Mercedes Lackey - Anthology (11 page)

 
          
Not
that knowing it would change anything. Adelia gave a little huff of annoyance.
Then decided that she would keep Wren a little longer.
The
girl was hopeless at most things. But she does my hair so beautifully.
Doubtless a carryover of her nest-building abilities.

 
          
Well,
there were worse reasons to keep someone alive.

 
          
She
contemplated the necessary delay while Nairn continued healing and sighed.

 
          
A
few days shouldn't make that much difference, she thought. Adelia calculated
planetary influences in her head and frowned, not greatly liking the results.

 
          
There
would be ample power to draw on, but nothing that especially favored her; ever
the most important part of the equation where the sorceress was concerned.

 
          
"I
want you to show me my hawk," Adelia said, coming up behind Nairn.

 
          
He
started and turned, frowning, made a slight move as though to bow, thought
better of it and did not.

 
          
"He
has only seen me for days now, my lady," Nairn said. "It would not be
good for his training to introduce a new person into his life just now."

 
          
Adelia
smiled brightly and nodded.

 
          
"I
don't care," she said. "I have never seen my hawk without that stupid
looking thing on its head, and I want to look at it."

 
          
"It
would cause delay, my lady."

 
          
She
stepped close to him and held his gaze with her own. "Are you trying to
manipulate me, Nairn?"

 
          
"No, my lady."
He seemed genuinely confused.

 
          
Ha,
so it really would affect the hawk's training. How very fortunate that it
doesn't matter.

 
          
She
gestured for Nairn to take her to the shed, and they moved off.

 
          
"Have
you given any further thought to what I told you, my lady?" he asked as
they walked along.

 
          
"Of course not, Nairn.
And we will not speak of it
again."

 
          
Nairn
compressed his lips and walked on. He opened the door and stood aside for her.

 
          
"Oh!"
Adelia gasped in astonished dismay.

 
          
At
her entrance the tethered hawk had flattened the feathers on its body, but
those that framed its head flared in a sunburst around its staring, blood-red
eyes. The hawk's beak
gaped
half open as though eager
to rip at her flesh.

 
          
She
took a step backward and looked at Nairn in horror.

 
          
"Its
eyes are red? The other hawks didn't have red eyes! This is most
unexpected." That rotten-hearted hawk seller never mentioned those
freakish eyes. "What's wrong with it?" she demanded of Vairn. I'll
give
that hairy fool red eyes
if he's sold me a sick
bird! I'll pluck them out and feed them to him!

 
          
"The
bird is perfectly normal, my lady. His eyes will darken as he ages, but all
goshawks have red eyes." Nairn couldn't help the superior little smile
that twitched at the corners of his mouth. The lady sorceress was so very
startled.

 
          
Adelia
looked up at him, gazing into his eyes intently as though searching for some
great meaning there. Pleased, he turned the full force of his very charming
smile upon her.

 
          
I'll
have to keep Nairn's eye color, she thought.
Size.
Size will be a consideration as well.
Hmm.
Perhaps
I'll import Nairn's eyes entirely, just as they are. But she was not pleased.
She'd hoped to use the hawk's vastly superior vision, but . . . the hideous
color and freakishly large orbs would be impossible to live with.

 
          
Adelia
sighed, and Nairn closed his eyes and lowered his head, seeking her lips.

 
          
"Back!"
she
snapped,
her voice like a whip crack.

 
          
Nairn
almost leaped away from her, his eyes wide.

 
          
"What
is the matter with you?" She looked at him as if he'd gone mad. "Is
this some ploy to get me to send you back to your papa?"

 
          
"No,
no," he stammered. "It's . . . when you looked into my eyes like that
. .

 
          
."

 
          
"By
all that lives," she said in wonder, "you are a vain and foolish
little man." Then she laughed. Oh, dear, she thought. I do hope he'll be
as amusing when I've changed him.

 
          
And
laughing, she walked back to the house, where Wren stared in wonder at her as
she came through the door.

 
          
"Ah.
So you're here," Adelia said, smiling. 'The time has come at last."

 
          
Nairn
stood in the door of her spell-casting chamber, his face somewhat pale.

 
          
"Go
away, Wren."

 
          
The
servant girl, who'd summoned Nairn at Adelia's command, gave him one last,
desperate look and flitted off. Adelia grinned conspiratori-ally at him.

 
          
"She
spoke to me, you know.
On your behalf."
She was
genuinely delighted to have heard Wren's voice, which was high and sweet.
"She wished me to spare you. And I'm so pleased that she dared to speak up
that I've decided I shall.

