Glasswrights' Apprentice Read online

  Kalindramina had quieted then. She had stopped thrashing her wings, and her talons had ceased their frantic opening and closing. Nevertheless, the kestrel’s heart had pounded, quivering faster than an infant’s as Rani pressed her fingers against the bird’s breast-bone. “Aye,” Gry had crooned. “You feel that? D’you feel the meat on her? We’ll let her lose a little of that flesh, so that she’ll fly when we ask her. A hungry falcon is a trapped falcon. A hungry kestrel stays to eat. A hungry bird can be recaught.”

  Rani had checked the breast-bone again, and one more time, before she was certain that she knew the feel of Kalindramina’s full fed weight. Then she had nodded, and Gry had taken the kestrel away to the mews.

  Now, a breeze picked up on the hilltop as Rani pressed a gentle finger against her bird’s chest. The girl had grown accustomed to the miniature thunder that pounded behind the deceptively fragile cage of bones. Kali’s heart yearned to fly free, to soar above the grasslands. The falcon longed to bank against the wind, spying the ground, watching for prey. Rani nodded to Gry, registering the weight of the hungry kestrel. “Aye. She’s ready to fly.”

  “Let’s fly her then.” The bow-legged falconer waited for Rani to step up to the cadge. The girl took a deep breath before settling the falcon on her gloved fist. She fumbled with the hood for a moment, but then Kalindramina was blinking in the late afternoon light, cocking her head to the side as she looked at Rani. The girl drew in her breath sharply, snared as always by the beauty of the tiny feathers that fanned out from the falcon’s eyes.

  Bashi pushed past Rani to the cadge. As he reached for Maradalian, he grunted, “Aye, let’s go.”

  Rani squealed her protest. “No!”

  “Gry.” Bashi’s single word held an entire argument.

  “Bashi, you can’t!” Rani complained. “You know Maradalian will catch the prey. She’s faster than Kali, and larger. It’s not fair!”

  “The Thousand Gods favor the fast.” Bashi stripped off his peregrine’s hood, settling the bird on his gloved fist with brutal efficiency.

  “My prince,” Gry began, clearly uncomfortable. “You know how important it is that Kali succeed on this first flight. The bird is too valuable to break on a whim.”

  “Oh, all right!” Bashi exclaimed. “You have my word. I’ll keep Maradalian on my fist until after Kali has flown.”

  “But –” Rani began to protest.

  “Surely Gry has taught you enough about falconing that you understand Maradalian won’t have a chance? Your kestrel will have the advantage of height and speed as she drops toward the prey.”

  “I know that!” Rani snapped, irritated that Bashi was instructing her as if she were a child. “It’s just that –”

  “What? You think that Kalindramina is too weak to hunt, even with the advantage of height?”

  “No! I only.… Please –” Rani began again, but this time she was cut off by the soldier, Farantili.

  “Perhaps, Your Highness, we should simply wait for another day.” The guard addressed his comment to Prince Bashanorandi as he looked morosely at the lengthening shadows.

  “Ranita?” Bashi bowed toward the former apprentice, ceding her the choice with a twisted smile.

  “No,” she answered miserably. “Let’s get this over with.”

  Gry waited a moment for her to confirm her decision with an unhappy nod, and then he whistled at his hound. The little dog had watched the exchange with growing excitement, whining softly as both falconers settled their birds on their wrists. Now, he understood his mission, and he coursed out over the grassy hillside, nose low to the ground as he ranged back and forth. Rani followed, taking long strides in her riding leathers, remembering to croon softly to Kalindramina. The little kestrel was fast enough to get the prey, even if Maradalian were competing. Rani knew that. She just had to repeat it to the falcon a few times.

  Bashi crashed behind them, the grass rustling loudly against his legs. Gry came next, then Mair and the soldiers.

  An excited hush fell over the humans as they watched the dog. The sun was visibly lower in the sky, and the hound had covered half the distance to the shadowy copse of trees before he found his prey. Just as Rani was preparing to offer up a special prayer to Fairn, the god of birds, the little dog finally snapped to attention, all of his canine energy focused on a large tuft of grass. Gry nodded tersely and waved his hand, indicating that Rani should move around to the far side of the tussock.

