Beside him was a full knight in gold-washed mail, his gold helm mirror bright. He bore a lance; on his left arm was a red shield with a device like a gold cat rearing on its hind paws. The knight’s horse was larger than those of the white-caped warriors, though not as large as the chargers normally used by those who wore full mail or plate armor. It was as gold as the cat on the knight’s shield, with a black mane and tail.
Together the company made a picture out of legends. “Oh, glory,” whispered Daine.
Reaching Onua, the knight halted the warriors with a raised hand. His horse refused to stop and walked up to butt his head against Daine’s chest.
“You beauty,” she whispered, running her hand along his mane. “Oh, you pretty, pretty thing.”
Laughing, Onua went to the war-horse’s head and gently made him back up. The knight peered down at the K’mir through his open visor. “Are you camped here?” Onua nodded, and he turned to his company. “Hakim, this is it.”
A brown man in the front rank of the white-caped riders nodded and called out instructions. The result was instant activity: men dismounted, giving their reins over to a few of their number while others removed packs from their mounts and from the spares. Within seconds they were off the road, erecting tents to share the clearing with the ponies and Tahoi.
The knight secured shield and helm to his saddle. Dismounting, he gave the reins to one of the others, then stripped amethyst-decorated gauntlets from his hands. “I should’ve changed to leather,” he complained. “My back has been one whole itch the last mile.” He grinned at Daine. “The outfit looks nice, but it’s not very comfortable.”
Daine was very confused. Out of the saddle, the knight was two whole inches shorter than she was, and built on stocky, not muscular, lines. His cropped, coppery hair was tousled from being inside a helmet. Amethysts winked at his earlobes, stones that matched the color of his eyes.
“My wits have gone begging,” Onua said. “Daine, this is Sir Alanna of Pirate’s Swoop and Olau—the king’s champion. Alanna, this is Daine. Wait till you see what she can do with animals.”
Daine stared at the hand offered her, then into purple eyes. “The champion? The knight they call ‘the Lioness’?”
“Don’t tell me,” Alanna said. “You expected someone bigger.”
Daine took the offered hand. Remembering her patient, she asked, “Can you help? I can’t fix ’im at all.”
Onua took the champion’s elbow. “Alanna’s a healer and a sorceress—if she can’t come up with something, no one can.”
“Aren’t you going to be sorry if I can’t?” the knight asked as Onua steered her toward the ailing hawk.
Daine unwound the bird from his wraps. “He won’t eat anything but a little honey and water,” she explained. “Not meat or fish. And he’s dizzy all the time.”
The purple eyes looked at her sharply. “How would you know that?”
Daine met that gaze squarely. “I just do. I’ve—”
“‘A knack with animals,’” Onua chorused along with her, and grinned.
Alanna lifted the bird with a care for the splinted wing. The hawk blinked, looked at her—and buried his head against her chest. “He knows me. Good.” She carried him to a tent the warriors had set up, and went inside.
“Wait here,” Onua told Daine. “Don’t let these men bully Tahoi or the ponies.” She followed the knight inside.
Daine realized she ought to picket the strings so the smaller horses wouldn’t disturb the big ones. Tahoi stuck close to her as she worked, and Cloud was on her best behavior. The warriors smiled at her as they set up more tents and built cook fires. A handful went to the nearby river with fishing lines in their hands. She would have liked to go too, but she couldn’t bring herself to ask these businesslike Tortallans.
“Great merciful Goddess!” The shout came from the tent where Alanna and Onua had taken the hawk. “Of all the gods-cursed, simpleminded—”
Daine gaped. The man the knight had called Hakim smiled. “The Lioness has a temper,” he told the girl. “Sometimes it gets the better of her.”
The knight stamped out of the tent. She had discarded mail for breeches and a white shirt. At her throat a red gem burned like a coal in the fire. “I can’t see—” Her purple eyes lit on Daine. “You, girl—come here!”
Tahoi growled, bristling. He didn’t like the knight’s tone.
