Maggie Furey - Harp of Winds

Linnet crept around the edge of the parapet, her bare toes gripping the chill, crumbling stone, her brown wings fluttering to help her balance on the narrow ledge. Peeping around the corner of the old turret, she scanned the skies between her perch and the soaring, intricately structured towers of the royal palace beyond. Good. As she had suspected, there was nothing between here and the palace but empty air. She had chosen the perfect time for this forbidden adventure—while the grown-ups were all too busy picking up after the quake to notice what a stray child might be up to. Linnet grinned to herself, her face alight with mischief. The bizarre rococo forest of the palace’s wildly elaborate architecture formed a mysterious and fascinating landscape—an irresistible temptation to an active, adventurous fledgling. For as long as she could remember, Linnet had wanted to fly up there and explore this forbidden country, but normally the royal precincts were so well guarded that she couldn’t get near the place. Today, however, her chance had come at last!

Ducking back round the corner, Linnet waved to her companion, gesturing for him to come ahead. Lark hung back scowling, plainly uneasy about this expedition. Linnet bit her lip with vexation. She tried to make allowances for the fact that her brother was a whole year younger than herself, but honestly, he could be so dim at times! “Come on,” she hissed at him. “Hurry, while there’s no one around!”

Lark came reluctantly, lower lip jutting unhappily as he dragged his feet along the ledge. “We’re going to get into frightful trouble over this,” he warned her.

“Oh, stop whining,” Linnet snapped, “or I won’t play with you anymore.” Without looking around to see the effect of her threat, she launched herself from the turret and swooped toward the tempting vista of rooftops beyond. He had better be following her, she thought, but she was unconcerned. Sometimes it seemed that the brat had been following her around for the last six years—ever since his birth.

Ducking around the side of the first tower that she came to, the winged child looked for a convenient niche to hide in. Finding an arched alcove within the shadow of a flying buttress, she slipped inside—and leapt back with a startled squawk as a hideous, contorted face leered at her out of the gloom. Flailing the air with frantic wings. Linnet caught herself from falling—and scowled at the horrid but harmless gargoyle that had startled her. “Father of Skies” she swore,

“I’ll tell Mother that you were swearing again.” Lark’s voice was pert and taunting.

Linnet turned to glower at the little pest, who had followed her after all. “And I’ll tell her what you were doing when you heard me,” she retorted, grinning smugly as she saw his face crumple with incipient tears,

“I hate you,!! Lark sniffled, “and I’m going home, And I’m going to tell on you, see if I don’t…” His voice trailed away as he fluttered off,

“Crybaby!” Linnet yelled after him. She was unimpressed with his threat—he knew she’d get him later if he snitched on her. In the meantime, she had some exploring to do. With a shrug, Linnet forgot her brother and plunged into the mysterious forest of towers.

Exploring, she admitted some time later, was not as much fun without her little brother to show off to. Linnet was tired, dusty, and ravenously hungry; her nerves were strained with looking over her shoulder for lurking guards. The winged child found a ledge to perch on and took a last look around her, reluctant to admit the palace was not nearly so exciting as she had expected.

“It must be nearly time for supper,” she consoled herself, “and besides, I can always come back another day.” Linnet did not realize she had spoken aloud, until a voice came from the window above her head.

“Who’s there? Yinze on a treetop—it’s a child!”

A long arm shot out between the bars on the window, and Linnet, poised to flee, found herself held fast by the neck of her tunic. “I’m sorry,” she wailed, her brain churning frantically in search of an excuse. “I didn’t mean to!”

“It’s all right,” the voice said soothingly. “Stop flapping, child—I won’t hurt you. In fact, I’ve very glad indeed to see you.”

“You are?” Linnet craned her neck to look back over her shoulder at her captor. To her astonishment, he was smiling down at her. He had a kind face, she thought, and that shock of fine white hair that fell over his forehead was much prettier than her own brown curls.

“Listen,” he told her. “I have some fruit here. If you’ll do a small favor for me, you can have it all—and I won’t tell anyone that you’ve been here.”

Linnet’s mouth watered at the thought of fruit. She had not seen any since this horrible winter had begun. “All right,” she told him quickly. “What do I have to do?”

“Will you take a message from me to your father?”

“I can’t.” The child’s lip trembled. “I don’t have one anymore. The High Priest sacrificed him—”

“I’m sorry,” the young man said hastily. “Will you take word to your mother, then?”

Linnet’s face fell. “I’ll get into awful trouble if she finds out where I’ve been.”

“No you won’t—you’ll be a hero instead. Listen, child—the Queen is here with me, locked up in this room—”

“Don’t be silly,” Linnet snorted. “Queen Flamewing is dead.” She might only be a little girl, but even she knew that! The man shook his head. “Not Queen Flamewing—Queen Raven, her daughter. The High Priest has captured her, and she’s in dreadful danger, but if the people find out that she’s here, someone might be able to help her.” He gave her a winning smile. “And then you would be a hero, and the Queen would give you a reward.”

“What sort of reward?” Linnet asked dubiously.

“ Anything you want!”

“Anything?” She wasn’t sure if she believed him, but he promised her so many times that finally Linnet allowed herself to be persuaded. The winged man handed the fruit to her through the window, wrapped up in a piece of cloth, together with a note for her mother. With the man’s warnings to be careful and to hurry ringing in her ears, Linnet set off for home once more, with deep misgivings. Maybe she should just eat the fruit, Linnet thought, and throw the note over the cliffs. For one thing was certain—despite the man’s assurances, her mother would punish her for sure, if she found out where her daughter had been.

Anvar stood at the rear of the cave, breathing deeply, willing his hands not to tremble. His hands grasped the Staff of Earth so tightly that his bones showed white through the flesh. “Are you ready?” he asked Shia. Fleetingly, he was reminded of the last time he had said those words to her, when they had been stealing Harihn’s horses in the forest.

“For goodness’ sake, get on with it!” The great cat’s terse reply betrayed her nervousness. She was huddled with Khanu near the mouth of the cave, in the lee of the jutting spur of rock behind which the Mage had his fireplace.

“Brace yourself!” Anvar lifted the Staff. He felt its power pulse through him like the beating of another heart, as he prepared to blast his way through the core of the mountain. Excitement and exhilaration quickened his blood. At last! A chance to escape this place—if his plan worked. The Mage swallowed hard, and straightened his shoulders, as he cast aside all thoughts of failure. What could stop him, when he held the Staff of Earth?

Anvar pulled back his arm and gathered his will to unleash the coiled forces of the Staff—but at the last moment, something made him hesitate. A shiver ran through him as he suddenly remembered the avalanche caused by his lack of understanding of the power at his disposal—and his close brush with death as he went hurtling to the bottom of the pass. If he tried to blast his way through to the temple with the Staff in the same unthinking way . . . The Mage shuddered. He could easily bring the mountain down on top of him. Yet what other option had he?