“Aly not screaming now?” asked Aly’s personal darking, Trick. It had been unable to bear the sounds of childbirth.
“Aly is fine. She’s taking a bath,” Nawat assured it as Terai stared at him.
“Who are you talking to?” she wanted to know.
Nawat opened a mosquito curtain and pointed. “Trick, this is Terai. Terai, Trick.”
“Hello, Terai,” the darking piped.
“Trick is Aly’s friend,” Nawat explained. He ushered Terai to a second door. “And this,” he said, “is to be your domain.” They walked through the open door into a well-lit room. Nawat halted, startled again. Three nursemaids, one of them the woman Aly had chosen herself, were tidying the room. They arranged diapers on changing tables, setwashbasins where they would be needed, put linens and drying cloths on the tall shelves, and in all ways prepared everything for the addition of more infants and servants than they had expected at first. Cots and chairs were already set up for the new staff.
The cradle situation was also under control. There was the cradle he and Aly had chosen, its insect net open. Rifou, one of Nawat’s distant crow-cousins and a promising carpenter, had carved the name “Ochobai” on the beautifully decorated piece of teak that hung on the foot of the cradle. Another cradle, plainly made but of good wood, had a net already but waited for a carved piece that read “Junim.” That lay on the floor next to Rifou. The crow-man, still in his uniform, sat cross-legged before the cradles, cutting the third sign. His glossy black hair swung forward, hiding his face. His hands, as brown as Nawat’s, but scarred from learning the carpenter’s work, carved Ulasu’s name in graceful letters.
“Rifou, I give thanks, but it will do no harm if they do not have signs,” Nawat said to his cousin. Rifou was several years older. Even though Nawat was his commander, Nawat always took care to be polite with him. “They have different-colored strings on their wrists.”
“I needed something to do,” Rifou muttered. “I’ll work on
proper
nests for the new ones when I have finished these. Proper
human
nests, that is.”
Nawat did not like the mix of tones of his cousin’s voice or the darkness that lay over his spirit. Rifou’s human mate, Bala, crouched beside him. Her eyes were red and swollen from weeping.
“Cousin, please look at me so I may introduce your new kindred to you,” Nawat said. He wanted to see the face that Rifou was so determined to hide.
Rifou hesitated, as if he thought to refuse. Then he turned and stared up at Nawat. His face, too, was red and puffy, but not from tears. Ointment lent a greasy shine to several deep holes on his cheeks. They were peck marks.
“I am
kaaaakitkik
,” Rifou said without emotion. “I have been cast out. The great Rajmuat flock said I have become more human than crow.”
The extra wet nurse had come. Aly, the nestlings, and the new staff were asleep when Nawat flew from his bedroom window out over Rajmuat. Damp air rose from the City of Ten Thousand Gardens, as some ambassador had named it to Queen Dove. Nawat would have traded all 5,354 of them—one test for crows in his war band was to count Rajmuat’s gardens, even the little ones—for a week in the dry air of Lombyn, the northern island where he and Aly had met.
He had taken no escort. Even Aly did not know where he was bound, though unless she was entirely exhausted, more than he’d ever seen her, she at least knew he’d gone. This was crow business, though. After their rude reception of his nestlings—they left before Nawat had a chance to show them Ulasu—the Rajmuat flock had interfered with Nawat’s adult flock, his war band. He needed to learn the exact nature of the problem that had brought them to meddle with another crow’s people.
He found them in their roosting trees, on the hills thatoverlooked the humans’ great burying place. The moonlight gilded the forest of pale stone monuments
“Aly is fine. She’s taking a bath,” Nawat assured it as Terai stared at him.
“Who are you talking to?” she wanted to know.
Nawat opened a mosquito curtain and pointed. “Trick, this is Terai. Terai, Trick.”
“Hello, Terai,” the darking piped.
“Trick is Aly’s friend,” Nawat explained. He ushered Terai to a second door. “And this,” he said, “is to be your domain.” They walked through the open door into a well-lit room. Nawat halted, startled again. Three nursemaids, one of them the woman Aly had chosen herself, were tidying the room. They arranged diapers on changing tables, setwashbasins where they would be needed, put linens and drying cloths on the tall shelves, and in all ways prepared everything for the addition of more infants and servants than they had expected at first. Cots and chairs were already set up for the new staff.
The cradle situation was also under control. There was the cradle he and Aly had chosen, its insect net open. Rifou, one of Nawat’s distant crow-cousins and a promising carpenter, had carved the name “Ochobai” on the beautifully decorated piece of teak that hung on the foot of the cradle. Another cradle, plainly made but of good wood, had a net already but waited for a carved piece that read “Junim.” That lay on the floor next to Rifou. The crow-man, still in his uniform, sat cross-legged before the cradles, cutting the third sign. His glossy black hair swung forward, hiding his face. His hands, as brown as Nawat’s, but scarred from learning the carpenter’s work, carved Ulasu’s name in graceful letters.
“Rifou, I give thanks, but it will do no harm if they do not have signs,” Nawat said to his cousin. Rifou was several years older. Even though Nawat was his commander, Nawat always took care to be polite with him. “They have different-colored strings on their wrists.”
“I needed something to do,” Rifou muttered. “I’ll work on
proper
nests for the new ones when I have finished these. Proper
human
nests, that is.”
Nawat did not like the mix of tones of his cousin’s voice or the darkness that lay over his spirit. Rifou’s human mate, Bala, crouched beside him. Her eyes were red and swollen from weeping.
“Cousin, please look at me so I may introduce your new kindred to you,” Nawat said. He wanted to see the face that Rifou was so determined to hide.
Rifou hesitated, as if he thought to refuse. Then he turned and stared up at Nawat. His face, too, was red and puffy, but not from tears. Ointment lent a greasy shine to several deep holes on his cheeks. They were peck marks.
“I am
kaaaakitkik
,” Rifou said without emotion. “I have been cast out. The great Rajmuat flock said I have become more human than crow.”
The extra wet nurse had come. Aly, the nestlings, and the new staff were asleep when Nawat flew from his bedroom window out over Rajmuat. Damp air rose from the City of Ten Thousand Gardens, as some ambassador had named it to Queen Dove. Nawat would have traded all 5,354 of them—one test for crows in his war band was to count Rajmuat’s gardens, even the little ones—for a week in the dry air of Lombyn, the northern island where he and Aly had met.
He had taken no escort. Even Aly did not know where he was bound, though unless she was entirely exhausted, more than he’d ever seen her, she at least knew he’d gone. This was crow business, though. After their rude reception of his nestlings—they left before Nawat had a chance to show them Ulasu—the Rajmuat flock had interfered with Nawat’s adult flock, his war band. He needed to learn the exact nature of the problem that had brought them to meddle with another crow’s people.
He found them in their roosting trees, on the hills thatoverlooked the humans’ great burying place. The moonlight gilded the forest of pale stone monuments
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