The Eagle And The Nightingales

Suddenly, the street erupted in screams.

The children swarmed fearlessly into the fight, screaming their lungs out, kicking, biting, throwing stones, hitting, and most of all getting underfoot. They were too small and agile for the startled attackers to stop them, and there were too many of them to catch; when one of the bullies actually managed to grab an urchin, three or four more would mob him, kicking and biting, until he let go.

Nightingale spotted an opening at the same time T'fyrr did; they seized each other's hands, and T'fyrr charged through first, knocking one man aside with a wing, Nightingale hauled along in his wake.

They ran until their sides ached; ran until they could hardly breathe, ran until they were staggering blindly with exhaustion_and did not stop running until they came to Freehold.

CHAPTER EIGHT

'I can't believe you didn't break anything,' Nightingale said as she carefully checked every bone in T'fyrr's fragile-appearing wings. She had already checked every inch of his body, from feet to sheath to keel, knowing from her experience with birds that the feathers could hide a number of serious to life-threatening injuries, and that seemingly insignificant tears in the skin could spread under sudden pressure to an unbelievable extent, especially across the breast muscles. Fortunately, his skin proved to be much tougher than the average bird's.

She ached, not only from her own injuries, but from his. I know every bruise, every sprain, every torn muscle. I feel as if I am inside his body. This never happened with Raven!

He sighed, and rubbed one elbow. Bruises didn't show on the scaly skin of his lower arms and legs, but there was so little muscle there that the bruises went to the bone. 'It feels as if I have broken a hundred bones, but I know that I have not. It will be days before I can fly again.'

He did not voice the fear that put into him; the fear of the winged creature left helpless on the ground. He did not have to voice that fear, for she felt it as well.

I was an idiot. I should have taken him seriously. I should have confronted Harperus and demanded some kind of damned Deliambren protection! I should have confronted Harperus and Tyladen and moved into the damned Palace. I was enjoying the anonymity that kept them from manipulating me, and enjoying my notoriety as Lyrebird too much. I was enjoying all the adulation and success I had here in Freehold, too. Now he's grounded and it's all my fault. Guilt made her avoid his eyes, but she could not avoid the emotions coming from him.

She sat back on the bed for a moment, once she had assured herself that he truly did not have any broken bones. She had injuries of her own, of course_a badly bruised shoulder, bruised shins, lumps on her head_but his injuries were far more numerous than hers. He had shielded both of them with his wings, used the wings as weapons to buffet their attackers, and interposed himself between her and a blow she had not seen aimed at her any number of times.

Well, at least there is a solution to his injuries, if he'll take it. He might be grounded, but not for long.

'T'fyrr, I can_I can heal some of this, if you like,' she offered tentatively. 'It will still hurt, but I can sing it half-healed today, and do the rest tomorrow.' Then she frowned. 'I think I can,' she amended. 'I'm not sure if the magic will work on a Haspur, or if it will work the same. It should. I have not healed a nonhuman before, but my teacher Nighthawk has, and she never said anything about the magic working differently for them.'

His feathers twitched, and she felt his relief at the idea that she might be able to give him enough freedom from pain and damage that he need not be caught on the ground. 'Please!' he begged with voice and eyes and clenched talon-hands. 'Half-healed will let me fly again!'

'You know how the magic works,' she said, and smiled when he shook his head.

He'll find out in a moment.

'No, I don't_' he began, then his eyes widened in wonder. 'Oh. Yes, I do....' His voice trailed off, as his eyes sought hers, seeking answers.

They were answers she was not prepared to give him yet_perhaps never. Better that he should never know where that touch of magic and the knowledge of it came from, if there was to be nothing more between them than there had been between her and Raven. 'Simply listen for the music and give yourself to it,' she said, and placed both her hands atop his hard, sinewy talons. It no longer felt strange to reach for a hand and find something all bone and sinew and covered with the tough, scaly skin of a raptors feet. Did it still seem strange for him to touch her, and find soft skin over muscle, with five stubby little scales instead of talons?

She gave him no chance to ask all the questions she felt bubbling up inside of him; she did not want to face those questions herself.