Days of Blood and Fire - Katharine Kerr [25]
“Very well, then. If they are the same people, then we don’t have to worry. The tales talk about how decent they were, feeding the ancestors and giving them knives and mules and stuff so they could farm up in the Rhiddaer.”
“Hum. Goes to show, then, that they were guided by the gods for purposes of the divine wills.”
“Why?”
“Well, any ordinary folk would have enslaved the ancestors all over again.”
“The tales do say that these people were against keeping slaves, on principle, like, just like we are. They thought it was dishonorable and just plain rotten.”
Meer snorted in profound skepticism.
“Not likely that anyone would believe such a thing, is it?” he said. “Well, not to insult your tribe or suchlike.”
“Oh, never mind.” Jahdo had always heard the grown men say that trying to change a Gel da’Thae’s mind about anything was like trying to stop a fire mountain from spewing. “Everyone be different.”
Round noon they came to an enormous meadow, ringed with rotting tree stumps, which gave credence to their theory that the mysterious horseherders had cleared some of this land. After they’d unloaded the stock and let them roll, and Meer had prayed, they unpacked a scant dinner and settled down to eat. Although they still had a good amount of cheese, hard tack, and jerky left, they’d used up half of their supplies, and Jahdo was beginning to worry about what they’d eat on the way home. Meer, of course, was convinced that the gods would provide for them when the time came.
Jahdo had just finished his meal when he heard a strange sound, a rasping birdcall, up in the sky.
“What’s that?” Meer said. “Sounds like a hawk.”
Jahdo looked up.
“It is, truly.”
Far above them, silhouetted against wispy clouds, the bird was circling the meadow. From the backward sweep of its wings and its color, dark gray on its back, a very pale gray on its belly, Jahdo could tell that it was a falcon of some variety or other. Even though it soared high, he could see its slender gray legs and the mottling on its breast so clearly that, he realized suddenly, it had to be enormous. As he stared up, the bird suddenly flapped and flew, just as if it knew he watched. Yet he thought little of it at first. Toward evening the falcon, if indeed it was the same bird, reappeared to hover above them as they made their camp. Again, when Jahdo stood for a better look, it flew abruptly away.
On the next day Jahdo kept watch for it, and sure enough, in the middle of the morning it reappeared, flying in lazy circles and holding its place even when he stopped walking to scrutinize it. With a call to Meer to hold for a moment, he shaded his eyes and studied the bird, which seemed to be flying lower than it had the day before.
“Meer, here’s an odd thing! Way above us there’s a falcon, circling round, like, but it’s the biggest falcon I’ve ever seen. It’s way too big for a peregrine, which is sort of what it does look like.”
“How big, lad? This could be important.”
“Well, huge, actually.” He paused, trying to gauge distances and size. “You know, I’d swear it were as big as a pony, but that can’t be right. It’s all the clouds and stuff, I guess, making it hard to see. I mean, not even eagles do grow so big.”
Meer howled, a cry of sheer terror, and flung both hands in front of his sightless eyes. With a flap and a screech, the falcon flew away.
“It be gone now,” Jahdo said. “What be so wrong?”
“Bad geas, lad, bad, bad geas! Don’t you understand? There’s only one thing a bird that large could be!”
“But there can’t be a bird that large. That’s what I did try to say.”
“Hah! You don’t understand, then. I should have known you didn’t, when you didn’t sound afraid. A mazrak, lad, that’s what it must be. The most unclean magician of all, a shape-changer, a foul thing, using a coward’s magic.”
“Huh? You mean someone who can turn himself into a bird?”
“Just that. If a mazrak’s spying upon us, then things are