Master of Hawks (21 page)

She nodded. "Then we're all set?"

He gave her a nervous half-smile. "Let's go."

Reaching down to the top of her boot, Ro unobtrusively pulled out a button she had hidden there and slipped it into her pocket. Then she followed Hawk into the flow of pilgrims heading toward the square.

A white-robed priest stood in front of the main doors into the cathedral. While he announced the day's events and extolled Saint Steffan's virtues, other
priests walked through the crowd giving blessings. Two stood in front of the kiosk in the center of the square guarding the relics lying inside.

Hawk and Ro wandered by the stands selling food and mementos and then drifted over to the small
pavilion. Most of the bits of metal and glass displayed inside looked like so much junk, but to the followers of N'Omb they were priceless signs of the god himself.

Suddenly Ro's fingers dug sharply into Hawk's arm. He followed her gaze to a flat plate among the twisted
scraps. According to the label it was a sign from an ancient dwelling place of N'Omb, but to Hawk it was the Sylvan plaque, lying exactly in the position the Sylvan chief, Feder, had described.

It seemed nothing more than a rectangular piece of copper that had turned dark green with age. The
inscription was in an ancient language, illegible and
undecipherable. It hardly seemed something valuable, or something worth risking his or Ro's life to try to
obtain. But if it would cement the alliance between York and the Sylvan, they had no choice except to steal it or to die in the attempt.

Hawk glanced at the bronze clock on the city hall tower across the square. It was almost nine o'clock, time for the main doors to open.

"I must give the offerings now," he told Ro.

Her face remained as calm and serene as those of the pilgrims around them as she watched him walk toward the offering platform at the back of the cathedral, about fifty yards from the main doors, but her
skin tingled with a sudden foreboding of his danger that came too late and remained too vague to do Hawk any good, even if she could tell him about it. She had no choice except to continue with her part of the mission, for she sensed that it would succeed.

Then the clock began to chime, and the crowd turned to watch it. Small doors at the base of its face opened, revealing mechanical figures of famous saints. Moving hands and legs in time to the chimes, they paraded in a circle until the last bell rang, then they reentered the clock.

As the pilgrims turned back toward the shrine and began to crowd against its main doors in anticipation that they would open, Hawk reached the edge of the offering platform and handed the bags of grain to one of the novices. With mingled excitement and abhorrence, he contacted the gathered birds, and then, as the main doors opened, he sent them diving from the rooftops and ledges into the crowd massed at the cathedral's entrance.

There was instant pandemonium. Startled pilgrims ran or tried to dodge; some tried to squeeze into the shrine, but the sudden press of the crowd plugged the door. Priests shouted, women screamed, and birds shrieked.

Hawk controlled the birds as carefully as he could to prevent injuries to them and to the pilgrims. But it was difficult to direct so many at once in the tight space.

A pigeon landed on a woman's head, and she flailed about, knocking down others in the crowd; one of the priests began to shout a hurried spell and point his finger at some of the birds, which fell one by one onto the frightened throng; at the same time a large group of starlings careened into a market stall, knocking part of it over, while other maddened birds dashed themselves against the doorway of the shrine.

Ro took advantage of that first moment of confusion. While all eyes stared at the chaos near the cathedral doors, she stepped up into the kiosk. The blue-gold force field did not flicker, the protective runes engraved upon the kiosk did not flame, the alarms did not sound.

She slipped the Sylvan plaque into the folds of her robe and left in its place a silver button bearing the Imperial insignia. It had come from an Empire soldier's uniform. The plaque's absence might not be noticed for days or weeks, but when it was, suspicion would fall on the Empire rather than on York or the Sylvan.

Then she stepped down and melted into the crowd. No one had noticed her.

As soon as Hawk saw Ro leave the kiosk, he began to edge his way around the side of the square toward the city hall. Meanwhile he sent the birds into another dive.

"I wish we didn't have to attend this damn ceremony for Saint Steffan," said Wagner Prenis to another of Jaxton Sinclair's lieutenants as they hurried down the warped stairs of the city hall.

Jaxton, who waited for them on the first-floor landing, heard the remark and said sharply, "You may not believe in N'Omb, but these people do. We have to show them that although we've occupied their town, we'll respect their beliefs and property. Kellerton is now part of the Taral Empire, and as its acting mayor I have a duty to pay my respects to N'Omb. Though
I don't like it any better than you do, we're going to sit through that service and look as though we like it."

"Yes, sir," said Prenis, looking at his boots. He knew his superior well enough to make no further objections.

As they walked down the long hallway toward the front door, the guard at the end suddenly gave a startled cry and dashed outside.

"What the . . . ?" exclaimed Jaxton.

Closely followed by his aides, he ran to the door and outside into the square.

The plaza was a turmoil of writhing gray and white as twisting pilgrims and priests dodged and ran, trying to evade black feathered darts that clawed and raked and bit. Yet the screams and cries were far out of proportion to actual injuries.

While a gray cloud of pigeons whirled down from the spires of the shrine, Jaxton's thoughts automatically thrust out into the birds. Touching their minds, he suddenly found himself in deadly combat with the hawk-telepath he had met before. Only this time the man's mind was no wisp of shielded thought darting out of range but was instead solid, near, and dangerous.

Jaxton's shield shuddered and held under a barrage of lightning-like thrusts. He counterattacked, but the mental pounding continued so fiercely that Jaxton realized that the hawk-telepath was far more powerful than he had thought.

While the two minds grappled, the birds spun and careened in an uncontrolled frenzy, for they were still linked to the men. They dived against the buildings and flew blindly onto the ground.

