Pegasus Part 21

For several weeks there was little news; Danacor sent terse descriptions, tied to the legs of carrier-pigeons, of quartering the lower slopes of the boundary mountains. Then a dusty, distressed pigeon missing a few primaries brought the news of the first skirmish; there were a few wounded-although neither Danacor nor his brothers, nor any pegasus-but no one killed. A human messenger on a tired horse brought more news, and, when he returned, he took a packhorse with him, loaded with small padded cages containing more carrier pigeons. About a week after that, a pegasus-no one Sylvi knew-came with more news, both what he could tell and a letter from Danacor hung round his neck in a little bag like a nrala: he was closeted with Corone, Lrrianay and Fazuur for several hours.

The day after he left, Garren rode in through the northwest gate of the Wall with Poih at his side.

Sylvi and Ebon went at once to the king's receiving room to hear Garren's report. The scouts, crossing the border and going deep in the wild lands, had discovered the mouths of caves leading-they suspected, as far as they dared explore, as much as the magicians with them could guess-to a great network of underground caves; and the pa.s.sages they did explore were clearly used by taralians and norindours. Garren looked old and grim and determined. "This is not something Danny wanted to send a messenger with, even a messenger who had seen the caves himself. So I said we'd go, Poih and I. And we could bring more troops back.

"We had Doarday up to take a look, and he believes that there are many more of both taralians and norindours than we have any idea of-that they have been hiding and growing and increasing for a long time. Maybe generations. We should have been keeping better watch . . . but the truth is that we would still not have found the caves if we hadn't been searching that specific area-"

"Which means that the rocs wanted us to find them," said the king. "That this is something they have been planning. Neither taralians nor norindours plan far in advance; their great cleverness is on the immediate field of battle, when they can see openings and possibilities that slow humans cannot-and pegasi are too honourable to take such advantage. Nor do the two races live together. All this is, I fear, the doing of rocs."

Sylvi listened without understanding the details to the rest of the conversation; it ended when the king said, "I will write it down and send a messenger with it now. You need food and sleep, and a regiment cannot move as quickly as a single horse and rider, especially a quick horse and a clever rider."

"If it please you, sir," said Sylvi. "There is no one quicker or cleverer than Lucretia."

"Indeed," said the king. "If you can spare her, Sylviianel, please send for her."

Spare her, thought Sylvi. She's so edgy and impatient she's become the scourge of the practise yards. We'll be glad to see her go.

"We cannot know what the rocs' plan is," said Garren, "and Danny says that for now we must do the obvious thing-drive the creatures out of their burrows and destroy them-and watch our backs. How soon can the Second Horse Guards be ready to leave?"

"Tomorrow," said the king. "I don't guarantee before breakfast, but before noon. I will see if there is a company or two of someone else we can spare as well; because if the rocs are putting their plan, whatever it is, into action, then we must a.s.sume we need more eyes actively watching here too.

"That gives you time for food and sleep. And I would have you talk to the queen; she is out on patrol, but she will be here this evening. She hunted taralians in those mountains."

Garren nodded."She kept telling us to look for caves-especially a network of caves. Ginab wasn't enthusiastic and even Doarday thought it unlikely."

"She'll be sorry she was right."

"Yes." Garren's smile had no humour in it. He paused long enough to hug Sylvi-without ever quite seeing her, she thought-and left.

Sylvi made to do the same herself. She had already sent a footman to look for Lucretia; it was as well she had someone to send, because her own limbs felt heavy, and her thinking stunned. Taralians and norindours living underground-many of them-ready to pour out upon the country-her country. She could not grasp it-she could not make herself understand that the king would be putting extra watchers on the Wall in response to Garren's report-that warehouses and under-used buildings inside the Wall would be readied for refugees, or wounded. What she could grasp was that Danacor and Farley, and Garren again soon, were in terrible danger. A terrible danger that, if they could not contain it, would indeed spread over the entire country . . . and at last come here, to the king's city within its Wall, to the palace, to her home.

