4 The Governor's Visit

The quality of decision is like the well-timed swoop of a falcon which enables it to strike and destroy its victim." -Sun Tzu

Julie woke to a sound that chilled her blood.

It was a high, piercing whistle, a sound that echoed to every corner of the room Julie slept in, a sound that made Icarus start on his perch, eyes contracting.

She sat bolt upright, letting the covers flood off her, hardly aware of Icarus settling on her shoulder, making the harsh clicking noise that meant he was agitated.

The whistle came again, louder and shriller, scaling upward past the range of human hearing. But it still lifted the hair on her nape and gave her chills. Her gyrfalcon bond tightened his talons on her shoulder.

Julie yanked on her clothes and boots as fast as she could, barely aware that she was jostling Icarus with her quick movements. She thought she glimpsed Mother Acko preparing breakfast as she passed the dining room, but there was no time for that. She leaped out into the cobblestone streets, and headed down the lane with single-minded purpose. As she walked she said to Icarus, Can you feel Luke? Or Athena?

Yes, replied the falcon tensely. Can you not?

At the very moment Julie was about to say no, she felt it in her mind, cold and trembling with agitation. It was unmistakably Luke; no other mind could have touched her except that of Icarus. She doubled her pace, lengthening her strides, intent upon one thing: getting to her friend. If there was one thing that could be gleaned from Luke at that moment, it was that he needed her.

She turned the corner and found herself looking out at the large crowd that was gathering in the open village square. Some people looked excited and pleased, others huddled together, clearly unnerved or afraid.

Julie picked out Luke's fair hair and tall form immediately, and began to make her way through the crush of people toward him. He was standing perfectly still, his spine ramrod straight. Athena was sitting on his forearm, and he was stroking her in such an automatic way it was as if he was in a trance. Other bird bond cries wove through the air: the shrilling of birds of prey, the twitters of smaller songbirds, the racheting of crows and ravens, the squawking of parrots, the cooing of pigeons and doves, and the rasps and hoots of owls.

Finally, Julie reached Luke. Just as she reached out to grab his shoulder, there was a thundering of hoofbeats on cobblestone, and another piercing shriek that seemed much closer. Everyone went still, and the bird bonds fell eerily silent. Luke turned into a statue beneath her hand, every muscle and bone tightened and immobilized.

The next thing everyone knew, the stout village gates were thrown open, and the governor Lord Maeron rode through them.

He was astride a great black stallion, which spoke instantly of his wealth, for none but the rich could afford horses on Rathya. His clothes gave the next clue. He was draped in a robe of scarlet embroidered with gems around the collar, and he was wearing several jangling bracelets of solid gold. A huge necklace with an eagle pendant was his symbol of office; it hung prominently around his long thin neck. Lord Maeron had a tangled black beard and heavyset eyebrows that hooded very deep and calculating eyes. His skin was sallow and scarred, and he seemed out of place inside his fancy robes.

Perched on the leather pad strapped to his shoulder sat a hunched male peregrine falcon. The bird always had its head lowered and tilted, as if it were constantly on the watch for suspicious activity. Its plumage was magnificent, with a pointed tail, coal black cheek marks, and yellow gray feathers dappled with purples and blacks. But its eyes were as cold, hard, and watchful as its human's. As Julie watched, it raised its head and gave another chilling whistle. The governor reined in his horse and held up a hand. "Peace, Jafar," he said aloud, his voice so deep it was bone-shaking. But unlike Athena's pleasantly deep hoot, Maeron's voice left ice in its wake. The peregrine falcon Jafar fell silent, and took to staring malevolently at the crowds.

Julie took advantage of the townspeople's fixation on Maeron to squeeze in next to Luke. She put her hand on his arm, and was alarmed to feel him trembling. Athena shifted her feet on Luke's shoulder and rasped fiercely. The sound echoed into the silence.

The falcon on Maeron's shoulder whipped his head around to stare at Athena, his black eyes piercing. The eagle owl stared back boldly, refusing to wilt beneath the unblinking stare.