Alanna stared at the dog, and then smiled. “I’m sorry. Daine, would you come here, please? I think I need your help.” Steering the girl into the tent, she said, “Onua says you found him under—unusual conditions.” The hawk lay on a man-size cot, his eyes wide and frightened. “How?”
There was something here that pounded on her ears, making her nervous. “Honest, Your Ladyship—”
“Alanna,” was the firm interruption.
She thought of calling the champion, the only lady knight in living memory, by her first name, and winced. “I listened for him, is all. I sat down and just—listened.”
“Would you do it for me now, please?”
Daine swallowed. “But he’s right there, mum. Lioness.”
“Turn your back to him, if that helps.” Alanna fiddled with the red gem at her throat. “Listen for him exactly as you listened back then.”
Listening’s fine, Daine thought nervously. You only listened before, and had no trouble. And the badger said it was all right. Well, then!
Closing her eyes, she emptied her mind, letting her breath slow until she couldn’t hear it. She concentrated on her ears. Outside, Cloud chewed on a clump of grass, thinking she ought to check on Daine, alone with strangers. The gold war-horse shifted; he wanted to run some more.
There! A strange and distant voice, one that sounded like no animal she knew. That had to be the hawk. Was he muttering to himself?
“I hear him.” That sleepy voice was hers. “He’s a prisoner. He can’t get out. But he’s just on the bed—”
“Hush.” Purple fires played inside her eyelids. “Call him, Daine—with your mind. His name is Numair Salmalín.”
“Alanna—maybe Arram’s better.” That was Onua, sounding distant. “He’s only been Numair for eight years—he’s been Arram all his life.”
“True. Call to him as Arram, Daine.” The fires evened into a steady purple light, warming her face like the sun.
“Why—”
“Call him.” The knight’s voice was gentle, but firm.
Daine sighed. “Arram Salmalín? Arram—come on. You’re too far off. It’s all right, Arram—it’s safe—”
Something behind her snapped, breaking her concentration. She opened her eyes as wooden sticks hit the tent wall in front of her: the hawk’s splints. “Now look at this,” she scolded, picking them up. “His wing won’t get any better that way.” She turned to show them the evidence.
The hawk was gone. Onua pulled a sheet up to cover a large, naked man.
He smiled drowsily at the three of them. “Can I have something to eat?”
Daine’s jaw fell open. “Where did he come from?”
Alanna bent over the newcomer, peering into his eyes. Onua grabbed the girl’s elbow and steered her out of the tent. “Explanations later,” the K’mir said. “There’s a lot to be done for him still.”
“Onua, where’s my hawk? Where’d that man come from?” Her knees shook.
Onua put a hand on Daine’s mouth. “Hush. No more questions. I’ll explain everything—later.” She went back into the tent, pulling the flap tightly shut behind her.
“Later,” Daine muttered to herself. “Wonderful. Hawks disappearing, men appearing—why not? Later.” She stamped off to look after the ponies, who at least would tell her things and not wait for any “laters.”
THREE
SPIDRENS AND MEDITATION
Hedgehogs woke Daine as they wriggled into her bedroll, shaking in terror. It wasn’t the controlled fear they felt around hunters, but the wild panic that made them run before a fire. She
eased out of the covers. “It’s all right,” she whispered. “Stay here.”
She dragged on her clothes and boots. She felt it now, heaviness in the air and in her mind—not like the Stormwings or the rabid bear, but there was a flavor in it that reminded her of the winged monsters. In the camp around her, the men slept quietly—no snorers like Grandda. Onua was mumbling in her sleep. Tahoi was not with her or the ponies.
“Stay,” Daine told Cloud, who wanted to follow. She fitted the string to her bow and checked its draw as she looked around. A light burned in the Lioness’s tent. The other one, where the man who’d been a hawk lay, was dark.
The wood outside their camp was thick with fear. Tiny beasts dug as far into burrows as they could. The big ones were gone. An owl sitting overhead was almost mindless with terror. That was bad: owls didn’t scare.