Master of Hawks (16 page)

"Hey, why couldn't we have come straight through one of these trunks? At least one must have a stair or ladder all the way to the ground," said Hawk.

Coleman examined the room as he explained. "I'm sure they could have chosen an easier way to get us here, but they took a roundabout path to test us. As I told you before, they dislike and distrust humans, believing us to be inferior creatures. We have to prove
to them that we can be just as brave, just as psychically talented as they are. Obviously they could have pulled us almost straight up by rope, as they did our gear."

"Who was the Sylvan with the painted cheek?" asked Hawk. "What did it mean?"

"As I mentioned before, the most psychically gifted
Sylvan are trained as defenders, communicators, and shapers. They are prominent members of the society and wear appropriate face-paint designs to show their authority. The defenders are the smallest group; they wear designs on their left cheek. They fight any intruders or dangerous animals psychically. The communicators are basically telepathy with fantastic range who link the isolated skytree forests; they can also mindprobe. Their right cheeks are painted. The shapers, who control tree growth and are naturally the most important members of the community, have both cheeks painted.

"The tribe's chief is generally the master shaper. His face, including his forehead and nose, is covered. The size, shape, and color of the design spells out the person's exact abilities and position. The paint is applied in a ritualized manner each day before the performance of his duties."

Coleman brushed his fingers thoughtfully through his hair. "I'm no expert on the subject, but I believe our guide was rather important. Red paint is reserved for the highest authority, and, of course, that mind-probe he gave us was expert."

"I'm rather surprised that they returned our weapons," said Hawk as he checked over their belongings. Nothing seemed to be missing.

"The Sylvan are quite confident of their abilities, perhaps overly confident. The mindprobe confirmed our identities and intentions, so they'll treat us as guests for the time being, and if we do anything harmful, we'll be out on our ears, which would be rather catastrophic at this height."

Hawk turned his attention to the table. It grew out of the floor like a misshapen toadstool. A pliant, light-brown bark covered the pedestal and underside. The top was fiat and polished smooth. It had an intricate pattern of swirled grain that seemed designed rather than natural.

Wondering if there were a guard outside, Hawk walked to the door and listened.

"Don't open it," cautioned Coleman. "I doubt there is a guard, but you never can tell. We're supposed to have the good manners to wait here until the Sylvan approach us. They'll bring food and drink, and then probably leave us waiting here for hours, perhaps days, before Feder will actually see us."

"Is it all right for me to call my eagles in?" asked Hawk. He had ordered the birds to perch outside the Sylvan village while they entered the forest.

"Go ahead. It would be best if they were here with us."

Meanwhile Ro sat quietly in the chair, trying to relax. Her body tingled with the release of tension, as though she had stepped into a bath of ice. Coleman noticed her closed eyes and clenched fists. He remembered having a touch of acrophobia himself the first few times he'd visited the Sylvan.

Touching her hair gently, he said, "You'll get used to it, and a lot sooner than you'd think. If you weren't going to, you'd have never made it across that first swinging rope. Why don't you take a nice hot shower—you'll feel a lot better."

Ro opened her eyes and smiled up at Coleman. "I'd love a shower, but there's not even a toilet here." She glanced around the room again to confirm her first impression.

Coleman S'Wessex laughed. "I told you the Sylvan were marvelous tree engineers." He walked to the wall near the bookcase. "Come here." He showed her the protrusion of dark-colored wood at about her eye-level, which would be about the right height for the tall Sylvan to place a doorknob. "Twist it to the right." She did, and an arched door swung out, its edges normally concealed by the grain pattern. Inside grew a sink and toilet, as well as a recessed floor-level basin behind a projection of thin wood that ran from the floor to the ceiling. As with the main room, phosphorescent moss provided the lighting.

"Just press the knobs above the sink and by the wall of the shower for water and the knob there on the wall to flush the toilet," Coleman explained.

Ro gingerly pressed the right-hand knob above the sink, and warm water gushed out of a hollow, rootlike protuberance. "How . . . ?"

"Most of the main trees have roots running to hot springs if they are available, as well as to cold underground rivers. The trees pump up the water for the plumbing. They also extract nutrients and water from the waste before pumping it back to the ground. It's a perfect system."

Having located his birds, Hawk looked past Coleman's shoulder at the bathroom with admiration. "They don't have this in all the trees; I
had to build my own system in my watchtower."

While Ro picked out some clean clothes, took her shower, and changed, Hawk and Coleman continued to discuss the Sylvan plumbing.

"Only the largest trees are capable of supporting such a complicated system; outlying structures on the forest's edge rely on buckets and holes in the floor," said Coleman.

A knock on the door interrupted their conversation.

Then a female Sylvan entered, carrying a tray of food. Her tunic was similar to the males', complete with belt knife, but the
dolaan
had been bleached and dyed light blue. Her six-foot form moved gracefully, and her large breasts jiggled rhythmically beneath the thin garment, making Hawk feel a wave of embarrassment. But he didn't look away. A single blue skytree flower, shaped like a horn, adorned her long, braided hair. Silently she cleared a space among their belongings, set down the tray, and left.

Coleman lifted the bright towel covering the wooden tray and, seeing the shriveled bits of half-cooked squirrel meat, angrily tossed the cloth back down on the food.

Turning to Hawk he said, "So, we'll be eating some more of our dried rations tonight. The Sylvan are giving us the treatment they normally reserve for human traders and hunters."

"What's wrong with the food?" Hawk asked.

"If the Sylvan considered us honored guests, we'd get
tomaad
and
delaap, delaap
wine, delicately cooked stews of osmur and deer or squirrel with ground
delaap
nuts—any of a number of dishes. But not this—"

Hawk looked at the shriveled bits of meat. Although they did not look too appetizing, after the ride and climb they did not seem all that bad either.

