telepath, leaving Jaxton with only the tantalizing certainty that Hawk had been there.
Hawk opened his eyes and focused on the ruins of the stable. The abrupt transition from sky to ground left him somewhat disoriented, but relieved. He'd avoided confrontation with the enemy bird-path again; so far, he'd been lucky. Yet he felt certain that the luck could not last forever, that eventually he would meet the man at close range and be unable to escape. If his first clash with Sinclair had been any indication, he wouldn't be able to survive a close engagement.
It seemed strange finally to run across another bird-path, only to find that the man was an enemy, using his talents for evil. And Hawk had no doubts that the Taral Empire was evil. He'd spoken with refugees from the conquered kingdoms, he'd heard about the invader's brutality, he'd seen the marks of torture on more than one child.
He felt as though the falcon-telepath were his personal nemesis. Although they had similar talents, they were of different spirits. It was as though he fought his own shadow, for if he had been born in the Empire he might have been that man.
"I've been looking for you. . . . "
Hawk glanced up in surprise at the sudden intrusion into his thoughts.
"Lord S'Wessex . . . " He was suddenly tense as he watched the man's unshaven, haggard face. He wondered if Coleman had bad news about Roslyn— no, he mentally corrected himself. She's Roger S'Cascar, he thought. He struggled to adjust. Although she would continue to play the role of Roslyn, he would never be able to forget that she was a S'Cascar. "I'm sorry to bother you, but . . . " Coleman S'Wessex paused and then smiled. "Roger . . . Roslyn, well, she is much better this morning. I thought you would want to know."
Hawk felt as though someone had just stepped off his stomach.
"She seems to be herself, without any aftereffects except a sore throat and a few minor burns," Coleman continued. "She hardly remembers the fire, except as a nightmare. She said she'd like to talk to you—to thank you for saving her life."
"I'll try to see her after I talk to Derek. But she doesn't have to thank me, I was just returning the favor."
"How's that?" Coleman inquired.
"Didn't Ro tell you about the osmurs?"
"Osmurs? Oh, the other day. Yes, she said you'd had a close brush with them . . . "
Hawk gestured to the half-healed wounds that spotted his arms and neck. "These scars will tell you just how close it was. Ro sliced the head right off that monster."
Coleman nodded, not surprised to find Ro's true role in the encounter far less modest than she'd claimed. "Well, you swallowed a lot of smoke yesterday. How are you feeling today?"
"Fine. A bit hoarse maybe, and I've got a few burns, too, but that tomaad really lived up to its reputation as a cure-all. How did you get it from the Sylvan, anyway? I've heard that they guard it more jealously than the N'Omb priests guard their relics."
"It's a long story, but I have some friends among the Sylvan," Coleman answered.
"Really? I thought they didn't like humans. I guess I don't know too much about them, though, even if I do live in an old Sylvan watchtower. I've never even met one—they moved out of my forest years ago."
Coleman seemed thoughtful. "Maybe you will. Although most Sylvan hate us, there have been some friendships between the two races, even a few intermarriages. Generally the only humans they respect are those with psychic powers. They'd probably be comparatively friendly to a bird-path."
He clapped the younger man on the shoulder. "Maybe I'll have a chance to tell you about the Sylvan sometime, but right now I have to finish rounding up my men and supplies."
"I hope you will tell me," Hawk replied, thinking that the exiled lord probably had a wealth of stories.
As they headed toward the front of the tavern, he continued, "I've got to report to Derek about what I've just seen. Evidently Ramsey was injured, possibly seriously."
"Now that is
Hawk opened his eyes and focused on the ruins of the stable. The abrupt transition from sky to ground left him somewhat disoriented, but relieved. He'd avoided confrontation with the enemy bird-path again; so far, he'd been lucky. Yet he felt certain that the luck could not last forever, that eventually he would meet the man at close range and be unable to escape. If his first clash with Sinclair had been any indication, he wouldn't be able to survive a close engagement.
It seemed strange finally to run across another bird-path, only to find that the man was an enemy, using his talents for evil. And Hawk had no doubts that the Taral Empire was evil. He'd spoken with refugees from the conquered kingdoms, he'd heard about the invader's brutality, he'd seen the marks of torture on more than one child.
He felt as though the falcon-telepath were his personal nemesis. Although they had similar talents, they were of different spirits. It was as though he fought his own shadow, for if he had been born in the Empire he might have been that man.
"I've been looking for you. . . . "
Hawk glanced up in surprise at the sudden intrusion into his thoughts.
"Lord S'Wessex . . . " He was suddenly tense as he watched the man's unshaven, haggard face. He wondered if Coleman had bad news about Roslyn— no, he mentally corrected himself. She's Roger S'Cascar, he thought. He struggled to adjust. Although she would continue to play the role of Roslyn, he would never be able to forget that she was a S'Cascar. "I'm sorry to bother you, but . . . " Coleman S'Wessex paused and then smiled. "Roger . . . Roslyn, well, she is much better this morning. I thought you would want to know."
Hawk felt as though someone had just stepped off his stomach.
"She seems to be herself, without any aftereffects except a sore throat and a few minor burns," Coleman continued. "She hardly remembers the fire, except as a nightmare. She said she'd like to talk to you—to thank you for saving her life."
"I'll try to see her after I talk to Derek. But she doesn't have to thank me, I was just returning the favor."
"How's that?" Coleman inquired.
"Didn't Ro tell you about the osmurs?"
"Osmurs? Oh, the other day. Yes, she said you'd had a close brush with them . . . "
Hawk gestured to the half-healed wounds that spotted his arms and neck. "These scars will tell you just how close it was. Ro sliced the head right off that monster."
Coleman nodded, not surprised to find Ro's true role in the encounter far less modest than she'd claimed. "Well, you swallowed a lot of smoke yesterday. How are you feeling today?"
"Fine. A bit hoarse maybe, and I've got a few burns, too, but that tomaad really lived up to its reputation as a cure-all. How did you get it from the Sylvan, anyway? I've heard that they guard it more jealously than the N'Omb priests guard their relics."
"It's a long story, but I have some friends among the Sylvan," Coleman answered.
"Really? I thought they didn't like humans. I guess I don't know too much about them, though, even if I do live in an old Sylvan watchtower. I've never even met one—they moved out of my forest years ago."
Coleman seemed thoughtful. "Maybe you will. Although most Sylvan hate us, there have been some friendships between the two races, even a few intermarriages. Generally the only humans they respect are those with psychic powers. They'd probably be comparatively friendly to a bird-path."
He clapped the younger man on the shoulder. "Maybe I'll have a chance to tell you about the Sylvan sometime, but right now I have to finish rounding up my men and supplies."
"I hope you will tell me," Hawk replied, thinking that the exiled lord probably had a wealth of stories.
As they headed toward the front of the tavern, he continued, "I've got to report to Derek about what I've just seen. Evidently Ramsey was injured, possibly seriously."
"Now that is
Similar Books