Jaxton wondered why the enemy telepath had disrupted the Saint Steffan festival. Was this merely a diversion while Derek S'Mayler attacked Kellerton? Yet there had been no alarm of an attack or any sighting of York troops. Moreover, it seemed unlikely that York would take the chance of offending the N'Omb priests. Or was this a plot of some kind? An attempt to discredit the Empire? Some of the townspeople knew that he was a bird-path. Did York intend to make it look as though he had done this?

He thrust deeply into the enemy mind, seeking the answer, but inner shields blocked him. So he battered at his enemy's motor controls while skillfully sending a concealed probe that seized the nervous system. The ploy worked, and for a moment he found himself staring around the square through a stranger's eyes. That was when he realized that the man stood not thirty feet away, at the corner of the city hall.

Suddenly Hawk struck back sharply, pushing Jaxton out so fiercely that Jaxton found himself fighting to control his own body against the other's assault. The power of the onslaught surprised and frightened Jaxton. Evidently his previous encounters with the hawk-telepath had been only at a great distance; at this close range his opponent's strength was formidable. Perhaps too formidable.

He tried to use the Pendant of Thantos against the man, but discovered that he needed all his power for the telepathic duel. Unable to use sorcery, he ordered his men forward.

"Get him," he yelled hoarsely, pointing to the short, bearded man dressed as a pilgrim who stood strangely still amidst the chaos. "He's the one causing this."

While they ran toward Hawk with drawn swords, Jaxton felt a wave of pain as the other lashed against his shields. Realizing that he might not be able to win the duel, he decided to break off contact and let his men capture the telepath. He slashed out with all his might and then abruptly severed the connection.

Released from the bond, the birds that could still fly fluttered up into the sky in fear and bewilderment. The shadows of their beating wings swept across the faces of the terrified people. Then they were gone.

The dazed pilgrims fell on their knees, thanking N'Omb for deliverance from the strange attack. Some gestured with their hands, drawing circles in midair to signify a prayer to N'Omb. The superstitious people thought that the sign could protect them against sorcery.

Soldiers ran in to try to restore order.

Meanwhile, Wagner Prenis had reached Hawk.

"I want him alive," Jaxton yelled as his aide's sword flashed in the sunlight.

Without a weapon and momentarily stunned by Jaxton's final blow, Hawk had no choice except to submit.

Jaxton stepped forward and inspected Hawk intently. "What are you doing here?" The other gave no answer. "Your life will be spared if you speak." The hawk-telepath's eyes met his defiantly. "No? But you will answer my questions sooner or later, make no mistake about that." Jaxton motioned to the soldiers. "Take him down to the city hall dungeon and put him in the shielded cell. I'll question him later—until then he can consider the consequences of silence."

As two of the men herded Hawk toward the city hall, Jaxton turned his attention to Wagner Prenis. "Double the guard and put them on immediate alert.

This may have been a diversion while York tries
to attack Kellerton or to cut our supply route to Swego. I want scouts on the Keller Road in both
directions, and I want a messenger sent to S'Stratford."

"There's been no word of any York troops in the area for days," mused Prenis.

"We can't overlook any possibility. Get going and report back to me as soon as you can."

"Yes, sir."

Jaxton surveyed the square. The N'Omb priests seemed to have taken the bird attack in their stride and were now helping the injured and urging the rest of the pilgrims to enter the shrine. They evidently intended to continue the Saint Steffan services in spite of the attack.

Quickly he searched the area telepathically through the eyes of nearby birds. Empire soldiers still manned the city walls, the traffic on the Keller Road appeared to be normal, the fields and forests just beyond the city remained serene.

Satisfied that York was not attacking the city, Jaxton felt sure that the bird attack had been calculated to discredit him and, through him, the Empire. He sought out Father Richards, the shrine's high priest, and found him examining the twisted body of a pigeon near the cathedral's main door. The sleeve of his white velvet robe was stained, and a bit of torn skin with feathers still attached clung to his shoulder.

Richards let the dead bird fall from his hand as he turned to glare at Jaxton Sinclair. A wave of anger splashed across his face in a dark red tide.

"What was the meaning of this?" He gestured toward the blood-splattered cobblestones, the broken bodies of birds, and the frightened pilgrims. As his voice boomed, the crowd twisted toward him and stared at Jaxton with growing suspicion.

"Please listen to me," replied Jaxton in a low, authoritative voice. "We've captured the man who did this; he's a bird-telepath from York."

"What!" Richards' disbelief was evident. He and the townspeople would much rather blame the attack on the Empire that had captured their town than on their own people. "I can't believe York would do such a thing . . . "

"Please come with me to the city hall and you can
see
the man for yourself." Jaxton pressed the priest's arm gently, and the man began to move forward. "Believe me, the Empire had nothing to do with this. We would not violate the sanctity of N'Omb for any reason. York has committed this sacrilege in an attempt to discredit me, but fortunately we were able to capture their spy."

Richards' expression had become stoic.
"
I'll examine this man, but I still find it hard to believe that York was behind this senseless attack. It is incredible that anyone would disrupt the Saint Steffan festival! Why nothing like this has ever happened before."

"Obviously York has no respect for N'Omb," replied Jaxton, as he led the way into the city hall. He felt relieved when its door closed behind them, shutting out the accusing looks and angry glances. He was tempted to place the city under curfew, but he knew that would only increase the townspeople's resentment and suspicions. He had to obtain the York telepath's confession, either willingly or through torture, to lay to rest any doubts that the N'Omb priests would have about the origin of the bird attack.

One of the prison guards escorted them down the narrow stone steps into the dungeon. They passed the guard stationed at the first level and then descended into the deserted second level. The dark holes on this floor were empty except for the shielded one that lay at the end of the corridor. Its walls, ceiling, and door were covered with a fine silver mesh inlay that effectively blocked telepathy and sorcery. Rune-inscribed posts in the four corners cast spells that also prevented magic from taking place within the room.