She put out a hand blindly and encountered Ebon's shoulder. Bad Bad, he said.

Very bad.

They turned to leave, but her father beckoned to them. There was a new look on his face. She could never remember a time when he did not seem tired and needing to think about too many things at once, most of which he would not or could not explain to his daughter. But always before he could set it aside occasionally, and play with her or tease her brothers or swing her mother around in an impromptu dance-he was an excellent dancer-or engage them all in a ballad-composing contest, which he would win unless all five of them united to outdo him. This new tiredness was of a sort that could not be set aside, till the end of some great matter was reached. She wished she could see it in his face that he believed that the end would be reached as he wished it to be. Lrrianay walked a few paces away from the human king, and Ebon followed him; Sylvi could hear a faint rustle of pegasus speech. She missed Niahi, and Niahi's gaiety and sparkle. Niahi had flown home with her mother two days after the party, with the shamans. But with this news even Niahi's brightness might go dull.

"I have seen Fthoom," her father said, and sighed. "I am sorry, child-sorry for all of us. But he demands to give his report. I hear in his voice that it is a report that pleases him, which means it will not please us. Those of his a.s.sistants who report to me say that he found something not long ago that pleased him tremendously, but they do not know what it is. I have said that we have other, mightier concerns on our hands, but Fthoom says that what he will tell us has great import upon those mightier concerns. You know of the pet.i.tion to reinstate him-he has hinted all these four years that we need his strength; he says almost openly now that we will need it worse when we hear what he has to say.

"He says he brings proof of the tale that he will tell, and on my orders he spent yesterday in the Hall of Magicians, being grilled by his own. Andovan and Fahlraken have brought me the guilds' confirmation that what he says is true and that his proof is true proof, though they do not know what of any more than I do. I trust their word, and I trust the Hall."

It was one of the purposes of the Hall of Magicians that any magician standing in it had to tell the truth. It had been Gandam's idea that there should be somewhere in the palace of the monarch where not even the cleverest magician would be able to beguile and deceive. It did not work as well as Gandam had hoped, perhaps because his own powers had been failing when he laid its five cornerstones; but as Ahathin had explained, somewhat drily, to Sylvi some years before, it was at least a good deal harder to lie in the Hall of Magicians than out of it. A determined panel of questioners could get at the truth-or so it had been believed for eight hundred years. Andovan and Fahlraken were two of the oldest members of the magicians' guilds, and had been in the service of the monarch all that time-they were among the few magicians who were neither dazzled nor frightened by Fthoom. Neither of them had been present four years before, when the king had banished him.

"Sylviianel," said her father, calling her back to the present, "I have agreed to listen to him. I can do nothing else; I do not have the time to waste to keep putting him off-even more so now that we have heard Garren's news."

Sylvi thought, I do not want to depend on Fthoom's strength. I do not want to know that there are times when the king can do only what he wants not to do. I do not want to hear my father say to me, I can do nothing else. I can do nothing else. I wish that Danny and Garren and Farley and the folk with them were home safe-and that the Second Horse Guards were not going anywhere tomorrow. I wish those caves were empty. I wish that there were no caves.... I wish that Danny and Garren and Farley and the folk with them were home safe-and that the Second Horse Guards were not going anywhere tomorrow. I wish those caves were empty. I wish that there were no caves....

I wish I had never come home from Rhiandomeer.

I must tell Dad . . . tell him what? That I could talk to the other pegasi in their own country, but that I-I don't know how reliable it is now that I'm home again? That I I am not reliable now that I am am not reliable now that I am home home again? That I see things in little bottles of water? That the air I breathe in Balsinland is heavy in a way the air in Rhiandomeer is not? That I agree with the pegasi that what is wrong between us is something about again? That I see things in little bottles of water? That the air I breathe in Balsinland is heavy in a way the air in Rhiandomeer is not? That I agree with the pegasi that what is wrong between us is something about our our magicians- magicians-our magic? That I think so because I met Dorogin in the pegasi Caves? Dorogin, who has been dead for seven hundred years? magic? That I think so because I met Dorogin in the pegasi Caves? Dorogin, who has been dead for seven hundred years?

