Shadow

by Dave Duncan

  ThunderClaw was a perfect choice for Elosa's purposes, though: very old. No match for IceFire.

  "Where are you headed, my lady?" Vonimor asked. The duke had strict rules. In these wild hills, all fliers must report plans and destination before departing.

  "Going to meet her princey," a voice muttered, and there were snickers. Elosa swung around furiously, but she could not tell who had spoken--and she got grinned at.

  "To Koll Bleek," she snapped. She developed a convenient cough from the dust and beat a retreat to windward. The perching wall there was empty, so she went out and leaned on it, staring up at the Rose Mountains glimmering against black sky, half-concealed in equally ruddy clouds. Clouds and ice and no air, or not enough for humans. The birds could fly there, it was said, although why they should want to she could not guess. There was certainly nothing to eat on the High Rand.

  Koll Bleek was rightward. She would head that way, lose Rorin, and double back alone. He would have to report her missing. The search would keep her father occupied. Dangerous, true. Not very kind, true; but she would not be a very convincing messenger if her father turned up a few hours later with the same message.

  Or a different message? There was an interesting thought!

  Then Tuy Rorin was back, wearing a battered old flying suit with more patches than IceFire had feathers. He was setting to work with a hooding pole. She marched back into the melee to watch. "Never trust a groom unless your eye is on him." So her father had told her a hundred times. One loose girth is enough.

  Rorin, though, knew what he was doing. IceFire and ThunderClaw happened to be neighbors, so he need hood only them and the two on either side, dropping the big bags on them from a safe distance. The birds turned their heads and glared angrily when the hoods appeared, but they froze like mountains as soon as the bags were on--only then could they be safely approached. He clipped a safety belt to the bars, scrambled nimbly onto the wall, and reached under the hoods to strap on the helmets. Her father said it was even safe to touch the great raptor beaks under the hood, as a hooded bird would not move. She did not intend to try, ever.

  At first Tuy could not find Elosa's own saddle and offered her another, which she declined. She would be sore enough after a trip to Vinok and back.

  When he had the birds saddled and unhooded, Rorin fetched two bows and quivers, grinning impudently. Her archery was notorious.

  "Ready, my lady."

  "Thank you, boy," she said graciously. The birds were blinkered and safe to approach. He gave her a hand to scramble onto the wall and then up into the saddle and stirrups--a hand too helpful to be respectful. Impertinent wretch! She heard the leashes clatter loose, and he swung up easily onto ThunderClaw at her side, ignoring the envious jeers from his dust-smeared comrades left behind. The bird settled slightly on her haunches under his weight. Elosa, stretched up as far as she could, was just able to reach IceFire's comb. She stroked it and felt the bird rumble with pleasure. She was suddenly very nervous at the start of this adventure, but Tuy was waiting, eyeing her expectantly.

  "Ready!" She pulled back on the reins, and the blinkers flipped open. As always, IceFire instantly swung her head around to the left--it was an annoying trick of hers. Perhaps she merely wished to see who had mounted her. Perhaps her intent was more sinister, for a bird could easily bend its head far enough to bite its rider. Whatever IceFire's motive, it was always balked, for the left rein went slack at once and the blinker sprang back over the huge golden eye.

  IceFire straightened and then launched, and Elosa felt once more the vast surge of excitement and dread as she fell into the void, the rush of cool air, the secret fear that perhaps this time the wings would not open--it was simultaneous terror and exhilaration, the sensation that made flying the greatest thing in the world. If love was greater, then she had yet to find out and would be much surprised at the discovery. With her free hand she signaled for wings and got them; a slight easing of the right rein swung her mount toward the left updraft. Rorin had expected the other and was already turning. He shouted angrily and corrected. She'd show him!

  She streaked down over a great darkness and felt the surge of cold wind, as familiar and constant as the castle corridors. She banked IceFire, glided across into the warm thermal, and began to circle. Where was Rorin? She looked around, puzzled, and saw that he had taken her air, was already above her, and close enough that she could see the grin under his goggles. That was his post, of course, but she was annoyed that he had managed to get there so easily.

