Path of Fate (14 page)

Reisil found herself at home and hardly knew how she’d gotten there. Nurema’s words wheeled around her mind, chasing and chasing until they cornered Reisil. She knew what she had to do. The tark in her wanted it, too. There wasn’t any choice anymore, if ever there was.

She confronted her cottage, examining every stone as if to implant it in her memory. Then she went inside, touching the walls, the bedstead, the shelves and windowsills. She went into the greenhouse and did the same, watering a drooping corbano plant. She returned to her cottage and stood in the doorway for long minutes, hardly seeing her carefully planned garden, the sprawling vines or the softly rustling trees.

There were no tears.

She went to her closet and rifled through, finding at last a winter vest of supple doeskin. She donned it, pulling the laces tight. Next she scrounged an old boot with holes in the toe that she had intended to patch. She cut off the shaft and slit it down the seam, tying it around her arm with strips of leather. Satisfied that it was secure, she turned to the door. As a quick afterthought, she grabbed up the scarf Kaval had given her, wadded it into a ball and shoved it in her pocket with Ceriba’s purple ribbon.

Last she unpinned her tark’s brooch from her shoulder and set it on her kitchen table, her fingers trembling as she drew her hand away.

Today, to be a tark, she had to become
ahaladkaaslane
. The irony of it burned in her throat and her stomach tightened.

She turned without a backward glance and went outside to the copse of fruit trees lining the edge of the bluff. Far below she could see the river sparkling like a silver gypsy ribbon. She loved the view, found it soothing on many occasions. But she had no head for heights and took her pleasure well away from the edge.

She closed her eyes and reached out with her mind.

Saljane did not come right away, and Reisil wasn’t sure the bird had even heard her call.

She called again.

A black speck appeared in the sky, circling. It grew bigger as it descended. Then suddenly it stooped, dropping like a stone. Saljane’s wings belled out at the last moment and caught the bird with a loud pop. The goshawk winged once around Reisil and settled onto the limb of the buckthorn. Her entire posture radiated challenge.

Silence swelled between them. Reisil did not know what to say and Saljane gave her no help, only stared, cocking her head back and forth as if trying to make up her mind about something.

“I need you.” The words burst out before Reisil knew what she wanted to say.

Fury. The goshawk mantled.
Kek-kek-kek-kek.

Reisil tried again, wondering how much the bird could understand. The bird. Saljane.

“I am called Reisil. And you are called Saljane.”

~
Yes.
The goshawk inserted the word into her mind on the edge of a white-hot knife. Reisil flinched from the contact, but forced herself to continue.

“That means secret. Does that mean you have a secret? You are a secret?”
My secret,
thought Reisil guiltily. Then shrugged aside the thought, focusing on Saljane. “Why me?” She asked the question that had gnawed at her for weeks.

This time, instead of a word response, as she was becoming accustomed to with the goshawk, an image formed in her mind. Saljane perched on the arm of a woman. Reisil couldn’t make out the misty lines of her face. She had honey-blond hair. It cascaded to her feet in a thick wave, and was woven with chains of nuts and flowers. A circlet of silver oak leaves curved around her forehead. She wore a tunic and trews of green, patterned like the foliage of the forest. She held Saljane close to her and whispered something, then flung out her arm. Saljane launched into the air like a shot from a cannon.

The picture faded and Reisil found herself staring deeply into Saljane’s amber eyes.

“The Blessed Lady,” she breathed. “And then?”

The image this time was nothing Reisil could make out. A blur of colors and patterns; then suddenly she cried out and staggered. She was falling, falling, falling. The sickening drop seemed to go on forever; then she was brought up sharply. Now she was circling. Below her was a woman—no, not a woman. It was herself, watering her garden, the day Saljane had erupted into her life.

The image faded before those moments could be replayed, but Reisil could feel the bird’s fury whirling hotter.

She blinked and climbed to her feet. Her throat was still in her mouth and her whole body trembled. She hated heights. Why would the Blessed Lady pair her with a bird—any bird?

Reisil bent and put her hands on her knees, closed her eyes and took several deep breaths, telling her stomach get back down out of her throat.

