The monarch lived a very public life, and such private gatherings were rare. How the two Shadows fared at them depended on the king's mood--they might be excluded, or ignored like furniture, or treated as family members--but this occasion was designed to evaluate the new appointee, and there were six places laid around the table. It was an intimate affair, employing only six footmen, two butlers, and enough gold plate to establish a barony. The table stood on a secluded terrace, well shielded by shrubbery and flowers, shaded by tinsel trees. It overlooked the palm garden but could not itself be overlooked by anyone. In Ramo, most events took place outdoors, in the constant gentle sunshine.
The king was being gracious, dressed in the plain white garb that he preferred. The queen was being even more gracious in a gold gown which did not suit her pith-hued complexion; she inquired politely after Shadow's dear mother, whom she had obviously confused with some other lady. She also tended to drop things and forget what she was saying in midsentence.
Jarkadon was a younger version of the king and an older version of the obnoxious child Shadow remembered, wielding a humor like a skinner's knife. His seventh kiloday was only six days off, and there was some discussion of the state hall, but the diners had barely reached the soup course when the king displayed his interest in birdflesh by remarking, "And what mount will you fly on your journeying, Vindax?"
The crown prince glanced sideways. "Shadow? Your advice?"
Shadow choked in the process of tasting Vindax's soup. "I think agility would not be advisable, Prince--it would merely make it harder for the rest of us to cover you. A flying rock--probably a mature female. Certainly nothing which could outfly NailBiter."
"NailBiter?" The king's frown chilled the air. "You do not propose to fly cover on our son with that terror?"
Awash with despair, Shadow faced that gaze of blue ice. "Yes, Your Ma--King. He and I are a good team. I should be less comfortable on a strange bird, and I can hardly practice now without neglecting my other duties." But he had just lost hope.
Vindax was amused. "Which is more important, Shadow?" he asked. "NailBiter or your lunch? I shall remain here. The palm garden is directly below us. If you think you can convince us?"
Shadow rose and left in silence.
By the time he had visited the prince's apartment and donned a flying suit, he had worked up a heady dose of anger.Show the bastards!He stormed into the aerie, and NailBiter, he thought, brightened at the sight of him, turning his head to glare even more ferociously than usual. His comb rippled and reddened, and he fluffed his glassy bronze plumage, but he was not pleased at the unusual tightness of the saddle girths.
Bird and rider plunged from the roost. The palace was well located on a rocky plateau flanked by no less than three updrafts, and Shadow had no problem gaining altitude, as he studied the royal palm garden far below and planned his trajectories. Then a simple knee movement folded NailBiter's wings, and they dived...open wings to level out...skim between palms...off into the far-side thermal. A few such passes and he had the trees well placed and could start being fancy, folding in the bird's wings for narrower passes, until he was flashing at full attack speed between trees which he could have touched with outspread arms. It was simple insanity, and yet he felt strangely unmoved by the danger. He had already lost his life the day before, had he not? Word was spreading, courtiers pouring into the palm garden to watch this spectacular suicide.
On one pass he banked NailBiter and looped back the way he had come, flying his eagle like a sparrow. Show the bastards.
Then he tried a couple with his hands in the air, NailBiter blinkered and blind, guided only by his rider's legs. He was running out of ideas. Should he try to steal the dinner off the royal table?
How many passes did they need? He had made his tenth or twelfth and was climbing once more in a thermal when a guard challenged him. Shadow recognized the heraldry on the uniform--this was the Honorable Ja Liofan, a cocky young bastard who couldn't put an arrow in a barrel if he was leaning on it, and obviously the only guard not smart enough to recognize Shadow or ignorant enough to interfere.
Liofan was higher and behind and had his bow drawn, but troopers were trained to escape from such predicaments, and NailBiter could identify the threat by instinct. A swerve, a few beats of the bronze wings, a bank--and the positions were reversed.
Shadow was unarmed, but his mount was not, and a touch of boots against thighs was enough to bring down the great talons and launch an attack. Liofan gaped in horror and dived, NailBiter close behind. The two birds hurtled over the palace, less than five lengths apart, Ja Liofan probably measuring his life in seconds. He twisted around to shoot--and the arrow went ludicrously wide. He swerved again...lost air...and the deadly talons were closer still...back down across the palace rose garden, barely skimming the trees...Any guardsman who tried what Shadow was doing would be instantly cashiered. If he lost control, then he was going to commit a very fast murder.
Now Liofan was in full flight, his bow discarded, his screams quite audible. NailBiter's comb was dark crimson with the rage of bloodlust, and Shadow no longer needed to direct him, was rather fighting to hold him back from closing, the bird throbbing in frustration, bewildered by the conflicting signals. Far out above the city, Shadow drew ahead and turned his prey and drove him back over the palace once more. NailBiter closed within a length, and Shadow was almost ready to blinker him and pull off, but then the gap widened slightly--NailBiter had seen the joke. He was still just young enough to enjoy the sort of game that young wilds played. His comb faded to a more reasonable color and began rippling gently--and the astonished Shadow could relax. Suddenly it was easy. All he needed to do then was keep the contest as close to the palace as possible. He drove his hapless quarry a half dozen times over and through the palm garden until finally the devastated Ja Liofan ran out of air, landed his bird in a bush, and the game was over.
NailBiter had shown he could be controlled. Back at the aerie, Shadow rubbed his comb until the eagle quivered like an earthquake, and then broke more rules by rewarding him with a mutebat.
When he returned to the royal quarters, the king rose and shook his hand--an extraordinary honor. "Magnificent, Shadow," he said. "We have not seen a display like that in many kilos." He was about to pull off a ring, the standard royal gratuity, and then paused. "No, we shall issue a renunciation, freeing Hiando Keep from taxes for a kiloday."
Shadow stammered his thanks; his father would bless him with raptures. It was astonishing that the king would remember the name of his father's house. Vindax was frowning.
"Such an anticlimactic ending," Jarkadon mourned. "After all, it was only a trooper."
Vindax made no comment on the affair, not even when he and Shadow withdrew. Even now the prince did not retire for private relaxation or recreation; he sent instead for Lord Ninomar, vice-marshal in the Guard and hence the third-ranking military officer in the kingdom. He was also commander of the crown prince's flight. A ruddy, wiry little man of about fifteen kilodays, with the self-confidence of impeccable ancestry, he sported a bristly red mustache which clashed oddly with his thinning brown hair. He had apparently been called from table, for there were crumbs in the mustache, but his uniform was a tailor's masterpiece, glittering with decorations. Shadow wondered how good his flying might be, but then, breeding was more important than skill.
This was a formal audience. The three men remained standing in a corner of another terrace flanked by mosaic walls and a marble fountain, with guards, aides, and other observers safely out of earshot behind windows.