The river fell behind as she overshot. She tugged until Tumna with the greatest reluctance began a sweep back around while Nallo could not even twist to get a look because of the heavy sack of nai. By the time she got the river back in view, Pil had vanished. But then Sweet appeared from downriver, beating straight up the central current. Pil was loosing arrows, and at least one man on the bank went down. The barge had caught the current; men on its deck had their own bows at the ready. A man clad all in black loosed, his arrow flew, and a man on the shore staggered and fell into the river, the waters taking him as his companions grabbed hopelessly after him.
Pil and Sweet cut hard around as the black-clad man, below, raised a hand in acknowledgment. The enemy dropped away, no longer a threat. Tumna set her head north, following the river and, perhaps, Kesta's Arkest, by now out of Nallo's sight.
'Cursed bird,' muttered Nallo, but it wasn't Tumna she was angry at. She knew what it was like to flee on the roads as a refugee. Months ago she'd walked homeless and hungry and scared, and sold herself into debt slavery besides in order to get a meal. She had rejected the reeves once, but in the end, as that cursed handsome Marshal Joss had warned her, the eagle had gotten what it wanted: it had wanted Nallo. She had come to Clan Hall to be trained as a reeve, but there'd been no time or thought for arms training in the confused days after Toskala's fall. Without training, she was useless.
'You're going to have to help me out, you ill-tempered beast.' Her knuckles were white as she gripped her baton, surveying the earth for any sign of enemy whether on the march or sent out as strike forces to harry the countryside south of Toskala. Maybe they saw her from their hiding places; she did not spot them.
This region of lower Haldia was rolling plain, and soon the distinctive rock marking the prow of Toskala like an upthrust fist came into view and grew until it loomed huge as Tumna glided in, extended her wings, and pulled up short for the landing. The sack whumped down so hard Nallo feared it might burst, but it had been bound with heavy leather belts in a doubled sacking.
Fawkners came running together with stewards to carry the sack to the storehouse, but as soon as her harness was shucked, Tumna warbled her wings and walked in her clumsy way over to a rope-wrapped perch to preen, ignoring the fawkners.
'I like the bloom on her feathers,' said one of the fawkners. 'She's beginning to grow out those fret marks. Have you coped her beak? Or talons?'
'I have not. I don't know how to do anything!'
'Aui! No need to snap at me! It was just a question.'
'My apologies. I'm hungry.'
'If you're sharp set, then go eat.'
Still no sign of Pil. The promontory of Law Rock was an astounding physical formation, with its sheer cliffs and flat crown wide enough for an assizes court, a militia and firefighters barracks and administration compound, and four grain storehouses and the city rations office. Clan Hall was built along the northern rim. Beyond the reeve hall lay a tumble of boulders surrounding a string of ponds running the curve of the northeastern rim, where raptors liked to bowse and feak.
Law Rock, the actual stele, stood near the prow under a humble thatched-roof shelter. The rest of the space was dusty, open ground suitable for drilling, assemblies, festival games, or eagles landing in waves. Four new perches had been erected in the last eight days, the logs hauled up from distant forest by the most experienced reeves and strongest eagles. The fresh-cut smell, the litter of wood chips from shaping and sawing, lingered as Nallo raced past the newest one and headed for the promontory's prow, where she could scan for Pil.
'Heya!'
Nallo turned as Kesta ran up.
'Where's Pil?' the other reeve asked, wiping sweat from her neck and brow.
'He must have turned back. I saw soldiers — an enemy strike force — attacking a barge. It was so far behind the main flow of
refugees that I'm thinking they were folk who escaped Toskala after the siege was set. There was a Qin soldier on that barge.'
'What would a Qin soldier be doing all the way here? They're all with their captain in Olossi, aren't they?'
'Except for Pil.'
'Pil's a reeve. He's no longer one of them.'
A reeve who knew what he was doing. Who could sweep and turn and yank on the right jess to go the right direction; who could shoot arrows and kill men from harness. Who could actually do something.
'What's wrong?' asked Kesta, grasping Nallo's wrist and leaning toward her with lips parted in alarm.
This close, Nallo saw clearly the scar on her chin and another on her neck, as if she'd caught an arrow or blade in the flesh. Trembling, she thought, I should kiss her.
Eyes flaring, Kesta said, 'Nallo?' But her gaze skipped up from Nallo's face to the sky, and whatever else she meant to say was obliterated by a grin of relief. 'Cursed outlander. Look at him come down at such an angle!'
Pil and Sweet plummeted down over them. Shrieks of alarm were followed by whoops of laughter as the old raptor came down with a flourish right out in the open rather than in the more isolated parade ground.
'For such a quiet lad, he's turning into a bit of a show-off, eh?' Kesta hadn't released Nallo's arm. 'What's troubling you?'
Nallo had never before had trouble speaking her mind. Indeed, it had been the thing people had liked least about her. But a horrible swell of uncertainty — about being a reeve, about Kesta, about their hopes for succeeding stranded up here — strangled her tongue. 'I'm just hungry.'
She shook free of Kesta and hurried to meet Pil, while Kesta dogged her steps in a most annoying way. Yet the other reeve said nothing as they greeted Pil; as they checked in with the fawkners; as they sat down over an afternoon bowl of rice flavored with the last of the dill weed as Pil described in his endearingly awkward accent the brief battle on the river shore.
'It was Tohon,' he said. 'The Qin scout.'
'The hells,' muttered Kesta. 'So that's what Volias was on about. Why would folk from Olossi risk sending scouts up here, when they know if they're captured they'll just be interrogated and executed?'
'They prepare an attack by scouting ahead into the territory,' said Pil with a shrug, as if the answer was obvious to him.
Kesta's laugh was edged with a despairing anger. 'We think the enemy may have as many as ten cohorts spread along the River Istri. That would be six thousand men. As good as the Qin may be, they have — what? — two hundred men? There is no army to save us!'
'Not yet,' said Pil, scooping up more rice.
'We don't have to be useless!' snapped Nallo.
'What's eating you?' Kesta waved her spoon.
Nallo leaped up and strode away as other reeves stared. She found a shaded corner deep in the compound, slammed her back against a wall, and stood there breathing and trembling for a while. It was the cursed sense of helpless uselessness that ate at her.
After a while Pil walked around the corner and leaned back beside her, settling in as though he meant to wait all night if need be. In truth, it was getting dark.
'Ah, the hells!' she said with a bitter laugh. 'Let's go look at the cursed city, eh?'
Silence was assent. He walked companionably, saying nothing as usual, until they reached the big balcony that jutted over the cliff face. Off to the right sat the huge winches for the provisions baskets, safely roped up. A wooden barrier fenced off the stairs so no idiot child could go climbing down and get trapped in the rubble that blocked the steps.
The sun had already set as they leaned on the railing and stared over the city turning to shadow below. Before, twilight had been a bright and busy time in Toskala, lamps bobbing along the avenues as carters and porters made their final deliveries, the night markets coming to life as the day died. Now the city lay dark except for the army camp beyond the outer walls where campfires flickered, and lanterns that lighted the sentry and curfew stations in the main squares and central thoroughfares.