The Rani nodded, and he was taken aback because the gesture was all human. I believe you are right, she conceded. And I think I know why, but you have not told Ardhi the whole of the truth, have you?

"No. There were secrets that were not mine to divulge."

You will tell me. There was no hint of compromise in her words.

"Ifif that is necessary for Piper's well-being."

Give the child back to this Sorrel woman.

He did as she asked.

Sorrel, pale-faced, took her wordlessly.

"Courage," he whispered. "She wishes to speak to me. In private, I think."

She nodded. She didn't have to tell him how hard this was for her; he knew.

The Rani tilted her head to look at Ardhi out of one dark eye. Stay here with this woman. I wish to speak at length with this man.

Ardhi bowed his head. The look of devastation on his face was one that Saker hoped he'd never see again, from anyone.

Follow me, the Rani said.

Typical royalty, he thought. Va forbid that they make requests, or deliver explanations. No, they just give orders.

Feigning the meekness Ardhi had shown, he followed her as she left the ruins. She flew while he walked, stumbling over blocks of stone overgrown with creepers as he tried to keep up without the benefit of a path. Fortunately it wasn't far. When he caught up with her, she had alighted on a rock at the edge of a cliff.

Sit here beside me, she ordered. The stone she indicated was at the edge of a dizzying drop, overlooking another tree-crammed valley; her perch was higher. Beyond the next ridge line, there were further glimpses of ocean and beyond that, more islands. At least, he thought, they'd never run out of timber to build in this land.

He sat and dangled his legs over the drop, hoping she didn't take it into her head to push him over the edge.

She ruffled her feathers. Tell me what secret it is that you keepthe one that concerns the child.

"Her sire could be one of three men. She is a twin and her brother is the acknowledged heir of the Regalthe Rajaof the land called Lowmeer. This Regal has ordered his men to fetch more Chenderawasi plumes back to his land."

Are you one of those three?

"Yes."

She bent down to take his hand between her wing claws. She held it for a while, her eyes closed, then released him. You do not have what ails her. If she was contaminated by her father, and not her mother, then you are not that man.

"What ails her is inherited?"

Oh, yes. That is certain.

"Do you know what it is?"

I have met it before.

"Here, in Chenderawasi?" He hoped he didn't sound as incredulous as he felt.

Yes.

"Can you cure it?"

There is no cure. The wisest thing to do is to kill her. Leave her here, and I will see that it is done. Tell the woman any untruth you please. It is kinder for her not to know. Her love for this child is obvious.

He swallowed back bile, his mind screaming his negation of her words. "Whatwhat is wrong with Piper?"

She will grow up to kill. But I think you know that.

"That wasn't my question."

She was born a sorcerer. All I can tell you is how it happenshappenedhere, in the past. But first, this twin of hers. He must also have inherited this sorcerer's blood. You say he will one day rule in the land responsible for murder of my life mate? Her words were as hard as fired steel.

"Yes."

Then he must also die. And if the present ruler is the one who sired her, and he is to blame rather than the mother, then he too must die.

"II believe it was another man."

The man who marked you.

He jerked in surprise. That remark had caught him off guard. He looked down at his open palm, expecting to see the black smudge had manifested itself again, but there was nothing. He raised his gaze to meet hers, trying to accustom himself to only ever looking into one eye of hers.

Oh yes, little man. I can see the mark. Whoever marked you did so in order for his flock to recognise you for what you are.

Her tone was patronising, and he felt himself bristling. "What am I?" he demanded.

His enemy. I would not be here talking to you were it otherwise. She leant forward again, and this time she used the hooks on her wing to turn his hand palm up. My sakti enables me to see this. Because you have been marked as a sorcerer's enemy, I have trusted you.

"We are playing with words. And words will not solve my problemor yours."

My problem? He heard her contempt, and her crest opened up, flaring with colour.

"If these children are sorcerers," he said, "then tell me it does not worry you that one of them will one day rule the nation that covets the spices of this island and the plumes of the Chenderawasi. The nation whose warriors slaughtered Raja Wiramulia for his regalia without even knowing of its power."

