Silence met her. Stares of wonder, of cold shock and antagonism. Reisil scanned the room. It was Varitsema’s library. Books lined the walls. Comfortably cushioned chairs upholstered in his own colorful weavings and climbing plants filled one end of the room. His desk stood at the other, framed behind by a window looking out over his garden courtyard. Varitsema stood behind the desk, frowning. Across from him stood the Dure Vadonis, grief and rage lining his haggard face. In a cloistered nook behind him, his wife sat still, face closed, lips set in a flat line, a dark veil covering her hair. Desperation flickered in her eyes. Kebonsat held her hand, his expression a match for his father’s.
Next came the town leaders, Rikutud, Imeilus, Taktitu, Raim, Roheline, a few others. Then Upsakes with his weirmart snuggled around his neck. Four of the Dure Vadonis’s knights clustered together, wearing chain mail and looking like hounds slavering to be after their quarry. Finally there was the Kvepi Buris in his scarlet robes. He alone appeared unruffled, either by the kidnapping or Reisil’s sudden entrance. Still, his gaze on her felt like a white-hot poker thrusting between her ribs. She flinched and turned away, but not before she saw him smirk.
The silence continued and the anxiety knotting in Reisil’s stomach grew until she thought she might throw up on Varitsema’s wild-rose carpet. Remember what you are. Ahalad-kaaslane do not throw up because they are scared, she told herself for the second time in an hour. Upsakes moved first.
“Greetings, Reisil,” he said, coming forward. Reisil couldn’t read his feelings in his face or tone of voice, but she noticed the removal of tark from the end of her name. “I see your ahalad-kaaslane has found you.”
Greetings, but no welcome. Acknowledgment, but no congratulations. Fair enough. She’d flouted her fate and fought bonding with Saljane, succumbing only under duress. If she wanted more than cool civility, she’d have to earn it.
“The other ahalad-kaaslane are helping in the search for the Dure’s daughter,” he continued. Reisil knew what was coming next. She should go help them, make herself useful, get out of the way.
“I serve better here,” she said in a low voice that brooked no argument. Upsakes’s nostrils flared, a white line bracketing his lips. He glanced past her to the watching room. He nodded curtly, gesturing for her to take a place next to him.
An important skill for tarks was the ability to watch and listen, to make sense of disorder and confusion. So Reisil watched, remembering Leidiik’s caution to trust no one.
The quiet produced by her entrance came to a crashing end as the Dure Vadonis pounded Varitsema’s desk. “I want my daughter returned,” he demanded. “Now. Or I’ll take this town apart and raze it to the ground.”
Varitsema raised his hands placatingly. “We all sympathize with your pain. And we are searching for her. We will find her. The city is sealed—no one can come or go.” His eyes flickered to Reisil and back. “It is difficult to wait, I know, but if you have patience, we will find her.”
Reisil frowned. Was the entire search predicated on the assumption that Ceriba was still in Kallas? She thought of Leidiik’s words. He’d made sense. She glanced around at the worried faces. One of these people, all of these people, could be involved. It would suit their purposes to keep the search inside of Kallas until Ceriba was long out of reach.
Her glance shifted to Raim and Roheline, whose linked hands were white knuckled. She couldn’t believe that they could have any part in this. Trust no one, Leidiik told her. But she had to trust someone.
Her gaze snagged on Kebonsat. He stared at her, eyes blistering. Behind his hatred she could see a terrible, leaching pain. She remembered how his face had softened when he’d smiled at his sister in the kohv-house.
She felt time slipping past and thought of the swift-flowing waters of the Sadelema. A boat could go leagues in a very short space. Already the sun was sinking. No substantive search outside the walls could begin until the morning. By then the kidnappers could have Ceriba so far out of reach that any search would be fruitless.
~Saljane, how far can you fly and still hear me?
~Far.
Far enough? Reisil wondered if Saljane’s short responses were characteristic of the bird’s personality, or if they stemmed from her earlier rejection of their bond. Time will tell, she thought.
She slipped from Upsakes’s side and went over to the tall glass doors leading out onto a balcony. Varitsema broke off what he’d been saying and everyone turned to watch. Reisil lifted Saljane down from her aching shoulder.
