• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction

By Root 1256 0

was so sure they were walking into a trap that she could barely breathe when they stepped into a modest reception chamber of the usual sort, the walls painted with fading flowers, the dais died in restful blues and hung with blue-and-purple silk drapes. Sitting in a low-backed chair on the dais was an enormously tall man with the dark skin of Orystinna; around one wrist he wore a tattoo of a striking hawk, and his face was masked with a red silk hood. Crouched at his feet was a Bardekian whose black hair and beard were so slick that it looked as if they’d been oiled.

“Baruma,” Rhodry hissed.

When the Bardekian raised his head, Jill saw that he wore a collar and a chain. The other man jerked the chain and smiled at her, as if he’d read her mind and was underscoring her point.

“Greetings, Master of the Aethyr,” the Hawk said in Bardekian. “How sad that we meet only to say farewell.”

“Oh come now!” Nevyn answered in the same. “Do you really think your paltry brigands are capable of killing me?”

“What’s to stop them? You’ve left your only hope up on the hill. Slaves may run from your tricks with the wind, but my men won’t.”

“No doubt, no doubt. And truly, you must be far stronger than I thought to chase the Old One out of his hole.” Nevyn glanced around the room. “I never thought he’d have such good taste in furnishings. I was expecting something gaudy and morbid. Rather like your taste in hoods.”

The Hawkmaster hesitated, then shrugged.

“Bluster all you want, old man. You followed my bait and walked right into the trap. You’ve got to admit that—you tracked me exactly like I wanted.”

“Nothing of the sort, actually. My spirits showed me where the Old One lived, and you were a mere incidental. But come along, if you’d go to all the trouble to lay some sort of abortive trap, there must be somewhat you’re after. Let me guess—if I do some thing for you, you’ll let my companions go.”

“That was the bargain I had in mind, yes. I’ll even make sure that they reach their ship without anyone else giving them a moment’s trouble. You know, when the Hawks bargain, they keep their word. We’re not like the Brotherhood. No one would hire us if we reneged on our contracts.”

“I’ve always heard that, and I believe you. What do you want from me?”

He sounded so calm, like a farmer haggling over cabbages in the market square, that Jill wanted to scream just to break the tension. On either side of her Salamander and Rhodry had gone as still as the statues in the garden outside, and both of them were a ghastly sort of pale, too, looking at that moment more elven than human from the wild fury in their eyes. The Hawkmaster smiled and lounged back in his chair to cross one ankle over the opposite knee.

“It’s nothing that will even trouble your conscience, Master of the Aethyr. You came here to kill the Old One, didn’t you? Well, so did I, but he’s escaped. Tell me where he is. Which way he’s running will do. You can die content, knowing that we’ll finish the job for you.”

“Well, that certainly sounds like a fair bargain.”

“Nevyn, no! You can’t!” Jill felt all her hard-won strength slip away like a doffed cloak and leave her sniveling and shaking. “I’d rather die than see you—”

“Whist!” Nevyn snapped. “Every man comes to his time, child. Mine is now. Get Rhodry back to Eldidd—I enjoin you, I lay this task upon you, I insist upon it in the name of the Holy Light itself. Will you promise me?”

Through a blinding scald of tears she nodded her agreement. When Salamander opened his mouth to argue, Nevyn silenced him with a black look and threatened Rhodry with a slap across the face. Then he turned back to the Hawkmaster, and at that moment he seemed taller, young and proud and straight, standing in an unearthly light as the Wildfolk came to cluster around him and lend him their strength and wildness.

“Very well. I’ll find the Old One.” Nevyn even smiled at the Hawkmaster. “But do you have somewhat of his that I can use for a focus? Some thing he worked dweomer with.”

“It’s right here, all ready for you.”

When the master snapped his fingers,