Hawkmistress! (7 page)

“I had forgotten your birthday, sister - will you forgive me? I will have a gift for you at Midsummer,” he said.

“It is gift enough that you have come today, Darren,” she said, and pain struck through her; she loved Darren, but Ruyven was the brother to whom she had always been closest, while Mallina and Darren had always shared everything. And Ruyven would not come home, would never come home. Hatred for the Towers who had taken her brother from her surged within her, and she swallowed hard, nicking away angry tears.

“Father and Luciella are at breakfast,” she said, “Come up to the terrace, Darren; tell the condom to have your saddlebags taken to your room.” She caught his hand and would have drawn him along, but he turned back to the stranger who had given his horse to the groom.

“First I want you to know my friend,” he said, and pulled the young man forward. “Alderic of Castamir; my oldest sister Romilly.”

Alderic was even taller than Darren, his hair glinting with faint copper through gold; his eyes were steel-grey, set deep beneath a high forehead. He was shabbily dressed, an odd contrast to the richness of Darren’s garments - Darren, as the eldest son of Falconsward, was richly clad in rust-colored velveteen trimmed with dark fur, but the cloak the Castamir youngster wore was threadbare, as if he had had it from his father or even his grandfather, and the mean edging of rabbithorn wool was coming away in places.

So he has made a friend of a youth poorer than himself, no doubt brought him here because his friend had not the means to journey to his home for the holidays. Darren is always kind. She put kind welcome, too, and a trace of condescension, into her voice, as she said, “You are welcome, dom Alderic. Come up and join my parents at breakfast, will you not? Darin-” she beckoned to the steward, “Take my brother’s bags to his room, and put dom Alderic’s things in the red chamber for the moment; unless the Lady Luciella gives other orders, it will be good to have him close to my brother’s quarters.”

“Yes, come along.” Darren linked arms with Romilly, drew Alderic with them up the stairs. “I cannot walk if you hang on me like that, Rael - go ahead of us, do!”

“He has been missing you,” Romilly said, “And-” she had started to speak of their other brother, but this was to bring family matters out before a stranger; she and Darren would have time enough for confidences. They reached the terrace, and Darren was enfolded in Mallina’s arms, and Romilly was left to present Alderic of Castamir to her father.

The MacAran said with grave courtesy, “You are welcome to our home, lad. A friend of my son has a friend’s welcome here. Are you akin to Valdrin Castamir of Highgarth? He and I were in the guard of King Rafael before the king was most foully murdered.”

“Only distantly, sir,” said Alderic. “Knew you not that Lord Valdrin was dead, and his castle burnt about his ears with clingfire because he sheltered Carolin in his road to exile?’

The MacAran swallowed visibly. “Valdrin dead? We were playfellows and bredin,” he said, “but Valdrin was always a fool, as any man is a fool who meddles in the affairs of the great folk of the land.”

Alderic said stiffly, “I honor the memory of the Lord Valdrin for his loyalty to our rightful king in exile, sir.”

“Honor,” The MacAran said bitterly, “Honor is of no use to the dead, and to all of his folk whom he entangled in the quarrel of the great ones; great honor to his wife and little children, I doubt it not, to die with the flesh burnt from their very bones? As if it mattered to me, or to any reasonable man, which great donkey kept the throne warm with his royal backsides while better men went about their business?”

Romilly could see that Alderic was ready with a sharp answer, but he bowed and said nothing; he would not offend his host. Mallina was introduced to Alderic and simpered up at him, while Romilly watched in disdain - anything in breeches, she thought, and Mallina willingly practices her silly womanish wiles on him, even this shabby political refugee Darren picked up at Nevarsin and brought home, no doubt to give the boy a few good meals - he looked thin as a rake, and no doubt, at Nevarsin, they feed them on porridge of acorns and cold water!

Mallina was still chattering to the young men.

“And the folk from Storn Heights are coming, and the sons and daughters of Aldaran of Scathfell, and all during the Midsummer-festival there will be parties and hawkings and hunts, and a great Midsummer-dance-” and she slanted her long-lashed eyes at Alderic and said, “Are you fond of dancing, dom Alderic?”