She lowered her head until her beak was on a level with his eyes, a clear threat. That is why you will kill these children. And the parent sorcerer.

He shrugged, as if indifferent. "And by 'we', you mean Sorrel and me?" He snorted. "The sorcerer, perhaps. But neither of us would ever be allowed anywhere near his son."

She ruffled her feathers and was silent, thinking.

"Tuanku Putri," he said, "I think we need to stop playing games. You need to tell me all you know, so that I have the weapons to fight. To protect my land. To protect your land. And I will, if I have the right weapons." When she said nothing, he added, "You win more arguments with your mind than with your claws, or your warriors. I need information about this evil you feel in this child. I need to know its nature."

She gave him a long, hard glare with her one black eye. He stared back, yet he still missed the instant when she decided to act. One moment she was as still as the stone she stood upon; the next she flew at him. He had a brief vision of her wings opening up, wider across than he was tall, then the soles of her feet slammed into his chest. He fell backwards, hard. The breath was driven from his lungs. Pain radiated from his back where it had been bruised on the uneven rocks.

Before he gathered his wits enough to realise what had happened, the sharp points of her claws on one foot pricked his skin deep enough to draw blood. The other foot she then plantedwith a shade more careacross his face. A claw rested on each eyelid, while the long back talon was locked under his chin.

All I have to do is squeeze, she said. He couldn't see her face, but he heard her satisfaction. She relished his helplessness. Do not reach for your blade, pale man.

Cautiously, he slitted open his eyes. "Why would I? I want your help, not your enmity."

If you ever betray us, you will be blinded and your male organs ripped from you. Do you understand?

He almost nodded, decided that would be foolish beyond measure, and whispered instead. "Yes, Tuanku Putri."

She released her hold on him, then flapped once to return to her perch on the rock. She fluffed her wings and folded them neatly over her back. A reminder of what I can do. Of what I am prepared to do if you misuse what I am about to tell you.

Damn her for a harridan. She had intended all along to give him what he wanted. He inclined his head. "There will be no misuse. Nothing you tell me will be used to hurt the Chenderawasi."

Good, she said.

Even before she began, he knew it'd be a story that would change the way he viewed his world.

38.

Rani Marsyanda

Sakti, Rani Marsyanda told him, came from the land. All things in the Chenderawasi islands were interconnected, dependent on one another: land, reefs, sea, forest, animals, people, the Chenderawasi Avians.

No one part of Chenderawasi could survive without the others, she said; their lives were intertwined and their deaths linked. Why else was there only one word, Chenderawasi, for their land, for the people, for the Avians? What was important was to maintain balance. The greater the balance, the greater the health of the land; the healthier the land, the more power it had at its heart; the more power there was, the more sakti; the more sakti, the more they had to use to mend any ills that came their way.

"What you've described is the same as our Shenat beliefs," Saker murmured. "Your sakti is similar to our witchery."

Who grants your witcheries? she asked.

Once he would have replied "Va", without even thinking. Now he said, "Shrine guardians. We call them the unseen guardians."

He heard her laugh the same way he heard her words, in his head, but her real laugh had no sound. It manifested only in her crest, which changed colour to the deepest purple rippling with iridescent waves of gold as she raised it around her head like a halo.

He was fascinated.

Unseen? she said. Forgive me, I find the concept amusing. We are visual creatures, never unseen! However, if your invisible guardians bestow your witcheries, doubtless they can be equated with us on one level. Of course, she added with what she obviously thought was unassailable logic, they cannot be truly our equals if they are not also royal.

He schooled his face to neutrality.

All sakti comes from the sun, the soil and the sea. We are merely the... the channel. Passing it from its powerful origins into a usableand limitedform. Doubtless your unseen guardians do likewise.

He thought about that. "I'm not sure what they can do. Certainly, when they gift a witchery, it is limited. And it can be taken away if it is misused."

She nodded. That is normal here, too. The gift of a plume, as Ardhi was given, was an exception given in exceptional circumstances. Even gifting a few wisps of a plume for a sakti kris is a gift that has to be earned. What you have to comprehend is that we Avians do not use sakti ourselves.

