With a smile like that, he was nothing to fear. Ladies of her station married for dynastic and political reasons; she should not allow sex to intrude.
Why had he come on ahead, leaving his entourage aloft? Perhaps, being prince, he got first shot at the game.
The prince came trotting up the stairs again, went over to the terrace, and looked up. He waved his arms in some sort of signal.
He wore a plain blue flying suit with no insignia except the talon that was his symbol and a black diagonal stripe. She ought to know what that was for--she would have to brush up on her heraldry before she got to court. Perhaps he was in mourning for some distant relative.
Now he came back through the bars and walked over toward her, studying her with surprise. He was carrying his helmet now, as she was, and his hair was dark and curly.
'A woman!' he exclaimed. Then he smiled. Oh, that smile! 'I beg pardon...a lady.' He did not bow--but then, he was royalty, so that must be correct. 'A lady bearing a message?'
She dropped to one knee and bowed her head so that her hair fell over one shoulder.
'I...I am Elosa, daughter of the keeper, Your--'
'The devil you are!' the prince said.
She looked up in surprise. His eyes had narrowed in sudden wariness. 'And what message can possibly require so highborn and so beautiful a courier?'
No, she was not going to tell him about Ukarres's stupid plot. He had plenty of guards with him; he could not possibly be in any more danger at Ninar Foan than he was always in at court. He was her destiny! She would not be cheated. Her father would not come--he would be too busy searching for her around Koll Bleek. The prince would not send her home alone; he would order her to stay here over third watch, and tomorrow he would see what a fine skywoman she was. If her father wanted to warn him away again afterward, well, at least he would have had a chance to get to know her properly.
'I just came to say that you are indeed welcome to Ninar Foan, Your Highness.'
CHAPTER 3
'Sow trust to reap loyalty.'
THE crown prince was ten days ahead of his official itinerary when he arrived al Vinok. He had been eight days ahead of it at Gorr and five behind at Sastinon. His progress, in short, had been unpredictable--and that was Shadow's doing.
Flying in itself was dangerous. A flight along the whole length of the Rand was especially perilous because of its duration and because much of the country was poorly settled by men and well inhabited by wilds. For a prince to attempt such a trip was very close to folly; the inhabitants of savage lands tend to have long memories for injustice, real or imaginary. Rebels might plot political advantage; brigands might dream of ransom.
What was needed, Vindax had long since decided, was something he had flint met as a child in the palace school. He had not then known what it was, only that a few of the more humbly born seemed to have already developed some different way of thinking. He ran into it again when he went through the motions of enlisting in the Guard in order to gain flight training. No one was deceived into believing that he was an ordinary recruit, but one benefit was that he came to know a few young men from outside the aristocracy.
Once again he discovered this unfamiliar way of looking at the world, that he eventually analyzed as an ability to see it as it really was and not as it should be, plus a willingness to make it into what it might be, not what it ought to be. Eventually he put a name to it: common sense. And he discovered also that common sense did not flourish among the rituals of courtiers or the rule books of their bureaucrats.
Just knowing that it existed did not impart it, however. He was an aristocrat himself, and he could not think that way. But when he conceived his journey to Ninar Foan, he knew at once that he must include some of that common sense among his baggage. It was for that reason that he had scandalized the family, the council, and eventually the whole court by insisting on appointing a commoner as his new Shadow.
Tongues wagged and heads were shaken, but he had his way. At the banquet that followed the dubbings, the topic displaced even the queen's health.
And the very next day, that same commoner set the court on its ear a second time.
Shadow had spent an entire exhausting watch absorbing information under the restless eye of the crown prince. He had greeted first bell with relief, expecting that the worst part of his day must now be over, but it was not to be. Now he was living the life of a public personage, one which could not be divided as neatly as that of lesser mortals into periods of work, play, and sleep. The next item on the agenda, he learned with horror, was dinner with the king and queen.
The monarch lived a very public life, and such private gatherings were rare. How the two Shadows fared at them depended on the king's mood--they might be excluded, or ignored like furniture, or treated as family members--but this occasion was designed to evaluate the new appointee, and there were six places laid around the table. It was an intimate affair, employing only six footmen, two butlers, and enough gold plate to establish a barony. The table stood on a secluded terrace, well shielded by shrubbery and flowers, shaded by tinsel trees. It overlooked the palm garden but could not itself be overlooked by anyone. In Ramo, most events took place outdoors, in the constant gentle sunshine.
The king was being gracious, dressed in the plain white garb that he preferred. The queen was being even more gracious in a gold gown which did not suit her pith-hued complexion; she inquired politely after Shadow's dear mother, whom she had obviously confused with some other lady. She also tended to drop things and forget what she was saying in midsentence.
Jarkadon was a younger version of the king and an older version of the obnoxious child Shadow remembered, wielding a humor like a skinner's knife. His seventh kiloday was only six days off, and there was some discussion of the state hall, but the diners had barely reached the soup course when the king displayed his interest in birdflesh by remarking, 'And what mount will you fly on your journeying, Vindax?'
The crown prince glanced sideways. 'Shadow? Your advice?'
Shadow choked in the process of tasting Vindax's soup. 'I think agility would not be advisable, Prince--it would merely make it harder for the rest of us to cover you. A flying rock--probably a mature female. Certainly nothing which could outfly NailBiter.'
'NailBiter?' The king's frown chilled the air. 'You do not propose to fly cover on our son with that terror?'
Awash with despair, Shadow faced that gaze of blue ice. 'Yes, Your Ma--King. He and I are a good team. I should be less comfortable on a strange bird, and I can hardly practice now without neglecting my other duties.' But he had just lost hope.
Vindax was amused. 'Which is more important, Shadow?' he asked. 'NailBiter or your lunch? I shall remain here. The palm garden is directly below us. If you think you can convince us?'
Shadow rose and left in silence.
By the time he had visited the prince's apartment and donned a flying suit, he had worked up a heady dose of anger.
Bird and rider plunged from the roost. The palace was well located on a rocky plateau flanked by no less
