As always.
Ah, my bright love, my singing bird, my winged heart_She could not hear the endearments he whispered to her in his mind, but he knew she certainly felt the emotion that came with them. Whatever happened, they had this between them_a joy he had never expected to find. If tomorrow a hunter's arrow found him, he would go to the winds with a prayer of thanks for having had this much.
"Anything new?" he asked into the sweet darkness of her hair.
"More of the same," she replied into his breast feathers. "I'll tell you inside."
They sprinted for the door to the roof, hand in hand, but ducking to remain out of the line of sight of possible snipers. Once they were safely on the staircase, she sighed and gave him the news.
"Outright sabotage, this time," she said. "Three incidents, all uncovered this morning. Someone burned down a Lashan-owned bakery; the printing presses at Kalian Bindery were smashed, the page proofs and manuscripts there were burned, and the type cases overturned all over the floor. And the furnaces at the new Ursi glassworks were_just blown up. They say that no more than two bricks out of every five will be salvageable."
"How?" T'fyrr asked astonished. "That doesn't sound like anything a human could do!"
She shrugged. "Tyladen has some theory about pouring water into the furnaces while they were hot; I don't know. But do you see a pattern there?"
He nodded; living at the Palace as he was, he would be the first to see it. "The glassworks was in the process of making a special telescope for Theovere as a presentation piece on behalf of the Deliambren expedition. Kalian Bindery was putting together a library of nonhuman songs in translation_as a presentation piece for Theovere. And the bakery makes those honey-spice cakes he likes so much, that his own cooks at the Palace can't seem to duplicate."
"All three, places with projects on behalf of Theovere or meant to impress him and gain his favor," she agreed as they wound their way down the stairs toward the ground floor, his talons clicking on the stair steps. "And only someone at Court would know that, just as you have been saying."
He ground his beak, thinking. "The man Harperus identified escaped last night as well. And everyone who has escaped has done so from the High King's city prisons. Not the Church prisons, or the city gaols."
She turned to look at him with her eyes wide. "Why_that's right! The few criminals we have managed to hold onto were all in the city gaols!"
"That argues for more than an informant," he said, his eyes narrowing with concentration. "That argues for cooperation, at the very least, from an official. Probably a high official. Likely an Advisor."
She didn't groan, but he sensed her spirits plummeting. "How can we possibly counteract someone with that much power?" she asked in a small voice. He felt her fear; she was not used to opposition at so high a level. She had always been the one to run when opposition grew too intense. He understood that, and in the past it had made sense for her to do that. She was a Gypsy; she could go anywhere, so why remain someplace where an authority wanted to make trouble for her?
But she could not do that now_and more importantly, neither could all the nonhuman citizens, not only of Lyonarie, but of the Twenty Kingdoms.
If they were going to do what he had decided must be done_to give the nonhumans here the leader they so urgently, desperately, needed_he had to put some heart in her.
He stopped, seized her by the shoulders, and looked deeply into her eyes. "Think, Nightingale! Think of how much damage has been done in the past few days_as if our enemy was desperately trying to do as much damage as he can before he is caught or rendered ineffective! I think he is desperate, that although Theovere may be wrapped up in his new toy, the novelty of it can't last forever. Sooner or later he will grow tired of the same songs, played the same way, and look for us again. What is more, I think the magic we set in motion is still working, and Theovere is coming back to himself, whether or not he likes the fact. And I think our enemy knows that, too. I believe he is at the end of his resources, and he's hoping to overwhelm us now, before Theovere recovers."
"She," Nightingale said. "Our enemy may be a female. Remember the lace handkerchiefs left in cells, the woman who seduced the guard? A woman's been seen in other places as well, just before things happened."
"She, then. He or she, or they, it doesn't matter much. There may be two, working in collusion_whoever it is, I sense the desperation of a hunter-turned-hunted." He waited for Nightingale's reaction; it was slow in coming, but gradually the fear within her ebbed, and she nodded.
"Now, let's get down to the street, collect Tyladen's friends, and go about our business," T'fyrr continued, after first embracing her. "Father Ruthvere is waiting for us. It is time for us to act, instead of waiting for something to happen to us and reacting to that."
"What are you thinking of?" she asked sharply.
"We need to provide these people with more than a message," he told her slowly, thinking things out as he spoke. "We need to give them something more than words. Tyladen won't do it, and Harperus can't."
"You're saying they need a leader," she said, and to his relief she did not seem as upset at that as he had feared she would be. "I had a feeling you were finally going to decide that_and I was afraid you would decide it should be us." She shivered a little, then shook herself. "I'm also afraid that you're right. If no one has come forward yet, no one is going to. It will have to be us, or no one."
She looked up into his eyes, standing quite still; making no secret of the fact that she was afraid, but also making it very clear that she was with him.
He embraced her impulsively. "Great power_" he reminded her.
"Yes, is great responsibility." She sighed. "I think I would prefer being a simple musician_but on the other hand, this may be the payback for all those times I charmed my way out of trouble." She leaned into his breast feathers for a moment, then pushed herself gently away. "Well, if we are going to do it, lets get it over with."
He smiled, and took her hand. "Leadership, once assumed, cannot always be released. Are you willing to accept that as well, lover?"
Nightingale nodded again, eyes suddenly clear of worry. "As readily as I accepted you into my heart and soul."
Three days later, T'fyrr stood in a most unfamiliar place_the pulpit of Father Ruthvere's Chapel_and surveyed the closely packed faces below him. There was no room to stand in the Chapel; people were crowded in right to the doors. Roughly half of those faces were not human, but it was the human faces among the rest that gave him hope that this might work.
He cleared his throat, and the quiet murmur of voices below him ceased. Behind him, Nightingale sent a wordless wave of encouragement to him, which held him in an embrace that did not need arms or wings. They were going to try something different today: Bardic magic without a melody, a spell of courage and hope, meant to reinforce his message and give them the strength to take advantage of the leadership he promised them. With luck, it would work.
With none, we will fall flat on our faces.