That I am allying myself with the pegasi against my own people? Isn't that exactly what Fthoom would want, so he could exile me me?

She put her hand to her throat, as if she could not breathe, as if she could not speak. I wish I might have had one more flight with Ebon. I wish we might have had one more afternoon lying on the gra.s.s in the sunlight, even knowing the end is coming. I wish....

They had not gone flying since she had returned from Rhiandomeer. They had not been flying, therefore, just the two of them as they had once done whenever Ebon was at the palace, since before her journey to his homeland-a time that now seemed so long ago she could barely remember it.

Perhaps they had never been flying, just the two of them, with Ebon's mane tangling her own hair, and the world framed by his wings. Perhaps she had imagined it. Perhaps she had imagined that she could talk to the pegasi.

She wished she had imagined it.

She had said to her mother, How can everything change in three weeks? Three little weeks. Her mother had smiled and answered, Sometimes they change in a moment.

Her father continued, "I have given Fthoom a conference for the day after tomorrow. You and Ebon will attend, of course." He stood up. "I must talk to Lrrianay." As he looked around for his bondmate, Lrrianay turned his head as if he had heard his name spoken, and Fazuur materialised at the king's elbow. The king turned back to his daughter for a moment and put his hands on her shoulders and stared at her as if she held some answer to an important question.

"Dad-" she began, nerving herself to ask him for a moment of private speech, to tell him what she had to tell him, but as she said it her voice cracked, and he didn't hear her.

The same look she had seen in Danacor's eyes the last evening came into her father's. "You're growing!" he said.

She bit her lip. But she replied, "Yes. I know. I am."

CHAPTER 19.

There were many more people present for Fthoom's report than there had been on the day, four years ago, when the king had plucked the magician's spiral from Fthoom's head and sent him away. Sylvi had been surprised when Glarfin had reported that the meeting would occur in the Little Hall-which was little only in comparison to the Great Hall-rather than the king's private receiving room. That meant that this was not only a semipublic occasion but that many people were expected to attend. Glarfin would be there again, as he had been four years ago; but this only made her remember his leaping in front of her, to protect her from Fthoom.

Ebon knew the business was serious, but he refused to admit that he took it as seriously as Sylvi had to. His response to Fthoom's prospective return from exile was, Pity. Any day you see that great rolling barrel in the corridor is a blighted day. Pity. Any day you see that great rolling barrel in the corridor is a blighted day. And then, sadly, in a tone that sounded eerily like his father, And then, sadly, in a tone that sounded eerily like his father, I don't understand why your magicians grow so-so-umblumbulum I don't understand why your magicians grow so-so-umblumbulum, which was a pegasus word that meant, roughly, out of order. Pegasi did not use words like "belligerent" and "aggressive" about their friends and allies, and-she guessed-would hesitate to use such words about any human. Even "powerful" implied the misuse of that power, because why did you possess so much of it? Power existed to be given away. She had seen over and over again how his people approached Lrrianay, had seen how different it was from how his people approached her father-her father who was the kindest and quietest of men-far more like Lrrianay than Fthoom.

She thought again-as she often, involuntarily thought-of Dorogin's stony eyes in his stony face, staring out at her from the Cave wall, and his stony smile, all saying, Too late. Too late.

And Gandam's, saying, Try. Try.

Sylvi said sadly, I don't know either. I don't know either. But magic was a power as her father's sovereignty was a power, which was why no magician was allowed to accept as a student any member of the n.o.bility or of royalty-except on very rare occasions when the student renounced his or her family, or their family renounced them-nor was a magician allowed to marry a member of royalty or blood either, so that the available forms of power could not mount up dangerously in one individual or one rank. But magic was a power as her father's sovereignty was a power, which was why no magician was allowed to accept as a student any member of the n.o.bility or of royalty-except on very rare occasions when the student renounced his or her family, or their family renounced them-nor was a magician allowed to marry a member of royalty or blood either, so that the available forms of power could not mount up dangerously in one individual or one rank.

