"And She wants me as part of it."
"She must, or She wouldn't have marked the
oathtaking."
Kethry stretched tired muscles, and put her hands
under her head. "How much time do you have
before you have to be back?"
"Before Tale'sedrin is declared dead? Four years,
maybe five. Kethry ..."
"It's all right, I told you, I can feel some of what
you're feeling now, I understand."
"You're—you're better. I'm—I'm feeling some of
what you're feeling, too."
"This whole mess was worth it," Kethry replied
slowly, only now beginning to articulate what she'd
only sensed. "It really was. My ghosts have been
laid to rest. And revenge—great Goddess, I couldn't
have hoped for a better revenge! Kavin is terrified
of me; he kept expecting me to turn him into a
toad, or something. And Wethes is utterly ruined.
He's still got his money, but it will never buy him
back his reputation. Indirectly, you got me that,
Tarma. I finally realized that I would never reach
Adept without coming to terms with my past. You
forced me into the confrontation I'd never have
tried on my own. For that alone I would be in-
debted to you."
"She'enedran don't have debts."
"I rather figured that. But—I want you to know,
I'm going with you because I want to, not because I
think that I owe you. I didn't understand what this
oath meant at first, but I do now, and I would
repeat it any time you asked."
A long silence. Then, "Gestena, she'enedra."
That meant "thank you," Kethry knew—thanks,
and a great deal more than thanks.
"Yai se corthu," she replied uncertainly. "Two
are one." For she suddenly felt all Tarma's loneli-
ness and her own as well, and in the darkness of
the night it is sometimes possible to say things that
are too intense and too true for daylight.
"Yai se corthu." And a hand came from the dark-
ness to take hers.
It was enough.
Four
"Tarma, we've been riding for weeks, and I
still haven't seen any sign that this country
is going to turn into grass-plains," Kethry com-
plained, shifting uncomfortably in Rodi's saddle.
"Brush-hills, yes. Near-desert, certainly. Forest, ye
gods! I've seen more trees than I ever want to see
again!"
"What's wrong with forest, other than that you
can't do a straight-line gallop or get a clear shot at
anything, that is?"
Kethry gazed in all directions, and then glanced
up to where branches cut off every scrap of sky
overhead. Huge evergreens loomed wherever she
looked; the only sunlight came from those few beams
that managed to penetrate the canopy of needles. It
seemed as if she'd been breathing resin forever, the
smell clung to everything; clothing, hair—it even
got into the food. It wasn't unpleasant; the oppo-
site, in fact, especially after they'd first penetrated
the edges of the forest after days of fighting a dusty
wind. But after days of eating, drinking, and breath-
ing the everlasting odor of pine, she was heartily
tired of it.
It was chilly and damp on the forest floor, and
lonely. Kethry hadn't seen a bird in days, for they
were all up where the sun was. She could hear
them calling, but the echoes of their far-off singing
only made the empty corridors between the tree
trunks seem more desolate. This forest had to be
incredibly ancient, the oldest living thing she'd ever
seen, perhaps. Certainly the trees were larger than
any she was familiar with. They towered for yards
before branching out, and in the case of a few
giants she had noticed, their trunks were so large
that several adults could have circled the biggest of
them with their arms without touching hand to
hand. The road they followed now was hardly more
than a goat track; the last person they had seen had
been two weeks ago, and since that time they'd
only had each other's voices to listen to.
At first it had been pleasurable to ride beneath
these branches, especially since they had spent
weeks skirting that near-desert she had mentioned,
riding through furlong after furlong of stony, brush-
covered hills with never anything taller than a man
growing on them. While the spring sun had no-
where near the power it would boast in a mere
month, it had been more than hot enough for Kethry
during the height of the day. She couldn't imagine
how Tarma, dressed in her dark Sword Sworn cos-
tume, could bear it. When the hills began to grow
into something a bit more impressive, and the brush
gave way to real trees, it was a genuine relief to
spend all day in their cool shade. But now ...
"It's like they're—watching. I haven't sensed any-
thing, either with mage-senses or without, so I know
it must be my imagination, but..."
"It's not your imagination; something is watch-
ing," Tarma interrupted calmly. "Or rather, someone.
I thought I'd not mention it unless you saw or felt
something yourself, since they're harmless to MS.
Hadn't you ever wondered why I haven't taken any
shots at birds since we entered the trees?"
