Then he tried to move his arms-and couldn't.
He tried harder, struggling against silk rope that bound him hand and foot-with no better success. A deep chuckle answered his efforts.
He twisted his head to face the source of the sound.
"So eager to take leave of my hospitality?" said the tall, catlike Changechild, smiling as he paced toward the couch on which Starblade lay tethered. the creature had modeled himself on a lynx; was clothed mostly in his own tawny-silk hair, but wearing a supple, elaborately tooled and beaded leather loincloth. "How-uncivilized of you. it-he-smiled, with sensuously parted lips. Starblade wrestled furiously against his bonds. "My Clan will know where I am," he warned. "Even if You kill me, they will know where I am, and they will-"
"They will do nothing," the Changechild yawned, examining the flex of his own fingers for a moment, admiring his needle-sharp talons. "You accepted my offer of help, consented to come away with me. You will leave no trail of distress for them to follow-and you are behind my walls and shields now. Call all you like, they will not hear you." Starblade snarled his defiance. "You forget, misborn-I am Tayledras.
My bird will bring them here!" He sought for Karry's mind with his own, even as the Changechild moved slightly aside and gestured. "If you mean that-it tried foolishly to attack me.
Starblade followed the gesture to a shadow-shrouded corner, where something thin and almost-human looked up with wild, unfocused eyes, its hands and mouth full of feathers.
Perlin falcon feathers.
Karry's feathers.
Silent tears ran into his hair; silent sobs shook his body. None of it brought Karry back.
The crow cawed; it sounded like scornful laughter. the Changechild sat on the edge of the couch, and flicked away the covering, leaving him naked and unprotected, even by a thin layer of silk. He shrank away, involuntarily. "I am called Mornelithe, rash birdman," the creature said, idly gliding a talon along Starblade's side. "I think I shall take another name, now. Falconsbane." He glanced sharply at Starblade, who continued to fight his bonds, though his eyes blurred with the tears for Karry he would not-yet-shed. "And believe me, my captive. In a shorter time than you dream possible, you will have another name for me." He paused, and a slow, lascivious smile curled the corners of his mouth. "Master, he said, savoring the word. then he bent over his captive and transfixed him with a pair of green, slitpupiled eyes, that grew and grew until they filled Starblade's entire field of vision.
"I think we shall begin the lessoning now.
Mercifully, he could no longer remember that lessoning, not even under the goad of Mornelithe's spell. It involved pain; it also involved pleasure. Both hovered at the edge of endurance. Mornelithe was a past master at the manipulation of either, of combining the two. When it was over, Mornelithe had the keys to his soul.
He knelt before the Changechild, abasing himself as fully as he could; worshiping his Master, and detesting himself for doing so. All that was in his line-of-sight at the moment was the golden marble of the floor, and Mornelithe's clawed feet. thankfully, he had not yet been required to kiss them this time.
"Ah, birdman," Mornelithe chuckled. "You grovel so charmingly, so gracefully. It is almost a pity to let you up." Starblade felt himself flush with shame, then chill with fear. Too many times in the past, such seemingly casual words had led to another "lesson."
"'You have learned your place in the scheme of things quite thoroughly, I think, Mornelithe continued. "It is time to let you return to your lovely home.
Instead of elation, the words brought a rush of sickness. Bad enough, what he had become-but to return to the Vale, bringing this contamination with him-He wanted to refuse. He wanted to rise, take the dagger at his belt, and slay his tormentor. He wanted to take that same dagger and slay himself.
He tried to assert his will; he closed his eyes and concentrated on placing his hand on the hilt of that dagger. He was an Adept-he had training, experience, his own personal powers. His will had been honed to an instrument like the Starblade of his use-name. Surely he could reclaim himself again. Yes... yes, he could. He could feel his will stirring, and opened his mouth to denounce his captor.
"Yes, Master," he heard himself say softly. "If it is your will.
He felt his lips stretching in an adoring smile; his head lifted to meet Mornelithe's unwinking eyes. His hand did not move from the floor.
There were two Starblades inside his mind. One worshiped Mornelithe and looked to his Master for all direction. That was the one that was in control, and there was no unseating it. But buried deep inside, away from all control, bound and gagged and able only to feel, was the real Starblade.
Mornelithe could have destroyed even this remnant; he had not, only because it amused him to see his victim continue to suffer, long after the contest of wills had ended.
"I do not entirely trust you, dear friend," Mornelithe said, softly, as he reached down and touched Starblade's cheek. "You were a stubborn creature, and I do not entirely trust you away from my sight. So, I shall send you a watcher, also-one that the rest will take for your new bondbird.
Here-" He snapped his fingers, and held out his hand-and a huge crow, identical in every way to those the Tayledras bonded with, flapped out of the shadows beside Mornelithe's chair to land on the outstretched arm. the Changechild gestured with a lifted finger that Starblade should rise from his crouch to a simple kneeling position; the Tayledras' body obeyed instantly, even while his helpless mind screamed a protest.
The crow lifted silently from Mornelithe's wrist, and dropped down onto his shoulder.
And what little remained of Starblade's will was frozen with paralysis.
"There," Mornelithe said with satisfaction. "that should take care of any little problems we may have, hmm?" The crow cawed mockingly, joining Mornelithe's laughter...The memory-spell released him, leaving him limp and shaking, with the echo of that laughter in his ears.
From the moment he had left Mornelithe's stronghold-which leave-taking he did not remember-he had been completely under the Adept's control. And Mornelithe was an Adept; there was no doubt of that. All that he lacked to make him a major power was control of a node. The only two for any distance around lay in the hands of the Tayledras.
Mornelithe intended to change that. And at the time of his release, that was all that Starblade had known; he had no idea what Mornelithe planned.
Nor, when he was found wandering in the heart of the burned area, did he even remember that he had been taken.
Instead, he had false memories of being overcome with smoke, of losing Karry somewhere in the heart of the fire-of taking a blow to the head from a falling tree. Then vague and confused recollections of crawling off and hiding in a wolverine's hole until the fire passed, of smoke-sickness that pinned him in the area for several days, of bonding to a huge crow who brought him fruit to feed him and supply his fevered body with liquids, and his final desperate attempt to get back to the Vale.
And the false memories passed muster. The crow was unremarked upon.
He had only an unusually touchy temper that caused his friends and son to give him some distance until he should regain his normal calm. Any changes in him, they-and he-ascribed to the trauma he had endured, and they all felt that those changes would pass in time.