'The Sunhawks? Warrior's Oath -- you'd aim us bloody damned high, wouldn't you?' Tarma had been well taken aback. For all that they were composed of specialist-troops -- skirmishers, horse-archers and trackers -- the Sunhawks' repute was so high that kings and queens had been known to negotiate their contracts with Idra in person. 'Good gods, I should bloody well think highborns negotiate with them; their leader's of the damned Royal House of Rethwellan! And just how are we supposed to get a hearing with Captain Idra?'
'Us,' Ikan had replied, stabbing a thumb at his chest. 'We're ex-Hawks; we started with her, and probably would still be with her, but Idra was going more and more over to horse-archers, and we were getting less useful, so we decided to light out on our own. But we left on good terms; if we recommend that she give you a hearing, Idra will take our word on it.'
'And once she sees that you're what you claim to be, you'll be in, never fear.' Justin had finished for him. 'Shin'a'in Kal'enedral -- gods, you'd fit in like a sword in a sheath, Hawkface. And you, Keth -- Idra's always got use for another mage, 'specially one nearly Masterclass. The best she's got now is a couple of self-taught hedge- wizards. Add in Furball there -- you'll be a combination she won't be able to resist.'
So it had proved. With letters in their pouches from both Ikan and his partner (both could read and write, a rarity among highborn, much less mercenaries) they had headed for the Sunhawks' winter quarters, a tiny hill town called Hawksnest. The name was not an accident; the town owed its existence to the Sunhawks, who wintered there and kept their dependents there, those dependents that weren't permanent parts of the Company bivouac. Hawksnest was nestled in a mountain valley, sheltered from the worst of the mountaintop weather, and the fortified barracks complex of the Sunhawks stood between it and the valley entrance. When the Hawks rode out, a solid garrison and all the Hawks-in-training remained behind. Idra believed in creating an environment for her fighters in which the only worries they needed to have on campaign were associated with the campaign.
Signing with Idra was unlike signing with any other Company; most Hawks stayed with Idra for years -- she had led the Company for nearly twenty years. She'd willingly renounced her position as third in line to the throne of Rethwellan twenty-five years earlier, preferring freedom over luxury. She'd hired on with a mercenary company herself, then after five years of experience accompanied by her own steady rise within the ranks, had formed the Hawks.
Tarma had been impressed with the quarters and the town; the inhabitants were easy, cheerful and friendly -- which spoke of good behavior on the part of the meres. The Hawks' winter quarters were better than those of many standing armies, and Tarma had especially approved of the tall wooden palisade that stretched across the entrance to Hawksnest, a palisade guarded by both Hawks and townsmen. And the Hawks themselves -- as rumor had painted them -- were a tight and disciplined group; drilling even in the slack season, and showing no sign of winter-bom softness.
Idra had sent for them herself after reading their letters; they found her in her office within the Hawks' barracks. She was a muscular, athletic looking woman, with the body of a born horsewoman, mouse-gray hair, a strong face that could have been used as the model for a heroic monument, and the direct and challenging gaze of the professional soldier.
'So,' she'd said, when they took their seats across the scratched, worn table that served as her desk, 'if I'm to trust Twoblade and Dryvale, it should be me begging you to sign on.'
Kethry had blushed; Tarma had met that direct regard with an unwavering gaze of her own. 'I'm Kal'enedral,' Tarma said shortly. 'If you know Shin'a'in, that should tell you something.'
'Swordsworn, hmm?' The quick gray eyes took in Tarma's brown clothing. 'Not on bloodfeud -- '
'That was ended some time ago,' Tarma told her, levelly. 'We ended it, we two working together. That was how we met.'
'Shin'a'in Kal'enedral and outClansman. Unlikely pairing -- even given a common cause. So why are you still together?'
For answer they both turned up their right palms so that she could see the silver crescent-scars that decorated them. One eyebrow lifted, ever so slightly.
'Sa. She'enedran. That explains a bit. Seems I've heard of a pair like you.'
'If it was in songs,' Tarma winced, 'let's just say the stories are true in the main, but false in the details. And the author constantly left out the fact that we've always done our proper planning before we ever took on the main event. Luck plays wondrous small part in what we do, if we've got any say in the matter. And besides all that -- we're a lot more interested in making a living than being somebody's savior.'
Idra had nodded; her expression had settled into something very like satisfaction. 'One last question for each of you -- what's your specialty, Shin'a'in -- and what's your rank and school, mage?'
'Horseback skirmishing, as you probably figured, knowing me for Shin'a'in.' Tarma had replied first. 'I'm a damned good archer -- probably as good as any you've got. I can fight afoot, but I'd rather not. We've both got battlesteeds, and I'm sure you know what that means. My secondary skill is tracking.'
'I'm White Winds, Journeyman; I'd say I lack a year or two of being Masterclass.' Kethry had given her answer hard on the heels of Tarma's. 'One other thing I think Ikan and Justin may have forgotten -- Tarma is mindmate to a kyree, and I've got a bespelled blade I'm soul-bonded to. It gives me weapons expertise, so I'm pretty good at keeping myself in one piece on a battlefield; that's damned useful in a fight, you won't have to spare anybody to look after me. And besides that, it will Heal most wounds for a woman -- and that's any woman, not just me.'