Julie swallowed, looking into the curving black orbs of Jafar's eyes. The falcon's penetrating stare brought back a stream of unbidden memories, of a time years ago when she had stared into those same eyes…

She and Luke had been practicing swordcraft with sticks in a side alley. Luke was teaching her the elegant and deadly sweeps using his straight twig, helping her get the stances right. Luke's father had been a renowned warrior, and he had taught Luke many things before he died. Icarus and Athena had swooped around their heads, crying encouragement as their bonds sparred up and down the alley, laughing and shouting mock threats at each other. And that was when Pete had come.

He tripped Julie as she passed his hiding place in the stone, laughing nastily. Luke had narrowed his eyes, one hand raising the stick menacingly as he bent to help Julie to her feet. At that moment, Eris the red-tailed hawk, whooped on by Pete, had come diving out of nowhere like a bullet, scoring her claws along Luke's exposed neck.

They were not terribly deep scratches. But for a bird bond to strike another human, or vice versa, was a despicable act. It was nearly taboo. When fights occurred, it was always human against human and bird against bird. It was this act of open contempt for this unspoken law that drove Luke to it.

Julie had never since seen Luke act as he had on that day. His gentle, humor-filled hazel eyes had clouded over with fury. He had snatched up the stick he had been using for sparring, and went for Pete as if it were a real sword. And Julie had stood there, stunned, as Athena seized the red-tailed hawk Eris in her enormous talons and pinned her there, helpless. It had all happened so quickly, there had been hardly time for Julie to move. She remembered Pete tearing off down the main street, chancing one glance back at Luke, who stood there with his chest heaving, holding the stick like a sword at his side, the remainder of his anger smoldering in his eyes. And Julie remembered realizing, on that day, how ferocious Luke could be when he was roused.

That was when Maeron had come.

Julie had run to Luke, to see if he was all right, when the metallic thud of horse's hooves had sounded right behind her. She had spun in terror, stumbling against the wall as a jet-black horse loomed over her, snorting hot breath from its quivering nostrils. And then, that hair-raising falcon's shriek, and she was staring into the pit-like eyes of a peregrine. She remembered Lord Maeron as a dismounting shadow, his boots thumping ominously on the cobbles, the falcon lifted high on his wrist, with its back hunched. His eyes had been twin points of dark ice as he strode toward Luke, passing Julie as if she was part of the filthy alley wall.

Luke's residual anger had vanished the moment he saw Lord Maeron. Everyone knew the governor; he did not come often, but his visits were well-remembered one way or another. Now he backed up slightly, the stick hanging limply at his side.

"Fighting, boy?" Maeron's thunderous voice chilled Julie to the bone. "I've just passed a near hysterical lad in the street out there, said something about a mad boy beating him with a stick. That you?"

Julie had swallowed, her throat dry as sand. "No, sir, he wasn't, really, he was protecting me, that Pete is a…" Maeron turned and froze her with a stare. The falcon made a low whistle and snapped its beak at her. Icarus, brave bird though he was, had shrunk on her shoulder. Maeron returned his attention to Luke.

"Now, if you're so eager to fight, why not have a little spar with me?" Maeron drew a full warrior's longsword from a sheath at his belt.

Luke's eyes had gone wide, and he had croaked out a weak attempt at a chuckle. "Sir, I hardly think that seems fair—"

Julie's eyes had hardly followed what happened next. Maeron swung the sword, Luke brought up the stick in a futile, instinctive parry, and Athena screeched. Before Julie had blinked once, Luke was slammed against the alley wall, the sword blade pressing into his throat. The two halves of the stick fell, neatly shorn, onto the stones.

Julie would never forget the look in Luke's eyes as he stood there, his pulse beating madly in his throat, shaking with pure, unadulterated terror. He looked like a trapped animal, a helpless creature that knows it is gazing into the face of death. And if there was one thing Julie had always counted on with Luke, it was that he was never helpless. Seeing him like this had shaken her to the core.

"I don't like bullies. Remember that, boy." And Maeron had sheathed his sword, leaped back onto his horse, and wheeled it about with a yell. The peregrine falcon had swooped low, and Julie had gazed into its black, cold eyes, struck by horrible fear. And Luke had collapsed on the stones, trembling with repressed sobs, his eyes glassy with shock, and a delicate line of drying blood across his neck.

