She was very much the finicky young n.o.blewoman.

"I don't care!" Elsren cried. "Please,a story?"

Aly looked at the four young Balitangs and told herself that if she was to keep them alive, she ought to get to know them. "Actually, I'd like a story of my own," she said, towing the younger children to a bench against the wall. "And then one for you."

"And then bedtime," Dove told Petranne and Elsren. "Aly rises very early now."

"What story didyou want to hear?" asked Sarai. She settled on the floor gracefully, tucking her bronze-colored skirts around her long legs. Aly could see how Sarai would attract boys. Apart from her connection to the royal family, she was lovely in a sensual way, her nose long and curved, her upper lip a perfect arch over a full lower lip, her skin a creamy shade of golden brown. Her eyes were large with frivolously long lashes, tucked under delicate eyebrows.

She wore her shining dark hair combed smoothly back and coiled into a knot of braids from which curled locks dangled. Hers was a face of pa.s.sion and sensuality, one that promised a happy, if maddening, time for any male who took her interest.

Elsren and Petranne curled up on either side of the bench with Aly, leaning against her as they pleaded with their eyes. Dove found a stool and set it next to Sarai, folding her hands neatly in her lap once she was seated.

"Well, it doesn't really have to be a story," Aly said, putting an arm around each of the younger children. "I was just curious about a G.o.d somebody mentioned to me-Ky-Kyprioth. Do you know anything about him?"

The older girls traded wary looks. Finally Dove said, "I don't see how it could hurt. He's one of the old raka G.o.ds. He's the sea G.o.d here, except maybe to the luarin. The raka say he used to be the patron G.o.d of the Isles."

"Some people say that he played one trick too many on Mithros," Sarai added. "He is a trickster G.o.d. The Isles deserved one in those days, with all the clans fighting, and every island against its neighbors. You can see why people might think a trickster was running it all."

"The Mithran priests say that all the fighting among the raka weakened Kyprioth's power, so when the invaders came from the east, Mithros and the Great G.o.ddess came with them, and threw Kyprioth from his throne," Dove told Aly. "The raka believe he'll regain his throne one day, and return the rulership of the Isles to the raka."

"Where did you hear that?" asked Sarai, curious. "I never heard anyone say anything about his return."

"That's because you attract attention," Dove informed her older sister. "I go out of my waynot to attract it, so I hear more things. People forget I'm there."

"Oh." Sarai shrugged. "I hate being quiet. It's so very boring."

Aly, shaking her head at Sarai's indifference to what she might learn this way, saw that Dove was shaking her head as well. For a moment their eyes met-hazel slave's and brown-black n.o.ble's-in perfect understanding.

Then Petranne yanked Aly's sleeve. "Now a story?" she asked, her voice teetering toward a whine.

The moment gone, Aly searched her memory for a tale. The information about Kyprioth she would consider later, in a quiet moment of her own.

"Once in a kingdom far away, a girl with a knack for handling horses came to a large fair held in the capital of Galla," she began.

"Will the Lioness be in this one?" asked Sarai eagerly. "Will there be battles?"

Dove kicked her sister gently. Petranne scowled and said, "Hush!"

Aly waited until Sarai was quiet again, then continued. "As I was saying, she came to the fair seeking work. . . ."

Frasrlund, on the Va.s.sa River, Tortall's northwestern border As soon as Aly's eyes closed, a vision presented itself, very different from those times when the crows taught her their language. This was one of Kyprioth's "letters from home" dreams, like the one in which she'd seen her father talk to her mother, with Lord Imrah's note in his pocket.

Now she rode high in the air, seeing the landscape below like a shadowy map. The place looked familiar. It was Frasrlund, Tortall's northern harbor city, an island at the mouth of the powerful Va.s.sa River. In more peaceful times she had visited it often, though never with such a good view of the place.

The skies were dark, but the night was lit with torches, their flames driven nearly flat by a hard wind out of the east. Cities of torches lighting thousands of tents lay over hilly land on both sides of the Va.s.sa. Torches burned also on the ramparts of the city, isolated from the armies by the tumbling river.

Frasrlund had been under siege by King Maggur of Scanra since the previous year.

Now the Tortallans had driven Maggur's army back across the Va.s.sa. The flags on the southern side of the river were Tortallan, those on the northern side Scanran. So the city was yet to be freed completely. That would come when Maggur either no longer held the northern throne or else signed a treaty promising to leave Frasrlund to Tortall. Until then the Tortallan army could not retreat. The minute troops were moved away from Frasrlund, the Scanrans would swarm over the river again, to encircle the prize and try to starve its people into surrender.

