other songs. However, before they could begin another one, Coleman S’Wessex and Derek S’Mayler arrived.
“Attention everyone … ” Coleman boomed, and his men quieted. “We’ve received some dispatches from Castle York. There is going to be a slight change. I’ve been ordered back to York for a special mission, but you are to continue with the plans I outlined last night.”
Coleman’s voice cut like steel through the excited clamor that ensued. “Ro, you’ll be coming with me. Hank, old friend, I’m afraid you are now in charge.”
“I might have known,” said Hank Siclari in mock annoyance.
“If all goes well, I’ll be seeing all of you soon.” S’Wessex patted Siclari’s shoulder affectionately. “You’d better get them moving out now. Good luck.”
“What in N’Omb’s fires does Lord S’York want you for?” asked Siclari.
“He wants me to visit the Sylvan again.”
“Oh. I might have known that too. You’re wasting your time, but damn it, I hope you can accomplish something.” Siclari clasped his friend’s arm.
Hawk heard no more of their conversation, for around him the men had begun to mount their horses, calling their good-byes to Lord S’Wessex and Ro. Finally they rode out, heading down the Tompkins Road toward Swego.
Hawk watched Ro smile and wave until the company disappeared behind the trees. When she turned toward him, he saw that her eyes were full of tears.
“As they rode off, I could sense it,” she said. “They’re going to die—most of them are going to die.”
Hawk suddenly found himself with his arm around her, patting her shoulder. He felt surprised and embarrassed at his boldness, but stood his ground and said. “They’ll make it, you’ll see … . “
“No. Don’t you understand? I sensed it with my crazy sixth sense. I know they’re going to die.”
“Can’t we stop them, warn them?” asked Hawk in sudden alarm.
“No,” she said softly, pulling away from him to stare in the direction that Hank Siclari’s party had gone. “I don’t know how or when … or why. I don’t know what to warn them against. I just know the result.”
Feeling as powerless to comfort her as she was to help them, Hawk said nothing. In the silence, he grew aware of Derek’s and Coleman’s voices behind him. When he heard Derek mention his name, he turned and walked back toward them. Ro brushed the tears from her eyes and followed.
“Is Brian S’York crazy?” Derek said. “Ordering my best scout back to York?”
“He sent you another telepath … ” Coleman replied.
“I’ve met the man before, his name is Loehr. He is very competent, but he doesn’t have the range.” Derek tapped Coleman’s chest with the dispatches he still held. “The range, Coleman, that’s the important thing.”
“Hey, what’s going on?” interrupted Hawk.
Derek’s voice became more exasperated than angry. “S’York wants you to go with Coleman on this harebrained mission to the Sylvan, and he’s sent me a human-telepath as your replacement.”
“I know the man; I saw him when he arrived. He’s quite a good telepath,” said Hawk.
“Lord S’York has ordered us to visit the Sylvan to try to gain their help against the Taral Empire,” Coleman explained. “We’ve been invited to meet with Feder, the chief of the Sylvan forest of Alycia.”
Derek looked over his letter from Brian S’York again. “You are supposed to leave as soon as possible. I guess you might as well go now—we won’t have those wagons finished for the wounded for a couple more hours. They were pretty badly damaged by the fire.” He clapped Hawk lightl
y on the shoulder. “I’m going to miss you, Hawk. Get back as soon as you can.”
“What about my birds?” Hawk asked, feeling a bit bewildered and at the same time pleased at being chosen for such a mission. “I won’t be able to get them to Swego now, so we won’t know what’s happening there.”
“I guess you’ll have to turn them back and take them with you. When the port is attacked, I’m sure the Swego garrison will send a messenger or a carrier pigeon to York,” Derek replied.
“But that will take a lot longer and won’t give you the detailed information you’ll need about S’Stratford’s forces,” said Hawk.
“Don’t you think I know that?” Derek pounded his fist into his hand. “That’s what I’ve been telling Coleman. No matter how good Loehr is, he doesn’t have your range.”
“But he is a human-telepath, Derek,” said Coleman S’Wessex. “He can interrogate prisoners and get much of the same information, probably some better information as well. Also, he can control the minds of the enemy, which should be quite useful. Really, you’ve got no choice. It is a direct order.”
“I know,” said Derek glumly.
“But why does he want me on this mission anyway?” asked Hawk.
Coleman smiled. “Brian S’York feels that we need to make as strong an impression as possible with the Sylvan. He’d probably prefer to send a sorcerer like Derek, but he knows that he can’t be spared from here. So he decided to send his most impressive telepath, and that is you, Hawk, not only because you are a bird-path, but because you do have a fantastic range, as do some of the Sylvan. Also, he knows you’ve been living in a skytree forest, so he thinks you’ll be comfortable in Sylvan territory.”
Derek shrugged, resigned but still unhappy. “The chances of convincing the Sylvan to help us are remote at best. I don’t know why Brian thinks they’d listen to you now; you’ve been trying to convince them to help us for years.”
“Although Taral has deliberately encouraged the Sylvan’s position of neutrality, the raid on the Avedon forest last month may have weakened that position,” Coleman replied. “This is the first time the Sylvan have requested a meeting with me; in the past I’ve always been the one to initiate contact. Perhaps the attack on a Sylvan forest by some of Taral’s men has made the forest people become aware of their danger.”
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