Three days of festivities were three days of vigilance. In one sense, Shadow had an easier time than the rest, for his attention had to remain fixedly on the problem of safety and he had no time for brooding about politics, no need to edge around verbal precipices.
There was a reception for the local gentry, who stared aghast at this younger reflection of their duke.
There were discussions of crops and taxes, of justice and order, and those were safe subjects.
There was a tour of the aerie to examine the celebrated Ninar Foan silvers. The duke was gracious over the problem of NailBiter's illicit seduction; he had more serious problems than that to worry about.
"She made an understandable choice," he said. "Your bronze is a big, handsome fellow. The silvers need an outcross, anyway, to restore the vigor of the line. Elosa must console herself, and I most happily give IceFire to you, Highness, as a memento of your visit."
"You are very generous, Cousin," Vindax said. "I shall accept on behalf of my father, who is the enthusiast in our family. He will be overjoyed; and I am sure that he will send you the firstborn, as is usual in such cases."
"Your father is a great expert," the keeper said. "The priests uncovered much relevant material in the sacred texts for him. As you know, he can talk on the subject for hours. The progeny will all be bronzes, but breed one of those bronzes back to the silvers and..."
They were at the precipice again.
"And the recesssive characteristics reappear," Vindax snapped. "I have heard my father lecture. I always have a problem knowing which features are recessive."
The duke's face flushed equally red, and they exchanged identical furious glares.
But how, Shadow wondered, did the duke know that the king would lecture for hours?
Late on the third day, close to two bells, the duke and his royal guest sat and drank mulled wine by a roaring fire in the duke's study, a shaggy, incoherent room full of trophy heads and faded frescoes and mismatched furniture. It was a friendly, informal place, reflecting the varied tastes of generations of dukes, all of whom seemed to have added and none subtracted.
Perhaps Vindax thought he could drink his host into indiscretion, but the two of them seemed to share the same remarkable capacity for alcohol as they shared so much else. Ukarres fidgeted on a chair between them, while Shadow sat beside and a little to the back of Vindax, sipping sparingly and bone-weary from the continuous tension. WindStriker was overdue for a kill, and Vindax suggested a hunt.
The duke agreed with enthusiasm and promised good sport--he kept a couple of peaks as his own reserve, he said.
"Not Eagle Dome, though?" Vindax asked.
Earlier that day they had peered out at the distant shape of the great massif which broke the normal slope of the Rand and marked the boundary between Rantorra and the lost realm of Allaban. Sun-bright and faint, more like a cloud than a rock, it had obviously tantalized Vindax.
The duke laughed. "Hardly! Shadow would not approve."
"No-man's-land," Ukarres said, "but not no-bird-land!" It had earned its name in remote ages, he said, from the number of wilds inhabiting it, and now the wilds had taken it again. Its slopes were too steep for cultivation but were well watered and therefore rich in game. The eagles of Eagle Dome had become peacekeepers between human factions, for to attempt a flight around that great jutting mountain was certain suicide.
"Whose side are they defending?" Vindax asked, amused.
"Both, I suppose," the keeper said. "I scouted that way about a kiloday ago, I think it was. They flocked by the dozen--I fled faster than I ever have in my life. Allaban was never an integral part of Rantorra, as you know. In theory it was a vassal kingdom, but in practice it was always more or less autonomous, with its own royal family. Had it not been for the rebels, then your dear...your honored mother would be reigning there now."
They could never stay away from the precipice for long.
"Eagle Dome has always been something of a barrier," he concluded weakly.
"The rebel, Karaman," the prince said. "Have you ever met him?"
"No," the duke said, "but Ukarres has."
The old man looked up from his forward-hunch position and smiled, revealing his scattered teeth. "He's an interesting character, Your Highness--if he's still alive, of course. A religious fanatic, but with a certain charm. He was what you might call a low-key fanatic, I suppose...underpowering? On normal subjects he came across as a quiet, rather earthy man. But not to be underestimated. And a fantastic trainer of birds."
"So the eagles of Eagle Dome stand guard," Vindax said thoughtfully. "To retake Allaban, we should have to fight our way past them first and then take on the rebels."
The keeper frowned. "Are you considering such an attempt, Your Highness?"
"Not seriously at present," Vindax said. "Maybe someday. After all, I am heir to Allaban...also."
The precipice again.
At last Vindax declared himself ready for bed; the duke had drunk him to a draw. Neither man seemed more than tipsy, although they had each downed enough to have laid Shadow on the carpet. The prince hardly wavered as he headed to his room.
There he flopped on a chair, folded his arms, and glared blearily at Shadow. "What would he say, do you suppose, if I asked for his daughter's hand in marriage?"
"He might say yes," Shadow said, wishing Vindax would go off to bed and end the day. "Would you like that?"
Vindax pulled a face. "Never! I know what she'd do. She'd marry me fast as a stooping eagle--and then refuse to consummate the affair on grounds of consanguinity."
Shadow thought that seemed likely. "Let Jarkadon have her, then?"Damn!
Vindax did not seem to notice the lack of tact. "Why not? She had the gall today to ask me what color his hair is."
Shadow decided to change the subject. "Let me warn you of something, Prince? When you tell a lie, your right ear twitches."
"Oh, great!" Vindax said, scowling. "Try not to stare at it, will you?" Then he smiled. "Thanks. I appreciate knowing that. But I haven't been twitching too much today, have I?"
"You told Elosa she looked charming in that outrageous dress," Shadow said. "No, there's something else. When you asked the duke if he had ever met Karaman, he said no. But his ear twitched."
"Yes," Vindax said quite soberly. "I think His Grace has been twitching the truth quite a lot lately."
The hunt was to be restricted to a small party: the prince and the countess, the duke and Shadow, and four troopers as escort. When they assembled after breakfast, however, Lady Elosa was already supervising the dressings of Icefire. The duke frowned but did not intervene. Shadow almost exerted his unlimited authority to order her away, but relations were strained enough without making a scene over a badly spoiled brat.
Shadow dressed WindStriker himself, checking every scrap of harness twice. True, the story of a plot seemed to have been unfounded, but few things were easier to arrange than a hunting accident. NailBiter was sulking, not wanting to interrupt his dalliance with IceFire--they preened each other and nibbled combs by the hour, a parody of honeymooners.
Standing in the high aerie, overlooking the drab and pinkish countryside, the duke pointed out the local thermals and upturns, warned of downdrafts, and suggested a route to the higher, sun-bright locales with a good chance for goats, the most sporting of quarry.