Stalemate, Aly thought, shaking her head. They can't drive us off, and we can't leave the city to them. Splendid. Mother must be bored out of her mind.

Thinking of her mother, Aly suddenly found herself inside a large canvas tent, lit by oil lamps and warmed by charcoal braziers. Alanna the Lioness sat at a rude camp table, writing reports.

Men clamored outside. Alanna grabbed the longsword that rested on her table and swept the blade from its sheath. Aly clenched ghostly fists in worry. She couldn't see how an enemy might get so close to the tents that housed the army's commanders, but there was no sense in Mother taking chances. Immortals, mages, or spies might well get near enough to do real damage here.

Alanna reached for her shield, then spun to face the door. The flap burst open and a tall man with black hair and a black, trimmed beard entered in a swirl of wind and cold air. Aly recognized King Jonathan, as her mother did. Alanna dropped her shield and knelt, placing her sword at her side.

King Jonathan IV, co-ruler of Tortall with his queen, Thayet, bent and scooped his old friend up into his arms. "Alanna, I'm so sorry," he said as he hugged her. "Is there any news yet?"

Alanna stepped back from him, confusion on her too-honest face. "News of what?"

"Myles hasn't been able to find a trace of her in Corus," the king said, pulling off his riding gloves. He investigated the contents of a steaming pitcher and poured its warm cider into a cup. "I've got the Bazhir looking around," the king added, "but we've had to be discreet." He drank and poured the cup full again.

"G.o.ds help us if our enemies find out she's missing."

Alanna turned her sword's hilt in her hands, her violet eyes on her king.

"Thayet's missing?" When the king stared at her, blue eyes astonished, Alanna guessed, "One of the princesses? Really, Your Majesty-"

"Mithros," whispered Jonathan. "I thought you knew."

Alanna's hands tightened on her sword. She scowled at Jonathan. "Knewwhat ?"

Jonathan rubbed his forehead and dropped into one of the empty chairs. "I thought George . . . Alanna, look, put the sword away."

Aly could see her mother was trembling. "Am I going to need it?" she asked, her voice tart. She went to her desk and picked up the sword's sheath, keeping her back to Jonathan. "Spit it out, Jon."

"It's Aly," the king began.

"She went to Port Legann . . ."

"Actually, it seems she never arrived there," Jonathan said, leaning forward on his chair. "She's missing."

Aly saw her mother's shoulders go stiff. She slid her sword into its sheath.

"But George knows," she commented softly. "Sothat's why he hasn't written she's home. I thought maybe the letters went astray."

"He's looking for her. So have Myles and Gary and I. As soon as Numair settles Daine and the baby at the palace, he's going to search, too." He looked at her face and sighed. "I'm a.s.suming George didn't want you upset-"

"Of course he didn't," Alanna said, putting her sword on its stand. "I hate it when he goes all chivalrous on me. I'm not some fragile blossom who can be distracted by-by bad news from home."

"He knows I need you here," said the king. "Not distracted. And everyone will notice if you go looking for her. You're too visible, remember. You don't want our enemies to realize your daughter, my G.o.dsdaughter, is missing."

"I'm not a fool, sire." Alanna fought to speak calmly: Aly could see it in her face. She tried to touch her mother's shoulder, even hug her, but her arms pa.s.sed through Alanna's body. The Lioness rubbed her arms as if she felt a chill and told the king, "I know we have enemies. All of us whom Aly calls family. Has anyone besides me scried for her?"

"I have," said the king. "So has Numair. We've found nothing. Numair's tried crystal, flame, water . . . they turn gray or they vanish when he does. All I see is fog. Look for her if you wish, but I think something, or someone, is hiding her from us. You have to pretend nothing's wrong, understand? For Aly's sake."

"Yes, Ido understand," Alanna said quietly. She lifted her sword and drew it half out of its sheath. The metal sparkled with purple fire. Aly hadn't realized why her mother had always insisted there be three inches of mirror-bright blade near the hilt of her swords. Now she knew the answer: her mother was using the blade as she would a mirror, as a tool to scry with, not just as a weapon. "And I'll be calm. I'll pretend everything's just lovely. I know Aly has the tools to survive. She can defend herself, she's cleverer than I ever was, and she has all those things George taught her. I have to believe she's alive, and she's doing her best to stay that way." She scowled at the gray fog that raced over the surface of her blade, and rammed it into its sheath. Turning, she glared at her king. "May I be alone now, sire?" she asked. "I need to write to my husband."

