would willingly sacrifice any more.”
“Well spoken,” Varitsema said, resting a long-fingered hand on her shoulder. He was a talented weaver, as Juhrnus’s mother had been, and his fingers were laced with fine white scars and calluses. “Listen to our tark’s wisdom, my friends, even if you will not hear mine. The Iisand Samir has entrusted us with this great task. Let us not fail him. Let us show the Patverseme vermin that we have prospered during this war, that we open our gates because we are strong and unvanquished. Let us welcome them as a Kaj of the first tier welcomes a petitioner, and let them stand in awe of us!”
His voice rang with charismatic power and Reisil felt her own heart swell in response, relishing his praise and the way he’d said “our tark.”
Just then, a flickering shadow swept like lightning beneath an arcade arch. Reisil paled as Saljane lighted on one of the carved roof beams, her wings outstretched, looking once again like an avenging spirit, her amber eyes glowing like embers.
She let out one of her cries, the strident kek-kek-kek-kek echoing in the sudden silence.
Again.
Kek-kek-kek-kek.
Demanding. Haughty. Proud.
Everyone gazed up at the goshawk in wonder. She screeched again and mantled, shifting back and forth on the beam, the wood splintering in her grip. Beneath the white streak across her brow, amber eyes darted over the assembly below, her beak wide in a silent scream.
“Sweet Lady! She’s magnificent! And so big!”
“Blessed Amiya, have you ever seen such a thing!”
“Look at her eyes! She’s got a head of steam about something. Raim! Have you got something to feed her?”
At Varitsema’s request, the tall, spiderthin proprietor vanished into his kitchen only to reappear several minutes later with a pan of roasted meat. Behind him came two boys dragging a cadge that they had quickly retrieved from Raim’s cellar storeroom of ahalad-kaaslane equipment. Every kohv-house owner and innkeeper in Kodu Riik kept such a storeroom.
The portable perch’s crossbar was as big around as Reisil’s leg, and only lightly used. She wondered a little wildly when was the last time Raim had needed it.
Hoping to avoid Saljane’s notice, she tried to squirm back through the oscillating tide of bodies behind her. They hemmed her in, shoving her forward, eager for a glimpse of the goshawk. Slowly she found herself pushed nearer and nearer. Nearly crying with desperation, she turned and scrabbled at the bodies blocking her.
Too late.
Chapter 3
S o close, Reisil could see every fine detail of Saljane’s crisp, slate-gray wing feathers, showing here and there a trace of immature brown. Saljane gave another of her strident cries, and it seemed to Reisil to be an accusation.
The young tark held herself still, forcing herself to meet Saljane’s fiery gaze, waiting for the bird to reveal her perfidy to the town. Despite her fear, she felt a certain relief and a thin sliver of regret that she experienced nothing of the unbearable intimate connection they’d shared only that morning. Just ashy gray vacancy. Yet spitted on the molten steel of those eyes, Reisil couldn’t help herself. Words rose in her mind, placating and defensive.
~ Please understand. I am fated to be a tark. I cannot be ahalad-kaaslane. I am not for you and you are not for me.
There was no sign that Saljane heard or understood her. The goshawk blinked slowly and then a sound caught her attention and she jerked away. Reisil felt herself go limp as relief turned her bones to water.
Raim set up the cadge and attached a feeding tray amidst the sudden joviality occasioned by Saljane. He piled the meat on the tray and tipped his dark head to the bird, sweat from the heat of the kitchen dampening his brow.
“Bright morning, Lady of the heavens. Welcome to my kohv-house. May it please you to break your fast with us.” He gave a graceful little bow to the goshawk and gestured to the cadge and meat, and then
“Well spoken,” Varitsema said, resting a long-fingered hand on her shoulder. He was a talented weaver, as Juhrnus’s mother had been, and his fingers were laced with fine white scars and calluses. “Listen to our tark’s wisdom, my friends, even if you will not hear mine. The Iisand Samir has entrusted us with this great task. Let us not fail him. Let us show the Patverseme vermin that we have prospered during this war, that we open our gates because we are strong and unvanquished. Let us welcome them as a Kaj of the first tier welcomes a petitioner, and let them stand in awe of us!”
His voice rang with charismatic power and Reisil felt her own heart swell in response, relishing his praise and the way he’d said “our tark.”
Just then, a flickering shadow swept like lightning beneath an arcade arch. Reisil paled as Saljane lighted on one of the carved roof beams, her wings outstretched, looking once again like an avenging spirit, her amber eyes glowing like embers.
She let out one of her cries, the strident kek-kek-kek-kek echoing in the sudden silence.
Again.
Kek-kek-kek-kek.
Demanding. Haughty. Proud.
Everyone gazed up at the goshawk in wonder. She screeched again and mantled, shifting back and forth on the beam, the wood splintering in her grip. Beneath the white streak across her brow, amber eyes darted over the assembly below, her beak wide in a silent scream.
“Sweet Lady! She’s magnificent! And so big!”
“Blessed Amiya, have you ever seen such a thing!”
“Look at her eyes! She’s got a head of steam about something. Raim! Have you got something to feed her?”
At Varitsema’s request, the tall, spiderthin proprietor vanished into his kitchen only to reappear several minutes later with a pan of roasted meat. Behind him came two boys dragging a cadge that they had quickly retrieved from Raim’s cellar storeroom of ahalad-kaaslane equipment. Every kohv-house owner and innkeeper in Kodu Riik kept such a storeroom.
The portable perch’s crossbar was as big around as Reisil’s leg, and only lightly used. She wondered a little wildly when was the last time Raim had needed it.
Hoping to avoid Saljane’s notice, she tried to squirm back through the oscillating tide of bodies behind her. They hemmed her in, shoving her forward, eager for a glimpse of the goshawk. Slowly she found herself pushed nearer and nearer. Nearly crying with desperation, she turned and scrabbled at the bodies blocking her.
Too late.
Chapter 3
S o close, Reisil could see every fine detail of Saljane’s crisp, slate-gray wing feathers, showing here and there a trace of immature brown. Saljane gave another of her strident cries, and it seemed to Reisil to be an accusation.
The young tark held herself still, forcing herself to meet Saljane’s fiery gaze, waiting for the bird to reveal her perfidy to the town. Despite her fear, she felt a certain relief and a thin sliver of regret that she experienced nothing of the unbearable intimate connection they’d shared only that morning. Just ashy gray vacancy. Yet spitted on the molten steel of those eyes, Reisil couldn’t help herself. Words rose in her mind, placating and defensive.
~ Please understand. I am fated to be a tark. I cannot be ahalad-kaaslane. I am not for you and you are not for me.
There was no sign that Saljane heard or understood her. The goshawk blinked slowly and then a sound caught her attention and she jerked away. Reisil felt herself go limp as relief turned her bones to water.
Raim set up the cadge and attached a feeding tray amidst the sudden joviality occasioned by Saljane. He piled the meat on the tray and tipped his dark head to the bird, sweat from the heat of the kitchen dampening his brow.
“Bright morning, Lady of the heavens. Welcome to my kohv-house. May it please you to break your fast with us.” He gave a graceful little bow to the goshawk and gestured to the cadge and meat, and then
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