than three updrafts, and Shadow had no problem gaining altitude, as he studied the royal palm garden far below and planned his trajectories. Then a simple knee movement folded NailBiter's wings, and they dived...open wings to level out...skim between palms...off into the far-side thermal. A few such passes and he had the trees well placed and could start being fancy, folding in the bird's wings for narrower passes, until he was flashing at full attack speed between trees which he could have touched with outspread arms. It was simple insanity, and yet he felt strangely unmoved by the danger. He had already lost his life the day before, had he not? Word was spreading, courtiers pouring into the palm garden to watch this spectacular suicide.
On one pass he banked NailBiter and looped back the way he had come, flying his eagle like a sparrow. Show the bastards.
Then he tried a couple with his hands in the air, NailBiter blinkered and blind, guided only by his rider's legs. He was running out of ideas. Should he try to steal the dinner off the royal table?
How many passes did they need? He had made his tenth or twelfth and was climbing once more in a thermal when a guard challenged him. Shadow recognized the heraldry on the uniform--this was the Honorable Ja Liofan, a cocky young bastard who couldn't put an arrow in a barrel if he was leaning on it, and obviously the only guard not smart enough to recognize Shadow or ignorant enough to interfere.
Liofan was higher and behind and had his bow drawn, but troopers were trained to escape from such predicaments, and NailBiter could identify the threat by instinct. A swerve, a few beats of the bronze wings, a bank--and the positions were reversed.
Shadow was unarmed, but his mount was not, and a touch of boots against thighs was enough to bring down the great talons and launch an attack. Liofan gaped in horror and dived, NailBiter close behind. The two birds hurtled over the palace, less than five lengths apart, Ja Liofan probably measuring his life in seconds. He twisted around to shoot--and the arrow went ludicrously wide. He swerved again...lost air...and the deadly talons were closer still...back down across the palace rose garden, barely skimming the trees...Any guardsman who tried what Shadow was doing would be instantly cashiered. If he lost control, then he was going to commit a very fast murder.
Now Liofan was in full flight, his bow discarded, his screams quite audible. NailBiter's comb was dark crimson with the rage of bloodlust, and Shadow no longer needed to direct him, was rather fighting to hold him back from closing, the bird throbbing in frustration, bewildered by the conflicting signals. Far out above the city, Shadow drew ahead and turned his prey and drove him back over the palace once more. NailBiter closed within a length, and Shadow was almost ready to blinker him and pull off, but then the gap widened slightly--NailBiter had seen the joke. He was still just young enough to enjoy the sort of game that young wilds played. His comb faded to a more reasonable color and began rippling gently--and the astonished Shadow could relax. Suddenly it was easy. All he needed to do then was keep the contest as close to the palace as possible. He drove his hapless quarry a half dozen times over and through the palm garden until finally the devastated Ja Liofan ran out of air, landed his bird in a bush, and the game was over.
NailBiter had shown he could be controlled. Back at the aerie, Shadow rubbed his comb until the eagle quivered like an earthquake, and then broke more rules by rewarding him with a mutebat.
When he returned to the royal quarters, the king rose and shook his hand--an extraordinary honor. 'Magnificent, Shadow,' he said. 'We have not seen a display like that in many kilos.' He was about to pull off a ring, the standard royal gratuity, and then paused. 'No, we shall issue a renunciation, freeing Hiando Keep from taxes for a kiloday.'
Shadow stammered his thanks; his father would bless him with raptures. It was astonishing that the king would remember the name of his father's house. Vindax was frowning.
'Such an anticlimactic ending,' Jarkadon mourned. 'After all, it was only a trooper.'
Vindax made no comment on the affair, not even when he and Shadow withdrew. Even now the prince did not retire for private relaxation or recreation; he sent instead for Lord Ninomar, vice-marshal in the Guard and hence the third-ranking military officer in the kingdom. He was also commander of the crown prince's flight. A ruddy, wiry little man of about fifteen kilodays, with the self-confidence of impeccable ancestry, he sported a bristly red mustache which clashed oddly with his thinning brown hair. He had apparently been called from table, for there were crumbs in the mustache, but his uniform was a tailor's masterpiece, glittering with decorations. Shadow wondered how good his flying might be, but then, breeding was more important than skill.
This was a formal audience. The three men remained standing in a corner of another terrace flanked by mosaic walls and a marble fountain, with guards, aides, and other observers safely out of earshot behind windows.
'You have had time to prepare your plans for the journey to Ninar Foan?' Vindax asked.
'Certainly, Your Highness.' Ninomar smugly produced a sheaf of papers and proceeded to read them. He read them as though he had never read them before.
Vindax listened with an impassive face, Shadow with steadily increasing horror. His estimate of his own life expectancy slid from a hectoday to almost zero. This would be self-inflicted carnage.
At the end the prince nodded. 'Impressive,' he said. 'You seem to have thought of everything.' He turned his head slightly. 'Shadow, have you any comments?'
For a moment Shadow was not sure if this was a mere formality, and then decided he had better not treat it as such.
'A few, Prince. The twelve spare birds...even the Guard never attempts to move more than three spares at a time.'
'That is not in the regulations!' the vice-marshal snapped, reddening.
'Nevertheless it is the practice,' Shadow replied. 'And even three are too many. Spares are the commonest cause of accidents. I should take none. The size of the party...true, the Guard will sometimes fly in troops of fifty, but control is hard to maintain in an emergency.'
Vindax was still silent, so Shadow plunged ahead. 'We shall not be a flight of skilled troopers, for--with all respect to your entourage, Prince--many will be civilian. To fly in drill spacing...'
'Perhaps hunt spacing,' Ninomar conceded.
'Wider still--range or greater. Space is our best defense for the prince. And that is my business, Vice- Marshal.'
Ninomar's face grew as red as his mustache, but Vindax remained impassive. Shadow tore and savaged the marshal's plans to a shower of feathers. The problems of provisioning and perching so many in a poor countryside...no more than six troopers, and not the moguls and scions named by Ninomar, but able young archers, competent also to tend the birds...paired birds so far as possible, with only a few singles for communications if needed...one lady's maid was plenty...the itinerary to be flexible and not advertised except in general terms...
No point remained unblunted, no facet unscratched. The marshal was crimson and beyond speech by the end--he knew what rank this insolent stripling had held until the previous day.
'Thank you, Shadow,' the prince said. 'I had envisioned a larger retinue, though. The numbers were mine.'
'Then divide it into three, Prince, flying a watch apart.'
'No,' Vindax said thoughtfully. 'A small group may even impress more by demonstrating confidence, and your point on provisioning is good. What of baggage, if we have no spares?'
Shadow was beginning to feel more hopeful. 'I was thinking only of your personal safety,' he said tactfully. 'Certainly we could use a small advance party, perhaps several, two or three men in each.' That was so obvious that he hadn't thought of it himself until then. Damn, he had had no time to plan! 'They of course could take spares, inspect accommodation and security...'
Vindax nodded gravely. 'My Lord Marshal, I accept your proposal...'
Lord Ninomar took a deep breath.
'...with the few amendments which Shadow has suggested. Possibly he may offer further advice in future.'
The crumbled remains of Ninomar departed--even his decorations seemed to have lost their shine. Then Vindax broke the rules by spinning right around to look at Shadow, still frowning.
'Feel any better now?' he snapped.
It was trust absolute: Shadow was to have supreme command.
Yes, it felt better. All in all, Shadow decided, that interview had tasted as good to him as the mutebat had