Redfora could not have existed. She was just a story the pegasi told. A story that could seem to come to life when told by a wily old shaman like Hibeehea.

Sylvi wished she could gouge out the look in Dorogin's stony eyes, and change the course of history. She wished Fthoom had been eaten by a sea monster.

The thrum of suppressed excitement from the Little Hall was audible from a long way off. Well, these corridors do echo, she told herself, marching down the stairs from her attic office, where she had been pretending to read an historical survey of the reign of Queen Egelair III, during which nothing at all had happened except that the crops were excellent year after year and the children healthy and the people long-lived and happy-and the magicians calm and restrained-and Sylvi stared at the paragraphs and wondered why the reign of King Corone IV could not have been similarly boring. Ahathin, who today had been sitting at the other end of the same table, kindly forbore to point out that she hadn't turned a page in half an hour. Perhaps he hadn't turned a page either. Ahathin would come with her today-she had asked him to-if what Fthoom had to say was so ill it stopped her thoughts, Ebon should still know what was said.

She had dreaded the occasion even more since she found out that she and Ebon would have to enter the Hall immediately behind, and at the same time as, the two kings, her father and Lrrianay. As mere fourth children they should have come in either earlier or later, with a minimum of fuss, and would ordinarily have been given places less prominent than the king's chief ministers and the highest-ranking senator and blood present. Or than whatever unfortunate person or group of people was the centre of attention.

But she and Ebon were the centre of attention. She and Ebon and Fthoom.

It was not the noise that struck at her the worst when she came through the door behind her father. It was the tension. It was like walking into glue; she had to stop herself from struggling to escape, wrenching herself backwards, wiping at her face with her hands as if something thick and sticky and clinging were smothering her. She thought Ebon had shivered very slightly when he'd come through the door at her shoulder. She wanted to say something to him-anything-just to hear him answer her, but even their silent speech felt unsafe.

That Ahathin and three footmen flanked them as they entered made it worse, not better: that Glarfin bowed her to her chair and another footman bowed Ebon to his place beside her made it worse, not better, even though she knew that her father was saying, This is my daughter, this is the pegasus king's son bound to her, and you will do well to remember it This is my daughter, this is the pegasus king's son bound to her, and you will do well to remember it in king-language, a language of gesture as clear as any tail-lashing and wing-rousing. in king-language, a language of gesture as clear as any tail-lashing and wing-rousing.

Fthoom was there already. Sylvi had hoped that his bare head would diminish him as it had four years ago, but it did not. He was wearing a different cloak, and while it stood out around him as the old one had, the collar had been redesigned, and was heavily embroidered with the public symbols of the magician's art. It was worse-again it was worse, Sylvi thought, that he should look so potent and compelling without his magician's spiral. This was a collar to complement bareheadedness, to make a new fashion in magicianry. None of the other magicians present were wearing spirals; Gornchern and Topo always did, on any and all occasions. But they were bareheaded today. Fahlraken was wearing a single low coil, as he usually did; Andovan was always bareheaded; they stood near the back, together, looking grim.

Immediately in front of the dais stood a young magician she had not seen before, dressed in the long blue robe of a bearer, with the silver chain of truth witnessed round his neck. In his arms he carried a long thin object that might have been a scroll wrapped in a light fabric. He was standing near her chair, and she could see that the fabric was stamped and woven with protective sigils. These caught at her eyes like a hand grasping her arm. She found herself thinking of a great tawny roc, and a red pegasus, and a human with a spear and a sword.