  Rani complied, aware that her heart was beating almost as fast as her falcon’s. She watched the hound, hoping, praying that the beast would remember its training, would wait until Kali was ready. The dog quivered with excitement, but he stayed low in the grass, head pointing at the hidden grouse like an arrow.

  Rani’s fingers were slick with sweat as she loosened Kali’s jesses. She clenched the muscles in her arms and tossed the falcon gently skyward. The kestrel did not hesitate; instead, she caught a puff of breeze and began to climb above Rani, circling to use the wind to her best advantage. Rani caught her breath. This was the moment when Kali could choose to fly away, could choose to find her own meal, her own prey to satisfy the hunger that burned in her belly.

  The kestrel did not flee, though. Instead, she reached a comfortable height above her mistress, banking into the wind and settling her wings against the draft, managing to stay even with scarcely any effort. Rani watched for only a moment, until she was certain that the kestrel was waiting on, and then she shouted a harsh command to the dog.

  The hound leaped forward as if propelled by a spring, barking as grouse exploded from the tussock of grass. The birds flapped their wings desperately, struggling to clear the ground, to escape the slashing canine teeth. Rani’s heart leaped into her throat, almost strangling her with its sudden pounding. Her glance flashed from the dog to the grouse to Kalindramina.

  As if Rani were staring through a tunnel, she saw the falcon’s wings pull in toward its body. The sleek red and brown feathers moved with precision, calm and quiet despite the turmoil on the ground below. Rani imagined she could see the kestrel’s sharp eye; she felt it measure the distance to the grouse, calculate how far the slow prey could travel while the falcon plummeted. Then, Kali’s talons were extended, and the kestrel plunged from the crystal sky.

  Kalindramina never caught her prey.

  Even as Rani watched, an ebony lightning bolt flew from the earth into the sky. The grey and white arrow caught Kali in the middle of the kestrel’s plunge, knocking the bird aside. Feathers exploded in mid-air, and Rani’s heart was sheared by her falcon’s furious cry. Even as the grouse fluttered to safety, Rani tried to decipher the scene before her. The hound took up an excited barking as Rani ran forward. The girl ignored the dog, ignored the rough grass, ignored everything except the whirlwind that tore across the ground.

  Maradalian, Bashi’s peregrine, screamed from the tall grass, struggling to lift its prey to safety. That kestrel prey, though, thrashed about, shrieking its own desperate cry. “Kali!” Rani added her panic to the melee. “Gry! Stop them!”

  The old falconer, though, understood the danger of getting between two fighting raptors. He knew too well their razor talons, their tearing beaks. Gry held his ground. Maradalian was the larger bird by far, and more experienced in flying with jesses attached. Kali was struggling to fight her way free, screeching her rage, flapping her red and brown wings.

  Rani reached into the avian whirlwind, leading with her buckskin glove. Maradalian slashed at her with a sharp beak and Rani swore, grasping at the bird with both hands. Before the peregrine could react, Rani sucked in her breath; Kali had caught her unprotected left palm with a dagger-sharp talon. “Gry!” Rani panted again, desperate for assistance.

  The falcon-master could not move, though, before the kestrel fought its way free from the ground. Even as Rani grasped at Maradalian’s jesses, Kalindramina took to the sky. The red and brown bird pumped her wings hard to gain height, and Rani thought that she must be injured to l
abor so hard. “Kali!” she gasped, but the kestrel only circled once before she flew off to the east, pushing toward the copse of trees.

  Rani raised her bleeding hand to her mouth, sucking at the jagged wound even as she watched her treasure disappear into the sky. Blood flowed freely from the slash, and the salty taste on her tongue made her stomach tighten.

  Even as she fought the urge to gag, Gry stepped forward, managing to slip a hood over Maradalian’s frantic eyes. The falcon-master stood still for a moment, blinking in disbelief, and then Prince Bashanorandi stepped forward to claim his falcon. His face was pale as he settled the bird on his gloved fist, and he sucked breath between his teeth when he saw the jagged slash across Rani’s hand. For just an instant, he looked precisely like a fifteen-year-old boy, caught breaking the rules.

  “Bashi!” Rani spat. “You did that on purpose!”

  “Don’t be ridiculous!”

  “You wanted to kill Kali!”

