cold in the mountains at night, and you are not as accustomed to the conditions as we kyrie.'
Caramon opened his mouth to object, but Sun Feather raised a hand. 'I am welcome anywhere among my people,' the leader of the kyrie said, 'and will not want for a place to eat and rest. And some nights I like to have the excuse of the open sky.' His dark face wrinkled into a smile. 'Even though I am old bones.'
Caramon didn't protest further. In truth, he was happy for the comfort of the cave.
For the next several days, Caramon lived as one of the kyrie in their cave city among the sheer cliffs that girdled the high valleys in the far north of Mithas.
Taller and leaner than Caramon, Cloudreaver could easily carry the warrior, grasped in his taloned feet, while flying from plateau to plateau. Everywhere he went, Caramon was an object of curiosity among the kyrie, though he was invariably greeted with warmth. While the females, especially, gossiped and chattered about him in their kyrie tongue, most of the bird-people switched to Common in his presence. They overwhelmed him with their hospitality. Many of them already seemed to know the story of his escape, and his connection with Morning Sky.
Some of the kyrie caves were huge and able to house dozens of families, Caramon noted, while some isolated families chose to camp in sunlit hollows at the base of cliffs. The occasional wood beams or ladders Caramon noticed had been borne through the sky from miles away, Cloudreaver told him. Wood didn't grow at this altitude and was quite a luxury, and therefore a measure of status.
The tough, clever kyrie had devised ingenious ways of surviving in a region that was hot and parched by day, cool and dry by night. Rainwater was precious. What little that fell was diverted into holding pools at the bottom of the canyons, with only a small supply kept high near the cave cities where moisture evaporated quickly due to the constant onslaught of sun and wind. The kyrie had dug irrigation canals and built dams from the rocky ground, the canals deep to reduce the amount of water exposed to the sun, and narrow so they could be covered during cold nights.
Jackrabbits, cottontails, mule deer, and rodents provided the kyrie with meat. These were hunted daily by males to whom that duty had been delegated. While not a farming people, each kyrie family kept a small garden fed by irrigation. The garden supplemented their diet of meat with cactus fruit, nuts, beans, and seeds. On forays into the valleys, they collected wild grains. A lean, lithe race, the kyrie ate little-only one full meal a day.
Caramon asked Cloudreaver about the magical blue orbs that he noticed everywhere, which provided illumination inside the caves at night. As Cloudreaver explained it, many of the kyrie had modest magical skills. As a people, they were especially renowned for their ability to communicate with and cast spells over animals. But the magically inclined among them who were most revered were those who could predict or alter the weather. In any case, the blue-light orbs were a very simple spell, Cloudreaver said.
While the men took charge of hunting, the women occupied themselves with pottery-making, leatherwork, and the etching of shells. Whereas humans tended to carry their belongings in pouches and rucksacks, many of the kyrie had small baskets slung at their sides. These might contain anything from dried fruit to family artifacts to small weapons. The traditional weapon, which didn't fit into a basket, was a curved club, carved of wood, called a stryker. Many of the males who went off hunting carried bows and arrows as well as their strykers.
Caramon noticed there was a steady coming and going of the young males. They flew magnificently, these young, strong kyrie, like great eagles, covering ground rapidly, beating their huge wings. Some arrived fresh from hunting, the carcasses of animals slung over their shoulders. Others were obviously scouts and messengers.
The scouts and messengers reported directly to Cloudreaver. Some of them pointed at Caramon, speaking rapidly in the kyrie tongue. Some of the young bird-men looked at him haughtily, as Cloudreaver once had, and Caramon guessed they were arguing with Cloudreaver in their native language.
Although Caramon pressed Cloudreaver to learn what they were saying, the son of Sun Feather was evasive. Caramon figured that was his royal prerogative, but he was anxious about Sturm and wanted to know what, if anything, the kyrie had reported about the Solamnic. More than once Cloudreaver asked the human warrior to remain patient.
After four days among the kyrie, Caramon, well rested, leaner, and tougher, was still far from patient.
'Where is Atossa from here?' Caramon asked Cloudreaver, standing on the ledge where he had first arrived.