She turned away from Fthoom, from the bearer, from everyone, glad of the excuse not only not to face any magicians for a moment, but to remind herself she could and, at this moment, as she entered the Little Hall and settled herself in her place, should. In formal Court, as this was, you did not turn your back on your betters. She was reminding herself and all the Court that she was a princess, and Fthoom was only a magician. With the roc of her vision still tugging at her attention she thought suddenly of the rocs and taralians and norindours, the ladons and the wyverns of Garren's report, and their leagues of dark tunnels and unknown exits-and hoped that Danny and Garren and Farley always had good eyes and good swords at their backs. For a moment her own eyes were dazzled blue, not the midnight blue of the bearer's robe, but as if Danacor stood in front of her, and unsheathed the Sword: but at least the blue flare banished the tawny roc.

She climbed the three steps to her chair, and then she had to turn round again and sit down, and face Fthoom. She was still taller than he, even sitting, on the king's dais, and her head was level with Ebon's, who was standing at her side. Ebon looked at her once-an unreadable, unfathomable, silent look-and then faced out, inscrutable as a black statue of a pegasus. She hoped her own face was as expressionless. Ahathin, with the faintest tock tock of Speaker sticks, took his place beside Ebon. of Speaker sticks, took his place beside Ebon.

A herald announced that the Court was present on this day of six sixes after the vertex of spring at the request of the magician Fthoom and the sanction of the king; and herewith it begins.

Fthoom stepped forward, his cloak rustling. "My kings," he said, and knelt, in precisely his old unmindful gesture. Rising to his feet again he plunged into speech, eager as a child at a party. His eyes glittered-like jewels in sunlight, not like human eyes at all. "My kings," he said again."I have done as my king bade me, and studied the records in the royal libraries for all mention of friendship between pegasus and human beyond the binding defined in the Treaty of Alliance. Years this work has taken me, as you know, for there have been many records to study and many reports to consider and weigh; and my work was the harder in that most of those chronicles which dealt specifically with such relationships did not tell plainly of their outcome. I had to use all my skill-all my skill and all my helpers' skill-to extrapolate what lay hidden: and still no clear picture emerged."

Which is to say that you found no support at all for your hateful theory and you were working away like anything to think of ways to discredit what you did find, thought Sylvi-and she thought this louder than she realised, for there was a silent hum of agreement from Ebon. But this gave her no comfort; Fthoom had not demanded an audience to declare defeat.

She felt a sense of dread as strong as if Fthoom were to announce a tawny roc waiting for them, now, this minute, in the Great Court.

"Until, but a few months ago, I had a dream. While I have also been suspended from my position in the Guild of Magicians, I have not lost my expertise."

Sylvi, listening hard, thought that for the first time his voice sounded a little too emphatic, and thought, something good may yet come of this, if his power in that guild has been shaken. She wanted to look at her father, but she didn't dare; and she also knew that he, of everyone in the Court that day, would never allow anything to be read on his face.

"I had a dream, and I knew at once that it was an important dream. In this dream I saw myself in a far corner of one of the libraries-the farthest oldest corner of our king's great library-a corner where such fragments of text as have little worth are stored. And in a corner of this corner I laid my hand upon a stone, and found that it was loose in the wall, and drew it out, and found a parchment roll in the dark hollow behind it, old and brown and fragile."

Sylvi wanted to shout, I don't believe you! I don't believe you! It's a trick! What you say you found-if you found anything-you put there for yourself to find!

The young bearer shifted his position and a breath of alien air fanned across Sylvi's face with a smell of hot metal and blood.

"My dream, as you will have guessed, spoke truly. I went to the corner of the library, and I found that stone-but it was not loose in the wall, and had I not spells to loosen it, it would remain there still, and its secret dark behind it; and had I not had the dream I would not have recognised the stone that I needed to loosen. This stone has the ancient symbol for lightning etched upon it, as guard and ward; but it itself had been warded, that no one might see there was something there defended, for whoever hid this thing badly wanted none to find it. And had I-I-not been so absorbed-consumed-by my desire to fulfil my obligation to my king that even my dreaming self did continue the search on planes of being and perception I cannot reach awake, I too might have pa.s.sed it by. As it was I spoke certain subtle words of power, and I drew the lightning-blazed stone out, and there I found the parchment roll."