  The prince’s tongue darted over his chapped lips. “I never wanted any such thing! I held back until Kalindramina had the height.” His gaze followed the course that the kestrel had flown, and he shook his head. He swallowed hard before adding plaintively, “I assumed she’d have the skill to catch her prey.” Bashi settled a protective hand against the dark grey feathers of his now-calm peregrine, then he reached into a pouch at his waist and pulled out a kerchief. “You’re bleeding all over. Wrap your hand with this.”

  Rani wanted to throw the cloth at his feet, but she dared not. Mair stepped forward to bind up her wound, not bothering to disguise a hateful glance toward the prince. Bashi became absorbed with his peregrine’s feathers, and he muttered, without looking up, “You have to admit, Rani, Maradalian didn’t have much of a chance, flying from my fist.”

  “I don’t have to admit anything, you bastard!” Rani sucked in her breath as Mair knotted the kerchief across her palm.

  Prince Bashanorandi paled still further, and his lips turned to grim stone. Maradalian sensed his tension and the peregrine bated, trying to fly from his gloved fist, only to be pulled up short by her jesses. Bashi soothed the bird mechanically before he turned back to Rani. When he spoke, the words were pulled out of him like wool thread stretched on a spindle. “So you would remind me, merchant girl. Every single day, you would remind me.”

  Rani saw the raw anger in Bashi’s eyes, recognized that the better part of his rage was because Mair and the soldiers had witnessed their altercation. For just an instant a chill crept up Rani’s spine. Before she could reply, Bashi spun on his heel and marched up the hill toward the cadge. Gry followed close behind, but the soldiers waited until the girls were ready to make the climb. Rani lingered for a long moment, staring east into the gathering night-time gloom, toward the copse where Kali had disappeared.

  Mair whispered, “Don’t even think about it, Rai.”

  “She might be there.”

  “Why would she? She’s frightened and hungry. And free.”

  “That kestrel is my responsibility, Mair. She might get tangled by her jesses. I trained her for four months –”

  “Lady Rani,” Gry called from the cadge. Even in the dim twilight, Rani could make out the falconer’s impatience as he helped Bashanorandi settle Maradalian on a perch. The stocky man’s voice was harsh as he spat out his frustration with Rani, with the royal prince, with the loss of one of his birds. “It’s not likely that Kalindramina stopped at the trees. She’ll be far away by now.”

  “I have to find out for sure.”

  “It’s getting late, Lady Rani!” The falconer tugged at his ear as if he would rip it away from his skull. “King Halaravilli will be angry!”

  “Aye, Gry. Bashi should have thought of that before he flew Maradalian.”

  The falcon-master shrugged. “Bashi wasn’t thinking.”

  The prince moved before Rani could realize what was happening. Pulling a curved dagger from the top of his boot, Bashi slashed his blade across the side of Gry’s throat. “My name is Bashanorandi, you Touched dog!”

  Gry cried out and sank to his knees, even as Rani shouted the falcon-master’s name. In a glowing ray from the setting sun, Rani could see Bashi’s face, could make out the momentary horror etched across his eyes. The prince was clearly astonished by his own action, and his right hand trembled on his curved knife. Bashanorandi looked up at Rani, reaching toward her with his empty hand, grasping like a child.

  “In the name of Fen, what have you done?” Rani croaked the question before she could think.

  She saw Bashi register her words, saw him absorb the name of the god of mercy like a slap across his face. His cheeks flushed crimson beneath his ginger hair, and before Rani could speak again, he had whirled on the stricken falcon-master, drawing back his fine leather boot to sink his toes hard into the falconer’s side. The stocky man curled up reflexively, the action making blood spurt from his throat. He pleaded with the prince, making a horrible gurgling sound.

  “Your Highness!” barked Farantili, sprinting to the hilltop. “Leave him be!”

  Bashi drew back, trembling with rage. Rani stared at the prince in amazement, unable to comprehend what he had done. Mair’s eyes blazed in the twilight, and she rushed to the master falconer, tugging at her cloak in a futile attempt to rip it into bandages.

  “Stand back!” Bashi ordered. He snatched at Mair’s arms, dragging her away from Gry. “Don’t get near that Touched dog!” Even as Mair fought against the prince’s grip, Farantili stepped forward. “Soldier! Don’t even think about helping him!”