Cloudreaver pointed south. 'A hundred miles.'
'I could return there and take a turn as sentinel in the tunnels,' pressed Caramon.
Cloudreaver put his hand on the shoulder of the anxious warrior. 'No, my friend,' he repeated. 'Soon. Your friend is still alive. My brother is still alive. But you must be patient. We must wait a little longer for something to happen.'
That night, Caramon was in the cave that Sun Feather had ceded to him, lying on his back, ready for sleep, when Cloudreaver came for him.
Caramon started as the son of Sun Feather entered. His kyrie friend was strangely daubed with paint, ornamented in beads and shells. Cloudreaver brought out a blindfold. Although Caramon felt uneasy, he let the kyrie tie it around his eyes so that he couldn't see where he was being taken.
Then Caramon felt the by now familiar sensation of being lifted up and borne through the air, but only for a short distance this time. When the blindfold came off, Caramon was in another, larger cave with about a dozen male kyrie who were garbed and decorated like Cloudreaver. Some of them he remembered meeting. Others he had never seen before.
They sat cross-legged in a circle. As Caramon, guided by Cloudreaver, joined the group, one of the male kyrie got up and came over to him, daubing his face with ash-gray, zigzag lines and draping him with ceremonial feathers and jewelry. This kyrie Caramon knew to be Cloudreaver's friend. His name was Bird-Spirit.
The bird-men linked hands and began to chant in the kyrie tongue. Caramon was seated between two kyrie he did not know. Looking around, he realized that Cloudreaver was gone. The kyrie gripped his hands. Although the young warrior had no idea what the kyrie were chanting, Caramon felt himself drawn into their solemn ritual.
The chanting continued for a long time. In spite of himself. Caramon felt himself being lulled to sleep. When he jerked his eyes open, he saw that the others, too, had closed their eyes. The kyrie were deliberately trancelike. Someone had lit sticks of incense, and a pungent odor, accompanied by curls of smoke, filled the cave.
All of a sudden the chanting stopped, and Cloudreaver appeared from a dark corner, carrying a large, heavy wooden box. This he carefully placed in the center of the circle. All eyes followed his every movement as the kyrie leaned over, opened a latched lid, and pulled out-Caramon caught his breath-a rare sea dragon.
The sea dragon was large, resembling a giant turtle with a lizardlike head, a thick dark shell, webbed toes, and massive, paddlelike flippers. Caramon knew that these ferocious creatures, not true dragons, were legendary for attacking ships. Rarely were they caught alive. Although it could breathe either air or water, it couldn't survive long without being immersed in water. As large and fierce-looking as this one was, it moved its head and tail ponderously outside its element.
Cloudreaver held it up and made a show of handing it to Bird-Spirit, who sat opposite Caramon in the circle. The head of the sea dragon thrashed, its powerful jaws snapping at the air. For long minutes, Bird-Spirit held the sea dragon over his head, chanting and murmuring while the savage creature did everything possible to twist out of his grip and lunge at him.
Bird-Spirit handed the sea dragon back to Cloudreaver, who passed it on to the next kyrie, and so on around the circle until Cloudreaver brought the huge creature to Caramon. The others watched him intently. Close up, the sea animal was revolting. It shrieked and thrashed, lashing out with its jaws. Fearful, Caramon hesitated for just a moment, then reached out and took the sea dragon from Cloudreaver.
Following the example of the others, Caramon held the sea dragon above his head, keeping silent while the other kyrie chanted for him. The Majere twin held the creature aloft until his arms ached, then lowered it, returning the sea dragon to Cloudreaver.
Cloudreaver met Caramon's eyes and passed the sea dragon on to the next kyrie.
After the sea dragon had gone around the circle, the chanting rose as Cloudreaver held the creature down in the center. He pulled out a long, sharp knife, and as the creature flopped around, trying to escape, Cloudreaver plunged the knife into the animal's back again and again, penetrating the shell.
Bird-Spirit rushed forward with a bowl, collecting the sea animal's spew of blood and body juices.
After some time, the creature lay still. One of the kyrie lifted its body back into the box and dragged the box off to one side.
