Four and Twenty Blackbirds

They couldn't know just how accurate Haspur memory was, of course; Visyr considered that option, and also considered the fact that he had been curious for some time about the Abbey and the human Church and that this was an excellent chance to ask some questions of his own. The fact that the Duke would definitely want his involvement was another consideration. He could not imagine that the Duke could be coerced by anyone, not even a Church official, after what he'd been told about the Great Fire, so it was unlikely that this Priest was using the statement as a bluff.

'If this is any reassurance to you,' the woman said, still in that ironic voice, 'I give you my word that you need not fear the kind of 'welcome' that T'fyrr received at the hands of Bishop Padrik.'

So she knows about that.'And whose word would I be taking?' he asked boldly, as passersby glanced at them with curiosity, then stared harder, then abruptly looked away. That was an interesting action—they did not act as though they were afraid of attracting attention, but as if they did not want to intrude upon someone they respected. Visyr often saw the same reaction when he walked out with the Duke.

She smiled, as if his question did not offend her in the least, though the man looked a bit irritated. 'The word of High Bishop Justiciar Ardis,' she replied mildly.

He felt as if he had been hit with a blast of wind shear. The High Bishop? The Duke's cousin? She had come herself to question him?

This must be a more serious situation than I thought.

There could be no doubt of it, now that he looked at her more closely. The family resemblance was not to be mistaken, especially not for someone whose job it was to estimate relative proportions as well as exact measures. She had the same cast of features as her cousin. . . .

'Ah, I beg your pardon, High Bishop,' he said, snapping out of his introspection and minute examination of her features. 'Of course I have no objections. Do you mind if I fly over, though? I shall be able to shake off the last of my feeling of being confined.'

The High Bishop glanced skyward and shook her head. 'Not at all. Shall we meet you at the main gate of the Abbey, then? You should have no trouble spotting it from above.'

Without waiting for an answer, she and her escort turned and went down into the street, leaving him to do as he pleased. And at the moment, it definitely pleased him to take to the skies and make for the spire of the Cathedral across the river.

He flew slowly, well aware that even with the crowd parting to make way for the scarlet robe, he would beat them to the rendezvous. Unless, of course, they had some of those unreliable four-legged beasts to carry them across.

Just out of curiosity, he landed on one of the bridge-piers and waited for them, perched atop the white monolith like an ornamental carving. Sure enough, he had not waited long enough to feel the chill when he saw two humans in scarlet mounted on a pair of gray beasts, making their way to the bridge. The toll-takers waved them through—no great surprise there—and they moved out onto the span. The one slightly in the lead moved his head constantly, as if he was watching all about them.

Bodyguard,Visyr decided, just as the head pointed in his direction, and the figure raised one hand in a brief but unmistakable salute. Visyr saluted back, pleased to have discovered at leastone human who was as observant as the ones back home.

Observant, and—dare I say it?—sensitive. And in the uniform of the Church, but in the service of someone who is supposed to be unusually broad-minded. Very interesting.

He took wing again, landing before the main gate and startling the gatekeeper there no small amount. 'I am to meet High Bishop Ardis,' he said shortly, as the gatekeeper, also clad in a scarlet uniform, stammeringly asked his business. The man asked nothing more, probably supposing that if he was here to do some mischief he would not have landed so openly.

A reasonable supposition, that, though not an intelligent one. If he had been prepared to challenge the High Bishop, he would also have landed openly. Sometimes these humans were not very bright, besides being unobservant.

The same could not be said of the High Bishop's guard; as they moved into view, Visyr watched his eyes. Once they had registered the Haspur's presence, they flitted here, there, everywhere someone might be concealed, even in the shadow of Visyr's wings. That did not offend Visyr in the least; it was the man's duty to think of such things.

The two dismounted and left their long-eared creatures in the hands of the gatekeeper. Once again, the man took the lead, escorting them into the building and down a wide, high-ceilinged corridor that led to a huge, elaborately carved wooden door. There he paused with one hand on the handle, sending an inquiring glance towards the High Bishop.

She smiled. 'I can think of no more appropriate place,' she said in answer to his unspoken question. He opened the door and held it open as Visyr and the High Bishop walked in.

His beak parted in amazement as he looked up—and up—and up.