Mercedes Lackey - Winds Of Fate

"Enough!" he growled, the fingers of his right hand crooked into claws, with the talons fully extended.

The two men fell absolutely silent.

"You failed to capture the artifact," he said, his voice rumbling dangerously.

You failed to corner the quarry, you failed to keep them from finding aid, and you failed to acquire the artifact when you had the opportunity. I should take your lives; I should-remake you." The men whitened to the color of fresh snow.

"There is nothing you can say that will redeem your complete stupidity," Falconsbane continued. "You will report to Drakan for your punishment.

I have not the time to waste upon you." The two men started to get up; a single snarl from Falconsbane sent them back to their faces.

"I do have time to retrieve from your worthless bodies a modicum of the power you wasted in this effort." He stretched out his right hand and spread it over the two prone men.

Dawnfire was not certain what exactly he did-but she saw the result clearly. The two men sat back on their heels suddenly, jerked erect like a pair of puppets. Their white faces were frozen in masks of pain, and their limbs trembled and jerked uncontrollably. Their mouths were open, but they uttered not so much as a single sound.

What was truly horrible about the entire tableau was the expression on Falconsbane's face.

He looked like a creature in the throes of sexual ecstasy. He had tossed his long, flowing hair back over his shoulders, and he stared off into nothingness with his eyes half-closed in pure pleasure. His fingers flexed; every time they did, the two men's bodies jerked, and their faces took on new lines of agony. Falconsbane's eyes closed completely, and he lifted his face to the light in obscene bliss.

Finally, he knotted his hand into a fist; the men shuddered, then collapsed.

He opened his eyes, slowly, and gazed down on his victims with a slow, sated smile. "You may go," he purred. "Now.

Limbs stirred feebly; heads raised, and the two men began to move.

Too weak to do anything else, they crawled toward the door, slowly and painfully.

And that wasn't even their "punishment." That was just Falconsbane's way of reminding them that he was their master in all things.

The first man reached the door and crawled out. All of Dawnfire's feathers slicked down flat to her body in fright. She couldn't have moved now if she had wanted to.

"Greden," Falconsbane said, as the second man started out the door.

The guard stopped, frozen; in a macabre way, he looked funny, like someone caught pretending to be a dog.

"Greden, send Daelon to me on your way out." Falconsbane turned, ignoring the man's whispered acknowledgment, and began pacing beside his couch.

In a few moments, another man entered; an older man, lean and fit, with elaborate, flowing garments and dark gray hair and beard. "My lord?" he said, waiting prudently out of reach. Falconsbane ignored him for a moment, his face creased with a frown of concentration. The man waited patiently; patience was a necessity with Mornelithe Falconsbane, it seemed. Patience, and extreme care.

Finally Falconsbane stopped pacing and flung himself down on the couch. "Daelon, I am going to propose an alliance, to King Ancar of Hardorn."

"Very good, my lord," Daelon responded, bowing deeply. "Alliances are always preferable to conflict.

Falconsbane smiled, as if he found the man's opinions amusing."I've been in contact with him for some time, as you know; with him, and some other rulers of the East. He agreed to meet with me in person, but he would not set a time." Falconsbane's smile faded. "When he would not specify a date, I insisted that he must come here, and that it was to be within three months of the initial agreement."

"I assume that he has set a date, my lord?" Daelon asked smoothly.

"Finally." Falconsbane scowled. "He told me just before that disaster Greden was in charge of that he will be arriving in three days' time."

"Very good, my lord. By Gate, my lord?" Daelon asked, with one eyebrow raised.

Falconsbane snorted with contempt. "No. The fool calls himself a mage, yet he cannot even master a Gate. That, it seems, was the reason he would not set a date. He had to travel overland, if you will, and he did not wish anyone to know that he was en route." Daelon produced a superior, smug smile. "Then you wish me to ready the guest quarters, my lord?"

"Exactly," Falconsbane nodded. "I expect I will be able to persuade him to accept my hospitality after several weeks of primitive inns and the like." Dacion raised one eyebrow. "Do I take it he will not be coming directly here?" Once again, Falconsbane snorted. "He prefers, he says, to remain in 'neutral' lands. I directed him to the valley I flooded with death-smoke a while ago. It is secure enough, the horned vermin will not be using it again soon, and if he proves unreliable, well-" the Adept shrugged, rippling his hair and mane. "I flooded it once and can do so again."

"Very good, my lord," Daelon bowed, and smiled. "Better to eliminate a menace than deal with a conflict." Falconsbane chuckled; the deep, rumbling laugh that Dawnfire knew only too well. She crouched a little smaller on her perch. "Ah, Daelon, your philosophy is so-unique." Daelon bowed again, smiled, but said nothing. Falconsbane waved negligently at him. "Go," he said. Then as Daelon started for the door' he changed his mind. "Wait," he called, and scooped something up from beside his couch. As Daelon turned, he tossed something at him; and as the servant caught it, Dawnfire saw it was the falconer's glove.

"Take that bird with you," he yawned. "I am fatigued, and she no longer amuses me. Take her to the mews; it is time for her to learn her place in life."

"Very good, my lord," Daelon repeated. When the servant approached Dawnfire, she tensed, expecting trouble, but evidently he was so unfamiliar with falconry that he did not even attempt to hood her.

He merely took the ends of her jesses, clumsily, in his free hand, and stuck his gloved hand in her general direction.

If he didn't know enough about falconry to hold her jesses properly, he might not know enough to hold them tightly.

She hopped onto his hand as obediently as a tamed cage-bird, and remained quiet and well-behaved. And as he carried her out of the room, and away from Falconsbane's sight, she saw with elation that he was barely holding the tips of her jesses. Of course, she had fouled them; she couldn't have helped that. He evidently found that very distasteful, and he was avoiding as much contact with the chalked leather as possible.

And he was holding the arm she rested on stiffly, far away from his body, lest (she supposed) she also drop on his fine robes. And if that particular function had been within her control, she would have considered doing just that.

He could not find a servant anywhere as they passed through silent stone corridors on the way to the outside door; that elated her even further, even as it visibly annoyed him. He was going to have to take her outside himself...He dropped the jesses, leaving them loose, as he wrestled with the massive brass-bound, wooden door, trusting in her apparent docility.

She rewarded that trust as he got the door open; a real hawk would have bolted the moment a scrap of sky showed, but she was not sure enough of her flying ability to try for an escape. The man was so fussy she was hoping he would take the time to make sure the door was closed before reaching for her jesses again.

Please, Lady of Stars, please don't let him see a servant out here... He looked about him, squinting in the light, as he emerged from behind the bulky door into the flagstoned courtyard, frowning when he found the courtyard as empty as the corridors. He held her with his arm completely extended, away from his body, as he started to shove the door closed.