"That was perfect," she told him warmly. "I couldn't have asked for anything better."
His thin, lipless mouth stretched in a smile. "Excellent," he replied, with no hiss at all to his words. "You are a more subtle performer than Silas; I hoped I would match that subtlety. The audience likes you. The exquisite Violetta actually came here to listen to you before she went off to the dance floor. That is a good omen and proves that the customers like you."
"They do?" she replied, knowing she sounded pathetically eager, as eager as any green child in her first appearance, and knowing it would not matter to Xarax. "Oh, I hope so_"
"Tyladen did not choose you wrongly to take Silas' place," the nonhuman assured her, even reaching out with one three-fingered hand to pat her on the shoulder in an awkward gesture of reassurance. "He was half minded to choose another exactly like Silas, but I told him that would be a mistake, for such a choice would only invite comparison and unwelcome rivalry. I said to him to choose someone as unlike Silas as possible; someone whose emphasis was on the music rather than the performer_and here you are, and you prove me right. And Tyladen, who chose you."
That was the longest speech she had ever heard out of Xarax, and he abruptly turned back to his buttons and boards, as if embarrassed by the outpouring of words. She knew better than to be offended at his abruptness; she thanked him again and left him alone with his beloved machinery.
When her break was over, most of the people from her first performance were still in the room, sipping drinks they had ordered from waiters during the interval, and many more had arrived to fill up the rest of the seats. As the lights dimmed again, she saw the dance group had ended its first performance, and the dance floor had emptied. Silas and his group would be taking a longer break than she did_their work was physically more demanding. For a while, at least, the music in here would penetrate onto the open dance floor, and might attract more people here.
And even as she began her first song of the second set, she caught sight of someone who startled her so much that for a moment she faltered_
Then she recovered, so quickly that she doubted anyone in her audience noticed, or thought the break was more than a dramatic pause. But out there, striding across the empty dance floor, wings swept dramatically back behind his shoulders, was_
T'fyrr!
It had to be him! It was not just the wings, the feathered body, the raptorial head_it was the costume, the way that closely wrapped fabric fell in particular folds that she remembered, the color of the fabric itself. It was also the color of his feathers, a rich grey-brown with touches of scarlet on the edges of his primaries and tail feathers. Nightingale had a peculiarly good color memory; she was able to match even greys and beiges without having a swatch of the fabric in question with her. She knew, from all of her years as an observer of nature, that no two birds were exactly colored alike; there were subtle shadings of tone that enabled someone who watched them a great deal to tell them apart. Surely that was the same with the Haspur_
And yet he looked through the window of the Rainbow Room, straight into her eyes, and showed no sign of recognition. Her hands played on, a peculiar, haunting Gypsy song; it was one she was certain that T'fyrr could never have heard, and it had been a Gypsy melody that had brought him to her in their first meeting. Surely he could not have resisted a second such song_
But although he must have heard the music, he paid no attention to it or to her. He was looking for someone, however, and in a few moments, as Kyran brought Tyladen to him, it was obvious just who he was looking for. The two nonhumans strolled together in the direction of Tyladen's office and were soon out of sight, leaving Nightingale puzzled and a bit confused.
It can't have been T'fyrr. T'fyrr would never have gone past without at least greeting me. It must have been some other Haspur.
But how many Haspur were there? And how could another Haspur look so exactly like T'fyrr?
The lighting is odd out there. Maybe I mistook his coloring. I saw T'fyrr in shadowed daylight under trees; the light out on the dance floor is a lot dimmer than that, and there are all those colored lights to confuse things.
Maybe so_but in every other way, this Haspur looked enough like T'fyrr to have been his twin....
And I only saw him for a day or two. I could be wrong. It feels as if his image has been branded into my memory, but I could be wrong.
All she really knew, if it came down to it, was this. There was a Haspur in this building who had come looking for a Deliambren. There was a bird-man with a Deliambren who had arrived at the High King's Palace. These two might even be the same as that pair. In a way she hoped so. This city was no place for someone like T'fyrr right now, and the position that Haspur held at Court was no position for T'fyrr to be in. If there had to be a Haspur in danger, she would really prefer it wasn't one she knew, one she cared for.
So why, she asked herself, as she started on her next song, am I still so certain it is him_both here and there, and probably in danger in both places?
Nob's directions were exact to the last detail, and he had not been at all surprised that T'fyrr wanted to visit the tavern called Freehold. "Pages aren't allowed to go there," he'd said wistfully. "But as soon as I'm old enough_"
"As soon as it is possible, I will take you there," T'fyrr promised, and the boy's eyes lit up. "If it is as wondrous as I have heard, it would be a crime not to let you see it."
And with that, armed only with directions and a bit of money secreted in his body-wrappings, he ventured into the city. He was not particularly worried about being attacked; not in broad daylight, at any rate. He had trodden the streets of worse neighborhoods than Freehold was in with perfect safety. Most would-be attackers took one look at his foot-talons, his hand-talons, and his beak, and realized that he was better armed than the worst bravo. He wanted to reach Freehold now, before he needed to go, so that he knew the way. If Nob's directions proved misleading or erroneous in any way, he wanted to know now, when he had the leisure to ask for better directions.
Still, there was always the chance that he would be followed_and he really didn't want to walk the entire way.
So once he was out of the Palace and onto the grounds, he did the obvious; he took to the air.
His shadow passed over the guards at the gate and they gaped up at him as he flew overhead. They had heard of him by now, of course, but hearing about him and seeing him in the air were obviously two different things. His eyesight was good enough to see that their hands tightened on their weapons as he passed them, but they did not make any kind of threatening gesture. But_probably when he returned, he should come in on foot and show them his proper safe-conduct from the King.