The secretary returned, and the two letters were sealed.
'Both to be sent by the bird from Ninar Foan,' the king said. 'Take them to the aerie yourself and see that the lord eagler attends to the matter in person.'
He rose and wandered along the room behind the secretary, looking amiable.
'Well, Shadow,' he remarked cheerfully. 'I think we have earned some lunch--are you well?'
'A touch of the grippe, Majesty, perhaps.'
Aurolron frowned. 'Then we shall send you to bed. We should not want you to become very sick.'
Shadow shivered convulsively, as though he had an ague.
Someone was going to be very sick, he was sure, when that letter reached its destination.
Chapter 6
'Give a man the whole sky and he'll break his neck.'
WHY did the world always feel colder when a man awoke from sleep? Shadow climbed quietly up to the top floor of the aerie, shivering and wondering. The sun was the same and the wind was the same, but he had not shivered when he had arrived at Vinok. The two troopers on sentry duty straightened when they saw him; nineteen eagles paid no attention.
The primitive toilets were on ground level, a long way down. No one else was awake, so Shadow moved to leeward and relieved himself over the perching wall.
A desolate place! The Rand here curved away from the sun, almost across the terminator. The lower hills were sheathed in perpetual shade, and the higher peaks glowed against a somber sky. The air was thin and bitter, the sun a bloodstain on the horizon.
He had slept badly, his mattress stretched across the door of the prince's room. That was an excess of zeal, perhaps, but that was no fault in a leader, and everyone in the party knew who made the decisions. Zeal, unfortunately, was little protection from either drafts or frequent giggling and rustling sounds--the countess had been working overtime at cheering up her prince. Raising the spirits by raising the flesh, she called it.
It was now forty-five days since they had left Ramo, and Vindax was still alive. The wild birds--and they had seen several flocks--had avoided so large a group. If wild men were planning violence, Shadow's precautions had confounded them so far.
His business ended, Shadow wandered over to the nearer guard.
'Good sky, trooper.'
'Good sky to you, Shadow.' It amused the troopers that he need not be saluted and yet could overrule a vice-marshal.
NailBiter and IceFire had stopped nuzzling each other. Shadow stared hard along the ridges rightward, seeing nothing but barren rock and rare wind scrub. 'We are about to have visitors,' he said.
The trooper blinked and turned to look. 'I see nothing, Shadow.'
'Nor do I. But I'll go and warn the others. Make spaces, in case they have spares.'
Smiling to himself, Shadow headed for the steps. The eagles were all gazing rightward, and their combs were flickering as they did when they got excited. They could see something, and the timing was right--it must be the reply from Ninar Foan.
The trooper was still staring blankly at the hills.
It was a uniformly shivering and rumpled party that assembled on the aerie floor shortly afterward: gritty eyes, hunched shoulders, and--with four exceptions--bristled faces. A scent of wood smoke and scorched goat meat was drifting up the stairwell. Shadow's stomach knotted at the thought of more goat, and he was pleased to see that the newcomers did include two spares. The duke had thought to send supplies.
A spare would follow its mate without trouble--usually--but landing was tricky. Many a rider had been savaged on the perching wall before he could dismount. Shadow felt a quiet satisfaction at having ordered the troopers to clear spaces--the only safe place to land when there were spares loose was between two other birds, both safely hooded. The spares circled a few times, angry at not being able to perch next to their mates, and then settled down as close as possible.
Five eagles; three men. The first man rode a spectacular male silver; he must be the duke, Shadow decided, and his guess was confirmed when Elosa ran forward to hug him as soon as he cleared the bars.
But the duke did not merely return her hug momentarily and then gently set her aside so that he could approach the prince--which would have been proper. Nor did he boot the young lady all the way to Allaban--which might have been a natural parental reaction. He held her for a few minutes as though he were comforting a small child. Or were they getting their stories matched? The back of Vindax's neck began to grow hot as he waited.
Then the duke stepped away from Elosa, pulled off goggles and helmet, and advanced.
And the welcoming party froze like the ancient rocks of the Rand.
Tired and dusty in his flying suit, this man was Alvo, duke of Foan, keeper of the Rand, hero of the battle of Allaban, premier noble of the realm--and possible traitor, seducer of his sovereign's wife.
It was bitterly unfair, Shadow thought. Rarely do two men truly look alike, be they brother and brother, father and son, or cousin and cousin. Family resemblances are usually subtle, a feature here and a mannerism there. A skilled and keen skyman, the duke had retained his trim, athletic figure; even appproaching middle age he still looked youthful, and his body and his face were the body and face of the prince. There were differences: lines on the forehead and slight sags below the eyes. His neck and shoulders had thickened, he held himself with the greater authority of age, and he lacked the quick restlessness of the younger man, but the similarities far outweighed the differences. The beak nose, the bushy brows, the dark, deep eyes--seeing that astonishing identity, it was suddenly very hard to believe in a freak throwback in third cousins once removed.
Even if they were father and son, then nature was being infinitely ironic: Shadow had never seen father and son look quite so much alike. Remembering Jarkadon's resemblance to the king, he wondered if Queen Mayala had some curious property of not imparting anything of her own looks to her sons--and realized that he was now a believer.
'Your Highness,' Elosa mumbled to the dusty floor, 'may I have the honor of presenting my father, His Grace, the duke of Foan.'
The two men bowed. Normally they should then have embraced, being relatives, but neither seemed capable of moving his feet. The duke's windburn showed like red blotches on white paper; his face was rigid. Shadow could see little of Vindax's face, but he suspected it was no more relaxed.
'Well met, Cousin,' the prince said at last.
The duke took a deep breath and then made an appropriate speech. Vindax replied in a monotone. Neither took his eyes off the other.
Then Vindax seemed to shake himself. He proceeded to present his companions.
Prince and duke and Shadow stood in the tiny bedroom cubicle. Vindax had passed from shock into quivering rage. The older man had recovered his composure and seemed to be totally at ease.
'I deeply regret the misunderstanding, Highness,' he said. 'My wife and Sir Ukarres agree that they spoke with her, but only by chance meeting. The rebels were mentioned in passing, but there was certainly no talk of plotting or treachery. Young girls sometimes come up with strange fancies. They have romantic ideas.'
The back of Vindax's neck turned pink--he did not like that obvious fiction. He did not reply.
The duke smiled cheerfully. 'And your royal parents, they are in good health? The queen? It has been a long time since she illuminated my halls with her beauty, since I said farewell to her--at Gorr.'