“I suppose I deserve that. Are you going to keep doing that the rest of our lives together?”

Reisil shifted so that she could no longer see her cottage, greenhouse and garden. She’d said good-bye to those already. She was going to accept the Blessed Lady’s gift and begin her new life dry-eyed and square-shouldered.

“The
ahalad-kaaslane
serve the Blessed Lady and Kodu Riik. I thought I could serve better as a tark. But there’s trouble here and I need you. There’s going to be war again with Patverseme if we can’t get Ceriba back and find out who kidnapped her.” She shook her head, face set. “Kodu Riik needs peace. As just a tark, I can do nothing. But maybe that’s why the Blessed Lady sent you to me now. Maybe this is what she wants us to do.”

Reisil looked at Saljane. The bird dipped her head as if nodding. Reisil took a breath to steady herself, hoping she’d have the courage to carry it through. “All right then. Let’s go.”

She lifted up her leatherwrapped arm and Saljane dropped heavily onto it. Her talons closed around Reisil’s arm and the girl gasped as she staggered under the weight and pressure. She lifted her arm, using her other hand to brace it, letting Saljane climb onto her shoulder. Sweat ran down her back and between her breasts as the morning warmed, but she was glad of the padding and protection the winter vest provided her shoulder as her companion’s talons clamped down.

It would have been easier to let Saljane fly, but Reisil thought she ought to make some effort to show her repentance and commitment. She hoped her new companion recognized what she was trying to say in leaving the cottage with nothing but the clothes she wore and her
ahalad-kaaslane
on her shoulder.

Saljane sat quietly, her feathers rustling in Reisil’s ear. As they turned onto the road, the goshawk stretched her head down and rubbed her beak gently on Reisil’s cheek. Reisil felt sudden tears rise in response to the caress and dashed at her eyes. Ahalad-kaaslane
don’t go around crying like children,
she told herself sternly. But her heart lightened. She wasn’t alone.

“Does that mean you forgive me?” she asked, turning her head to peer up into Saljane’s brilliant eyes.

~
I am yours. You are mine.

The words retained that sharp, steely tang, though they no longer cut with fury.

“I guess that’s yes. Or as close to as I’m going to get for now. Maybe I’ll ask again later, when you learn to trust me a little more.” She was silent a moment, thinking.

~
Can you understand me?
she asked Saljane in her mind.

~
Yes.

~
Do you know what I’m thinking?

Curiosity. ~
What?

~
No. Do you know what I think when I think it? Or do I have to tell you?

~
We are young together. We will fledge together.

“I take it that means no for now, maybe later after we bond more closely. That’s probably a good thing. I don’t know that you’d like to be inside my head that much, but I know being in yours is going to take some getting used to.”

By the time she reached Kallas’s gates, her shoulder and neck ached from the unfamiliar strain of carrying Saljane’s weight. The bells had ceased to ring and she heard only eerie silence from the other side of the walls. No one greeted Reisil. She stood for a moment, heart pounding. She wiped her palms against her thighs, squared her shoulders and took a deep breath.

“This is it. Are you ready?” she asked Saljane. The goshawk roused her feathers and gave herself a little shake. “All right then.”

Reisil once again pounded on the gatehouse and called out. A guard appeared.

“Let me in,” she demanded.

“Town’s sealed. No one goes in. Go away.” He vanished with a clink of arms and Reisil felt her temper rising. She banged again but got no response. They thought they’d ignore her.

“We’ll see about that,” she muttered. “Saljane, can you fly up there? There’s at least one guard who knows me. I want you to find him.”

Agreement.

“I’ll need to see through your eyes. Can you do that?”

Suddenly Reisil felt Saljane in her mind. Again that sharp tang of alien thinking. Reisil’s sight shifted and doubled. Her stomach lurched as she fumbled to make sense of the images coming simultaneously from two sets of eyes.

Reisil shut her eyes and still saw, but this time from just Saljane’s point of view. Everything stood out with a clarity and sharpness she had never before experienced. She could see ants crawling along the wall fifty feet away. Across the fields she could see each leaf on the trees as if she stood right before them.