Julie felt Luke lurch beneath her hand, felt a whiplash of thought strike her mind, and she realized with horror that she had been accidentally transmitting her memory to Luke. She turned back to where Jafar, the falcon, was still gazing steadily at them. Though Maeron's eyes were roaming among the townspeople, the peregrine's line of sight never shifted. Often, Julie had found, the way a bird bond acted was more representative of the human's mood. People were good at concealing emotion, birds were not.

Julie did a very bold thing then. Narrowing her eyes, she stared back at the peregrine, and stabbed thought at it, trying to communicate emotion through the look. With all due respect, falcon Jafar, withdraw from my friend, now.

It was not necessarily taboo to speak to another's bird bond, especially if you used formal and polite speech. But the governor's bird bond was something else entirely. And to place a veiled threat in the comment as well was outside the bounds of courteousness.

The falcon made a sharp jerking movement with its head, twittering sharply and bitingly. But it moved its stony gaze onward, and left Luke alone.

Luke's body loosened, sagging visibly beneath Julie's hand. He dropped his head. Then he looked up, his hazel eyes glowing feebly at her beneath his bronze bangs. "Thanks," he whispered, his voice low. Athena shuffled on his shoulder, and Julie saw the immense eagle owl take a lock of Luke's hair and run it affectionately through her beak, preening him, making soft churring noises.

Maeron's mouth hardened into a thin line. He jerked the reins of his horse viciously, making the stallion toss its head in discomfort. Then his icy voice echoed over the assembled community.

"I come with a direct order from the Rathyan minister himself. Because of the numerous skirmishes that have been breaking out across the country, many children have been left orphaned." Here, Maeron tried for what he evidently considered a concerned and sorrowful face. But the look, like all his others, never managed to change his icy eyes. And Jafar never betrayed even a hint of remorse; the falcon simply continued his malevolent, unblinking scrutiny. "Of course, there are also older orphans, in their teens now, whose parents were lost in earlier fighting. The Rathyan minister courteously recognizes the needs of these children. To remove the strain from other citizens, the minister and the other nobles of the court have generously agreed to take all orphans to the capital city of Carraw to be looked after."

There was an instant outbreak of muttering at this. Some people looked quizzically at each other, wondering what could have prompted this sudden decree. Most of the laws enforced by the Rathyan minister, who was head of most of the government activities in the capital, were meant to be followed only in the general vicinity of Carraw. The outlying villages like Julie's held town councils to make and change laws.

Julie frowned slightly. There were only one or two other orphans like her in the town, and she was fairly sure none of them were interested in going to Carraw. Her thoughts were echoed by a large, friendly looking man with a Pygmy Owl bond. He stood up, wiping his face habitually with a handkerchief, and addressed Maeron amiably, as if the governor was an equal on the streets.

"I think our orphans are perfectly fine in their adoptive households. They've settled into our village wonderfully, bless them. Just look at Julie there! Old Mother Acko does so well taking care of the girl."

Julie ducked her head as many of the townspeople turned to look at her, even though most of their gazes were approving. Maeron, however, silenced the people a second time.

"I'm afraid you have misunderstood," he said with a false smile. "This missive is not an option the minister is extending. It is an order. Any child whose birth parents are deceased in this town must come with me to the capital no later than tomorrow eve."

There was a moment of shocked silence. Then, the noise burst forth in a wave, every single person speaking at once. But the voices that sounded loudest in Julie's ears were Mother Acko's hoarse, horrified, "No!" and the ferocious, half-snarl of "Never!" that rumbled in her ear. Still numb with shock, Julie turned to see Luke looming over her, shaking his bangs out of his eyes with fiery determination. Suddenly, the Luke that had defended her in the alley against Pete was burning in those hazel eyes.

Another moment later, a frantic, claw-like hand gripped at Julie's shoulder, and Mother Acko was hugging her tightly. "No, Julie, no. They won't take you from me, ever." Julie couldn't respond. Her mind had frozen. But she was aware that Maeron was watching her over the milling, shouting heads of the people, and there was something unmistakably triumphant in his gaze.

