At least I'm not like a poor, stupid eyas that doesn't know which end to start on, she thought unhappily. At least I know enough to kill the things before I try to eat them. And I knew how to kill them in theory, if not in practice.
In fact, she had learned a lot more than she was displaying. She blessed the many times she'd spent in full-bond with Kyrr, and blessed Kyrr's memory for the way the hawk had shared every experience with her.
No, she was not a bird-but she had the memories of what it had been like to be a raptor, and once she had overcome her initial despair, those memories had helped her learn the ways of her new body.
They did not help her overcome her fear.
Fear of Falconsbane was only part of it. There was another fear, a constant fear that never left her, waking or sleeping. She knew what would happen as she remained in Kyrr's body-the longer she remained, the more of herself she would lose, until there was nothing left but the hawk. The fact that she had adapted to the body so quickly was both bad as well as good. The more comfortable she felt, the easier it would be to lose herself.
She tried to hold onto herself, with utter desperation. She tried to remember everything about the scouts, the Vale, Darkwind-and she panicked when she found herself in the midst of a memory and could not remember a face, a name, a setting. Was it just that these things had slipped her mind-or was it that her mind was slipping? There was no way to know.
And what had happened to her body, back in the Vale? What if Falconsbane had killed that along with Kyrr's soul? What would she do then?
The past two days had felt like two months. Time stretched out unbearablyand there was nothing to distract her from fear and brooding.
When those thoughts drove her into a state of frenzy, there was only one way to break the cycle. She plotted her escape. She had been taken outside enough times on a creance to know all the places where escape might be possible. If she could get away-no, when she got away, she would not think "if"-she would head straight up, as high as a redshouldered could go. From there, she would have an unparalleled view of the countryside; her scouting experience would tell her where she was.
If she didn't recognize anything, she would circle until she did see a landmark she knew. And Falconsbane shouldn't be able to touch her.
Planning kept her sane; planning and practice.
When Falconsbane was not in the room, she practiced, as she had seen the fledglings practice; flapping until she lifted herself just above the perch; hopping down the length of her jesses and flying back to her perch. When she had to kill her food, she did so with a clumsiness that was feigned more and more often. She took out her anger on the hapless mice, ripping them with talons and beak after she had killed them.
Though it was still all she could do to force herself to eat the mice afterward.
Falconsbane was not paying a great deal of attention to her, but she continued the charade, lurching clumsily up to the perch and taking a long time to get settled. She watched him carefully as she cleaned her talons and beak. He'd been very preoccupied today; and he had evidently forgotten, if he had ever known, just how wide a field of vision a raptor had. She could watch him easily without ever seeming to pay attention to him.
He had been staring at the scrying stone; no longer relaxed, and no longer so infernally pleased with himself. She had finally decided that the scrying stone wouldn't work anywhere except this room; certainly he never took it with him, and there was nothing else here but her perch, his couch, the cabinets he kept his toys of pain and pleasure in, and the stone. For the past two days he had spent more and more time here; watching the stone, and getting very intent about something. She overheard him muttering to himself; evidently he had also forgotten how sharp a raptor's hearing was.
There was something about "heralds," though what that would have to do with anything, she had no notion. There was more about "Valdemar " and a "queen;"
"Hardorn," and
"Ancar." He seemed very preoccupied with two quite different sets of people. One set seemed to be traveling, and they had something he wanted.
"Wanted?" That was like saying that she "wanted" her freedom. He lusted over this object, whatever it was, with an intensity she had never seen him display before.
The other people were connected with this "Ancar," who seemed to be the enemy of the first group of people. From the pacing and muttering that went on after he had watched this person, she gathered that he was toying with the notion of contracting with this "Ancar" and proposing an alliance.
That was something new for him, or so she gathered. He wanted to-and yet he did not want to chance losing the slightest bit of his own power.
Then, this afternoon, something had changed. The people he had been watching escaped what he had thought was a perfect trap. And they had taken the thing that he wanted with them.
Falconsbane flew into a rage and flung the stone against the opposite wall with such force that he splintered the rock of the wall and reduced the stone to fragments, and she shrank back onto her perch, doing her best not to attract him to her by moving or making a sound. He paid no attention to her whatsoever; he roared for one of his servants to come and clean up the mess, and stood over the trembling boy, looking murderously at him as the terrified child carefully gathered the sharp shards in his shaking, bare hands.
Dawnfire trembled herself, expecting at any moment that he would take out his temper on the boy as he had on the stone. There would be true murder then-With a sick feeling, she watched him reach down, slowly, clawed hands spread wide-But before he touched the boy, the door flew open, and two men in some kind of ornate uniform flung themselves into the room to abase themselves at his feet, babbling of "failure" and "mercy." Falconsbane started, then grabbed the child to cover his surprise. He pulled the boy up to his feet by his hair, and threw him bodily toward the door, showering the shards around him. This time the boy did not try to pick them up; he simply made good the chance to flee. The guards blanched and immediately went back to groveling with more heartfelt sincerity than before.
He listened to them a while, then cut them short with a single gesture.
"Enough!" he growled, the fingers of his right hand crooked into claws, with the talons fully extended.
The two men fell absolutely silent.
"You failed to capture the artifact," he said, his voice rumbling dangerously.
You failed to corner the quarry, you failed to keep them from finding aid, and you failed to acquire the artifact when you had the opportunity. I should take your lives; I should-remake you." The men whitened to the color of fresh snow.
"There is nothing you can say that will redeem your complete stupidity," Falconsbane continued. "You will report to Drakan for your punishment.
I have not the time to waste upon you." The two men started to get up; a single snarl from Falconsbane sent them back to their faces.
"I do have time to retrieve from your worthless bodies a modicum of the power you wasted in this effort." He stretched out his right hand and spread it over the two prone men.