Fthoom paused, sure of his audience. "That parchment roll," he said, his voice now low, and slippery as oil on a plate, "tells a story of the reign of King Ascur II, who was also twelfth of his line."

Ascur II, thought Sylvi frantically. Ascur II-she could remember a little about him because he did not have a placid reign like Egelair III, and he made more interesting reading-what-there was a war, and the crown went to a cousin-it was a long time ago, long before the Great Hunt-some of the palace got knocked down-the war had rocs in it- "In the days of Ascur II, there was a deadly invasion of taralians, norindours, ladons and wyverns, and led by rocs. The kingdom was hard-pressed by these creatures, and whether Ascur's forces or the opposing army would win at last was often in doubt. The war stretched on for years, with neither side able to claim a decisive victory.

"Ascur had three sons; the youngest was named Tilbad. He was bound, at the age of twelve, to the pegasi king's third child, a daughter, Erex."

Three children? But the crown went to a cousin. The Sword chose-I can't remember anything anything- She heard the echo of a great-a vast-hoa.r.s.e shriek, perhaps like the sound that a roc might make-she shook her head to clear it. No, she was imagining this, as she was imagining the tawny roc of her vision in the Great Court.

"The war broke out several years after this binding: four years, in fact, although the two events appeared to have nothing in common. When Tilbad reached the age of seventeen, he and Erex joined the army and they were, the records tell us, very valiant. But the army-including Tilbad and Erex-were now driven back till they were fighting within the palace Wall-the Wall which was still of some defense against taralians, but its magic was failing as the strength of Ascur's armies failed.

"The battle went ill for Ascur's army; so ill, at last, that the Wall was breached, and the palace fired. So much all our histories tell us. But this is where the lightning-guarded scroll takes up the story: "The palace was torched and burning, and there were only scattered handfuls of defenders left. Everyone who could be sent away had been sent long ago; Ascur was now trying to gather what remained of his forces for a tactical retreat-even though he knew there was nowhere left to retreat to.

"His messages had gone out, and his soldiers gathered slowly round him. Those who came did not include Tilbad and Erex, although no one could say they had seen them fall; and as the beaten remnants of the army crept through what had once been the parkland surrounding the palace of the king, they saw Tilbad and Erex-fighting a roc. Alone.

"I a.s.sume you all know how large a roc is? Even the smallest of them can pick up a war-horse with one claw and its armoured rider with the other, and fly away with them. One man-and one pegasus-cannot possibly defeat a roc alone.

"And so Ascur watched in great anguish, waiting to see the death of his third son, for two of his sons had perished already, and he was himself sore wounded, and his horse killed, and he could not go to Tilbad's aid; nor were any of his soldiers in any better state, and Ascur feared any fumbling interference would only bring about the deaths of Tilbad and Erex the sooner. The only magician present lay half delirious on a rough pallet. His own pegasus-Erex's father, the pegasus king-stood trembling beside him, his broken wing tied awkwardly over his back. Time, for Ascur, slowed.

"And, because it slowed, and because of the great pain and distress of mind he was in, which sharpened his perceptions almost past bearing, he noticed something more clearly than he had ever done before: the curiously intense partnership of Tilbad and Erex. It was almost as if they could talk to each other-as if they could hear each other's thoughts. They moved around the roc as if each knew what the other was doing-even when they were out of sight of each other-what each was trying to do, and would do next. They covered for each other in ways no ordinary human soldiers, nor any ordinary pair of bound Excellent Friends, should have been able to do.

"It was at the moment Ascur was saying these things to himself that the truly impossible thing happened: Tilbad slew the roc. But in dancing out of the way of the roc's sword-sharp beak one last time- for the death throes of a roc are also deadly to the smaller folk within its long reach-Erex stumbled with weariness. And a ladon which had been waiting its chance thudded down upon her, and broke her back, and she fell lifeless to the earth.

"Then the second miracle happened: for the roc, instead of seizing Tilbad as he threw himself heedlessly upon the body of his friend, seized the ladon ladon-and squeezed the breath out of it, and tossed its body down to lie beside Erex.

