"You have had time to prepare your plans for the journey to Ninar Foan?" Vindax asked.
"Certainly, Your Highness." Ninomar smugly produced a sheaf of papers and proceeded to read them. He read them as though he had never read them before.
Vindax listened with an impassive face, Shadow with steadily increasing horror. His estimate of his own life expectancy slid from a hectoday to almost zero. This would be self-inflicted carnage.
At the end the prince nodded. "Impressive," he said. "You seem to have thought of everything." He turned his head slightly. "Shadow, have you any comments?"
For a moment Shadow was not sure if this was a mere formality, and then decided he had better not treat it as such.
"A few, Prince. The twelve spare birds...even the Guard never attempts to move more than three spares at a time."
"That is not in the regulations!" the vice-marshal snapped, reddening.
"Nevertheless it is the practice," Shadow replied. "And even three are too many. Spares are the commonest cause of accidents. I should take none. The size of the party...true, the Guard will sometimes fly in troops of fifty, but control is hard to maintain in an emergency."
Vindax was still silent, so Shadow plunged ahead. "We shall not be a flight of skilled troopers, for--with all respect to your entourage, Prince--many will be civilian. To fly in drill spacing..."
"Perhaps hunt spacing," Ninomar conceded.
"Wider still--range or greater. Space is our best defense for the prince. And that is my business, Vice-Marshal."
Ninomar's face grew as red as his mustache, but Vindax remained impassive. Shadow tore and savaged the marshal's plans to a shower of feathers. The problems of provisioning and perching so many in a poor countryside...no more than six troopers, and not the moguls and scions named by Ninomar, but able young archers, competent also to tend the birds...paired birds so far as possible, with only a few singles for communications if needed...one lady's maid was plenty...the itinerary to be flexible and not advertised except in general terms...
No point remained unblunted, no facet unscratched. The marshal was crimson and beyond speech by the end--he knew what rank this insolent stripling had held until the previous day.
"Thank you, Shadow," the prince said. "I had envisioned a larger retinue, though. The numbers were mine."
"Then divide it into three, Prince, flying a watch apart."
"No," Vindax said thoughtfully. "A small group may even impress more by demonstrating confidence, and your point on provisioning is good. What of baggage, if we have no spares?"
Shadow was beginning to feel more hopeful. "I was thinking only of your personal safety," he said tactfully. "Certainly we could use a small advance party, perhaps several, two or three men in each." That was so obvious that he hadn't thought of it himself until then. Damn, he had had no time to plan! "They of course could take spares, inspect accommodation and security..."
Vindax nodded gravely. "My Lord Marshal, I accept your proposal..."
Lord Ninomar took a deep breath.
"...with the few amendments which Shadow has suggested. Possibly he may offer further advice in future."
The crumbled remains of Ninomar departed--even his decorations seemed to have lost their shine. Then Vindax broke the rules by spinning right around to look at Shadow, still frowning.
"Feel any better now?" he snapped.
It was trust absolute: Shadow was to have supreme command.
Yes, it felt better. All in all, Shadow decided, that interview had tasted as good to him as the mutebat had to NailBiter.
Chapter 4
"Don't put all your eggs in one nest."
AND so, sixty-four days later, Shadow had brought Vindax safely to Vinok and almost to Ninar Foan--
"What rank is Shadow?" the girl demanded. She was red as a half sun, raging at having mistaken him for the prince, and he wondered how so tiny a form could contain so much anger.
"No rank, lady," he said. "I fly cover for the prince. But NailBiter needs to eat sometimes, so today I was advance scout." He tried a smile, but it died unanswered. "We saw two unexplained visitors arrive ahead of us--"
"How can you have no rank?" she snapped. He thought that in calmer moments she would be quite attractive, almost a beauty, and she had none of the buckteeth or other deformities which had worried Vindax. She qualified politically; physically she might very well satisfy his need for a royal breeding partner.
"I am just Shadow. I fly cover for the prince, bird fodder." She opened her mouth to argue, so he added, "By birth I am a commoner, lady."
That helped not at all--she had knelt to him. Why the rage? She was not the first to have made the error, for the subtleties of court insignia were little understood in these remote parts, but no one else had taken it so hard. And the starry eyes had not been for him, obviously.
The horizontal sunlight was cut out momentarily as an eagle came in to perch. This was the second stranger, then, the failed hunter, and he had found easier prey, for a vicunya hung from the great beak.
"Who's this, lady?" Shadow demanded.
"My groom. And you address me as Lady Elosa, or my lady: not just lady!"
"Not me," Shadow said. "They have special rules for me. Come along, I must check him for weapons before the prince gets here."
She stalked along beside him angrily. The groom had come through the bars and was looking for a hooding pole so he could pull back his bird's blinkers to let her eat. He flashed Elosa a huge grin.
"Got one!" he crowed. He was very young and no obvious threat.
Then he saw Shadow. He shied, whipped off his helmet, dropped his goggles, and made a deep bow.
"Who the hell are you?" Shadow demanded. The nose, the eyebrows, the whole face and the build--it was uncanny.
The lad went pale under his dust streaks and windburn. "Tuy Rorin, Your Highness, groom to His Grace--"
"I am not the prince," Shadow said, and almost added,"But you are!"
Of course there were innumerable royal bastards floating around Rantorra. Perhaps one of those by-blows had been banished to the far end of the realm and this was some impoverished descendant, a royal cousin.
"Oh! Beg pardon, my lord," the boy said, but his eyes flickered momentarily toward Elosa and then downward to hide a smile.
"Attend to your mount, groom," Shadow said. Then he roared:"NailBiter!Oh, crap!"
Elosa uttered something very like a scream.
NailBiter had decided it was cawking time.
Lady Elosa's magnificent silver had agreed.
The two were side by side, with a futile length of chain dangling from NailBiter's ankle. His comb was fiery and thrashing with excitement, his plumage blown up until he looked twice as large as normal. Holding his kill with one foot, he had ripped off a leg and was offering it, and at the exact moment Shadow noticed what was happening, the silver accepted. NailBiter seemed to swell even more; he tore off the head and offered that. And that was accepted also.
"Stop them!" Elosa wailed.
"Ha!" Shadow said ruefully. "You stop them, lady! It's too late. Much too late."
"IceFire! She's priceless! And a bronze! Father will kill me!"
Eagles mated for life, and those two had just signed the contract.
"Do something!" Elosa demanded, stamping her foot in frustration.