“Thanks given,” she said as her feet touched the ground, speaking softly so that he alone might hear her. “I have brought us some help and doubtless some problems as well.”’
“Doubtless,” the veteran agreed with feeling, then he shook his head in wonder. “By what sorcery did you manage this?”
“By fortune's stroke and very nearly my own disaster—but, I pray you, friend, do not use that word around them! They jump like kittens at the sound of it.”
He chuckled.
“Never fear, Lady Una! We will take care to guard them well, feelings and person.” His face softened. “It is good to have you home, my Lady.”
“And good to be here.”
She glanced at the keep.
“I want to settle our blank shields as soon as I bid them formal welcome. You have readied places for them within the tower?” Of a certainty, they could not be housed in any of the cottages with Seakeep's families.
“I have, my Lady, as you instructed.”
“Well done. Hasten now and prepare Lord Harvard's chamber as well. I would have their captain use that.”
Rufon frowned but quickly recovered himself. He had loved the Lord Harvard, and he had no liking for allowing a hired, stranger free use of what had been his personal place, but reason said this was a sensible move on the part of his liege. Their employer or nay, Lady Una would be little welcomed by those Falconers, and she herself would find no pleasure in venturing amongst them, but as ruler of Seakeepdale, she would have to meet, and possibly frequently, with their commander. This compromise would permit both parties to retain a greater degree of privacy than would otherwise have been possible, and, because of the man's race, there was small chance of any shadow's being cast upon her honor.
Una had anticipated some resistance, or at least disapproval, from Rufon and was both surprised and relieved to encounter none.
Perhaps because of the ease with which she had convinced him, she was completely taken aback when the mercenary spurned her plan.
Tarlach's eyes blazed before she had finished speaking.
“Officers and warriors of a Falconer unit remain together,” he informed her with an icy finality that stung like the cut of a whip.
“Very well,” she snapped, angry in her turn, “but I am going to have to have access to you, so warn your comrades that, woman though I am, they can expect to find me in their quarters fairly frequently. Rest assured, Bird Warrior, I shall not so far accommodate you as to bring you info my sleeping chamber when we needs must confer. My people have our customs as well!”
The Daleswoman gripped herself. Customs, aye, but her kind were not quite so ruled by irrationalities, practices and the hidden or open terrors which sparked them.
“A Holdlord's quarters are large. Two or even three of you could use the room in comfort, more if you accept crowding.”
Tarlach was silenced a moment, first by amazement at the sudden outburst from the usually controlled Holdlady, then by mortification as he recognized its cause and what prompted her to make her second offer. Blank shields were not normally given a place among the blood household of those they served. Una had made exception for him out of consideration for his people's ways and had swallowed her annoyance at his rejection and opened her personal domain to still more strangers … because she believed he feared to be so separated from his own kind.
He held his temper. To allow it any rein would seem but overreaction, confirming her error in her mind.
Hoping that his masking helm would conceal the shame sweeping him, he raised his hand in a rough salute.
“There is no need for that. You have shown greater foresight than I, Lady Una. For that, I must offer thanks.”
She nodded, but he could still sense the tension on her. He made himself smile.
“Blank shields are rarely used so well. You took me by surprise.”
Now her expression brightened, resuming almost magically its customary ready openness.
“We of Seakeep have sound reason for welcoming them, do we not?”
Tarlach set his baggage down and looked around him. There was a feeling of solid comfort· about the big chamber. It was amply furnished, the pieces substantial and massive in scale, well made but constructed of local materials and apparently by local craftsmen. He saw none of the exotic woods or costly inlay work favored by the richer lords, to the south in the days when High Hallack was still free of war and they had resources to spare for such luxuries.
It was ready to receive him despite the lack of forewarning that it would be required, good testimony to the quality of the service Una of Seakeep commanded. The high bed had been made up and its hangings drawn back. A fire had been laid and now burned cheerfully in the hearth, its heat already reaching out to warm the air around it. Candles were in their sconces, waiting to give their flickering light when the sun finally set.
He walked over to the centermost of the three windows breaking the expanse of the outfacing wall and stood by it, gazing out over the valley and the bay beyond. The evening was now well on, and the sun was going down magnificently red.
A fine view, he thought, and this opening was large enough to permit him to enjoy it. Because the room was so high, greater access could be allowed to light and air than was permissible at lower levels, or anywhere in more conventionally formed strongholds. It had been so in the Eyrie as well… .
Heavy metal shutters had been fitted to each window to shield the interior in time of danger, but he had the feeling that they had never been tested by more than the violence of the savage storms which must occasionally roll in from the sea.
Sadness welled up in him. That could all change too soon.
It would not! It was his business to see that this peaceful holding did not suffer the same fate that had stricken so many other of High Hallack's Dales.
A knock sounded behind him, and at his word, the great oak door swung silently back.
He raised his hand in greeting to Brennan.
“Welcome. Come in and see how a lord of Seakeepdale lives.”