~Follow the river.
She brought an image of Ceriba into her mind and projected it at Saljane.
~Seek Ceriba.
Eagerness. The Hunt.
Reisil swung her arm and Saljane leaped into the air, her wings pumping powerfully. She sped upward until she was nothing more than a speck, then nothing at all. Reisil watched the sky for a long moment, then returned to the library, color burning high in her cheeks.
“Just in case you’re wrong,” she said to Varitsema.
“Just in case her kidnappers found a way out past the guards last night. Saljane will find her.”
Chapter 6
The silence that met her statement was like an indrawn breath, pregnant, apprehensive. Reisil felt her face burning and her stomach clenched. Varitsema’s gaze thrust through her like knives. Still she held her ground, chin outthrust, arms straight at her sides.
“What do you know? Why do you think she’s been taken outside the walls?” demanded Ceriba’s father. “Speak, girl!” He lunged at Reisil and snatched her shoulders in a hard, pincer grip, shaking her.
Upsakes leaped forward, as did Kebonsat. Upsakes’s arm hatcheted down between Reisil and the Dure Vadonis, breaking the Patversemese’s grip. Reisil stumbled back, landing with a hard thump on the floor.
“This is Kodu Riik. No one attacks ahalad-kaaslane,” Upsakes ground out, nearly nose-to-nose with Ceriba’s father. Kebonsat pulled his father away, sneering down at Upsakes.
“Yes, this is Kodu Riik,” he spat. “Where young women are stolen out of their beds and those who call themselves men stand about doing nothing but gossiping like old women.” He stood four inches taller than Upsakes, though the shorter man outweighed him by a good three stone. The weirmart snarled and crouched down as if to spring at Kebonsat’s eyes.
“Careful how you go, puppy,” Upsakes warned, his teeth biting off each word, his square face flushed dark red. “You are not safe at home anymore.”
“Do you threaten my son? Now, when you have stolen my daughter?” The Dure Vadonis wrenched from his son’s grasp and whirled on Upsakes. “I want her returned now. Or you will all regret it. Remember Mysane Kosk.”
The temperature in the room dropped until Reisil expected her breath to turn white. No one moved, the Dure Vadonis’s words ringing in the still air. In the slivered gap between Upsakes and the Dure Vadonis, Reisil could see the wizard’s thin lips curved, his yellow eyes gleaming. Frozen on the floor, she remembered the way he’d crushed the breath from her with no more than a look.
“Please. Gentlemen. Let us not quarrel. It will not aid us to find the young lady.” Varitsema stood between the two infuriated men, hands on their shoulders, pushing them apart. His face had paled and he looked like a ghost. Reisil clambered to her feet and retreated back to the balcony doors.
The Dure Vadonis shook off Varitsema’s hand and went to stand beside his wife, while his son remained opposite Upsakes, his feet planted wide, one hand hovering near the hilt of his sword.
“What will help us find my sister?” Kebonsat demanded, never taking his eyes from Upsakes. “You’ve searched the town all day and found nothing. Someone might think you are deliberately stalling a search outside Kallas.”
“It is very unlikely that she could be spirited out of Kallas. There was not enough time and the gates are closed at night. If we thought it a real possibility that they smuggled her past the guards, we would not hesitate a moment to send every last man aft
er her. But if she is still within the walls, as we surmise, opening the gates might allow the kidnappers to escape with her.” Varitsema spoke quickly, but with careful, placating reason. “We must take the search methodically. Such care takes time. We must look in every attic and basement. We must examine every inch of every wall, floor and ceiling for hidden compartments and tunnels. We have only limited manpower to do this. Please, Kaj and Dajam Vadonis, Kaj Kebonsat, we are doing everything in our power to find the Dajam Ceriba. Even your wizard has agreed that we can do no more.”
“Indeed,” Kvepi Buris said in a low, sorrowful voice, which Reisil found incongruously melodious as he nodded sage agreement to Varitsema. He spread his hands, his long fingers limp and weakly curling. “My powers avail us little.” He paused. “However, with the help of some of my Guild brethren, it is possible I could do more.”