Mother Acko turned now to Maeron, her eyes furious. She pointed an accusing bony finger at him. "How dare you suggest taking away our young ones? Julie is as good as my kin; I've looked after her since she could walk! You can march right to Carraw and tell the minister we refuse his kind offer!" The old woman's voice rasped with angry sarcasm.

There was an immediate shout of support for Mother Acko, as villagers echoed her words. But there were some that hunched their heads and remained silent. They were too afraid of the governor to speak up.

Maeron didn't seem at all bothered by the furious outcry. Still smiling with smug superiority, he reached to a circular pouch buckled at his waist. Jafar jerked his head and screeched. The sound cut like a knife blade through the villagers' protests.

"Well then, if you're all so opposed to it…" Maeron said with deadly calm. His fingers were still roving purposefully around his belt, and Julie, through her hazy mind, saw Luke staring at him with a strange expression on his face. Suddenly, her friend leaped sideways, catching her and Mother Acko in one flying movement. The three of them fell heavily, and Athena, Icarus, and the ancient Jujo were catapulted into the air, screeching with shock.

A split second later, a thin streak of black laced through the air, curling into the spot where Julie and Mother Acko had stood moments before. There was a sound like a gunshot above their heads, and an eerie whistling. Then there came the sound of Jafar rasping with unmistakable fury.

"Whip!" gasped Luke as he struggled to disentangle himself from Julie.

Shock cleared the haze of disbelief and grief from Julie's mind. Of course! Why hadn't she remembered Lord Maeron's legendary skill with the bullwhip?

His face taut with anger, Maeron whirled the enormous object over his head, twirling it like a dark snake. A tiny dark stone was attached to its end; it was this object that made the explosive sound when the whip was cracked. And if Julie remembered correctly from the stories she had overheard in the local marketplace, that stone was not at all ordinary…

Her suspicion was confirmed a moment later. Lord Maeron wheeled his horse viciously, cracking the whip as he turned. The weapon curled in on itself, and as the stone snapped against the thick leather, there was a burst of sparks.

The tiny glowing shards rained without mercy onto the roof of the nearest hut, thatched with straw. The villagers stared in openmouthed horror as Maeron dug his heels into the flanks of the black stallion. Jafar took wing, skimming above the governor's head as he rode toward the gates of town. Maeron coiled the whip in midair, shoving it back into his belt in one swift movement. As he went he roared back, "I tried to deal fairly with you, but your foolishness cannot be tolerated. I do not have time to play games with you. Tonight as the sun sets, I will return. The orphans will be waiting for me, or you will all fall to the consequences. Good day."

It took about an hour to put out the flames of the burning house. It was not damaged beyond repair, but the roof would need to be completely rebuilt. All the townspeople worked in stunned silence. None of them seemed able to believe what had just happened.

Luke and Julie helped for a while, and then Luke surreptitiously drew Julie away from the workers. There was a completely new look in his eyes now. He was not the traumatized person he had been only hours earlier. There was something stony and determined in him.

Julie opened her mouth to speak, but he cut her off with a decisive shake of his head. "Don't even say it," he murmured fiercely. "You aren't going. You and Mother Acko are my best friends, and I'm not going to let anything happen to either of you!"

"Luke," Julie whispered back in exasperation. "You heard what he said! He's going to come back and burn this place to the ground if I don't go! It isn't a question of going or staying. It's a question of letting the town be destroyed."

"No," Luke's voice was even lower now. "I have to protect you, like I always have."

Julie shook her head. A sudden spark of defiance stirred in her. For the first time that day, she looked her friend full in the eyes. "You can't protect me forever, Luke. I can take care of myself, sometimes. Maybe it won't even be so bad…and I'll have Icarus."

"Won't be so bad?!" Luke's voice rose several octaves; it would have been comical if not for their situation. "This is Maeron we're talking about, Julie!"

A sudden flash of memory burst into Julie's mind, of Maeron pinning Luke to the wall with a sword at his throat. She shook it off quickly.