“Passing well,” Brennan commented, his eyes sweeping the heavy, dark furnishings and excellent tapestries; he, too, liked the amount of light entering here. “You will be living well, my comrade.”
“Quite well.—Are the others settled?”
“Most comfortably. These Dalesfolk are not tightfisted at any rate. We are not likely to starve while amongst them.”
Brennan went over to the window.
“You would travel far to see finer than that,” he remarked in admiration. “I wonder what else can be seen from this height.”
“From the other side? A good bit of the bay, I imagine, and, of course, the mountain behind. The contrast between the two should be even more dramatic than this.”
“Who else is quartered up here?”
“Only the Lady Una.” His voice hardened instinctively, but then he shrugged. “She should not trouble me overmuch. She will be wanting her own share of peace.”
His comrade laughed.
“You would find little of that below, right enough.” His expression sobered. “What will be our course, Tarlach?”
“An easy one for the time being, for the rest of you anyway. I shall have to devote much of my attention to the Lady Una, and I will have to ride with her or her scouts to learn the Dale and something of those bordering it.—That learning is not my task alone. I want all of you to familiarize yourselves with Seakeep as thoroughly and as quickly as possible. Call on the younglings here to augment my reports. They should be more than willing to help.”
The lieutenant nodded. This was a logical and common plan for a mercenary unit to follow upon entering into a territory where they might have to fight. Knowledge of their own and their enemies’ lands always worked to reduce losses, sometimes significantly so, and frequently it was the edge that gave them the victory.
The commander returned to the window after Brennan had gone. He felt relaxed now that his duties to his c
ommand had been temporarily discharged, contented and enough at ease that he had no qualm about loosing Storm Challenger to the air in compliance with his winged brother's strongly declared wish.
All the falcons had responded with pleasure and their own excitement to this high, rugged country, so like their own lost home in many respects. It was good to be here and enough at peace that he could grant them the freedom of it.
It was good to have some share of that freedom himself.
4
Spring flowed into a gloriously perfect summer without a break in the quiet course of life in Seakeepdale.
Tarlach found himself thrown more heavily than he had originally anticipated into the Holdlady's company, heavily enough to give him pause whenever he thought to consider their enforced relationship.
That was not often. He had fallen under the spell of this beautiful, wild realm, and he had very quickly come to realize that there was no better guide to show him its ways.
The woman's familiarity with her domain was little short of phenomenal. She almost literally knew every foot, every aspect, of the huge Dale, and his wonder at the depth and intimacy of her awareness grew with every excursion he made with her.
So, too, did his own fascination with this world of mountain and sea, but despite his frank ensorcellment with it, he recognized as readily as did its ruler that Seakeep would not be a paradise in every man's eyes. It was not wealthy. Its territory was vast, aye, but it was poor in arable land, as Una had admitted from the outset, the most of that and all of the best being centered in the valley guarded by her round tower. Here, its people grew the staples and smaller luxury crops which sustained them and their animals, again, those common to most high, rough regions—small, dark cattle, the little black-faced sheep whose meat was so superior to that of the heavier lowland animals and whose wool was sparser but much the stronger, a few half-wild goats, hogs, mules and asses, and an assortment of fowl.
Only the horses were extraordinary, and these were of such quality and beauty that they seemed more creatures out of a bard's fancy than living beasts native to this ancient, many-sorrowed world. That notwithstanding, they were fine work animals and fine in the hunt or for exploring the roughest wilderness, and the least of them, properly trained, would be a war horse any Falconer would bind his sword for a full year to possess.
The mercenary sighed. He was not likely ever to own one of them, nor was any other of his race. The Dale's breeding program was small, producing enough animals to supply its own needs but no more. Markets where an acceptable price might even reasonably be anticipated were simply too far and the journey to them too difficult to make the effort of building the herd worthwhile. Even in the days before the invasion, horses had never been taken farther than the semiannual fairs at Linna.
That was just as well. Seakeep had never really been able to spare the men to send on long-term trading missions. There was no warring between the Dale and its neighbors, but this isolated, wild land was a lodestone to brigands, and its jagged coast called to pirate crews. These were the enemies of all and had to be fought by all, and they came frequently enough that each Dale maintained a well-trained, battle-tempered garrison to combat them.
The brunt of the ocean warfare had always fallen to Seakeep, since its harbor, though too small to support commercial fishing on more than its present scale or to entice merchantmen from the larger ports to the south, was the sole refuge for a fleet in this region.
None of that mattered, he thought, not economic hardship or danger from sea or land or human predators. A man could be happy here. This was a place in which to set down roots, to build and to grow, to meld with a world welcoming to those willing to work with rather than against her, a world where his kind could make themselves a home and grow strong and whole once more… .
His thoughts stopped, or, rather, they began to blur. The humming of the breeze and the muffled surging of the surf were working upon him in consort with the pleasant heat, and he was content for the moment to let his mind drift where their influence wafted it.