The king was getting to his feet as Aly's surroundings faded. Encased in a fog, the sight of her mother's quarters gone from view, Aly heard a familiar light voice in her head.I believe you didn't think she'd be worried. I believe it never occurred to you that she knew what you could do, let alone that her hope would be that you could protect yourself.

She always treated me as a f.e.c.kless child, Kyprioth!Aly retorted silently.

An impression you encourage, as I recall,the G.o.d reminded her.

The fog vanished. Aly sat in the crows' tree, surrounded in the night by crows.

We could be sleeping, trickster,one of the crows informed him.Instead of laboring to teach a two-legger.

One crow, with a silvery streak on his back, walked over to Aly and sat in her lap.She's learning, Nawat told his brethren.Listen to how well she does. Aly, what is the noise for twenty?

6.

OF GOATS AND CROWS.

Aly woke in the morning with a headache. While the other slaves and servants who had shared the great hall floor roused, she put away her bedding, gathered her day's meals in the kitchen, and took the goats out. Today she led them to a spot in the hills north of her previous day's grazing site so that she could survey a new part of the ground she might have to defend.

Once the goats were settled, she ate bread and cheese. The food and the crisp morning air cleared her head. Feeling a bit less worn, Aly washed her face and cleaned her teeth at a spring tucked between two rocks. She marked it on her map. If the afternoon was as hot as it promised to be, she meant to take a proper bath. She regretted the absence of soap, but unless she was ready to plod back to Tanair, she would have to manage without. Besides, Aunt Daine disapproved of people who used soap in a water source.

For a while Aly simply lazed, warming up in the sun, watching the goats, and thinking of her visions and dreams. She was just as glad not to be going home for a couple of months. By the time she returned, her mother would have forgiven her father for not revealing that Aly was gone. When Alanna was in a temper, anyone with sense was happier someplace else. Her father would survive-he could always laugh away her mother's bad moods-and Aly would come home when the storm had blown over.

She wished that her mother or the king had said what kind of baby Aunt Daine had birthed. No one could even magically tell the child's s.e.x while it was in the womb. It had shifted both s.e.x and shape constantly, pummeling poor Daine with everything from elephant feet to ostrich claws.

"I'm gladI'm not a shape-shifter," she told the younger goats, who were grazing nearby. "Well, there are advantages, but having a baby doesn't seem to be one of them."

Aly was studying the map she had made the day before when a shadow momentarily blotted out the light on her tablet. She looked up, to see a lone crow gliding overhead. At last he landed on a rock nearby and stayed there, flicking his wingtips. It was the crow's way to say, "This is my territory." Aly saw the white streak that marked him as Nawat, by far the most encouraging of her crow teachers.

"Nawat, it's too nice a day for more lessons," she called to him. "Didn't we do enough last night?"

Nawat hopped down beside her, still flicking his wingtips. Overhead Aly heard the voices of nine more crows. They flew toward the cut where the road led east, naming the things they saw, starting with calling Aly and her herd of animalspossible food . They also identified Nawat, a badger in the rocks, the human-made wide trail through the barrier edge of the plateau, a herd of deer retreating to the mountain forests, and a lack of humans on the deer's trail.

Aly was quite pleased with herself. She had understood every sound they made. "I must be the best student you ever had," she remarked. Looking from the sky to Nawat, she saw the marked crow had opened her pack and was eating some of her bread.

"Now see here," Aly began. Then she remembered that Kyprioth had promised the crows would be fed. "He better not have told youI'd supply food for all of you,"

she complained. She picked up the roll he had picked at and tore it into pieces.

Slowly she sat next to him and offered a piece with her fingers.

Nawat accepted the offering, stuffing it and the remaining bread into his large beak into the pouch under his tongue. Once his beak was full, he flew off. Aly dusted off her hands. "You're welcome!" she shouted after the retreating bird.

When he was gone from view she picked up the parchment tablet and got to work.

In the days that followed, crows flocked to Tanair in their family groups. Nawat led them to Aly so they would get a good look at her. Once they were all familiar with her, the crows spread out over the plateau, relaying what they saw back to Aly through messengers, or describing the land during her dream lessons.

These came at night, when Aly learned their speech as the crows learned hers. In the morning Aly rushed to write down all the crows had told her, forming a rough picture of the plateau from their descriptions. Nawat was always there to help, day and night.