  In graceful stillness, the eagles soared upward above town and castle. The sun stood clear on the skyline now, a bloated red egg blotched with magenta dust clouds--if that was an eagle her mother had seen in it, then it was seriously diseased.

  Elosa swooped without warning to catch the stronger thermal from Grassy Ridge. Rorin held formation as though he were tethered. ThunderClaw might be old, but she was experienced, and Rorin had inherited his real father's skill at flying. Even an old bird like ThunderClaw could fly all day if need be. The birds' wings never seemed to tire, unless they had to beat them, and that was a sign of very bad guidance.

  They rose higher and higher yet. Ninar Foan was a tiny scab of buildings on its spur, and even the spur was dwarfed now by the jagged hills around. The sun was clear of the horizon, almost white, smaller and much too bright to look at.

  "That's high enough, my lady!" Rorin shouted. He was getting nervous, and truly the air was thin. Her chest was heaving with the strain. Obviously she would not be able to elude Rorin. So a future queen of Rantorra would have to meet her prince in the company of a cook's bantling. That thought burned.

  They were almost into the cloud cap, and her head was about to burst. She crested IceFire and dived.

  In a moment, the air felt better and her eyes cleared. She twisted around and saw that ThunderClaw was still in position. Damned good flying, she admitted grudgingly.

  At this height the sun was fierce in a blue sky, the horizon below it blazing white beyond the shadowed edge of the Great Salt Plain which ran all the way to the hot pole. Ahead and below her lay the giant's jumble of jagged blocks and mountains that formed the Rand--browns and reds mostly, speckled here and there with welcome patches of green near springs and at the base of ice falls, tumbled down in divine chaos from High Rand to Salt Plain, a giant's staircase, the shadowed sides featureless pits of sterile blackness.

  To her left the Rose Mountains glowed pink beyond the terminator, tips of ranges buried in the great petrified ocean that covered Darkside. Darkness and vacuum on one side, deadly heat and thick red air on the other, and the barely habitable harshness of the Rand between. Yet it was only the coincidence of middle elevations and terminator that made even Rantorra habitable at all.

  Could she reach Split Rocks? She wasn't certain. If she fell short, then she would have to swing over to Gimaral, and that would be a wide detour. She toyed with the idea of asking Tuy's advice and rejected it. Go for it! She held her course, stretched prone along IceFire's back, glorying in the cool caress of the wind, watching the jagged peaks rising on her left and seeming to creep closer.

  This was living.

  Even the greatest thrill in the world can pall after many hours, and Elosa was truly grateful to see Vinok ahead. She had made good time, only once falling short of the thermal she was aiming at, having to glide sunward and find another and then backtrack. But she was stiff and cold and very thirsty, her canteen long emptied. Rorin was puzzled by the unexpectedly long journey. At first he had brought ThunderClaw in close and tried to make conversation, but she had deliberately refused to explain.

  Always the great slope of the Rand lay ahead, climbing higher to bright peaks against dark vacuum on her left, falling away on her right into black velvet, adorned by the silver horizon under the sun. From time to time she passed over areas with springs, green blessings in a rock desert, most marked by solitary cottages of the herdsmen who guarded livestock from the wilds. She saw some of th
em at their lonely work; it took much meat to feed the duke's eagles.

  Then she saw Vinok, a minute tower, square and pointed, standing on the lip of a cliff with a good thermal. Behind it rose a long, barren, rubbly slope leading up to yet another great cliff. There was no sign of the prince's party, and the tower was deserted, one tiny work of mankind in a vast wilderness. A narrow green gully nearby told of a small spring.

  She glided down and guided IceFire in to the perching; she thought that the bird seemed grateful also. Tail and wings spread to brake, then the talons rasped on the wall and the wings folded. There was silence and peace from the long, long rush of air.

  "Well, turn around, silly!" she snapped, for there was no one there to hear her. Birds were deaf and mute, and to speak to them was a mark of a beginner.