  “He’s a finer man than you’ll ever be,” Farantili grunted, falling to one knee beside the stricken falconer. Gry’s hands and feet twitched, and his body began to spasm.

  “Leave him!” Bashi’s throat tore on the shout, and he fumbled for his curved blade. “That’s an order, man!”

  For just an instant, Farantili stared up at his liege, his eyes dark with unspoken emotion. Then, the soldier turned back to the falconer, and he began to mutter soothing words, trying gently to view the wounded man’s gaping throat. Bashi gasped in disbelief, and then he raised his curved blade. “To me!” he cried, flashing a glance over his shoulder at the other guards.

  There was a moment’s hesitation, while loyalties fought among themselves, and then a tempest broke over the hillside. Metal clanged against metal. Horses whinnied in panic, the sound high and chilling on the twilight breeze. Maradalian bated from her perch, fighting her hood and jesses. One of the soldiers crashed into the cadge, splintering the birch supports.

  As Rani watched, Farantili was shoved to the ground amid the shambles of the cadge. Another soldier stepped up, menacing the fallen fighter with a short sword. Rani cried out, desperate to stop the bloodshed, but before she could make herself heard, another guard was cut down, bellowing as his hamstring was sliced by one of Bashi’s loyal men.

  Across the now-trampled grass, Rani could make out the sound of bones crunching. Two soldiers pinned Farantili to the ground, pressing his spine against the shattered birch uprights from the cadge. One of the pair straddled Farantili’s chest and began to pummel the man’s head, starting with closed-fist blows and ending with a simple rhythmic pounding. Farantili’s limp neck hit the earth again and again and again.

  Even in her shock, Rani realized that she was in danger. She knew that she needed to escape from these rebellious soldiers, from men who would attack their own sworn brothers, who would sanction the murder of a defenseless master falconer. She was not safe among men who would beat one of King Halaravilli’s soldiers to a pulp and butcher another like so much meat.

  Rani whirled toward her stallion, desperate to remount and escape.

  “Stop!” Bashanorandi’s order flamed across the twilight chill. In a flash, Rani saw that he held Mair close to his chest; she could make out a steel dagger leveled against the Touched girl’s throat. As if to emphasize the command, Mair dropped her own blade. The prince kicked it into the high grass.

  �
�Let her go, Bashi!”

  “She’s not going anywhere, and neither are you.”

  Even in these dire circumstances, the words rang falsely. “Are you going to keep us on the plain all night then? Like children lost in the countryside?”

  “You may pretend this is a joke, Rani, but I assure you it is not.” Bashi twisted Mair’s arm behind her back, and the girl’s lips tightened over her teeth. She refused to cry out, but her look spoke volumes to Rani. “You will not go running to Hal with stories of what happened here. I don’t want my men to hurt you, Ranita, but I’ll let them if they must.”

  “Your men? Those are King Halaravilli’s soldiers.” Rani tried to force certainty past the image of Farantili’s bloody head, past the moans of the hamstrung guard.

  “These soldiers are loyal to me, Ranita.” Even as Bashi made his pronouncement, one of his guards grabbed for Rani’s arm. Without thinking, she spat in the man’s face. He bellowed in rage, snatching for his sword, but his fellow grabbed Rani and pulled her, hard, against his chest. Through the Morenian livery, she could feel a hardened leather breastplate, a foreign design that poked against her spine. The full armor was stranger still because there was no reason for the soldier to be wearing it, not for an afternoon ride within sight of the City. The man she had spat at swore and wiped at the mess on his face.

  For just an instant, Rani thought that her eyes deceived her in the twilight gloom. When the man pawed at his face, he left behind a tracery around his eyes. Only when Rani blinked did she realize that the man had not covered his face with the strange design. Rather, his wiping motion had removed a layer of color, a coating of flesh-colored paint like the cosmetics that Nurse was always thrusting at Rani. Beneath that false color, Rani could now make out a distinct tattoo, the careful outline of a lion beneath the man’s left eye.

  She caught her breath. She’d heard enough in Hal’s court for the past two years to know that the northern soldiers tattooed themselves at birth, dedicating their lives to their warrior existence. A northern soldier, then, from Amanthia. From the executed Queen Felicianda’s homeland.