Reisil bit back a protest. He’d nearly squashed the life out of her with hardly a look in her direction. Invite more wizards here? Was this the plan? To open a door for the wizards into Kodu Riik? She crossed her arms, hugging herself against the chills running over her skin.
Reisil saw Kebonsat flash a look of bitter dislike at the wizard. Lady Vadonis looked hopeful, grasping her husband’s hand and staring up into his face pleadingly. He bent and whispered in her ear and she collapsed in on herself, pulling her hand away. The Dure Vadonis shot a look of warning at the wizard, who shrugged and shook his head as though expecting just such a response. Still, Reisil thought he did not appear at all surprised by the decision. And she wondered about Kebonsat’s reaction.
In an effort to distract and break the tension, Varitsema sent for refreshments. The assembly broke into small clusters, each talking in hushed tones. Reisil stood by herself, watching the darkening sky through the window, wondering when Saljane would speak to her.
“You have presented us with quite a surprise,” Upsakes said close to her ear. Reisil started and turned around, smelling the mustiness of the weirmart on his clothes, the cloying odor of laudanum on his breath. “I wonder what took the goshawk so long to choose?”
Reisil felt herself coloring, but could not look away, struck still by his heavy lidded gaze, glittery and hypnotic as an asp’s.
“Strange she should choose a tark, of all things. But then I guess it takes all kinds.” He paused and, when she didn’t rise to the bait, went on. “There are many facets of being ahalad-kaaslane which you must now learn. Your—inexperience—has made this affair more difficult. You must learn to be more politically savvy, my dear. It is why all ahalad-kaaslane undergo mentoring with someone more experienced. Mistakes, even a wrong word at the wrong time, can be quite disastrous.”
The implication that she had nearly precipitated a disaster was not lost on Reisil. She bristled, but forced herself to remain silent. Another rule for being a tark: Silence gains answers. He leaned closer and Reisil held her breath against the odor of the drug, the weirmart, and sour ale. His rough cheek brushed her forehead. If she tilted her head just a fingerwidth, they’d be kissing. She took a half step back, repulsed.
“You have an opportunity now, to slip away and join the search. You could learn a lot, and, of course, the faster we locate the girl, the better for everyone. Remember the Iisand’s threat to Kallas. Your goshawk could do a lot to help.”
“I will be pleased to do so,” Reisil said. “As soon as Saljane returns.”
“Call her back,” Upsakes suggested.
“Have you injured yourself?” she asked, shifting the subject. “Laudanum can have an addictive effect. Nor does it mix well with ale. I know of other treatments that could soothe any pain and not have those effects.”
“My injuries and illness are none of your business. You are no longer a tark,” Upsakes said sharply as he jerked upright. “It would be best if you remembered your place. Now call back your bird and take up your duty to Kodu Riik.”
“I will always be a tark, whether you choose to listen to my recommendations or not,” Reisil contradicted, her backbone stiffening at his superior manner. “And Saljane and I will aid in the search of Kallas after she has completed her current search.”
“Did you not hear? They threaten us with another Mysane Kosk! Do you want that on your conscience, little girl? Do you want to be responsible for such a thing? I’ve been there—it’s a bloated, black sore on the earth. Nothing grows there that isn’t twisted and evil. Nightmares and disease creep out from its edges. You say you’re a tark, but you invite this horror to your own home, to the people who befriended you, who raised you after your parents left you. Did they know something we should? What kind of foulhearted bitch are you that you would invite a Mysane Kosk here?”
Reisil stared at him in shock. Spittle clung to his lips and his hands were fisted. He looked a little mad. From his shoulder his weirmart bared her needlelike teeth. She quailed from his ferocity, but she couldn’t give in. Somehow she knew Ceriba wasn’t in Kallas anymore. She knew it the way she knew that fire and rattlesnakes were dangerous. It didn’t matter that it wasn’t the most logical explanation. Every instinct said it was true. And because of it, she couldn’t succumb to Upsakes’s fury.
“I am doing what I think best. Whatever comes, I won’t be held responsible for anything the wizard does. I did not kidnap Ceriba. Whoever did that tempted such a disaster, not me.”
