sick; but the smell was thick in her nostrils, and she kept finding bits between her teeth.
In the gloom she made out the gifts intended for the Chieftain of Lykonia as her bride-price: man-high jars of strong black wine and bales of richly dyed linen; alabaster vials of perfumed oil that stank of almonds; ingots of the all-important tin. Pirra’s heart fluttered angrily against her ribs. She’d been packed in among them like part of the cargo.
Her mother had known exactly what she was doing when she’d punished her daughter for daring to protest. Pirra was cramped and humiliated, but not really in danger; and her mother had given orders that when they reached Lykonia, they would make land away from the coastalsettlements, so that Pirra could be let out and cleaned up well before the Chieftain set eyes on her.
Before they’d left Keftiu, Userref had tried to reassure her. “I’ll be there too,” he’d said. “You won’t be on your own.”
She clung to that. But when she thought of the future, she couldn’t breathe.
All she knew about Akea was that it was a long way north of Keftiu, and peopled by warlike savages who couldn’t be trusted—and that Lykonians lived in the south, and were the roughest of the lot. Akeans didn’t build Houses of the Goddess, and they weren’t ruled by priestesses; instead they had Chieftains with strongholds. That was where she would live, in a stronghold. Her mother said she would stay in it for the rest of her life, and only leave it when she was carried to her tomb.
Panic rose in her throat. From one stone prison to another…
“Let me out!” she cried, beating the planks with her fists.
“Let me out!”
Nobody came.
You’re not here,
she told herself fiercely.
You’re not in the hold of a ship, you’re out in the sky with that falcon.
Squeezing her eyes shut, she tried to go back to the moment when Userref had slipped off the blindfold, and she’d stood on the deck, blinking in the glare.
That first sight of the Sea. The white doves fluttering on the golden shore, the green sails billowing in a sky of limitless blue.
That was when she’d seen it. One moment she’d been craning her neck at the clouds—and the next, she’d heard a sound like tearing silk, and a bolt of darkness had come hurtling out of the Sun.
In awe she’d watched it swoop upon the doves. They’d scattered, but it flew too fast, and in the blink of an eye it struck; then it eased out of the dive in a graceful curve and flew off with leisurely wingbeats, a dead dove dangling from one talon.
“What
was
that?” she’d breathed.
Userref had bowed to the dwindling black speck.
“Heru,”
he’d murmured, lapsing into his native tongue. “May He live for all time and eternity.”
“It came out of the Sun,” mumbled Pirra. “Where—where does it live?”
“Anywhere. Everywhere. It’s a falcon.”
To live wherever you wanted. To go wherever you liked… “I never saw anything so fast,” she said.
“You never will. Falcons are the fastest creatures in the world.”
Huddled in the hold, Pirra ran her fingers over her sealstone. It was an amethyst engraved with a tiny bird that she used to think was a sparrow; but now she knew it was a falcon.
Suddenly she caught her breath. She pictured herself perched like a falcon on the mast of the ship—then spreading her wings and flying away.
Until now, she’d never thought about escape. Shehad believed her mother’s lie: that soon she would be free. But what if—what if she could get away?
Excitement kindled inside her. Her thoughts began to race.
Even if she did escape, she’d never survive on her own in a strange land; so that meant she had to get back to Keftiu—which meant putting an end to this match with the son of the Lykonian Chieftain.
But how?
Then it came to her. At the Feast of Green Barley, her mother had found a crack in one of the offering vessels. “Get rid of it,” she’d said with disdain, and a slave had
In the gloom she made out the gifts intended for the Chieftain of Lykonia as her bride-price: man-high jars of strong black wine and bales of richly dyed linen; alabaster vials of perfumed oil that stank of almonds; ingots of the all-important tin. Pirra’s heart fluttered angrily against her ribs. She’d been packed in among them like part of the cargo.
Her mother had known exactly what she was doing when she’d punished her daughter for daring to protest. Pirra was cramped and humiliated, but not really in danger; and her mother had given orders that when they reached Lykonia, they would make land away from the coastalsettlements, so that Pirra could be let out and cleaned up well before the Chieftain set eyes on her.
Before they’d left Keftiu, Userref had tried to reassure her. “I’ll be there too,” he’d said. “You won’t be on your own.”
She clung to that. But when she thought of the future, she couldn’t breathe.
All she knew about Akea was that it was a long way north of Keftiu, and peopled by warlike savages who couldn’t be trusted—and that Lykonians lived in the south, and were the roughest of the lot. Akeans didn’t build Houses of the Goddess, and they weren’t ruled by priestesses; instead they had Chieftains with strongholds. That was where she would live, in a stronghold. Her mother said she would stay in it for the rest of her life, and only leave it when she was carried to her tomb.
Panic rose in her throat. From one stone prison to another…
“Let me out!” she cried, beating the planks with her fists.
“Let me out!”
Nobody came.
You’re not here,
she told herself fiercely.
You’re not in the hold of a ship, you’re out in the sky with that falcon.
Squeezing her eyes shut, she tried to go back to the moment when Userref had slipped off the blindfold, and she’d stood on the deck, blinking in the glare.
That first sight of the Sea. The white doves fluttering on the golden shore, the green sails billowing in a sky of limitless blue.
That was when she’d seen it. One moment she’d been craning her neck at the clouds—and the next, she’d heard a sound like tearing silk, and a bolt of darkness had come hurtling out of the Sun.
In awe she’d watched it swoop upon the doves. They’d scattered, but it flew too fast, and in the blink of an eye it struck; then it eased out of the dive in a graceful curve and flew off with leisurely wingbeats, a dead dove dangling from one talon.
“What
was
that?” she’d breathed.
Userref had bowed to the dwindling black speck.
“Heru,”
he’d murmured, lapsing into his native tongue. “May He live for all time and eternity.”
“It came out of the Sun,” mumbled Pirra. “Where—where does it live?”
“Anywhere. Everywhere. It’s a falcon.”
To live wherever you wanted. To go wherever you liked… “I never saw anything so fast,” she said.
“You never will. Falcons are the fastest creatures in the world.”
Huddled in the hold, Pirra ran her fingers over her sealstone. It was an amethyst engraved with a tiny bird that she used to think was a sparrow; but now she knew it was a falcon.
Suddenly she caught her breath. She pictured herself perched like a falcon on the mast of the ship—then spreading her wings and flying away.
Until now, she’d never thought about escape. Shehad believed her mother’s lie: that soon she would be free. But what if—what if she could get away?
Excitement kindled inside her. Her thoughts began to race.
Even if she did escape, she’d never survive on her own in a strange land; so that meant she had to get back to Keftiu—which meant putting an end to this match with the son of the Lykonian Chieftain.
But how?
Then it came to her. At the Feast of Green Barley, her mother had found a crack in one of the offering vessels. “Get rid of it,” she’d said with disdain, and a slave had
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