"Jump, Gwyna!" Talaysen and Daran held a second blanket stretched taut between them. She didn't pause to think, but obeyed. The ground rushed at her as she instinctively spread her wings in a futile hope of slowing her fall somewhat-
She landed in the blanket with one of her legs half-bent beneath her-it was painful, but it didn't hurt badly enough to have been broken. Before she could draw breath, Daran had scooped her up from the pocket of the blanket and bundled her under one arm like an oversized chicken; likely he was the only one of them big enough to carry her so. With Talaysen leading and the acrobats confusing the pursuit behind them, he set off at as hard a run as he could manage with the burden of Gwyna to carry. Gwyna craned her neck around in time to see the Priest free himself from the confines of the blanket, his face black with rage-then they were out of sight around a corner of one of the stalls.
They were hidden in the warm, near-stifling darkness of the back of a weaver's tent, in among bales of her work. Gwyna could hear Daran panting beside her, and clamped her bill tight on the first notes of a song. Her heart, high during the rescue, had fallen again. She was free, yes, but no nearer to being herself again than she had been in the cage.
There was a swish of material; Rune flung herself down beside them, breathing so hard she could hardly speak.
"Tal-Talaysen's gone to the cathedral, to the courts and the Justiciars-"
"Looking to the Church for help?" Daran whispered incredulously. "I thought the Wren cleverer than that! Why, all that bastard has to do is get there before him, lay a charge, and flaunt his robes-"
"There are Priests and Priests, Heron," Rune replied, invisible in the stuffy darkness. "And let me tell you, the Master's no fool. I thought the same as you, but he says he knows someone among the Justiciars today, and I think I know who it is. He knows who we can trust. He says to make a break and run as soon as we think it safe-I'm to get someone with the Gypsies, you're for the cathedral and the Court of Justice. The tumblers will do their best to scramble things again."
"All right-" Daran said doubtfully. "The Wren's never been wrong before, but-Lady bless, I hope he isn't now!"
All of them burst from the tent into the blinding sunlight-and behind them rose a clamor and noise; Gwyna looked back to see the Priest (how had he contrived to be so close to their hiding place?) in hot pursuit, followed by all of his servants and two of his helmeted and armed guards. If those caught them before they reached the goal Talaysen had in mind for them-
They burst into the Justice court of the cathedral itself, Revaner and his contingent hard on their heels; Talaysen was there already, gesturing to a robed man and woman and a younger man clad in the red robes of Church Justiciars.
"My lords-my lady-" he cried, waving at Daran and Gwyna. "Here is the one of whom I told you-"
"Justice!" thundered Revaner at the same time. "These thieves have stolen my pet-wrecked my tent-"
One of the guards seized Daran's arms. He responded by dropping Gwyna. She squawked in surprise at being dropped, then fled to the dubious safety of the feet of the three strangers before Revaner could grab more than one of her tail-feathers.
The lady reached down and petted Gwyna; comfort and reassurance passed from Priest to bird with her caress. Gwyna suddenly had far more confidence in Talaysen's scheme-this Priest was no ordinary, gold-grasping charlatan, but one with real power and a generous spirit!
The other two waited patiently for the clamor to die down to silence, quite plainly ready to wait all day if that was what it took.
At length even the yipping servants of the Priest ceased their noise.
"You claim, Bard Talaysen, that this bird is in fact one of your company, ensorceled into this shape," said the gray-haired man in Priest robes. "Yet what proof have you that this is so?"
"Mind-touch her, Lady Ardis-or have Lord Arran do so." Talaysen replied steadily. "Trust your own senses."
The man in red approached slowly, his hand held out as if to a shy animal. Gwyna needed no such reassurance. She ran limpingly to the young man's feet, chirping and squawking. She strove with all her might to project her human thoughts into the hireling's mind, spreading out the whole story as best she could.
Arran patted her feathers into smoothness, and from his touch came reassurance and comfort. More, words formed in Gwyna's mind, words as clear as speech.
Fear not, little singer; there is no doubt in my heart that you are wholly human.
The young man rose gracefully to his feet and faced the two mages. "This one is bespelled indeed; she is the Free Bard Gwyna-more than that, the evil being that has so enslaved her is that one"-he pointed an accusing finger at Revaner-"he who claims her as his property and pet. His accomplice in this evil was the Guild Bard Bestif."
At that, the Priest paled, and tried to flee, only to be held by the guards he had brought with him. At the same time, Gwyna felt the Lady-Priest's hand on her head, and some instinct told her to remain utterly still. She saw Talaysen take Rune's hand, his face harden with anxiety. Daran clutched his bony hands together, biting his lip.
"We shall need your help," the Lady-Priest said to Talaysen and Rune. "I think you have some small acquaintance with magic yourselves. And you know her."
She saw Rune start with surprise, saw Talaysen nod-
Then all was confusion. The courtyard spun around in front of Gwyna's eyes, moving faster and faster until it was nothing but a blur of light and shadow. The courtyard vanished altogether. Then light blazed up, nearly blinding her, and a dark something separated from her own substance, pulling away from her with a reluctant shudder. She could feel it wanting to stay, clinging with an avid hunger, but the light drove it forth despite its will. Suddenly she was overcome with an appalling pain, and crumbled beneath the onslaught of it. Her flesh felt as if it were melting, twisting, reshaping, and it hurt so much she cried out in sheer misery-
A cry that began as a bird's call, and ended as the anguished sob of a human in mortal agony.
The pain cut off abruptly; Gwyna blinked, finding herself slumped on the stone of the courtyard, her skirts in a puddle of red, gold, and scarlet about her, her dark hair falling into her eyes, and three gold coins on the stone before her.
She stared at one hand, then at the other-then at the faces of the three who stood above her; the Lady-Priest, Talaysen and Rune. Their brown, green, and hazel eyes mirrored her own relief and joy-
From the other side of the courtyard came an uncanny shriek-something like a raven's cry, something like the scream of a hawk. All four turned as one to see what had made the sound.
Crouching where the dark Priest had stood, was an ugly, evil-looking bird, like none Gwyna had ever seen before. Its plumage was a filthy black, its head and crooked neck naked red skin, like a vulture. It had a twisted yellow beak and small, black eyes. It stood nearly waist-high to the two guards beside it. As they watched, it made a swipe at one of them with that sharp beak, but the man was not nearly so ale-sotted as he seemed, and caught the thing by the neck just behind the head.