Wings of Flame by Nancy Springer

soft and whole, though plain.
    â€œI will eat Auron’s food and wear this gaudery and even accept gifts and courtesy if I must.” Kyrem turned away with a gesture of decision. “But I will have no part of any devilish Vashtin magic. And it does not surprise me to hear you say that your dear king is a sorcerer.”
    â€œA healer!” she protested.
    â€œIt is all the same. One capable of the sending of certain horse-headed birds.”
    He had told Auron the tale of their journey after dinner, grudgingly and only because justice demanded that the Vashtin king should be allowed a chance at vindication of himself and his kingdom. Auron had given orders immediately. Patrols were to go forth, men on foot with donkeys carrying their supplies, to find the mysterious archers. Kyrem cynically expected that they would find nothing.
    â€œI am going to bed,” he said to Seda, and she went off to her own bunk in the barracklike servants’ quarters—the male quarters of course.
    The next morning, quite early, Kyrem went to fetch Omber from the stables, speaking to no one, not even to Seda. He rode the horse out of the city gates as soon as they were open, and at trot and canter he sped far up the terraced farmland to the hills where sheep grazed and over the rise of the first one, out of sight of Avedon. There he dismounted and let Omber graze and roll and play, himself sitting on a blue boulder patterned with lichens of pink and whitish green, contentedly watching the horse and expecting at any moment to be surrounded by Auron’s retainers come to march him back to captivity.
    The sun reached its zenith and moved past it, and Kyrem’s stomach took up arms against him. No Vashtin came near. Finally, reluctantly, he rode back to Avedon and stabled his horse. In his gold-domed palace, Auron sat waiting at the table as before.
    Kyrem ate hungrily and silently, also as before, feeling cross and somehow outwitted. Auron ate little.
    â€œIt seems I am permitted to go out and exercise my horse,” Kyrem said, keeping his voice as toneless as possible.
    â€œOf course,” Auron replied rather sleepily. “Take a packet of food from the kitchen next time. There is no need to go without.”
    â€œAnd if I ride away?” Kyrem challenged.
    â€œThat is as it comes.” Auron glanced up from under delicate, highly arched brows like those of a well-bred woman. “It is true, you are unhappy here, perhaps you have comrades or a sweetheart in Deva whom you miss, perhaps you dream of yellow cliffs and great spaces. But you know the value of your father’s bond or you would not be here.”
    Kyrem felt startled and angry, for Auron’s words were accurate except concerning the sweetheart. Dismayingly accurate. Still, he would play his game out.
    â€œAnd if I pack myself two weeks’ worth of supplies and ride out of here bound for Deva,” he said, “what will you do then?”
    â€œWhy, nothing.” Auron met the youth’s shocked gaze blandly. “Assuming that you would return to Deva by a different route so as to avoid those pertinacious enemies of yours. But you would have your father to deal with when you arrived there.”
    Kyrem applied himself to his meal and said nothing more. Inwardly he seethed, knowing that he had been bested. He spent the afternoon exploring the city, staring with hard eyes at elegant houses, shops, stalls and tile-bordered streets. He took supper in his room, having Seda bring him fruit and bread from the kitchen, and he went early to bed.
    The next morning there was some coinage lying on his washstand, some coppers, a few silvers and a single small gold coin, no extravagant amount but enough to provide some amusement at the gaming stalls, some sweets perhaps, a bauble, a small gift for Seda. Kyrem looked at the coins and let them lie. His shoulder was swollen and sore, hurting him so much now that he found it difficult to