She was startled by the complexity of the crow language. She also enjoyed their company, both in her dreams and out in the fields. She had always liked the glossy black creatures. Like Kyprioth, they were tricksters, stealing laundry, causing dogs to chase them until the dogs were exhausted, and trying their luck by interfering with pigs at their meals. Now she found their wicked sense of humor extended to their dream conversations with her. Only Nawat would not tease Aly, by day or by night. She seemed to fascinate him.

While the sun was up, as the crows described what they saw in the distance, Aly familiarized herself with the nearby village and farms. She struck up conversations with bakers, smiths, mothers, and herders. She helped women to hang laundry and tugged stubborn clumps of weeds or large rocks from the paths of farmers' ploughs. She held straps for harness makers and chased thieving dogs. The people were suspicious and wary of her. She expected that and didn't force herself on them. The important thing was that they got used to seeing her around.

A week after her first encounter with Nawat, Aly was mapping the ground on the southwestern side of the road when he told her that people were coming. Aly thrust her tablet between two stones and grabbed the staff that was the only weapon she was permitted as a slave. A few moments later she heard the approach of horses.

It was Sarai and Dove, dressed for riding and flushed after a morning gallop.

Behind them rode their bodyguards: Fesgao and another man-at-arms. The girls swung out of their saddles and shook the stiffness of a hard ride from their bodies.

"We thought you could use company," Sarai remarked, unhooking a canteen from her belt. She opened it and drank greedily, letting water spill over her cheeks. If she was aware of the two men watching her, she gave no sign of it.

Aly looked at the girls. "Not to say that I'm not honored, my ladies, because I am, but it's hardly fitting for you to come see the goatherd," she pointed out in her best good-servant manner.

Dove sighed. "We're desperate, Aly. If we have to work in the stillroom one more day, Sarai will bite someone's head off. Then Papa would be disappointed in her.

We thought a gallop would air us out."

"I hate stillrooms," grumbled Sarai as she took the saddle from her mare. Dove unsaddled her own mount. It seemed the girls planned to stay awhile. "If I have to stew up any more smelly plants, I willscream. " Sarai placed her horse's blanket on the gra.s.s and sat on it. Aly watched Fesgao and his companion as they dismounted at a distance to leave the girls and Aly in relative privacy.

"Sarai is happier on horseback," Dove explained. "I don't mind mixing up spices and medicines, but it's hard to concentrate when Sarai starts to mutter."

Sarai plucked out the jeweled pins that held her coiled and braided hair in place. She set them in a pile beside her and pulled her heavy black hair out of its style as she lay back on the blanket. Once down, she arranged it in an ebony fan around her head. It was still wet from a morning's wash. "You could take my place, Aly. I'm sure Rihani would be happy for you to work in the stillroom.

I'll tend goats."

"My heart just stopped dead with antic.i.p.ation," asked Aly. "But no, I cannot leave the goats. They would bleat for me. I would hear their cries with the ears of my heart."

"You weren't really a maid, were you?" asked Dove. She had settled on a rock that overlooked the valley and the guards' position. "You don't talk like you were a maid."

"I'm an educated one. Most of us Tortallan common-born are, these days." Aly kept her eyes on her map as mentally she kicked herself. She could not act like her old self here. Just because there was no age difference between her and Sarai, and only four years between her and Dove, she could not treat them as equals. It didn't matter that on her mother's side her blood was far bluer than that of descendants of a ruffian lot who had invaded the Copper Isles scarcely three hundred years ago. "They insist on it. All children attend school for five years to learn to read and write and figure. The priest said I was his most promising student," she added proudly, the country girl praised by an educated man.

"King Oron says that your king and queen will regret educating their people one day," mused Sarai. She turned her face up to the sun. "An educated populace makes trouble, that's what he thinks."

And he's as daft as a Stormwing, Aly thought. Aloud she said meekly, "It's not my place to say, my lady." Motion drew her attention as Nawat landed beside Sarai. He poked his beak through the shimmering heap of hairpins. "Lady Sarai, look out."

Sarai sat up and yelped to find a crow so close to her. The bird s.n.a.t.c.hed two jeweled pins and bounced back, steadying himself with his wings as the girl scrambled to her feet. "Give those back, you!" she cried, reaching for him. He leaped away again and again, leading Sarai on a chase across the gra.s.sy meadow.

Aly gathered up the other hairpins before he returned for those as well.

"He's not at all shy of humans," Dove remarked from the rock where she sat, her arms clasped around her drawn-up knees.