“I have done but little dancing since I was a child,” said Alderic, “I have danced only the clodhopper-dances of the monks and novices when they dance together at midwinter - but I shall expect you to teach them to me, damisela.” He bowed to her and to Romilly, but Mallina said, “Oh, Romilly will not dance with men - she is more at home in the stables, and would rather show you her hawks and hounds!”

“Mallina, go to your lessons,” said Luciella, in a voice that clearly said, I’ll deal with you later, young lady. “You must forgive her, dom Alderic, she is only a spiteful child.”

Mallina burst into tears and ran out of the room, but Alderic smiled at Romilly and said, “I too feel more at ease in the company of hawks and horses than that of women. I believe one of the horses we brought from Nevarsin is yours?”

“It belonged to-” Darren caught his father’s scowl and amended, “a relative of ours; he left it in Nevarsin to be returned to us.” But Romilly intercepted the glance that passed between Darren and Alderic and knew that her brother had confided the whole story to his friend. How far, she wondered, had that scandal spread, that the son of The MacAran had quarreled with his family and fled to a Tower?

“Romilly,” said her father, “should you not be in the schoolroom with Mistress Callinda?”

“You promised me a holiday on my birthday,” Romilly reminded her stepmother, and Luciella said with an ill grace, “Well, as I have promised - I suppose you want to spend the time with your brother. Go, then, if you wish.”

She smiled at her brother and said, “I would like to show you my new verrin hawk.”

“Romilly trained it herself,” Rael burst out, while her father frowned. “When Davin was sick. She waited up all night until it would feed, and the hawkmaster said that father could not have done better himself.”

“Aye,” The MacAran said roughly, “your sister has done what you would not do, boy - you should take lessons from her in skill and courage! Would that she had been the boy, and you the maiden, so that you might put skirts about your knees and spend the day in scribbling and embroidering within the house-“

Darren flushed to the roots of his hair. He said, “Do not mock me before my friend, Father. I will do as well as I am able, I pledge to you. But I am as the Gods made me, and no other. A rabbithorn cannot be a war-horse and will only become a laughing-stock if he should try.”

“Is that what they have taught you among the damned monks?”

“They taught me that what I am, I am,” said Darren, and Romilly saw the glint of tears in his eyes, “and yet, Father, I am here at your will, to do my poor best for you.” Romilly could hear, as plain as if the forbidden name had been spoken, it is not my fault that I am not Ruyven, nor was it my doing that he went from here.

The MacAran set his massive jaw, and Romilly knew that he, too, heard the forbidden words. He said, scowling, ‘Take your brother to the hawk-house, Romy, and show him your hawk; perhaps it will shame him into striving to equal what a girl can do.”

Darren opened his mouth to speak, but Romilly nudged him in the ribs, as if to say, Let us go while we can, before he says worse. Darren said, muffled, “Come along, Alderic, unless hawks weary you,” and Alderic, saying something courteous and noncommittal, bowed to The MacAran and to Lady Luciella and went with diem down the stairs.

For the last few days Preciosa had been placed on her block among the already-trained hawks; moving quietly, Romilly slid gauntlet on wrist and took up the bird, then returned to the two young men.

“This is Preciosa,” she said, pride swelling her voice, and asked Darren, “Would you like to hold her for a moment while I fetch the lures and lines? She must learn to tolerate another’s hand and voice-“

But as she moved toward him, he flinched away, in a startled movement, and Romilly, sensing how the fear in him reverberated hi the bird-mind, turned her attention to soothing Preciosa, stroking her with a feather. She said, not reproving, but so intent on what she was doing that she did not stop to think how her words would sound to another, “Never move so quickly around a hawk - you should know that! You will frighten her - one would think you were afraid of her!”

“It is only - I am not used to be so close to anything so large and so fierce,” Darren said, biting his lip.

“Fierce? Preciosa? Why, she is gentle as a puppy dog,” Romilly said, disbelieving. She beckoned to the hawkmaster’s boy. “Fetch the lures, Ker-” and when he brought them, she examined the bait, frowning and wrinkling up her nose.