Saker felt as if she had struck him a blow. If they did not use sakti, how then could they cure Piper? "ButI don't understand. You surely are using sakti to talk to me?"

We have certain inborn talents which we can use. Use of language is one of them. The growth of the regalia plumes is inborn within some families. Those who grow such plumes are deemed royal. The plumes have power, and we can gift a few wisps to Chenderawasi men and women to use. But we ourselves? We cannot use them.

When Saker frowned, she gave an example. We do not heal, for instance, but we can gift part of a plume to a human, who can use the power in it to heal others. Power must always be limited, because unlimited power always ends up as an evil.

"Ardhi seemed to think you could help us," he said.

She snorted. Your words are spoken without thought, like water gushing from a spring! Did no one tell you to have all the facts before you jump to conclusions? Giving help and curing are two different matters. Let me finish before you interrupt so rudely again.

He inclined his head respectfully. Pox on't, he would have loved to have listened to her and Fritillary have a conversation.

We are not birds, she said, no more than a dolphin is a fish, or humans are chattering monkeys. We are Chenderawasi! Males of some family lines have sakti in their bones and their blood and produce plumes which gather sakti with each growth. Our Rajas must always be such a one.

I wish to tell you a tale from our history, which may help you. It took place over five hundred years ago, by your measure of time.

Saker kept his mouth shut and listened.

The Chenderawasishe meant the Avians, not the peoplehad a tradition of placing the bodies of their dead in caves high in a cliffside, deep in the mountains of the main island. In fact many Chenderawasi Avians, when they realised they did not have long to live, flew there in order to die.

This was also the place where they took their moulted regalia plumes, if those plumes contained unused sakti. They believed this was a place inaccessible to humans, and therefore the regalia, and the power within, was safe.

Over the centuries, this graveyard had thus become a repository of an immense concentration of unbound power. Ordinary plumes rotted, but the regalia with sakti lasted for generations and was under no one's control. Left alone, the sakti would gradually seep back into the earth, from where it had come.

Their ancestors never dreamed any man would want to disturb such a sacred place, she said, her narration faltering under the weight of her grief. Those ancestors were wrong. While lost in the forest, a huntershe referred to him simply as Vile Manobserved a funeral procession flight of a recently deceased Chenderawasi Avian, as the bier was carried into the cliff caves by a flock of mourners.

Avarice drove him to find a way to enter the cave. Knowing the power of the plumes, he intended to steal some of them. Once inside, he was exposed to so much unbound sakti that he couldn't help breathing it in, absorbing it through his skin, swallowing it along with the water he drank from the pools in the cave. Probably that was unwitting; he would not, after all, have been able to see the sakti.

He stole some plumes and made his way back to his village, where he began to plan. Gathering similar like-minded villains around him, he had gained so much power he could coerce others and seize power in the islands. The outcome was devastating. There was war. War between villages. War between clans. Chenderawasi Avians were hunted and killed. Whole villages disappeared. People were subjugated and enslaved, used and abused.

The tide was finally turned when an empu, a blademaster, allied himself and his apprentices with a flock of the remaining Chenderawasi. Together they developed a way to fold the barbs of a Chenderawasi regalia plume into a kris. Whoever owned such a weapon was not so vulnerable to coercion, and the daggers themselves used the inherited wisdom of Chenderawasi sakti to guide their owners.

Even so, the Rani said, it took many years to bring peace back to the islands and to return all the lost plumes to their rightful place. Now, of course, we have other ways of hiding and protecting the regalia of the dead.

She fell silent while Saker sorted through all she had said. Eventually he remarked quietly, "That's not the whole story, is it?"

She sighed. It was more complex than that. Which brings me to your problem. The child you call Piper.

His heart turned over in his chest. He and Sorrel would have to make life and death decisions about a child they both loved. How was he ever going to tell her that? He had no idea. He murmured, more to himself, "A devil-kin."

No. I think your devil-kin have a different origin. From what Ardhi said, that sounds like a working of sorcery, and an imperfect one at that. A sorcerer, though, is someone else. Something worse. Something evil. I know you don't want to believe that anyone can be born evil, but they can and areif they are birthed by another such.

Sweet Va. This had just gone from desperate to impossible.