The Eagle And The Nightingales

I?'

T'fyrr still looked stricken, and she felt his despair enveloping him like a great black net. She tried to think of something, anything, to say_and swayed with sudden exhaustion, catching herself with one hand on a pillar just before she fell.

Father Ruthvere took over, his expression mirroring his relief at having something immediate he could do. 'Never mind all that now,' he said soothingly. 'Tomorrow everything may change. Before anything can happen, you both need to rest, recover your strength.' He made shooing motions with his hands in the direction of the belltower. 'Go!' he said. 'The Bishop will be sending his own guards to make sure you aren't taken from sanctuary by force. You won't need to stay awake to avoid arrest. All you need to do is get your strength back.'

Nightingale sighed with relief and let down her guard. Weariness came over her then, so potent it left her dizzy.

Fortunately they were not supposed to go up to the top of the belltower_for one thing, when the bells rang they would have risked deafness or even death up there. No, there was a well-insulated tiring room at the base of the tower that they would be living in for the next few days at the very least. It had a staircase that led directly up to the top of the tower, so that once T'fyrr grew his feathers back_a matter of two or three weeks, at a guess_he would have free access to one of the better take-off points in this district. If he had to fly out, and he left at night, no one would ever know.

The two of them staggered into the tiring room to find that Father Ruthvere had been there before them, laying out bedding, wash water and a basin, even food. One set of bedding.

But by the time they reached the doorway, they were so tired that all they cared about was the bedding. They literally collapsed into it, Nightingale only a fraction of a heartbeat behind T'fyrr, and curled up together in a comforting tangle of limbs. She pulled the blankets up over them both, as much to hide the sad state of his feathers as for warmth.

He was asleep first; she listened to his regular breathing and allowed herself to weep, very quietly, with relief and joy. Not many tears, but enough that she had to wipe her face with a corner of a blanket before she was through. That released the last of her tension; she had only two thoughts before slumber caught her.

We are as surely in prison here as in the gaol. We cannot leave without being taken by our enemies. We have been caged at last.

It doesn't matter as long as we are together.

T'fyrr would never have known how long he slept if Father Ruthvere hadn't told him.

'Three days?' he said incredulously. 'Three days?'

The Priest nodded, and T'fyrr shook his head. 'I believe you, but_'

'Well, you woke up long enough to eat and_ahem,' Father Ruthvere said, blushing. 'But other than that, you slept. Nightingale, too,' he added as an afterthought. 'Though she stayed awake a bit longer than you did.'

Probably healing me. That would account for how well I feel and the memories of music in my dreams.

T'fyrr sighed and roused his feathers. 'Well, what has been happening? Are we still under siege?' he asked. 'Or are our enemies satisfied to have us bottled up and out of the way?'

Father Ruthvere played with his prayer beads. 'The latter, I suspect,' he said after a moment. 'You obviously cannot press charges against your captors since you are a fugitive yourself, and as for Nightingale_' He shrugged. 'The nonhumans are in an uproar, but there is no one to lead them and Theovere_'

'And Theovere is near death.'

They all turned as one, T'fyrr feeling the blood draining from his skin and leaving him cold everywhere there were no feathers.

Harperus stood in the door to the tiring room, face drawn and as pale as his hair, his costume little more than a pair of plain trews and an embroidered shirt. 'Thank the Stars you're awake at last,' he said without preamble, as both Nightingale and T'fyrr stared at him, trying to make some sort of sense out of his first statement. 'Theovere was attacked and is in a coma, his physicians are baffled_' He held up his hands as T'fyrr mantled what was left of his wings in anger. 'Wait, let me tell this from the beginning.'

T'fyrr subsided. 'Make it short, Old Owl,' he rumbled. 'None of your damned Deliambren meanderings!'

Harperus nodded. 'Shortly, then. The marvelous music box broke down completely this morning, and no amount of fiddling by Lord Levan would get it working again. The High King sent pages looking for you, and found me instead, and I gave him an earful.'