"I'll miss you Luke," she whispered resolutely, and before he could try to persuade her further, she went back to help with the wreckage of the house.

The rest of the day she sat on her long bed with its snow-white sheets and stroked Icarus, thinking. There was no other way she could see out this predicament. Not one that wouldn't put Mother Acko and the town in danger. But she still couldn't wrap her mind around the idea of going to the capital, forever. What in the world would she do there? Who would take care of her, who would she live with? And the idea of never again setting eyes on Mother Acko or Luke was one she refused to let her mind near. She would break down completely if she did.

Icarus tried his best to comfort her, running his hooked beak through her hair, making soft, soothing twitters, and tugging comically at her shirt hem, something that had always made her laugh. But it was clear the gyrfalcon was depressed too. As she had a deep connection with Luke, Icarus did too. It was impossible for a bird bond not to feel the emotions of its human to some degree. The sadder and more desperate Julie got, the more wilted Icarus became, until he gave up amusing her and went to sit on his leather covered perch, head down dejectedly. Finally, her mind exhausted by its endless turning and circling, Julie fell into a restless sleep that was more escape than anything else.

She woke to someone shaking her shoulder, hard.

She blinked drowsily, struggling to focus and think. The light outside the window was filtering in, in shades of purple and blue, so it had to be twilight. Had she slept the whole day?

Suddenly, Mother Acko was chiveing her to her feet. "Get up, dear, we haven't much time!" whispered the old woman anxiously. "Get your things."

"Where am I going?" asked Julie sleepily.

"You truly thought I'd let the governor take you? Never, I said, and never I meant. You're going away."

The choked sound of suppressed tears in Mother Acko's voice startled Julie fully out her sleep. "What do you mean, 'I'm going away'?"

"Pack this." Mother Acko shoved a large, baggy knapsack into Julie's arms. "I taught you the secrets of survival and nature, you'll be fine. It's just until this blows over." The old woman sounded as if she were speaking to herself more than Julie.

Julie stood there dumbly, clutching the pack. Quickly, she dragged her scattering thoughts together. "I can't go, Mother Acko. Maeron will burn the village, and he might hurt you."

Mother Acko shook her head vigerously. "Come now, give me more credit than that, Julie dear. I have a plan. I will tell the governor you are dead."

Julie stared. This was impossible…

"It's the only way. You will go on the road for a while…explore, camp, live in the woods. Maeron will not know you are alive, so he will leave us alone. The other orphans have already agreed to go to Carraw, but I know that is a mistake. I do not want to do this Julie, believe me, but it is for your sake."

This was all happening far too fast, Julie's mind was whirling. Dimly she felt Mother Acko dressing her like a baby in warm pants and jacket lined with fleece, buckling on her bond pads. She heard Mother Acko speaking severely to Icarus, saying "Now you take care of her, hear me?" and Icarus replying in several indignant rasps. There were some deep, rough hoots from Jujo, and then Mother Acko was stuffing things into the knapsack. As if from someone else's eyes Julie watched the old woman fill the pack: mice for Icarus, dried food for Julie, more clothing, a flint striker, a thick blanket, a packet of herbs, a thick book Julie had never seen before, and lastly a small dagger. "May you never need it," Mother Acko whispered with feeling. "The book contains stories and knowledge of the wild. It may come in useful. Now sit down. I have one last gift to impart to you, dear Julie." Tears pooled in the elder's eyes as she tugged the still reeling Julie into a kitchen chair. Icarus settled onto her shoulder, squeezing to let her know he was there.

"This gift is not one you can hold, not in your hands at least. My last gift is a story, one you must remember all your life so you can teach it to your children one day. I would have told you when you turned sixteen, as is customary, but you will need it before you set out, I can tell. It is the tale of the First Bonding of Rathya."

Julie lurched forward in surprise. The First Bonding was a legend she had asked for often, but Mother Acko had always waved her off, saying she would tell it when Julie was older. Now it seemed she would finally hear this most elusive story. But Mother Acko was already beginning in her best storytelling voice, and Julie leaned forward, trying to commit every word to memory