She moved away, coming up short as she found herself face-to-face with the Dure Vadonis, Lady Vadonis and Kebonsat. She swallowed, her throat dry. They stared at her, saying nothing. Reisil licked her lips and felt in her pocket for the ribbon she’d meant to give Ceriba. She drew it out and held it out to Ceriba’s mother.
“I had planned to give this to Ceriba today. She liked the color so much.”
Lady Vadonis took it from Reisil, unrolling it and running her fingers over its soft length.
“She told me about this purple,” she murmured, her voice low and rough. Reisil’s heart contracted at the pain in it. “She went on and on about it.” She looked up at Reisil. “She spoke well of you. It’s very good of you to think of her.”
“We’re going to find her.”
“I pray so.” The Lady Vadonis looked away, her voice cracking. Kebonsat gripped her shoulders and Reisil moved away, giving the family privacy.
“So, tark of my heart. You are the one for whom the goshawk has been searching.” Raim and Roheline stood together, holding hands as they surveyed Reisil up and down. Reisil’s heart thumped and she ached at the distrust clouding their expressions.
“It would appear so,” she said, her voice low.
“Strange she did not know you when she first saw you,” Roheline said in her rich contralto voice. She did not smile, and Reisil felt the loss of her usual sunny affability. “Or that you did not know her.”
“I know her now. That’s all that counts.”
“I wonder. But you are to be congratulated. A new ahalad-kaaslane. We are fortunate that your choosing came at such a time.”
Reisil smiled weakly, disliking the stiff formality between them. She had begun to count Raim and Roheline as good friends. Sadness welled up inside her. But ahalad-kaaslane are permitted no friends, nothing to color judgment or distract from their duty. Leidiik had deliberately reminded her of that fact.
A knock at the door and the steward entered. He spoke to Varitsema, then slipped out. Varitsema’s frown increased. He returned to his desk and waited until silence fell.
“There is no news yet,” he announced with an apologetic look at Ceriba’s family. “They have thoroughly searched fully half of Kallas and will continue through the night.”
“This is preposterous!” shouted the Dure Vadonis. “Half my men are standing about doing nothing. Set them to the search and we will have Ceriba back—if, as you say, she is still in Kallas.”
The mayor was already shaking his head regretfully. “The citizens of Kallas will submit to a search by the ahalad-kaaslane, but they will not open their homes to Patversemese soldiers. It is
almost too much that a contingent of your men accompany the search.”
The Dure Vadonis riposted angrily, but Reisil returned to the balcony. The sun hung like a golden ball in the western sky.
~Saljane, can you hear me? What do you see?
Silence.
~Saljane!
Reisil gripped the stone balustrade, leaning over it and looking into the sky.
~Saljane!
Reisil took a breath. Two breaths.
~Ahalad-kaaslane.
Reisil sagged against the stone railing upon hearing Saljane’s flat, chill voice.
~Where are you? What have you seen?
Without warning Saljane caught her mind. Reisil clutched for balance, closing her eyes to block out her own sight as Saljane’s overwhelmed her. She had no sense of what she saw. Black and gray shapes on a wide panorama, fuzzy, lumpy edges limned in orange and gold. Lines and blotches, sharp squares and a shining ribbon of gold. The Sadelema!
~Have you found her, Saljane?
Before she could consider how high Saljane might be flying or where, the bird stooped and Reisil’s vision blurred. Saljane plunged and Reisil’s stomach leaped into her throat. The goshawk crashed to the ground, snatching a blue grouse in her talons.
Without pausing, she flipped the bird to her beak, beating her wings with heavy thrusts. She rose to a tree branch and stripped the feathers before tearing into the fat carcass. Bones snapped and Saljane bolted chunks of meat, lifting her beak to the sky to aid her swallowing. Reisil’s gorge rose. She tasted hot blood and raw flesh. They assuaged a desperate hunger not her own. Her stomach lurched again and she fought it down, aware of the people just inside. She was not going to let them see her on the floor, retching like a dog.
Sweat beaded on her forehead and dampened her hair. Her knuckles whitened as she clutched the stone railing. Quickly and efficiently the goshawk finished her meal, scrubbing her beak against the pale, furrowed bark of the tree.
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