  IceFire moved her head slightly, scanning this new place. Then she raised one foot and pivoted around. Elosa released the reins and unstrapped her harness. Gratefully she slid down to the terrace, staggering with stiffness. She picked up a chain and shackled the bird, then stepped through the bars.

  Vinok was a smaller version of the castle aerie, one of the innumerable bird posts established generations ago by Vindax IV along the length of the Rand. In theory they were for the use of royal couriers and the Guard, but there were few couriers and the Guard never came. The more isolated tended to fall into ruin and neglect or were adopted by wilds, but many were maintained by local landowners for hunting lodges, as her father maintained this one. It had been recently tidied and made respectable, she noticed--undoubtedly for the royal visit.

  A shadow flashed past the tower, wheeled, and flashed past again--then swooped off to regain air in the thermal for another attempt. Tuy Rorin was having trouble making ThunderClaw come to roost, and Elosa found that amusing. At the next attempt he succeeded, and the eagle settled down close to IceFire and turned at once.

  "Everything all right, my lady?" he called, twisting around in the saddle.

  "Seems so," she replied, wondering why he was not dismounting.

  "Then..." He pushed up his goggles and regarded her hopefully, the clean patches around his eyes giving him a comical expression. "There are some goats on the hill, there, my lady. And ThunderClaw seems to think she's earned one."

  Elosa was about to snap a refusal, then reconsidered. Rorin's opportunities to hunt wild game would be few--taking out the birds to pick up domesticated feed animals would be all the hunting he would know. She could be gracious and give him the chance. More important, it would be poor skymanship to fly ThunderClaw home right after a kill, and that would give her an excuse to remain longer at Vinok, perhaps even through third watch, for a return tomorrow. She knew that there were ladies in the prince's party, so it would be quite proper.

  "Go ahead!" she said--and ThunderClaw was gone.

  Then she stamped her foot in anger, realizing that she should have made him undress IceFire first. Suppose the prince arrived and her bird was still saddled, sitting on a perch? She would have to do it herself. It would be valuable experience, she decided nervously, with no one around to see if she made a mess of it. No one around to help if she lost a hand, either.

  "Don't be morbid, Elosa," she could hear her mother saying.

  The hooding poles were clearly visible, and hooding was no problem. She found the safety belts and put one on. The wall was high for her, but she managed to climb up, remembering how easy it always seemed to Rorin and the other men. There were disadvantages to being small.

  Then the heart-stopping part: She must reach up under that black bag and unfasten the helmet. She had to climb back into the saddle to reach the front strap, the one near the beak. She was not sure which strap should be done first, or if it mattered. Her fingers brushed the underside of that steely beak, and she shivered; she fumbled quickly with the buckle. Done! The neck strap was easy. She pulled gently, and the helmet slid over the comb and fell loose. Well, that wasn't hard at all!

  Aware that Rorin would have been finished long since, she set to work on the front saddle girth, then jumped down and did the thigh girths. The saddle slid to the floor with a satisfying flop. She picked up the equipment and slipped back through the bars with it--and was stopped short by her safety belt. There was no one there to see, but she felt herself blush at the laughter of those nonexistent watchers. Anything else? No! It was all done, and she could remove the hood.

  "There you are, Icey," she said proudly. "Thought I couldn't do it, didn't you?" A real skywoman!

  IceFire was probably wondering why it had taken so long.

  No. IceFire was studying the cliff above the hillside. ThunderClaw was barely visible, but her shadow was flashing and leaping along the rocks as she stooped on her prey. The goats were hard to see at this distance, tiny bouncing dots fleeing in terror and yet somehow clinging to that nearly vertical surface in the way that only goats and flies could. Rorin would never do it, Elosa decided. She certainly would not attempt it, and she was fairly sure that Father would not either--the rock was too steep, and if a wing were to graze it, bird and rider would be instant raven meat.

  ThunderClaw broke off her attack and swooped away, far below the escaping goats, gliding down the slope toward the tower, heading into the thermal to find altitude once more.

