says to tell you hello. How did you find me?'
'Ssstand, and let me look at you,' Hydona demanded, turning her head from one side to the other, like a huge bird surveying something that intrigued it. Nyara obeyed, instantly.
'Good,' Hydona pronounced. 'The taint isss gone, and you arrre looking lesss-ferrral. We knew wherrre you werrre becaussse Need told usss, of courssse.'
'Of course,' she said faintly.
'Sssomeone had to know,' Treyvan admonished with a flick of his tail. 'What if you encounterrred sssomething you could not deal with?
What if crrreaturresss of yourrr fatherrr found you? Need judged usss able to defend you, and otherrrwissse likely to leave you in peace.'
'Morrre ssso than the Hawkbrrotherrrsss,' Hydona said. 'But that isss why we arrre herrre. Becaussse of Ssskif and Winterrrmoon.' She inadvertently brought her hand to her throat. 'Are they near?' She had not thought she would have to deal with Skif so soon...'Verry,' Treyvan said shortly. 'The trrrail isss hot. You will not brrreak passst Winterrrmoon without him ssstriking yourrr esscape trrrail. The owlsss will find thisss place tonight or tomorrrrow night.' Hydona nipped at her mate. 'And we mussst leave, if we arrre not to brring dissscovery on herrr soonerrrr.' She hesitated a moment. 'Nyarrra, we have all forrrgiven you. You did yourrrr bessst. We wisssh you verrry well. And Ssskif would make a fine mate. But I think you know that alrrready.' With that, she launched herself from the tower like a sea-eagle, in a dive that ended with a great snap as she opened her wings and turned the dive into a climb. Treyvan only nodded, then turned and did the same.
Within moments, they were far out of sight. Nyara stared after themcomforted, and yet tormented. she descended the stairs to her living quarters slowly, still not certain what to do. Should she wait for him to find her? Should she hide somewhere, so that he found only her empty lair? Should she hide here and pretend that she was not here?
'Go find him, girl,' Need replied. 'You heard Hydona; now you have a second opinion. A little stronger than mine, really-but then Hydona has a mate of her own. She tends to favor matings.'
'But-' Nyara began.
'But nothing. Don't let the opinion of someone who never had a man get in your way.' Need actually chuckled. 'Look, girl, I never, ever, put my bearers between a boulder and a rock, making them choose between me and a man. Just because I have always chosen to defend women, that doesn't mean I despise men. Demons take it-that would be as blind as the opposite!
I am not about to go copy the behavior of some woman-hating man! Now go on out there and deal with your feelings. Meet them, instead of waiting for them to trap you.'
'I still don't know,' Nyara said, feeling as helpless as a kitten in a flood.
'You don't need to know. Get it over with one way or another. If you don't-girl, don't you know that's something your father will use against you?
Make it into a strength, and not a weakness! It worked before. Remember?' Yes, she remembered. Remembered attacking her father with tooth and claw, for striking at Skif. Recalled the surprise on his face before he struck her.
'The beast just does not understand the strength of true feelings, and he never will. It makes you unpredictable to him. Use that.' Nyara sighed and moved to her window, looking out over the peaceful countryside that up until this morning had been only hers-full of light-And now seeing the shadows. They had been there all along, but she had chosen not to see them. 'I suppose I should be grateful that he has been sulking and licking his wounds for so long, and has not come looking for me.'
You're waking up, girl. The gryphons were my hedge against Skif or Mornelithe finding you. Well, Skif showed up before the beast did; I suppose we should be grateful for that, too. Skif's a good one, as young men go.'
'So.' She settled her cloak firmly about her shoulders. 'If he is hunting with Wintermoon and the owls, he hunts by night.'
'True enough.'
'He will be sleeping now,' she said, thinking out loud. 'I should be able to approach without Cymry rousing him, and be there when he wakes. Yes, I think that now is the time to go and meet him.' Good girl.' She turned to face the sword. 'So,' she said, feeling a kind of ironic amusement after all, 'since I am sure that you know-or can find outwhere is he?' Mornelithe Falconsbane reclined on a soft couch in his darkened study. and brooded on revenge, like some half-mad, wounded beast. He had not left the room since his return, sore in body and spirit, depleted, but refusing to show any weakness. Weakness could be fatal to someone in his position. A show of weakness would give underlings... ideas. He had learned that decades ago.
His own people hardly dared approach him; they ordered slaves to bring him food and drink, silently, leaving it beside the door. The slaves obeyed out of immediate fear of the lash, fear of pain even overcoming their fear of Falconsbane, praying that he would not notice them. For sometimes, the slave in question would find those glowing golden eyes upon him, shining out of the darkness of the study-corner where he lay ...And when that happened, more slaves were summoned later, to take the remains away. The remains were not pretty. Usually, there were pieces missing. No one looked into the study to find them.
He had used his own blood to open the great Gate in the ruins; had wrenched that Gate from its set destination to a portal of his choosing.
He had done so out of desperation, not knowing if the thing would work, not knowing if he had the strength left to make it work. Not knowing if it would take him where he willed, or somewhere unknown. He chose to risk it anyway, preferring to die fighting rather than be taken by the cursed Horse-Lovers and the Bird-Fools In the end, he stumbled from the mouth of a cave at the very edge of his own realm, fell to the ground, and lay in a stupor for over a day.
Only the strength he had cultivated, the stamina he had spelled into himself, had saved him. A lesser being would have died there. A lesser Adept would have been stranded in the nothingness between Gates, trapped, unless and until some accident spewed him forth-perhaps dead, perhaps mad, certainly tortured and drained. But he was not a lesser Adept, and it would take more than a day of exposure to kill him.
He woke, finally, ravenous and in pain from wounds within and without.
His mage-channels had been scorched by the unrestricted torrent of energies he had used. The first thing he