“Let’s do it then.”

Reisil put her arm up so that Saljane could climb onto it, then, remembering the vision of the Blessed Lady tossing Saljane into the air, Reisil did her best to emulate her. The goshawk gave a tremendous leap as Reisil swung her arm up. Massive wings beat the air and the wind of it buffeted Reisil.

The walls rushed past as she streaked with Saljane into the air. Keeping her eyes closed, she sank cross-legged to the ground. Blue sky, bright sun, up and up. Wheeling around, skimming the air, Kallas far below, streets empty. Reisil marveled at the view, seeing all of the town at once. Almost she could forget how high up Saljane was.

Her stomach lurched again. Almost.

She put her hands flat against the road, feeling the dust and grit beneath her palms. She remained safely on the ground, she told herself, teeth grinding together. Saljane was born to fly. No danger, no danger.

Saljane circled, hovering over the gate. Reisil could see herself on the ground, head bowed as though in prayer. Needles prickled all over her skin. She felt herself panicking, struggling against Saljane’s hold on her mind. The bird clamped down, pinning her as though she were a fat rabbit. On the ground, Reisil retched, her body trembling with racking effort.

Saljane continued to make lazy circles, waiting for her
ahalad-kaaslane
to find equilibrium. Reisil gulped air, unable to close off their shared vision, unable to withdraw from Saljane’s steel-taloned grip on her mind. Fear clawed at her and she battled it back.

“You’d have had help with this if you hadn’t been so stubborn,” she chastised herself sourly. “And you wouldn’t have had to do it in the middle of a road in the middle of a crisis. So get a hold on yourself and get on with it. Saljane’s waiting. So’s Ceriba.”

Reisil forced herself to sit back up, breathing slow, measured breaths. The earth wheeled around her and she fought her sense of vertigo. She concentrated on feeling the ground hard beneath her. Slowly she settled back into Saljane’s mind, hands clenching with effort.

~
All right,
ahalad-kaaslane.
Let’s get on with it.

Approval.

Then Saljane dropped down, scanning the battlements. Men called out and pointed as Saljane swooped past, searching. Finally Reisil saw Leidiik. He was talking to a sentry a quarter of the way down the wall. His square, seamed face was bleak. He nodded to the sentry and moved past, heading away from Reisil and the gates.

~
Turn him back, Saljane.

The goshawk stooped and Reisil’s stomach rushed into her mouth. She clamped her jaws shut.

“You can be sick later, when there’s time,” she promised herself.

Saljane swooped in front of Leidiik, who stopped, surprised. She came at him again, flapping her wings in his face and nearly gouging him with her talons. He took a step back. She landed on the parapet.

Leidiik took a step forward and she leaped at him, shrieking, wings battering his head and shoulders. He fell back again and Saljane perched back on the wall. He took another step back and Reisil could see him putting the pieces together.

Good. He wasn’t a stupid man.

Saljane crooned approval and fluttered closer. He retreated further and Saljane followed, driving him back to the gates.

Reisil heard the sounds of running feet and surprised voices as the other guards witnessed the spectacle of Leidiik backing along the wall, pursued by Saljane, her wings wide as she snapped her beak.

~
Very good, Saljane.
Reisil felt a startling rush of affection, pride and elation for the bird. Saljane felt it too. She radiated pleasure at Reisil, who found herself smiling a lopsided grin. In those shared moments, there had been an echo of that belonging from their initial meeting. It wasn’t perfect, but it was a start.

~
Let me go now. It’s my turn.

Saljane released her mind and Reisil snapped back to herself. Carefully she opened her eyes and blinked. She wiped her mouth on her arm, wrinkling her nose at the smell of her vomit. She clambered to her feet and dusted herself off.

“Leidiik!” she shouted. “Leidiik!”

He appeared above the battlements, face bemused. Saljane came to perch a few feet away, preening beneath her wing.

“Reisil? What do you want?”

“I want in, Leidiik. Open the gates.”

“I told you, no one—”

“That was before,” Reisil said. “Things have changed.” She pointed to Saljane. “I have the right to come and go as I please now. And I please to come.”