"Despite the invitation Elihen wrangled for us from Feder, evidently the Sylvan still feel contempt toward us and our offer of mutual aid," Coleman continued.

"Perhaps it's another test," said Hawk. "Why would they invite us here unless they were at least slightly interested in our ideas?"

 
Coleman studied the tray. "Perhaps. This is the first time I've been invited to Alycia, the first time Feder himself has agreed to negotiate."

Acting as an intermediary for York and the refugees from the kingdoms under the Empire's control, Coleman S'Wessex had met with the Sylvan leaders for years to try to bring them over to York's side. In the last year, since Taral's intention to invade York had become clear, he had even participated in a formal series of meetings with some of the Sylvan chieftans. However, the meetings had led nowhere. But now that a Sylvan village had been attacked and York invaded, the Sylvan had suddenly taken the initiative, inviting Coleman to meet with Feder, the leader of the Council of Chieftans and head of the largest Sylvan forest, Alycia.

"Well, if Feder wants to verify the fact that we know something of Sylvan customs, we'll wait to eat until he serves us something worth eating," said Coleman.

11

Two days and six uneaten meals of squirrel later, Hawk fed the last of their dried rations to his eagles
and contemplated sending the birds out to hunt. If Coleman remained firm in his refusal to lose honor by eating an unworthy meal, and if the Sylvan did not change their attitude, the birds could always provide them with a meal of raw mice or hare.

As it was, Hawk longed to send the birds outside just for exercise, anything to alleviate the boredom of waiting, but Coleman had thought it best if the birds remained inside. They perched atop the bookshelves most of the day like lifeless ornaments, until the Sylvan girl entered the room to bring or remove the trays, whereupon they glared at her and the food that they wanted to eat but were ordered not to.

Coleman paced the room, silent most of the time, becoming less talkative as the hours stretched on. Ro strummed her guitar.

Pausing in midsong, she asked Hawk, "Want to play another game of cards?"

"Oh, why not," he replied. "Maybe this time you'll let me beat you."

As he sat down at the table and began to shuffle the deck of forty-eight oblong cards, the door to the room slid open and a tall man stepped inside.

"Elihen," said Coleman.

Other than being eight feet tall, the man seemed totally human and bore a strong resemblance to his half-brother. His hair was black, streaked with gray; his nails and eyes looked normal.

Coleman solemnly extended his hand, palm up, in the traditional Sylvan greeting. His half-brother smiled wryly and completed the gesture by placing his palm on top. Then the big Sylvan grinned, and Coleman stepped forward to embrace his brother in a quick bear hug.

Hawk sensed that their relationship was both closer and more complex than Coleman had wanted to admit.

"It's been too long," said Elihen. He spoke with the strange, lilting Sylvan accent.

"I guess it has been several months since I was here last."

Elihen nodded. "I'm sorry I couldn't get in to see you sooner, but this place has been in turmoil since you arrived. Feder insisted that no one contact you while he reevaluated the situation."

"But he invited us . . . " began Coleman.

His half-brother nodded. "Reluctantly. After Taral's forces attacked Avedon last month, even Feder became disturbed. But then you arrived with a telepath whom even Feder's best communicator, Proter, can't mindprobe. Feder represents the majority of the tribal chieftans—they are suspicious of humans to begin with, and they don't want to get involved in a human war. They refuse to realize its inevitability. Naturally Feder and some of the other important Sylvan who are here were upset to find a human able to withstand the best Sylvan telepath."

"What are you talking about?" asked Coleman. "That woman you brought," Elihen pointed at Ro,
"has a mind-shield that Proter couldn't break." "What's this?" Coleman turned to Ro.

"I don't know," she replied. "When the Sylvan telepath looked at me . . . "

"That was Proter," interrupted Elihen.

"Well, when he looked into my eyes, I felt his mind-touch. I guess I must have automatically blocked it, although I've had no training." Ro shrugged. "What did I do?"

Coleman sighed. "You're probably as immune to telepathic attack as to sorcery."

"I couldn't really get through to her when we both communicated with one of my eagles," added Hawk. "Forgive me, Elihen, let me introduce you before we try to sort this out," said Coleman. "This young lady, who seems to have caused all the trouble, is Ro S'Cascar. I told you about her when I saw you several months ago."

"Oh, I'm beginning to understand. She has the Rowen immunity; yes, I remember you telling me about that." He turned toward Ro. "And your grandmother was a
shiffem?"
His face began to relax. Recognizing their kinship, he held out his hand in the Sylvan greeting. Ro smiled and placed her hand over his.

"And this is Hawk, a bird-path from York," Coleman
continued.

Elihen nodded an acknowledgment but did not extend his hand.

Then he sat down at the table and faced his brother. "At any rate, a couple of the chiefs of nearby forests decided that this meeting was important enough to attend in person, instead of relying on reports from the communicators. When they learned that one of you couldn't be probed, they were so suspicious that they wanted Feder to call off negotiations completely. There was quite an uproar, and I could do nothing. As a
shiffman
I'm in a precarious position. I dare not seem too partial toward humans or I could jeopardize what influence I have. But to my surprise Feder became conciliatory and said that the meetings would take place after you were evaluated and tested to prove your worthiness." A note of irony edged into his voice. "He's a great one for tests.

"Although Feder's probably the most conservative chief, and normally quite opposed to a Sylvan-human alliance, the Avedon incident seems to have finally convinced him of Taral's potential danger. Meanwhile you've been off limits for two days while he had you watched."

"I take it we passed his test, since he allowed you to visit," said Coleman.