A high, distant call penetrated his mental doze, and he looked skyward, automatically homing in on the cry. Storm Challenger. An exultant joy filled him as he watched the falcon soar high in company with Brennan's Sunbeam. Unconsciously, his muscles tensed and strained as if he would join his comrade in body in the ultimate freedom of flight even as he joined with him in spirit.
This was just a playful flight, the birds’ way of expressing their pleasure in a beautiful day, but they had soared for more serious and timeless purpose earlier in their stay, as had every pair in the company. These flacons were creatures of the heights, and Seakeep met their instinctive needs to the full. Their annual nesting had proven fruitful as no other had been since the last in the Eyrie, before destruction had come to set them wandering. Another such hatching, another year in the Dale, and the future of the black-and-white birds should be assured. That would be an accomplishment and a comfort even if the men who served with them must all too soon fade.
His breath caught suddenly. Una was on the beach as well. She had begun walking toward him but had heard the falcons’ calling and had stopped to watch them. To his horror, she raised her arm in the distance greeting used by his people, and they—they responded, with a true welcome and not merely an acknowledgment of her presence.
She understood! That accursed female understood what they said and did!
He reached her in a matter of moments. Seizing her roughly by the arm, he spun her about, forcing her to face him.
“Witch! Dare you try your spells against them?”
Una struggled an instant to free herself, but when she could not, she stood still, quiet save for eyes blazing like cauldrons of green fire in her fury.
“You have strange standards of judgment, Falconer! For you to do this is but natural communication with members of another species. For me, it is an aberration, something vile to be feared and condemned.”
Her contempt was a lash into his face, but he did not give way.
“For your kind, it is unnatural.”
“Then it is most difficult to understand why no animal has ever refused me greeting arid good wishing after the, manner of its kind.”
His hold loosened enough for her to jerk her arm out of his grasp.
“It is true that this is not a usual gift of my people, and I have had to take care during all my life lest I be branded an oddity or worse among them, to the detriment of my house. I had not intended revealing myself to you, either, but I thought it no harm since the falcons themselves answered me as they did.” She turned away from him. “I suppose I was wrong to expect better than this from you.”
Her voice both thickened and trembled at that last, and she hurriedly strode, back along the way she had come.
Tarlach cringed in his heart, realizing there was pain as well as anger on her.
Justified ariger. He did not need the reproach he was receiving from the two falcons to tell him that.
“Lady! Lady Una, wait!”
The Daleswoman halted and faced him again but gave him no verbal reply.
He came to a stop before her and stood in the manner of a shieldman before his liege.
“I overstepped my right …”
“Aye. That you did.” Una eyed him coldly. Her shoulders squared. “Prepare your mount, Captain, and order mine prepared. The question of sorcery appears to be ever in your mind and accusation of it ever on your_ tongue. All this area is well-nigh free of that, but I do have a friend whom you would find distinctly suspect. She is no follower of the Shadow, but you shall judge that for yourself. If you read it otherwise, or if your fear of her proves too great, then go, and do not waste more of my time and resources.”
The mercenary's hand went to his sword, and he had to will himself to leave it sheathed.
“Take care, woman. We are oath-bound to serve—”
“Your oath be damned! Of what use would you be to me if you come to hate me more than
my enemy? Ogin is a man, after all,” she added bitterly. “What matter if he may be luring ships to their deaths in order to increase his store?”
“That is vile judging!”
“You do not think it amiss to use me so. Ready yourself to ride, Falconer. I must have your decision now as to whether you and yours remain in my service or not.”
5
The pair rode from the round tower in black silence. Tarlach wondered briefly if he was acting the fool in telling no one what he was about, in coming with this woman at all, but he dismissed that thought in the next instant. Pride and anger were driving him, aye, but it was his duty to investigate any local conditions which might affect his company, and that, unfortunately, included sites and sources of Power activity. As for Una, Storm Challenger rode with them, and the Falconer commander knew that, whatever else she might be capable of doing, this one would not purposely lead him into harm. Or himself. Treason of that kind was not part of her. That he was forced to admit despite all his hard feeling of the moment against her.
The heavy quiet continued between them, and as time went on, the mercenary grew more and more uncomfortable under it. He had never been conscious of the Holdlady's pressing her conversation on him, but he realized now how much he had come to enjoy her response to her holding, her observations of the land and the amazingly rich variety of life it supported, her often surprising reaction to his own comments, and with that exchange abruptly terminated, he felt as if he had suffered an irreparable loss, all the more painful and poignant because the break between them had been of his making.
At last, he sent his horse forward until the stallion drew abreast of her mount.
“Is my crime so very black?” he demanded sullenly.
“No. You cannot be blamed for being what you are. I chiefly resent that your attitude has forced me to do this.”
Her eyes rested somberly on him.
“Women have their friendships, too. We cherish them as much as any of your kind do yours, cherish their closeness and confidence.