And that wasn't even their 'punishment.' That was just Falconsbane's way of reminding them that he was their master in all things.
The first man reached the door and crawled out. All of Dawnfire's feathers slicked down flat to her body in fright. She couldn't have moved now if she had wanted to.
'Greden,' Falconsbane said, as the second man started out the door.
The guard stopped, frozen; in a macabre way, he looked funny, like someone caught pretending to be a dog.
'Greden, send Daelon to me on your way out.' Falconsbane turned, ignoring the man's whispered acknowledgment, and began pacing beside his couch.
In a few moments, another man entered; an older man, lean and fit, with elaborate, flowing garments and dark gray hair and beard. 'My lord?' he said, waiting prudently out of reach. Falconsbane ignored him for a moment, his face creased with a frown of concentration. The man waited patiently; patience was a necessity with Mornelithe Falconsbane, it seemed. Patience, and extreme care.
Finally Falconsbane stopped pacing and flung himself down on the couch. 'Daelon, I am going to propose an alliance, to King Ancar of Hardorn.'
'Very good, my lord,' Daelon responded, bowing deeply. 'Alliances are always preferable to conflict.
Falconsbane smiled, as if he found the man's opinions amusing.'I've been in contact with him for some time, as you know; with him, and some other rulers of the East. He agreed to meet with me in person, but he would not set a time.' Falconsbane's smile faded. 'When he would not specify a date, I insisted that he must come here, and that it was to be within three months of the initial agreement.'
'I assume that he has set a date, my lord?' Daelon asked smoothly.
'Finally.' Falconsbane scowled. 'He told me just before that disaster Greden was in charge of that he will be arriving in three days' time.'
'Very good, my lord. By Gate, my lord?' Daelon asked, with one eyebrow raised.
Falconsbane snorted with contempt. 'No. The fool calls himself a mage, yet he cannot even master a Gate. That, it seems, was the reason he would not set a date. He had to travel overland, if you will, and he did not wish anyone to know that he was en route.' Daelon produced a superior, smug smile. 'Then you wish me to ready the guest quarters, my lord?'
'Exactly,' Falconsbane nodded. 'I expect I will be able to persuade him to accept my hospitality after several weeks of primitive inns and the like.' Dacion raised one eyebrow. 'Do I take it he will not be coming directly here?' Once again, Falconsbane snorted. 'He prefers, he says, to remain in 'neutral' lands. I directed him to the valley I flooded with death-smoke a while ago. It is secure enough, the horned vermin will not be using it again soon, and if he proves unreliable, well-' the Adept shrugged, rippling his hair and mane. 'I flooded it once and can do so again.'
'Very good, my lord,' Daelon bowed, and smiled. 'Better to eliminate a menace than deal with a conflict.' Falconsbane chuckled; the deep, rumbling laugh that Dawnfire knew only too well. She crouched a little smaller on her perch. 'Ah, Daelon, your philosophy is so-unique.' Daelon bowed again, smiled, but said nothing. Falconsbane waved negligently at him. 'Go,' he said. Then as Daelon started for the door' he changed his mind. 'Wait,' he called, and scooped something up from beside his couch. As Daelon turned, he tossed something at him; and as the servant caught it, Dawnfire saw it was the falconer's glove.
'Take that bird with you,' he yawned. 'I am fatigued, and she no longer amuses me. Take her to the mews; it is time for her to learn her place in life.'
'Very good, my lord,' Daelon repeated. When the servant approached Dawnfire, she tensed, expecting trouble, but evidently he was so unfamiliar with falconry that he did not even attempt to hood her.
He merely took the ends of her jesses, clumsily, in his free hand, and stuck his gloved hand in her general direction.
If he didn't know enough about falconry to hold her jesses properly, he might not know enough to hold them tightly.
She hopped onto his hand as obediently as a tamed cage-bird, and remained quiet and well-behaved. And as he carried her out of the room, and away from Falconsbane's sight, she saw with elation that he was barely holding the tips of her jesses. Of course, she had fouled them; she couldn't have helped that. He evidently found that very distasteful, and he was avoiding as much contact with the chalked leather as possible.
And he was holding the arm she rested on stiffly, far away from his body, lest (she supposed) she also drop on his fine robes. And if that particular function had been within her control, she would have considered doing just that.
