'She and I?' said Volias. 'I'm flattered you think so.'
'No, I meant her and the eagle. A worse-tempered raptor I've never encountered in my life, which is why I need to talk to you right now, Nallo. You'll come with me.' Under that charm lay an implacable temper, maybe worse than her own once roused, and she knew all at once that she dared not cross him. She shoved the bowl away and got up from behind the bench.
'That just goes over to the table, there,' said the marshal helpfully, pointing to a table where other bowls and utensils had been stacked. All of the other people in the hall — reeves and fawkners and hirelings — had turned to watch the encounter. Aware of their scrutiny, she stalked to the table and set down the things before walking to the door, where he waited for her. Volias came with him, the two men talking in low voices.
1-I think it's a risk with that eagle,' Volias was saying, 'and I'm surprised you-'
The marshal nudged him.
He broke off.
'I'm here,' said Nallo needlessly. Sometimes she didn't even know why these griping phrases popped out of her mouth. 'What do I have to do to convince you I'm not the right person to be a reeve? That I don't want to be here?'
'Oh, you've convinced me you don't want to be here,' said the marshal. 'But as you'll discover, how you feel about your situation doesn't actually matter.'
'There's no sign of that eagle.'
'That eagle's just flown in, and she's in no better temper than you are.'
'The hells,' swore Volias.
'That's right,' said the marshal. 'Quicker is better. Come on.'
Rather than walking across the courtyard through the rain, he skirted the edges of a quadrangle of wooden buildings: the eating hall, the fawkner's warehouse and shop, the barracks, and the back wall of one of the high lofts, like a byre for beasts, where eagles quartered. Eaves sheltered them from the rain but the wind sprayed moisture over them. She welcomed the cool spatter. The Flower Rains at the beginning of the year were her favorite, a cleansing draft to cool what burned and tore at her insides. Angry, she followed the marshal through a narrow alley between two buildings and halted on the edge of the vast parade ground.
Four fawkners stood against the far wall of the north loft, under the eaves. One clasped her right hand to her left arm as though she'd been raked. Another held a hood, ties dangling, as they all stared despairingly toward the center of the parade ground. The yard was cleared of all eagles save one, who clutched a perch and stared belligerently at the fawkners. The idiots hadn't even gone in to examine her wound; dried blood and fresh glimmers discolored one wing.
'She's really angry,' said Volias. 'You know what she did to-'
'Let me finish,' said Joss to Volias. 'Nallo, do you recognize that eagle?'
'That's the one that protected us on the trail. Can't you see its injury? Why isn't anyone helping it? I thought these fawkners knew everything about eagles.'
'They need to hood it first.'
'Why don't they?'
'She's really angry,' repeated Volias.
She did look angry, with her neck feathers puffed out and the rest of her slicked down.
'They need that hood on so they can treat her injury,' said the marshal. 'She'll settle down then.'
Volias frowned. 'You can't mean you'll send Nallo out-'
'If that injury isn't treated properly, the eagle will not survive. If the eagle dies, Nallo dies.'
'You're saying that to scare me. To get me to agree.' It was ridiculous the way they were all scared of the big eagle, not that she wasn't a frightening sight when you really compared how puny the humans looked compared to the magnificent size and weapons of the raptor. But Nallo had sheltered under that vicious beak before; the bird had saved Jerad from the bandits.
With a grunt of disgust, she strode over to the huddled fawkners. 'Give me the hood.'
Blood stained the skin of the woman clutching her arm. 'She's favoring her right leg,' she said, calm as you please, 'which is what saved me from worse. If she strikes, she'll strike with her left. Watch for the talons.'
A man handed her the heavy leather contraption.
'How do I get this on?'
'That part fits around the beak,' said the injured woman. 'Just get the eyes covered. Once she settles, we'll do the rest until you've learned more.'
One of the other fawkners, a short, fine-boned man, whistled under his breath and shook his head, but the rest simply watched as she took a step back.
'Oh, I see,' she said as she opened it out. The leather was soft and pliant, heavy because there was so much of it, and there was an obvious hole for the beak. She'd grown up dealing with goats. This couldn't be that different.
Yet as she approached the eagle, whose fierce gaze fixed on her, her heart raced until her ears throbbed. That beak was big enough to rip off her head.
The eagle moved, a swipe with her talons. Nallo leaped back out of range as, behind her, a man groaned and many voices gasped.
'Just keep going.' That was the marshal, calling encouragement. 'If she'd meant to hook you, she'd have made contact. You're much slower than she is.'
'Isn't he the cheerful one,' said Nallo to the bird, taking courage in irritation. What a prancing idiot that marshal was! 'Although by the look of you, I suppose it's true. Or I hope it's true.' If she kept talking she didn't have to think about how scared she was. 'If you really wanted to bite my head off, I don't see how I could escape you.'
Taking a deep breath, she stepped forward. The eagle raked again, but she was slow and jerky.
'Stop that!' She was on her toes ready to bolt with a knot in her throat she had to squeeze the words past. Even so, feeling stuck between all those cursed reeves and fawkners expecting her to do what she didn't want to do, and the huge raptor looking furious with everyone, made her temper rise even more. If that was possible. But not at the poor bird.
'Here, now, you recall me. We met up in the Soha Hills. You gave the boy shelter, didn't you, and I appreciate it as I think I said then so I don't know what you're slashing at me for now. I never did you any harm!'
It drew up one leg. Its neck feathers eased.
That seemed less threatening. She went on.
'So if you want that wing looked at, you'd best be cooperative. Not that I can't see that you dislike all of them, and I surely can't blame you for doing so since they seem an unlikable lot to me, too.'
It lowered its head. A feathered brow ridge gave her a grouchy look, as if she were saying, 'What took you so long?'
The hood was bulky, and Nallo tried to sling it over. The eagle lifted her head, and leather spilled off and flopped to the dirt with a thump.
'Be still! Do you want that injury tended to, or not?'
As she bent over to grab the hood, she heard a sharp hiss, a whispering, the shifting of many feet. Rising, she swung around.
All kinds of folk had crowded under the eaves to watch. There were a dozen more fawkners, some armed with staves and long padded spears and hook-bills, and too many reeves and hirelings to
count. The eagle lowered her leg to get better purchase on the perch. Nallo sensed her contempt and impatience and pain.
'Yes, may they all rot in the hells, idiot gawkers! Just let me get this thing-oof! — ' She heaved. '-up over your head and-' Tugged awkwardly, one leather thong briefly clamped in her teeth to keep it out of her face. '-sheh! keep your head down! — and you won't have to look at their ugly faces anymore. There!'
The eagle was hooded, although the straggling ends needed tying off. Nallo beckoned to the fawkners. 'Don't just gawp there! How do you fix this thing so she can't scrape it off?'
Three started forward, including the woman with the torn arm. They grabbed the leather ties at the back of the hood and, while the eagle still had her head lowered, tightened them.
'These ties are called the brace,' explained the injured fawkner. 'You stayed calm.'
