The best proof of that were the spies he had in Protarus court. They'd warned him just in time the king meant to betray him and he'd barely escaped with his life.
Kalasariz found it amusing the king's betrayal had ended up being a blessing. Why, if he had joined the king he wouldn't be here in Kyrania so well placed on the winning side. So what if they were demons? They had what Kalasariz considered an enlightened attitude toward human abilities. Luka had immediately seen Kalasariz potential. As had Lord Fari. Of course, the two would probably appreciate him less, but admire him more, if they knew he'd made separate arrangements with them both.
He stopped at the edge of the grove. The birds broke off their concert and flew deeper into the shadows. There they perched on an old nut tree, branches bursting with bounty, and took up their song again. The music was sweet, very sweet. I must see what sort of birds these are, Kalasariz thought. Then a sudden vision came to him of one of the birds leaping down on his finger. In the vision he carried the creature away and put it in a cage where it serenaded him all the night long.
Teased by the vision, he followed the birds into the woods.
Kalasariz hadn't deluded himself about his safety from Protarus anywhere on the Walarian side of the Gods Divide. Even if he could have found a suitable place, he had no intention of spending his days as a man without influence, without power, ducking and dodging through alleyways. So he'd decided to cross the mountains and see what kind of life he could make in Caspan. He had well-placed spies in that city, which was an even better start than the fat pouch of gems he'd carried away with him when he'd escaped.
Those were exciting days, he thought with the fondness that distance and success give to anxious times. Disguised as a merchant, he'd hired a place in a caravan traveling to Caspan. He'd crossed the mountains at Kyrania with that caravan, noting with much interest the richness of the valley. He'd even purchased a fine set of wine cups from Khadji Timura, enjoying much private amusement as the old man and his wife smiled and chatted while they wrapped the cups in felt and packed them carefully away in a carved box for his journey. He'd nearly laughed aloud when the dear old couple had boasted of their son, Safar Timura, who was a great scholar and boyhood friend of Iraj Protarus.
He remembered the conversation as if it were yesterday.
'Perhaps you've heard of him? Khadji asked.
'Safar Timura? Kalasariz replied. No, I'm sorry I haven't had that honor.'
'No, Iraj Protarus, I mean, Khadji said.
'Certainly I have, Kalasariz said. Who hasn't heard of the great King Protarus and his famous victories?'
Then Myrna shyly asked, Some say he's cruel. Is this true?'
'Not at all, good mother, Kalasariz said. Why, he's the kindest of kings. Oh, there have been deaths, of course. But when isn't there in a war? No, he's a grand king, this Protarus. And good for business as well.'
Myrna acted much relieved. I'm pleased to hear that, she said. He lived here for a time, you know. He was a good lad. A little wild and strong-willed, of course. But a good lad. His mother would have been proud, may the gods bless her dear departed soul.'
Kalasariz chuckled at the memory. He looked up and saw the birds had moved, but only to a lower branch. He wondered what kind of nut tree it was. Cinnamon, perhaps?
He'd barely settled in Caspanreacquainting his spies with the solidness of good Kalasariz goldwhen the demons struck.
Once again he found himself in a city under siege, hysteria raging all about him. But he'd kept his head low, ordered his spies to do the same, and once the demons had taken the city he'd poked it up again. The demons had engaged in the usual slaughter. But when they thought the lesson had been taughtand taught wellthey set up an administration to run the city. Some of those administrators were from the previous government. They were all low level bureaucratsthe kind who do most of the real work and take little notice of who or what might be the current resident of the throne. Among them were Kalasariz spies.
Once he knew the lay of the land, Kalasariz had approached Luka and Fariseparately, of course. He had many things to offer. The most valuable of all was Kyrania. The key that would unlock the gate to Protarus kingdom.
He paused under the tree, the birds just above him, but silent now.
So here I am, he thought, enjoying my reward. The first of many and greater rewards to come.
The birds fluttered, catching his attention. He noticed one bird in particular. It was bright green, while the others were drab brown, and seemed to have a large red spot on its breast. It was a plump little fellow. Deliciously so.
Kalasariz recalled that song birds were supposed to be the best meat of all. The sweeter the song, it was said, the sweeter the flesh.
He looked closer at the tree. He was certain now it was a cinnamon. Ah, he thought, a song bird fed on cinnamon. What a meal I could make!
Kalasariz held out his finger. Fly down, fly down my pretty little bird, he called. Light upon me. I have nice things for you.'
He was mildly surprised when the bird hopped from the branch and perched on his outstretched finger. He'd only been amusing himselfthinking of the vision. But now it seemed that vision was about to turn into dinner.
'Sing to me little bird, he cooed. Sing to Kalasariz. Sing as sweetly as you can, my pretty. And then I'll wring your little neck and have you for supper.'
To his delight the bird opened its beak as if to sing.
'Shut up, shut up, shuutt uuuup! it said.
Kalasariz jaw dropped. What? What did you say?'
'I said shut up, Gundaree, the bird went on. I saw him first. I don't care if he smells like a demon. He's a people. Look for yourself, you stupid thing!'
I'm dreaming, Kalasariz thought. I fell asleep in the temple and I dreamed I took a walk. And now I'm dreaming this bird is talking to me. He lifted his hand, examining the red spot on the bird's breast. How odd, he thought. It's in the shape of a turtle.
Suddenly the bird sank sharp claws into his finger.
Kalasariz shrieked and tried to fling the creature off.
'Get away, get away! he cried.
But the bird only sank its claws deeper, grating against the bone.
Screaming, Kalasariz flung himself about, trying to shake the bird from his wounded hand.
'Stop that you stupid human! the bird shouted at Kalasariz. You're hurting me.'
Then the bird transformed into a snarling little fiend with long sharp teeth. It leaped onto Kalasariz face, clutching his cheeks with its talons. Then it bit him on the nose.
Kalasariz froze. He felt pain, felt the creature clinging to his face, felt blood flow into his mouth, but he couldn't move. Couldn't even twitch, much less make a sound.
He heard footsteps and saw a figure step from the tree.
And Kalasariz, a man who refused to recognize even mild surprise, much less stark terror, knew both.
'You'd better let go of him, Safar said. You're getting blood all over your clothes. And you know how you hate that.'
Gundara released Kalasariz, then hopped to the ground. The little Favorite examined his gore-stained costume.
'Now, look what you've done, he accused Kalasariz. If you'd have stayed still like you were supposed to there'd have only been a little pinch. And almost no blood.'
Kalasariz, stricken dumb as well as spellbound, could only manage a strangled gag. He saw Safar haul out a stone idol, shaped like a turtle.
'Why don't you go clean yourself up? Safar said to Gundara. You can have your treats later.'
'What a good master, Gundara said. What a kind master.'
He hopped up on the stone, shrinking in size so he'd fit. He hesitated, clearly torn. You won't forget, will you? he said to Safar. The sweets I mean.'
'I won't forget, Safar reassured him.
'Promise?'
Safar sighed. I promise, he said, as patiently as he could.
Gundara squealed delight. Then'Look out, Gundaree! Here I come!'