 
          
Come
in," she gestured him forward.

 
          
"Do
... do you mean it?" he asked, looking very young in his relief.

 
          
"Yes,"
she said, bustling about. "Sit there." She indicated a chair set
within a complicated design. "Step through the break I've left in the
pattern."

 
          
He
looked nervously at the chair and then back at her where she mixed something in
a cup. The hawk, hooded, sat on
it's
perch inside an
identical design.

 
          
"You're
going to let me go?" he asked.

 
          
“No, of course not."
Adelia glanced over her shoulder
at him. "I told you to sit down."

 
          
Nairn
simply stood and stared at her. He swallowed visibly, looking stunned.

 
          
"Sit!"
she told him in a voice of command.

 
          
Nairn
took a deep breath and then reluctantly, fighting the compulsion of the relsk
stone around his neck, moved to the chair.

 
          
"I
don't understand," he whispered, his voice thick with tears.

 
          
"You
have been well fed, you have enjoyed Wren." She grinned at his shock.

 
          
"Don't
look so surprised. I know everything that happens in my house or on my land. It
accorded with my wishes, and so I've allowed it." She moved toward him,
cup in hand.

 
          
"You
said that you would spare me." His eyes were pleading.

 
          
"And
I will." Adelia held out the cup. "There is no reason for you to be
awake while the transformation takes place. Apparently that was the worst of it
for Wren, and so I shall spare you that." She smiled.
"Drink."

 
          
"I
do not want to be transformed!" Nairn shouted. "I merely wish to go
home," he said softly.

 
          
The
sorceress closed her eyes and took a very deep breath.

 
          
"By
the same token," she said crisply, after a moment's pause to hold onto her
temper, "there is no need for you to be asleep either. You can sit here
screaming your head off, totally aware the whole time of what is happening to you,
or you can sleep through it." She held the cup out to him.

 
          
"It's
entirely up to you."

 
          
"Can
I say nothing that will change your mind?" he pleaded.

 
          
"This
is your last chance," Adelia said through clenched teeth.

 
          
Looking
her straight in the eye, he took the cup. Then he flung back his head and drank
it all in three great swallows.

 
          
"Excellent,"
Adelia said with a nod, taking back the cup.

 
          
She
knelt and completed the open space in the pattern around his chair. Then
placing the cup outside her circle, she completed all the spaces left undrawn,
picked up her wand, and began to work the spell she'd labored over so long.

 
          
Adelia
called upon forces and elements and gods so old they barely knew themselves
that they existed. Her long hair belled out around her head with the discharge
of power, and the words she spoke made no sound though she shouted them. She
gestured with her wand and the words that she wrote on the air hung there,
palpable, but invisible, yet squirming with a life of their own.

 
          
Nairn's
head dropped to his breast, his breathing the slow, regular rhythm of deep
sleep; even as the goshawk screamed and bated, beating its wings frantically as
it sought to escape whatever thing crawled insidiously beneath its feathers. At
the appointed moment Adelia spoke a word, and the air boomed like a
thunderclap. The man and the bird began to stream toward each other in thin
ribbons, meeting and mixing over a complex pattern in the center of the design.
Faster and faster the elements of their being mingled and solidified into one
mass, until
the jesses
hung empty and the man's
clothes collapsed with a small sound like a sigh.

 
          
When the shape that hung over the design was complete, the
sorceress called out again and silence fell so sharply it stung like a slap.

 
          
Adelia
fell to her hands and knees, drooling with exhaustion and nausea. She fell onto
her side, panting, and stared up at what she'd created.

 
          
The
man who stood over her had hair of a curious gray-blue shade, and proud,
imperious features. His chest was broad and muscular as were his arms. His
legs, though, were thin and his feet curiously bony. But the eyes were Nairn's.

 
          
We
can do something to build up his legs, Adelia thought. I am pleased.

 
          
"There
are clothes for you, there," she croaked, gesturing at a table in the
corner.

 
          
The
man looked down at her, then went to the table and began to dress.

 
          
She'd
chosen black for him, trimmed in blue. It went very well with his odd hair
color.

 
          
He
picked up the sword, drew it partway from its sheath, and smiled at the quality
of the blade. Then he wrapped the swordbelt around his slim hips as he walked
back to where she lay.

 
          
With
difficulty Adelia hoisted herself onto one elbow and reached up to him.

 
          
"Help
me up," she commanded.