"But—"
"Oh, the watchers themselves aren't within sens-
ing distance, and not within the scope of your mage-
senses either—just their feathered friends. Hawks,
falcons, ravens and crows by day, owls and night-
hawks by dark. Tale'edras, my people call them—
the Hawkbrothers. We really don't know what they
call themselves. We don't see them much, though
they've been known to trade with us."
"Will we see any of them?"
"Why, do you want to?" Tarma asked, with a
half-grin at Kethry's nod. "You mages must be curi-
osity incarnate, I swear! Well, I might be able to do
something about that. As I said, we're in no danger
from them, but if you really want to meet one—
let's see if I still have my knack for identifying
myself."
She reined in Kessira, threw back her head, and
gave an ear-piercing cry—not like the battle shriek
of a hawk, but a bit like the mating cry, or the cry
that identifies mate to mate. Rodi started, and
backed a few steps, fighting his bit, until Kethry
got him back into control. A second cry echoed
hers, and at first Kethry thought it was an echo, but
it was followed by a winged streak of gold lightning
that swooped down out of the highest branches to
land on Tarma's outstretched arm.
It braked its descent with a thunder of wings,
wings that seemed to Kethry to belong to something
at least the size of an eagle. Talons like ivory knives
bit into the leather of Tarma's vambrace; the wings
fanned the air for a heartbeat more, then the bird
settled
on Tarma's forearm, regal and gilded.
"Well if I'd wanted a good omen, I couldn't have
asked for a better," Tarma said in astonishment.
"This is a vorcel-hawk; you see them more on the
plains than in the forests—it's my Clan's standard."
The bird was half-again larger than any hawk
Kethry had ever seen; its feathers glistened with
an almost metallic gold sheen, no more than a shade
darker than the bird's golden eyes. It cocked its
head to one side and regarded Kethry with an intel-
ligent air she found rather disturbing. Rodi snorted
at the alien creature, but Kessira stood calmly when
one wing flipped a hair's-breadth from her ear,
apparently used to having huge birds swoop down
at her rider from out of nowhere.
"Now, who speaks for you, winged one?" Tarma
turned her attention fully to the bird on her arm,
stroking his breast feathers soothingly until he set-
tled, then running her hand down to his right leg
and examining it. Kethry edged closer, cautiously;
wary of the power in that beak and those sharp
talons. She saw that what Tarma was examining
was a wide band on its leg, a band of some shiny
stuff that wasn't metal and wasn't leather.
"Moonsong k'Vala, hmm? Don't know the name.
Well, let's send the invitation to talk. I really should
at least pay my respects before leaving the trees, if
anyone wants to take them, so ..."
Tarma lowered her arm a little, and the hawk
responded by moving up it until he perched on her
shoulder. His beak was in what Kethry considered
to be uncomfortably close proximity to Tarma's face,
but Tarma didn't seem at all concerned. Thinking
about the uncertain temperament of all the raptors
she'd ever had anything do to with, Kethry shivered
at Tarma's casualness.
When the bird was safely on her shoulder, Tarma
leaned over a little and rummaged in her saddle-
bag, finally coming up with a cluster of three small
medallions. Kethry could see that they were light
copper disks, beautifully enameled with the image
of the bird that sat her shoulder.
She selected one, dropped the other two back in
her bag; then with great care, took a thong from a
collection of them looped to a ring on her belt,
passed the thong through the hole in the top of the
medallion and knotted it securely. She offered the
result to the bird, who looked at it with a surpris-
ing amount of intelligence before opening his beak
slowly and accepting the thong. He bobbed his head
twice, the medallion bouncing below his head, and
Tarma raised her arm again. He sidled along it
until he reached her wrist, and she launched him
into the air. His huge wings beat five or six times,
raising a wind that fanned their hair, then he was
lost to sight among the branches.
"What was that all about?"
"Politeness, more than anything. The Hawk-
brothers have known we were here from the mo-
ment we entered the forest, and they knew I was
Shin'a'in Kal'enedral when they came to look at us
in person—that would have been the first night we
camped. Since then they've just been making sure
we didn't wander off the track, or get ambushed by
something we couldn't handle. We'll be leaving the
forest soon."
"Soon? When?"
"Keep your breeches on, girl! Tomorrow after-
noon at the latest. Anyway, you wanted to see one
of the Hawkbrothers, and it's only polite for me to
acknowledge the fact that they've been guarding
us."