  Lesson for you, Master Rorin! Would he try again? The herd had reached a vertical face and was cowering on a narrow ledge. He might try an arrow and hope to pick up the meat from the bottom of the cliff, but it was very difficult to make a bird strike at a motionless target--too difficult for Tuy Rorin, she thought.

  Another shadow streaked across the cliff face, much faster. At that speed it must be a wild, and Rorin was now prey himself. Then she saw that this bird also had a rider and that he certainly knew what he was doing. An incredible stoop! One moment she had noted the shadow high above the goats, and the next instant bird and shadow and herd had merged and parted and the eagle was far below, spreading wings and curving out of its dive, clutching a goat that had surely died without ever seeing what was coming.

  Unbelievable! Her father would not have attempted an attack at that speed, certainly not against a quarry on an almost-vertical cliff. She would have been impressed had it been done by a riderless wild. The men at Ninar Foan had been sneering about the palace fliers of the Royal Guard, but if that performance was typical, then it was the locals who had much to learn.

  The royal party? She ran out to the terrace, safely far from IceFire, and peered aloft. There they were, eighteen or twenty of them, minute specks floating in the thermal. She could see no others, apart from the solitary hunter, and he now came rushing in on the tower, still gliding on the momentum of his dive: more fine judgment! Tail spread, talons reached--and an enormous bronze was sitting motionless on the parapet, the goat dangling from his beak, fierce gold gaze studying the aerie. It was a huge bird, bigger even than IceStriker, IceFire's father.

  "Turn around, featherbrain!" a male voice roared. Elosa jumped and then laughed to herself. If an expert like this talked to his bird, then she certainly could--and would do so in future. The bronze did not turn at once; he started sidling along the parapet toward IceFire, the goat swinging limply.

  "Oh, cut out the flirting!" the voice said laughingly. The blinkers snapped shut, and the bronze stopped--and then turned! The rider had made a blinkered bird turn with foot signals, and she had never seen that done. The rider unbuckled, jumped down, and shackled his bird. Then he reached up and tied the reins back to the saddle, opening the blinkers. That was a calculated risk, she supposed, for the bird had its beak full, but her father would not have allowed it, and she noticed that the newcomer moved swiftly to the safety of the bars.

  It was the prince! The prince himself!

  Elosa's knees started to shake. He was very short, trim and moving easily, although he had probably spent a whole watch in the saddle. He pushed up his goggles and smiled across at her, but headed swiftly toward the staircase. What a wonderful smile! And what a skym
an! She had heard that the prince could fly well--he would hardly have attempted this journey otherwise--but she had not been told that he was a master. She ought to be curtsying--no, dummy, bow in a flying suit--but he was obviously heading for the stairs.

  Perhaps he needs a pee, she thought, and suppressed a giggle.

  "Who are you?" he called.

  "Er...I bring a message...Your..."

  But the prince had vanished down through the floor, boots clattering on the steps.

  Elosa's heart was trying to fight its way right out of her chest. To think of the crown prince in the abstract was one thing, but actually to see him was quite another, to see him as a flesh and blood human male. And what a male! For the first time she realized that she had been dreading this moment, fearing to have a real face superimposed forever on the ideal face she had conjured for her ideal prince, real bones and meat to replace her dream. There was only one crown prince, and she was quite prepared to accept whatever her destiny sent her--physical attraction was something she had not been counting on. That would be a bonus.

  What a handsome couple they would be!

  She pulled off her helmet and shook out her hair. She told herself firmly to calm down and stop trembling. With a smile like that, he was nothing to fear. Ladies of her station married for dynastic and political reasons; she should not allow sex to intrude.

  Why had he come on ahead, leaving his entourage aloft? Perhaps, being prince, he got first shot at the game.

  The prince came trotting up the stairs again, went over to the terrace, and looked up. He waved his arms in some sort of signal.

  He wore a plain blue flying suit with no insignia except the talon that was his symbol and a black diagonal stripe. She ought to know what that was for--she would have to brush up on her heraldry before she got to court. Perhaps he was in mourning for some distant relative.

  Now he came back through the bars and walked over toward her, studying her with surprise. He was carrying his helmet now, as she was, and his hair was dark and curly.