"Everyone knows that a roc speaks truth as it dies, although rarely is the truth it speaks welcome. This roc opened its beak, and its dark blood dripped upon the ground. 'A curse upon that ladon, and a curse upon its children, and its children's children's children. For we have come within a breath of taking this land back from the inimical humans and the skulking pegasi which allied themselves with the invaders; and by the deed of one ladon we will lose all.

" 'For that alliance is rotten at the heart of it; humans are set apart from the other creatures of the earth, and no other race may bind itself to them. You have been protected by the weakness of the binding between your two races, in that human and pegasus cannot speak each other's language and be understood. Have you not wondered why this should be so? That it takes your best magicians' best efforts to make any communication possible? The pegasus shamans gave it up generations ago; to save their miserable skins they forbore to tell you humans the truth. The truth is that your selves, your spirits, your beings beings, are absolutely opposed to each other: to draw you closer together is to press the sword point to your own hearts.' "

Ebon was hearing Fthoom through Sylvi-in her anguish the story poured through her; it was as if she were shouting at him. It would have been better if he had heard it from Ahathin, a story translated from another world, as if nothing to do with him. She wished she could hold it off, close that door, turn her face away from her best friend-no, she needed him to hear what she was hearing, and what use to protect him? She heard the faint creak of feathers as his wings flattened; she heard Fazuur, who was translating for Lrrianay, stumble over the soft pegasi syllables, and could imagine his nimble, speaking hands suddenly drop motionless to his sides; had his silent-speech also stuttered to a halt?

She had not noticed that the smell of blood and death had grown stronger; only that her sense of despair was growing as huge as the wingspread of a roc.

" 'Your son and your daughter, they who lie now at my feet, they could speak to each other. And by that speaking they have indeed bound your two races closer together; but that closeness is a wound, and the blood and breath of each is poisonous to the other, and the bodies of your two races are dying of it. When this war was first mooted, I was one of those who spoke against it: the humans are too strong, I said. And I have been amazed that it is not so. I have been amazed, till this last half hour.'

" The roc gasped, and the death rattle was in its breast. 'This ladon, this single, wretched creature, has ruined all that; for the partnership is broken too soon. Such a thing will not come again for generations-generations upon generations-and I-I-I will not be here to see it.' And the roc drew in one last, terrible, rasping breath, and died.

"Ascur, not knowing what else to do, went to his son, and attempted to lift him, but his own wounds prevented him; and he said, 'We must get away from here; there is nothing you can do for Erex.' Tilbad rose to his feet, but his gaze was turned inward, and it was as though he did not see that his own father stood before him sore injured. He said, 'I will die of this wound, Father,' though there was no mark on him.

"And so it was, for Tilbad died twenty-three months later, having lived long enough to be a part of the driving of the remaining rocs and their allies out of his father's kingdom, for as if upon the death of Erex, the human army rallied; it grew stronger and fiercer than anyone who had stood with Ascur that day and watched Tilbad kill a roc would have believed possible. Tilbad saw peace re-established, and the farmers growing a new year's crops untroubled in their old fields, and the stock fattening, and children playing in the meadows.

"It was said of Tilbad that from the moment of Erex's death he never smiled, nor spoke any word that was not absolutely necessary; and that he fought tirelessly, and took risks no sane man would take-and lived; which is as some men do, from a grief too great for them to bear. And when Tilbad had seen that his father's land-his own land-our sweet green land-was safe again, he disappeared. But when the news had come to the king that Tilbad could not be found, the king blanched, saying nothing, but rose from his chair and went at once to Erex's grave. Few pegasi are buried within the palace Wall, but Tilbad had begged this favour of both his father and Erex's, and so she had been buried in a little private glade some distance from the palace, in a place no one would notice or go, unless they wished to visit her grave. And there Tilbad's breathless body was found, curled up on its side, head resting near the head of the grave. And there was no mark on him."

