Ligne had already dismissed the falconer from her mind, and was strolling down the line of birds as if reviewing a perfectly disciplined regiment. “Here, Rosha,” she said to the young captive who’d been dragged in behind her by a guard. “How orderly, how obedient your winged brothers are. They wait only for my command.” She reached forward to stroke a tercel.
“Stop,” Maliff said without thinking, and won himself a cold hard look.
“What?” Ligne asked icily.
“Prease, my Rady, they don’ trike to be stroked,” he said bravely.
“They are my birds, Maliff, and I’ll touch them if I choose!”
“Yes, my Rady.” The falconer nodded. “Onry I must warn ” he said involuntarily as she reached out to the peregrin again.
“I don’t recall giving you or anyone else permission to instruct me, Maliff!”
“Of course not, my Rady, and I’m not, but you did keep me on as caretaker of these rovery birds, and I’m aiming to do the best job possibre. Ret one ride on your fist, but don’t stroke him. You’rr put him off if you do rike that.”
Ligne leaned on the perch of a young eyas and propped her head on her hand. The eyas scraped down to the other end of the bar. “You’re just full of instructions, aren’t you? Well, tell me then, oh mighty trainer of the hunting bird, how do I get this one to obey me?” She jerked her head to the hooded Rosha. Maliff averted his eyes from the hood. He’d made it himself, but he hadn’t enjoyed the chore.
“That’s a man, not a far con he muttered softly.
“I know that!” Ligne exploded, and the room’s occupants responded with fluttering and flapping.
“Hush! Hush now!” Maliff soothed and the commotion subsided. Ligne was gazing at him angrily, and he looked away as he explained, “I was hushing my charges, my Rady. Not you.”
“Well?”
“If he were a bird, I’d free his wings and train him to my fist. But I fear if you were to loose this one, he’d kill you sure as gord. You’d be safer if you ret him fry free. That’s Mariffs advice.”
Ligne gazed intently at him for a moment, translating Tie Wizard in Waiting his words. Then she shook her head and dismissed him once again from her mind. “I refuse to listen to a man who can’t even pronounce his own name. Tosha, this bird-minded fool has a clumsier tongue even than you!” The young warrior’s muscles corded across his back as he strained relfex-ively at his bonds.
Ligne noticed, and chuckled. “Got you again, didn’t I. A sure means of angering you at will mention your stammering speech.” Rosha jerked toward her but was stopped short by the length of his chains. Ligne had turned her back on him, and reached for a leather glove that hung on a peg above her head. “I’ll take this one,” she told Maliff as she slipped the glove over her right hand, motioning toward the untrained eyas whose perch she had disturbed.
“He’s not furry trained yet, can’t I get you ”
“Enough!” Ligne shouted, and Maliff stepped back submissively and let her have her way. She unwrapped the thong that tethered the eyas to its perch, then touched its underbelly with her gloved hand. Blindly it climbed aboard, and the Queen spun around and stalked out of the mews into the bright sunlight of the castle’s roof.
“Prease,” Maliff called after her, “don’t ret go of that feather rash rine!” But the woman was gone, and he was speaking only to the backs of Rosha and of the guard who hurried the youth through the wicket gate after the Queen. “He’rr fry away…” Maliff worried aloud. He shook his head sadly, and turned back to his silent falcons.
The Imperial House watched as Ligne crossed the few steps to the outer door of the aviary and shouldered her way inside it. Its hot rage at this dull, ignorant Queen with, her total disregard for its feelings had faded to a cold distaste for her. The House didn’t mind her cruelty it could be quite cruel itself. Nor was it particularly offended by her arrogance. It expected such foolishness from human monarchs. It was just that she was so shockingly rude! The Imperial House had not yet admitted that no one could understand it. Rather, it felt sure it was being snubbed.
At the moment, however, it was more concerned with thinning the population of the cursed aviary than anything else. Its halls felt a great draft of mirth at the welcome sight of a falcon being carried into that gigantic cage.
It watched, too, as Rosha was pushed inside the outer door behind Ligne. The guard followed them in, closed the outer door behind them, then all three stepped through the inner door into the aviary proper.
The House listened as Ligne trilled to the anxious bird on her fist in the syrupy singsong of baby talk: “Ho ho, you know where are you, birdie? In the midst of a hundred other little birdies who are scared to death of you. Yes, they are. You could crush each one of these little darlings in your bad old claws, you know that? Ah, but you can’t, can you, birdie? Because you’re like Rosha here, birdie you can’t see a thing, and I’ve got a tight hold on your leash. Would you like me to free you, birdie?” The falcon slapped its wings tentatively as if in answer, and Ligne laughed harshly. “You would, would you? Not a chance!” She aimed this last at Rosha, who stood passively where his guard had positioned him.
“There you are, my Lady, I’ve been looking all over for you.” Kherda came walking toward them from the interior entrance, herding a pair of arrogant peacocks before him.
“What is it now?” Ligne complained, wrapping another loop of the leash around her left hand.
“Maythorm has returned from Pleclypsa with a report on that play that
“
“Who’s Maythorm?” Ligne demanded testily. “Maythorm is a member of your court, my Lady surely you remember him? Lord of Entertainments?
Smells of lilac?”
“Go on,” she sighed. She began to stroke the falcon absently. It stepped away from the offending hand, but she paid no notice. When the hand continued stroking, the hooded bird fluffed its feathers and carefully stepped back to its original position on the leather glove, settling there to endure this torture stoically.
“Maythorm has returned from Pleclypsa with a report on that play that
“
“What play?” Ligne snapped, turning her eyes back to the bird.
Kherda forced an indulgent smile onto his aging features. He’d made it a practice lately to avoid mirrors. The tensions and irritations thrust upon him by this unappreciative tart of a Queen had ravaged his face with premature wrinkles. Nevertheless, he kept on smiling , ..
“There were reports of a play rather complimentary toward yourself being performed in the southern reaches…”
“Play? Is Pelmen in on this?” she demanded, arching an eyebrow.
“According to Maythorm’s confused accounts, the play is performed by Pelmen the Player’s old company, but that ”
“I want him arrested! I want him brought here, immediately, to stand trial for high crimes against the state!” Ligne’s pretty face was red, her lips were curled into a savage snarl.
The Imperial House watched this conversation with interest. It watched the uneasy movement of the alarmed falcon from one end of the Queen’s glove to the other. It noted the way the woman’s hand alternately clenched and released the loop of leather bound to the falcon’s fesses, which held the predator in check. It also watched with a consuming hatred the swoops and dives and twirls of that cursed two-toned warbler; that bird had just spattered the pavements again, and its song seemed to the House to be a trill of mocking laughter.
Kherda held his tongue in check by clamping it between his teeth. He had become a master of that art. He smiled again with exaggerated graciousness, and replied, “I think the Queen will remember that this Pelmen is firmly installed in a position of power as the Prophet of Lamath. It would seem most ridiculous for a man in his ” Kherda broke off, for Ligne had turned her back on him, and was looking with suspicion at Rosha. The young warrior was smirking to himself, he thought, unaware that he held Ligne’s irritated attention.