“Amir...”
“Yes, Emir-al?” The sealed orders
had restored Raghnall’s spuriously removed rank.
Dukir opened his bird’s blinkers a bit, rode
up next to Raghnall, the tip of his goad snapping out to block the reflexive
beak-strike from his mount, trying to slash the other bird.
“This boy we’re looking for, for
The Immutable...” He paused and eased his bird over to one side, motioning
Dukir to follow suit, and closed the bridle’s eyes to make his bird stand. That
allowed the river of bleating wool, a flock of sheep, passage without the birds
trying to eat them. The shepherd gave them as much of an eye as his dogs. Even
hooded, the warbirds flared their wings but didn’t stamp, not being able to see. The road they were on was a narrow chasm, a
shaded channel cut into the razor sharp tsingy, the water from all the spring
rains, percolating through, making the inside wall weep. It was cool and amazingly easy going,
even though it was high sun outside.
Just outside the overhang the sun
blazed down and evapourated the water running from the road as it moved from
shade to blinding white heat. But the
water brought the plants up, right at the edge, a broken green wall protecting
the road traffic from the sun.
“Aye, Naser?” They opened their
bridles, let the birds stretch out in a long trot. Dukir had to smile as Shaidan kept ducking
reflexively when the rock roof lowered, even if it was still safely far above concussion
range. They put some distance between
the flock and their string of birds to avoid any attempts on the part of the
fowl to turn back and try for an easy snack of mutton.
The pack birds had dense mesh
over their eyes and followed along docily enough on a string. The road emerged
from the old river bed in the rock but had trees shading along the tiny verges
with the sides falling away steeply, leading up to one of the multitude of tiny
stone bridges. Defensible as hell.
How in the blasted Light and
fractured Dark did we even manage to get as far as we did?
Dukir shook his head. They cut across a smaller road because it looked like a
more direct one... and it was, but the road was narrow as two riders and rough
enough to make the birds clamber and hop and steep enough to have the bird’s
tongues darting out as they panted.
It was a wet enough spring that
even the stones of the arched bridges were heavily covered in green mosses. Green, not purplish brown. Dukir, who had been
out of Lainz, the one war, had seen a much dryer spring and he felt almost
offended at the profligate green. “This boy,” the Emir-al continued. “Kyrus. No
last name? No patronymic?”
Things hadn’t gotten any less steep
but smooth enough to keep talking. “Hmmm.
It’s poss’ble Naser, te father of the boy din’t know he’d a son... or might not
h’ve want’d him.”
“I... did not see a possible...
surname in the orders.” Raghnall sent his bird surging ahead to leave space on
the road for a carter to pass with his donkey team who were braying and balking
as they caught the scent of the war-birds.
When they had settled back to
where Dukir could answer, he did, slowly. “... ‘s orders, Naser. Verbals,
Naser, beggin’ yer pardon, Naser. Twas, Talain.”
The Emir-al didn’t say anything
for a long while after that. He didn’t speak until they’d gotten down to rest
the birds.
Then he said, “I’ve never believed a word the General spoke of the
man. There was hatred there, and I have my own opinion of de Molfe, though I
would never in a generation say anything about it.” He paused again as their birds fluffed their
feathers and cooled themselves down. “Every
veteran I’ve spoken to,” he continued thoughtfully, “has told me Talain was one
of the best men he’d ever served with.”
“Ay, Naser. I met ‘im once’t when
I was younger, Naser. He was kind to a young Ass.” Ten years ago, I was with Diryish during the negotiations, at his back
and making for Dark sure that the Milar didn’t try any funny business. But they were as weirdly upright and proper
as they said. Very strange to see people
doing as they say. They checked
harness and re-mounted. It was still
strange to have so much rock under the bird’s claws, instead of hard sand. It made a very different sound.
They’d been in Milar long enough
that even the smells were changing.
There was a lot more true-green plants and growing things that smelled
good enough to eat rather than the harsh creosote and mesquite smell of the
desert scrub and thorn.
Their passage was reduced again
to a single file, passing through a little village... something called Gajema,
if he were reading the lettering on the town-stone correctly. It was always
easier to lead the moas in a crowd of any kind rather than ride. Having a hand
on the beak chain made it easier to block that beak from taking someone’s head
off in a snap too fast to see, even with the beaks ratcheted almost closed.
“Any verbals about why his
Radiance might want the son of one of our greatest martyred heroes?” Shaidan
was nothing if not persistant.
“Nay, Naser. Nuthin’. This ‘un
has guesses. But nothin’ straight.”
The younger man glanced sideways,
clearly wondering how hard to push his uncommissioned officer for scurrilous
rumour, that often as not was more accurate than official announcements.
Dukir whistled tunelessly through
his teeth for a while and then took pity on him. “Naser... it might be, could
be... there’s talk... that His Resplendence... might have shed his seed som’at
wider as a youth. It might could be... just rumour mind... that the Talains...
might be more ‘shiny’ than jus’ their reputations if yeh get my meanin’ Naser.”
“You mean...”
“—not sayin’ nuthin’, Naser.”
A silent pucker of lip as
Raghnall did not let the air out. “You bastard.”
“Beggin’ yer pard’n, Naser, me parents were married.” For the sake of the conversation, you young fool, I won’t say when, or to whom.
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