The Eagle And The Nightingales

In fact, paired with his desire to talk with her was his fear of resuming their interrupted friendship. I cannot place her in jeopardy, and she will be in as much danger as I am from my enemies if they learn that we are friends. I am not certain that Tyladen will be willing to protect her even if I warn him; after all, she is nothing more than an employee to him. And he knew, with deep certainty, that he was in danger from at least one enemy who was willing to hire bravos to come after him. He had known, even before Nightingale told him, that there were at least two people in that staged brawl who had been targeting him, and perhaps three or more. Being thwarted once would not stop them; they would only seek him somewhere else.

Or seek some other way to reach me than the direct route.

If he came and went via the sky, there would only be two places where they could ambush him: within the Palace grounds, or within Freehold. Both places had their own protections, and both had people who would protect him. But Nightingale had no wings; she could not travel except on the ground. He knew her kind, she was a Gypsy, and it was not natural for her to stay in one place for long; she would not stay here even if he warned her that it wasn't safe to leave. If his enemies knew that he valued her, they would not hesitate to use her against him.

He sighed and sipped at the iced herbal drink someone had brought him, while Nightingale sang and played one of her strange Gypsy songs. I wish that I knew who my enemy was, and why he sent men after me. It could be one of the other Court musicians, who wishes to be rid of me. It could be one of the Advisors, or one of their allies, who thinks that I have too great an influence with the King. He sighed. If only I did! But that doesn't matter as long as someone believes that I do. It also could be someone who simply does not wish to see a nonhuman in a position of such importance and visibility. Or it could be for none of those reasons, for a cause I cannot even think of.

It could also be that someone in this city, possibly with the Church, had recognized him as the 'demon' who killed a Church Guard. Since that killing could not actually be proved, this might be their own way of seeing that justice was done.

All of those people would have ample reason to try to use Nightingale, even someone connected with the Church and High Bishop Padrik.

That might be worst of all for her. He had seen the shadowed fear in her eyes on the single occasion when they had spoken about the power of the Church_the idea of Nightingale in the hands of a sadist like Padrik left him cold and shaking.

He would not have been happy until he had forced her to confess to some awful crime, so that he could have her done away with in a way that brought him more power. He would have done it as casually as swatting an insect, and I know that there are more men like him in this human Church. I have seen them, watched them as they watch me in the Court, their eyes full of hot hatred, or worse, cold and calculating indifference. Like Padrik, others are important to them only as the means to power, or the taking of power from them.

He was so lost in his own bleak thoughts that he didn't realize Nightingale's last set was over until she came to his seat and tapped him on the shoulder. He started and stared up at her.

'Let's go up to the roof,' she said, not commenting on how jumpy he was. 'You'll feel better up there with open sky above you.'

Now, how did she know that? Or was it simply logical deduction for a creature with wings?

Whatever the cause, it shows a sensitivity that I had not expected from a human.

He followed her up several flights of stairs, down a corridor on the fourth floor that she said was part of the staff's area, and up a short set of ladderlike stairs. She pushed open a hatchway and climbed up; he followed her to find himself once again under the open sky. But now it was quite dark, with stars winking through thin, high clouds.

She shut the hatch quietly. 'There are probably a few more people up here,' she said quite softly, 'but they won't bother us, and I know where they are likely to be.' She beckoned to him, and he followed her, a gracefully moving shadow, lightly frosted with silver from the half moon overhead. She took him to the very edge of the roof and patted the raised rim of knee-high poured stone that kept people from walking right off the edge.

'This makes a perfectly good bench if you aren't afraid of heights,' she told him, laughing a little at the absurdity of the idea of a Haspur with no head for heights. He echoed her laugh_though it sounded a bit feeble to him_and joined her on the improvised seat. A warm thermal rose from the pavement below, still heated from the afternoon's sun.

'I come up here nearly every night except when I am very weary,' she told him as she looked out over the city below, then up at the moon and stars above. 'It's very peaceful. I'm sure Freehold is a wonderful place, but if you work here, you get very tired of it, especially if you aren't particularly used to cities. I don't like cities very much, myself. I prefer the countryside. I'd trade a hundred Freeholds for one good Faire at Kingsford.'

He had more than his share of questions that he wanted to ask her about that. What in the world was she doing here, for one thing! Why here and why now? The last time he had seen her, she had been going in the opposite direction of Lyonarie! There were no Free Bards here, at least none that he knew of, and probably not many Gypsies, either. So what had possessed her to come here, and what had possessed her to take a position as an entertainer in Freehold of all places?

The trouble was, if he asked questions, she would be as free to ask questions of him. 'I was rather surprised