Monkel had laughed openly then, but later gave the suggestion serious consideration.
Starting that very night, he began talking to the bird... not with the simple commands of a trainer, but open conversation as one would have with a close friend. He spoke of his previous life, of his fears in coming to this new land, and of his achievements thus far in his period of clan leadership. He told the bird of the elegance of the Beysa's court and of Uralai's beauty. Once he got started, talking to the bird became an easy habit, for, in truth, Monkel was a lonely man made lonelier by the pressures of leadership.
To his amazement, the bird responded almost immediately ... or, to be accurate, it stopped responding. Instead of flying in terror or slashing at his face, it would sit quietly on his hand, head cocked to one side as if hanging on his every word. Soon, he became bold enough to set the bird on his shoulder, where it was in easy reach of an ear and an eye. The bird never betrayed this trust. If anything, it seemed to glory in its new perch and would flutter quickly to Monkel's shoulder as soon as he entered the room.
After a week of this, Monkel tried taking it outside and, in a final test, would transfer it to other people's shoulders. Through it all, the bird remained well mannered and tolerant. Though suspicious of its sudden domesticity, Monkel decided it was time to make his presentation. If he waited much longer, he knew he would have grown too attached to the bird to give it up.
"You'll see. She's very beautiful, just like I told you."
The bird regarded Monkel with an expressionless yellow eye, ignoring the sweetmeat he was offering as a bribe.
With an inward sigh, the head of clan Setmur twisted in his chair to peer down the palace corridor once more, then resumed staring out the window.
He had considered presenting his gift to Uralai in the Beysa's court, but his confidence sagged and he decided to wait and catch her coming off duty. He still had lingering fears about the reliability of the bird's manners, and while a mishap while presenting it to Uralai would be embarrassing, the same slip in front of the Empress would be a disaster.
"You'll like it here," he murmured, more for his own reassurance than for the bird's. "It's definitely a step up from fighting for gutter scraps. I'll bet any bey art-those are our own holy birds-would envy the treatment you'll..."
A soft footstep reached his ear, and he looked again to see Uralai approaching. All of his fears and insecurities ascended to his throat in a tight knot, but he steeled himself and rose to meet her.
"Good evening, Uralai."
"Monkel Setmur. What a pleasant surprise." Her voice was nearly musical when it wasn't speaking for the Beysa. "And what a lovely bird."
Buoyed by her warm reception, Monkel hurriedly blurted his mission.
"The bird is a gift. I... want you to have it."
"Really? I didn't know they sold pet birds in this town."
Uralai was studying the bird as Monkel took it on his hand and extended it toward her.
"They don't," he said. "I caught it and tamed it myself."
"Why?"
Monkel was growing uneasy. When he had rehearsed giving the gift to Uralai, he had not anticipated a prolonged conversation, and his discomfort increased as the talk progressed.
"I wanted... I am an unsophisticated fisherman and, try as I might, I could think of no better way to express my admiration of you than with a gift."
"That wasn't what I meant," Uralai said, "though you have certainly achieved your goal. What I was trying to ask was why you chose this particular gift."
"The bird is native to our new homeland. Its spirit and the town's are one. If we are to survive here, we must also become one with that spirit. We must not cling to our old ways and customs, but rather be open to change and local ideas... such as your not being offended by the admiration of one from a lower clan."
"You speak quite well for an unsophisticated fisherman."
Uralai took the bird on her hand and moved it up to her shoulder. It hopped obediently onto its new perch. Monkel held his breath. A new awareness washed over him of how easily the bird could go for her eye.
"Your idea of becoming one with this miserable town is hard to accept. I will have to think about it further. However..."
She laid a soft hand on his arm.
"... accepting your admiration is not as new as you seem to think. Remember, you are the head of your clan, while within my own, my status is less..."
The bird turned and loosed a load of dung down the front of her uniform.
Monkel rolled his eyes heavenward and fervently wished he could expire on the spot.
"Don't worry." Uralai's laugh was only a little forced. "It's a wild thing, like this town. It doesn't know how to behave politely. It's a wonder it's as tame as it is. Tell me, how did you do it? Was it very difficult?"
"Well..."
Before Monkel could continue, the bird moved again. This time, it hopped onto Uralai's head where it repeated its earlier misdeed in sufficient quantity so as to dribble some onto her face.
"You did that on purpose!" Monkel exploded, grabbing for the feathered fiend. "I'll..."
The bird launched itself out the window and disappeared with a scream that was more triumphant than apologetic.
"Good riddance!" Monkel shouted. "I'm sorry, Uralai. If I had thought..."
Uralai was shaking with silent laughter as she wiped the droppings from her face and hair.
"Oh, Monkel," she said, using his name alone for the first time, "if you could have seen yourself. Maybe I should have accepted your escort the other night. You're becoming as violent as those people you drink with. Now, come. Walk with me and tell me about the taming of your departed gift."
It was more than an hour before Monkel took his leave and floated home on a headier wine than any served at the fisherman's tavern. The gift had succeeded beyond his wildest hopes in opening communication with Uralai. What was even better, with the bird gone, he no longer had to worry about having unwittingly visited misfortune upon her house.
The bird was waiting for him when he arrived home, and no amount of cursing or thrown rocks would entice it to leave.
A SPECIAL NOTE FROM THE EDITORS TO THIEVES' WORLD READERS
We would like to take a moment to thank our readers for their continued support over the last five years.
The fan mail we have received is of Homeric proportions, which has created a problem at our end. For years we have tried to answer each letter individually, and as a result have countless sacks and drawers of unanswered mail. We've read it all, but replying is biting heavily into our writing (for pay) time. In desperation, we are converting to a word processor and a computerized mailing list, and armed with the weapons of modem technology we will tackle the backlog. If you have written us without receiving an answer, do not give up hope! We're working on it.. .even if the response is several years late.
As an added bonus in appreciation for your patience, your address will be included in our private mailing list. This will be used for an infrequent newsletter, giving advance information about future volumes and announcements of new Thieves' World spin-off products.
Again, thank you for your support. The series wouldn't still be going without you!
Robert Lynn Asprin
Lynn Abbey
November 1984