and the costumes and the acting. The king sat her beside him in the front row, with the rest of the dinner guests around and behind, and the artists were right at her toes--a very intimate command performance. The king's hand settled on her arm, and she thrilled at his touch.
He began to stroke her skin with his fingertips.
A boy soprano was singing a glorious aria, high as the Rose Mountains.
'You don't get much of this stuff at Ninar Foan, I suppose?' the king asked loudly.
The boy's voice cracked on a note, and the musicians missed a beat.
He was trying to rattle her again. To whisper back would be a criticism.
'No, nothing more exciting there than bird breeding, Majesty,' she replied in the same tone, and he bellowed with laughter.
He was stroking her arm with his nails now, very gently, but the constant scrape was beginning to hurt.
'We usually get much better talent,' he said, still loudly.
She said that she was no judge but was enjoying it.
The other guests remained silent while the performers struggled along, now obviously terrified. The king kept up his conversation and his insidious gentle scraping. She responded as naturally as she could, deliberately not moving her arm or even looking at it, although the pain was intense now and was making her eyes prickle.
The players were dancing a gavotte. The king had stopped scraping and put his arm around her. Her heart started beating faster than the gavotte.
The gavotte ended; jugglers and comedians sprang into action.
Jarkadon's hand slipped lower, and his fingers reached around to fondle the silk over her breast. She moved away, dislodging them.
The king yawned and stood up. Instantly the performance stopped, and everyone else rose also.
'We are a trifle fatigued,' he said. He pulled off a ring and presented it to the leading lady. 'Please continue for our guests. A charming performance! No, the rest of you, do stay. Lady Elosa, we welcome you to our court and we hope to see
The king walked out with Shadow behind him. The door closed. Everyone sat down--except that Feysa had appeared from nowhere and had hold of Elosa's elbow. 'Come!' she said.
'But...I was enjoying...'
Elosa was led firmly from the hall.
Chapter 17
'You can't teach an old bird new tricks.'
THE eagles came to Ninar Foan.
How many? Shadow had no idea. He was the leader of an army whose size he could not guess. There were three hundred men in it, young farmhands mostly, eager and excited at the novelty. Many could shoot a fair arrow, but few could handle a sword as well as they could a sickle, and the rest would be almost as dangerous to their companions as they would ever be to an enemy. A surprising number, though, knew bird speech and an ever more surprising number of birds seemed to have learned the halting, tortoise-slow gestures required to speak to mankind.
He had organized the men into six companies and put the best commanders he could find in charge. It was all very hasty and makeshift--and it was a bluff. The birds were the army, and the only real weapon he had was the idea which had come to him when he saw NailBiter cleaning his toes. Now he must test it, and if it did not work, the great war would be over without a bow being bent.
Here on the Rand he would have died in the flimsy clothes of Pharmol. Soaring high over the bright, bare mountains, he shivered even inside the fleece-lined flying suit which Ukarres had given him. Close at NailBiter's side floated IceFire, and the three of them seemed to have the whole vault of the sky to themselves. The naked sun glared angrily through the thin air over the distant plain.
Yet if he peered hard in any direction, he could see eagles, some from Allaban and also local wilds gathering to watch the outcome. He had not understood in his days as a skyman that the eagles were never alone, that the constant and seemingly meaningless rippling of their combs was conversation. He had the world to himself, yet he had a vast and uncountable audience also.
IceFire signaled: 'There are one-comb-and-four eagles in the aerie. One has left and is coming.' Shadow acknowledged.
As he had expected, a messenger had been dispatched from Ninar Foan as soon as Shadow's army appeared in the sky. That was why he had bypassed the castle and positioned himself along the path to Vinok, and soon he would see this solitary courier racing to warn the men of Rantorra that the invasion had started.
One-comb-and-four? A human mind had counted and sent the word--there were only twelve eagles left. Then it was certain that the duke and his household were gone, and a fair guess that they were in Ramo. That should make the coming battle easier.
'It is my father that comes,' IceFire signed.
IceStriker, he remembered--a huge silver, as big as NailBiter. The cautious duke would have left his best silvers at home in case Jarkadon took a fancy to them.
Shadow was unarmed, but around his neck hung a priceless farewell gift from Karaman, a pair of binoculars from the Holy Ark. With those he could see far better than with his own eyes, although still poorly compared to the birds. Hopefully he raised them and peered toward Ninar Foan. He saw nothing but wildly swaying rock and scrubby hills, and put the glasses down again before he became nauseated. This sling riding was much less stable than straddling a bird; good archery would be impossible. It was also chilly work, for he could not stretch out along his mount's back to seek shelter from the wind.
Then he saw the lone flier, floating down in a long glide toward an obvious thermal, and he signaled IceFire to intercept. She passed the word to NailBiter, and the two veered in unison.
'Speak to your father. Tell him that we come to free him and he must not resist his rider. He is to do what the man wants until you tell him.'
IceFire's comb flickered the message. Shadow just caught the start of it--'This one flies behind Friend-of- eagles...'--but the rest was much too fast for him.
About ten minutes later they drew close, as the lone rider circled for height and Shadow came gliding in at about the same elevation. He tried the binoculars again.
He almost dropped them in surprise, seeing Vindax, the hooked nose below goggles. Impossible! It had to be the duke himself--but surely he would never flee his own castle. No, it was the young groom, Tuy Rorin, the duke's other bastard. Rorin was a good skyman, too; he was handling his bird beautifully. He had seen Shadow and was waiting with bow in hand. Shadow held out his arms to show that he bore no weapon, then signaled IceFire-- and so NailBiter--to approach as close as possible but to look out for the bow.
'Rorin!'
Back came a faint reply. 'Shadow?'
The air grew warmer as he entered the thermal. Then the birds were level, facing one another across the invisible column of wind and apparently almost motionless, rising and falling slightly with respect to one another, although all were steadily gaining height.
'Turn back!' Shadow called.