“Is this what you have for the other hawks? Do you think they are carrion feeders? Why, a dog would turn away from this in disgust! I have orders that Preciosa was to have fresh-killed meat, mice if nothing better was available from the kitchens, but nothing as old and rank as this.”

“It’s what Davin had set aside for the birds, Mistress Romilly.”

Romilly opened her mouth to give him the tongue-lashing he deserved, but even before a sound was out, the hawk on her wrist bated furiously, and she knew her own anger was reaching Preciosa’s mind. She drew a long breath and said quietly, “I will have a word with Davin. I would ask no decent hawk to feed on this garbage. For now, go and fetch me something fresh-killed for my bird; if not a pigeon, take one of the dogs and find mice or a rat, and at once.”

Darren had drawn back from the frenzied flapping of wings, but as Ker scuttled away to obey orders, he said, “I see that working with the hawk has at least given you some command of that temper and tongue, Romy - it has been good for you!”

“I wish Father would agree to that,” Romilly said, still stroking Preciosa with the feather, trying to calm her. “But birds are like babies, they pick up the emotions of those who tend them, I really do not think it is more than that. Have you forgotten when Rael was a babe, that nurse Luciella had for him - no, I cannot bring her name to mind just now - Maria, Moyra, something of that sort - Luciella had to send her away because the woman’s older son drowned, and she wept when she saw Rael, and it gave him colic, so that was when Gwennis came to us-“

“No, it is more than that,” said Alderic, as they moved out of the darkness of the hawk-house into the tiled courtyard, “There is a well-known laran, and it appeared first, I am told, among the Delleray and MacAran folk; empathy with hawk and horse and sentry-bird … it was for that they trained it, in warfare in the days of King Felix. Among the Delleray folk, it was tied to some lethal genes and so died away, but MacArans have had the Gift for generations.”

Darren said with an uneasy smile, “I beg you, my friend, speak not of laran so freely when my father is by to hear.”

“Why, is he one who would speak of sweetnut-blossom because snowflakes are too cold for him?” Alderic asked with a grin. “All my life I have heard of the horses trained by The MacAran as the finest in the world, and Dom Mikhail is one of the more notable of MacAran lords. Surely he knows well the Gifts and laran of his house and his lady’s.”

“Still, he will not hear the word spoken,” said Darren, “Not since Ruyven fled to the Tower, and I blame him not, though some would say I am the gainer by what Ruyven has done… Romilly, now while Father is not by, I will say this to you and you may tell Mallina secretly; I think Rael is too young to keep it to himself, but use your own judgment. At the monastery, I had a letter from Ruyven; he is well, and loves the work he does, and is happy. He sends his love and a kiss to all of you, and bids me speak of him again to Father when I judge the time is right.”

“Which will be when apples and blackfruit grow on the ice cliffs of Nevarsin,” said Romilly, “You were there, you know what he feels.”

Darren shook his head. “Ah, no, sister, I am not so much a telepath as you, though I knew that he was angry.”

Romilly turned on him, blinking in disbelief. “Can you not hear a thing unless it is spoken aloud?” she demanded, “Are you head blind like the witless donkey you ride?”

Slow color, the red of shame, suffused Darren’s face as he lowered his eyes. “Even so, sister,” he said, and Romilly shut her eyes as if to avoid looking on some gross deformity. She had never known or guessed this, she had always taken it for granted that all her siblings shared the Gift she had come to take for granted even before she knew what it was.

She turned with relief to Davin, who was coming through the courtyard. “Was it you, old friend, gave orders to feed the hawks on the offal of the kitchens, and not even fresh at that?” She pointed at the pan of offending refuse; Davin picked it up, sniffed disdainfully at it, and put it aside.

“That lazybones of a lad brought this? He’ll make no hawker! I sent him for fresher food from the kitchens, but Lady Luciella says there are to be no more fresh birds killed for hawk-bait; I doubt not Ker was too lazy to catch mice, but I’ll find something fresher to exercise your hawk, Mistress Romilly.”

Alderic asked, “May I touch her?” and took the feather from Romilly’s hand, stroking the hawk’s sleek feathers. “She is indeed beautiful; verrin hawks are not easy to keep, though I have tried it. Not with success, unless they were yard-hatched. And this was a haggard? Who trained her?”