"I thought you said they were watching us."
"Since I'm Shin'a'in and we're allies, it amounts
to the same thing. Sa-hai; I just sent my Clan token
off to our current guardian, whoever it is. If he or
she chooses, we'll get a response before we leave."
"Moonsong sounds like a female name to me,"
Kethry replied.
"Maybeso, maybeno. The Hawkbrothers are v-e-r-y
different—well, you'll see if we get a visitor. Keep
your eyes busy looking for a good campsite; stick to
the road. As Shin'a'in I have certain privileges here,
and I'm tired of dried beef. I'm going hunting."
She swung Kessira off under the trees, following
the path the hawk had taken, leaving Kethry alone
on the track. With a shrug, Kethry urged Rodi back
into a walk and did as she'd been told.
Still homing in on the Plains; she's been easier than
she was before Mornedealth, but still—home is draw-
ing her with a power even I can feel. 1 wonder if it's
because she hasn't a real purpose anymore, not since
she accomplished her revenge.
Kethry kept Rodi to a walk, listening with half
her attention for the sound of water. Running sur-
face water was somewhat scarce in the forest; find-
ing it meant they made a campsite then and there.
I don't really have a purpose either, except to learn
and grow stronger in magic—but I expected that. I
knew that's the way my life would be once 1 left the
school until I could found my own. But Tarma—she
needs a purpose, and this home-seeking is only a sub-
stitute for one. I wonder if she realizes that.
When Tarma caught up with her, it was a candle-
mark or so before sunset, but it was already dark
under the trees. Kethry had found a site that looked
perfect, with a tiny, clear stream nearby and a
cleared area where one of the giant trees had fallen
and taken out a wide swath of seedlings with it.
That had left a hole in the green canopy above
where sunlight could penetrate, and there were
enough grasses and plants growing that there was
browse for their animals. The tree had been down
for at least a season, so the wood was dry and
gathering enough firewood for the evening had been
the task of less than a candlemark.
Kethry discovered when she was sweeping out
the area for stones to line a firepit that others had
found the site just as perfect, for many of the stones
bore scorch marks. Now their camp was set up, and
the tiny fire burning brightly in the stone-lined pit.
When they had entered this forest, Tarma had em-
phasized the importance of keeping their fires small
and under strict control. Now that Kethry knew
about the Hawkbrothers, she could guess why. This
tree-filled land was theirs, and they doubtless had
laws that a visitor to it had better keep, especially
with winged watchers all about.
She heard Tarma approaching long before she
saw her; a dark shape looming back along the trail,
visible only because it was moving.
"Ho, the camp!" Tarma's hoarse voice called
cheerfully.
"Ho, yourself—what was your luck?"
"Good enough. From this place you take no more
than you need, ally or not. Got browse?"
Tarma appeare
d in the firelight, leading Kessira,
something dangling from her hand.
"Behind me about forty paces; Rodi's already
tethered there, along a downed tree. If you'll give
me what you've got, I'll clean it."
"Skinning is all you need to do, I field-gutted
'em." Tarma tossed two odd creatures at Kethry's
feet, the size and shape of plump rabbits, but with
short, tufted ears, long claws, and bushy, flexible
tails.
"I'll go take care of Rodi and my baby, and I'll be
right back." Tarma disappeared into the darkness
again, and sounds from behind her told Kethry that
she was unsaddling her mare and grooming both
the animals. She had unsaddled Rodi but had left
the rest to Tarma, knowing the Shin'a'in could tend
a saddlebeast in the dark and half asleep. Rodi,
while well-mannered for a mule, was too ticklish
about being groomed for Kethry to do it in uncer-
tain light.
When Tarma returned, she brought with her their
little copper traveling-kettle filled with water. "We'll
have to stew those devils; they're tough as old boots
after the winter," she said; then, so softly Kethry
could hardly hear her, "I got a reply to my invita-
tion. We'll have a visitor in a bit. Chances are he'll
pop in out of nowhere; try not to look startled, or
we'll lose face. I can guarantee he'll look very
strange; in this case, the stranger the better—if he
really looks odd it will mean he's giving us full
honors."
Just at the moment the stewed meat seemed ready,
their visitor appeared.
Even though she'd been forewarned, Kethry still
nearly jumped out of her skin. One moment the
opposite side of the fire was empty—the next, it
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