NailBiter reared up and flapped both wings to ease them, then went back to preening.
Shadow suddenly found that his eyes were full of tears. 'You won't let me shackle him, will you?' he asked.
'No!' Karaman snapped in a totally new tone.
'I'm going to miss that big mutt,' Shadow growled, mostly to himself.
'NailBiter?' Karaman asked. 'You're fond of him, aren't you?'
Fond of an eagle? Strange idea!
'Yes, I suppose so,' Shadow said. 'But he'll try to go back to IceFire. Will the wilds let him by?'
Karaman rose and stepped over to adjust Shadow's pillow. His face was a blur against the veranda roof. 'Yes, and back again. But he isn't going back to IceFire just yet.'
'Huh?' Shadow murmured sleepily. Doctor or not, he couldn't keep those eyelids open...
'I said NailBiter isn't planning to leave just yet,' Karaman said from a great distance. 'He is going to wait until you're recovered. He wants you to go back to Ninar Foan with him and release her, so they can both be free. He told me so himself. I told him I thought you probably would.'
PART TWO
PUNISHMENT
Chapter 12
'A bird in a hood is worth two in the hills.'
VICE-MARSHAL Ninomar was drunk.
He felt good.
His face was streaming, possibly steaming, and probably as red as the logs in the fireplace. He sprawled on a cushion on an oak settle with his legs stretched out in front of him and an enormous tankard of hot mulled wine in his hand, and he was very, very content.
A jeweled star hung on a ribbon around his neck, and every few minutes he found himself fingering it and took his hand away quickly. Order of the Eagle, Second Class! That felt best of all.
There had been long days of waiting for orders from Ramo after the search had been called off, and he had not been relishing the prospect of returning to the capital to face a king whose son had been lost. Now the royal courier had arrived and there was a new king. The castle bell had summoned the townsfolk and the castle workers to the gate, and there the proclamation had been read:
BY THE GRACE OF GOD and the Love of the People,
JARKADON THE TENTH,
King of Rantorra and Allaban,
Sovereign of Range and Rand, Lord of Land and of Sky,
Fount of Justice and of Honor,
Giver and Upholder of the Laws,
Supporter of the Poor, etc.
Given under Our Hand this First Day of Our Reign, being the nine thousand two hundred and forty-third day of the reign of our dearly mourned and honored father, AUROLRON XX, now deceased.
GOD SAVE THE KING!
And all had responded with loyal cheers for the new monarch, led of course by the duke.
The vice-marshal was relieved. The new king could hardly look so coldly upon Ninomar, for it was partly the loss of Prince Vindax which had put him on the throne. But the great surprise had been the award, the jeweled star. The courier had produced it, and the duke had hung it around the vice-marshal's neck in the king's name, and there had been more cheers, although not so loud, naturally. It was astonishing, indeed almost embarrassing. And there was no accompanying citation to explain. Most odd. It was almost as though he were being rewarded for the accident. He took a swallow of wine and dabbed his mustache with care, wondering uneasily whether he would even dare wear the medal at court and what sort of looks he would get if he did.
In law he had been responsible for the safety of the prince--he was the officer. In practice Shadow had made all the decisions but those sorts of things could not be said. A commander must be a noble, naturally. He could not be expected to know everything, and he might well seek advice from the lowly born, but the prince had not even made the pretense of letting Ninomar do that. He had allowed the kid to give orders in public, and that had been very annoying. Still, it seemed that all was going to be well.
The duke lifted the copper jug from the hob and offered it around. Ninomar accepted a refill, Ukarres declined, and the courier was given one without asking. Sir Griorgi Rolsok was a tiny scrap of a thing, barely old enough to shave from the look of him, but he had set a new record from Ramo to Ninar Foan, even with nine stops on the way, and was obviously proud of it. He was also exhausted, and the duke was relentlessly plying him with drink beside the roaring fire. Very shortly the other three were going to get all the court gossip out of the kid. That was not difficult to figure out.
Ukarres was only pretending to drink, but the duke seemed to be doing so and holding it very well. Foan was a fine gentleman; Ninomar had come to like him very much. They were about the same age and both keen skymen, and it was a heady business to be a drinking buddy of the premier nobleman of the realm.
Before sitting down again, the duke tossed some more wood on the fire. 'This is marvelous stuff, Ukarres,' he said. 'Where did you get it?'
'From the aerie,' Ukarres said with amusement. 'For years I have been scouring the Rand for firewood, and Vak has been hoarding it, apparently. When he cleaned up, he had it thrown over the side. I sent the lads out to pick up. Have you any idea what happens to a table when it drops that far? Some of it was halfway to Allaban. That junk pile had all sorts of...' He stopped and suddenly took a drink--and it looked like a real one.
Ninomar drank also. Of course the junk pile had been exonerated by the inquiry. The possibility of foul play had been ruled out completely. He had not been present in the aerie when the terrible incident occurred, so the duke had appointed him and the local bishop as commissioners; they had interviewed all the witnesses and proved beyond doubt that the affair was an accident. Their official report had already been sent off to Ramo on the last of the single birds.
'Time!' the duke said suddenly. All eyes looked to the table. There stood the great hourglass that was the master timekeeper for Ninar Foan, both castle and town, and beside it sat the three small hourglasses that every royal courier carried--and the sand was running out.
The duke reached for the big glass as it dropped its last grains and turned it over. The great bell of the castle rang: once...twice...
It was the start of third watch. 'Bedtime, everyone!' the courier said with a giggle. He took another drink.
The other hourglasses emptied also, and the duke turned them. 'Yes, we run a little fast,' he said, frowning.
'Not enough to worry about, surely?' Ninomar asked.
'It mounts up,' Ukarres observed. 'When Sir Jion arrived, we were almost a whole day ahead of the court.'
The duke rose and ceremoniously pulled the drapes, dimming the room. The firelight danced and flickered. It was curious to see so ancient a religious ceremony still being performed among these country folk; in Ramo