Sylvi was paralysed. She could feel her mouth fallen a little open, feel her body bent a little forward and resting its weight on her two clenched hands on the chair-arms, her elbows bent up and behind her like rudimentary wings. In her mind a tiny voice said, And what wound was it Tilbad died of? The loss of his friend or the lie the roc told? Rocs speak the truth when they are dying, her conscience answered miserably; it is in the histories. They speak the truth when they are dying, and they live almost forever-if that roc hadn't been killed, it might be one of those facing us now; those we face might remember it, and remember its death. But the tiny wild voice replied, Who says they tell the truth? And what truth do they not not tell? tell?

Ebon still stood like a stone pegasus.

The bearer moved very slightly again, causing the faintest hush hush sound of his robe against the sigil-stamped fabric, or of the fabric against whatever it protected. sound of his robe against the sigil-stamped fabric, or of the fabric against whatever it protected.

The smell of blood and death was overwhelming.

Since she had never heard such a thing before, Sylvi did not at first recognise the sound of her father shouting for silence over the tumult in the Little Hall. That there was tumult around her did not register with her at all, the tumult in her mind and heart was so much greater-the tumult inside her, and Ebon's silence. Why was he not saying what she wished to say-that Fthoom was a liar, that this story was a fabrication created of Fthoom's overwhelming greed for power, a power potentially threatened by her and Ebon, by the flood of eager suggestions Iridin was putting into order. Ebon's silence and stillness was as if a part of her were missing; as if a leg or an arm, hitherto faithful, had simply ceased to answer her wishes. And with that she realised for the first time how much a part not just of her life but of herself herself he was. he was.

And in that same moment she realised that she would lose him.

Again she heard the ghostly cry of a roc, but this time she knew it was a cry of triumph.

Her father was on his feet, shouting. The king never had to raise his voice to be heard; he was the king, and his subjects listened. But many people were shouting: Fthoom, and the magicians with him-and Fazuur was at the front of the dais, on his knees, shouting at them-and some of the courtiers, as well as the king. Most of the ministers, the senators and the blood looked dazed, but Senator Barnum was waving his arms and shouting too.... Sylvi found that she had also come to her feet as if the noise were a sea that threatened to drown her, and she was straining to hold her head above water. Someone's hands were holding her up, grasping her upper arms, and she knew without looking that the hands belonged to Glarfin, and she leaned into them as she struggled for some-any-clarity of mind.

She turned her head and that link at least was still there, for Ebon moved at last, and turned his head at the same moment as she turned hers, and they stared into each other's eyes, each reading shock and love and despair in the other's.

Sylvi- Ebon- We'll never forget- They're wrong-wrong- We are bound- That is the true thing- Never forget-you are my heart's- And then a sound like the end of the world broke in even on their silent speech, for Lrrianay was standing on his hind legs and trumpeting a great belling cry: This was little like his shout four years ago, nor yet that of his son a few months ago. This was a war-cry, the sound of someone who goes into battle knowing already that the battle is lost, but knowing it must be fought, even if he dies of it. Sylvi said, Oh, Lrrianay, you are also my father, and Aliaalia is my mother, and Niahi is my sister Oh, Lrrianay, you are also my father, and Aliaalia is my mother, and Niahi is my sister . . . but she doubted he heard her. . . . but she doubted he heard her.

No one had ever heard such a noise indoors before; pegasus bodies, with their hollow bones and vast airways are more resonant sounding-boards than most musical instruments, and Lrrianay was angry. He spread his great wings, and footmen and ministers scrambled out of the way, and the draft of just that first sweep open blew Sylvi's hair back. Again she smelt the Rhiandomeer smell of earth and flowers, and this time it smelled like good-bye.

Those who knew no word of the pegasi language could nonetheless hear what he was saying, with his ears flat back like an angry horse's but his eyes much brighter and fiercer and more intelligent than any horse: Quiet! Quiet! There will be order in this place! I say so, Lrrianay, king of the pegasi! Quiet! Quiet! There will be order in this place! I say so, Lrrianay, king of the pegasi!