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Salt air.
There had been no scent to the hill in her vision. She had a good nose, and she would have remembered. There had been flowers. Ma always wore wood’s lily or sweet pea sachets, and Daine had smelled nothing at all. But the Stormwing had come when she was in the air over this place. She had smelled him.
Standing outside the tent, in a cold wind, she reached out.
She was too tired to go far—less than a mile, only part of her usual range. She brushed the mind of an albatross that wheeled just over the rocks, but that was as far as her senses went. At that distance, she could trust her eyes as much as her magic, and they told her there were no Stormwings about.
Cloud followed her to the ocean, as cross as Numair had been. Haven’t you had enough fun? she asked, gracefully picking her way down the bluff while her mistress slid and scrambled.
“Not near,” Daine replied. She sighed in relief when she reached the strip of sand between cliff and water. “Don’t distract me, either.”
I wouldn’t dream of it, the mare retorted.
If I think about it, I’ll only chicken out, Daine told herself firmly. Like as not it isn’t near as cold as it looks, either. Yanking off boots and stockings, she plunged into the waves up to her knees. Once her feet were numb she tried again, gripping a rock to keep from being knocked off balance.
There—far overhead, hovering behind a long cloud, a tiny dot of wrongness. The hackles went up on the back of her neck.
Why so far up? she wondered. He just hangs there, waiting. Watching?
She sat down. “Cloud, keep me from being sucked under!”
I will do no such thing, the mare replied. Come out this instant.
Daine turned and fixed her eyes on Cloud. “Now, please.” She used her will—just a touch of it. “It’s important.”
Grumbling, the pony waded in and gripped the back of Daine’s shirt in her teeth. I hope it rips, she grumbled.
Daine reached behind herself to grab the pony’s mane. If I go, you go, she retorted. Numb to the waist, she closed her eyes and sent her magic out.
There was her nasty friend, a jarring note in the sky. He was far from a single note, however. He was part of a thin, jangling chord that reached north and south where the waves boomed, as far as her hearing could go.
She dragged herself out of the water. “Get me to the others? Please?” she gasped, crawling onto Cloud’s back. “Not the trainees. Umm—”
To Numair’s tent? The mare sounded worried in spite of herself.
“Good. Yes. Have Tahoi bring Onua. It’s important.”
Just hang on and be quiet.
Daine collapsed over her friend’s neck. “Of course.” Cloud’s mane was delightfully warm on her face.
“I’m sure,” she repeated. All the adults were gathered around Numair’s small fire. “They’re up and down the coast as far as I can hear.”
“How can they stay in one place like that?” Buri asked.
“They have their own magic,” Numair replied, drying his feet from his own seawater dip, taken once he’d heard what Daine had to say.
“Can they see everything?” Alanna wanted to know. “Can they look through walls or stone?”
“I think they see like hawks,” Daine guessed. “I don’t know what they can do with their magic.”
“They can use only a little without being noticed.” Numair was still shivering. “If a sorcerer knows where to look, he can see the aura of their magic for miles. All they dare risk is the bit that holds them aloft.” He made a face. “Once I thought to look that far, of course.”
“Don’t blame yourself,” Alanna said tartly. “I see magic too, and I never spotted them.” She patted Daine’s shoulder. “Good work.” She got to her feet. “I have to let Jonathan know. He won’t be pleased.” She walked away, far from the noise made by the trainees getting up. Within minutes a small fire blazed where she had gone, burning first orange, then purple.
Buri fed their fire more wood. “What now?” she asked the queen.
Thayet sighed. “I wanted to stay a few days at Buzzard Rocks, but maybe that’s not a good idea. We’ll move them along today, camp early at the Rocks, and go before dawn. Onua can ward the camp. There’s not much else we can do, once my lord gets Alanna’s message.”
“We’ve seen fishing boats and villages,” Onua said thoughtfully. “They aren’t raiding. They aren’t raiding, and they aren’t killing.”
“You sound almost sorry,” Buri commented.
“In a way I am. That would make sense.” Onua got to her feet. “They’re watching the coast like cats at mouseholes, but who’s the mouse?”
The Riders moved out briskly, and kept up the pace of the day before. Numair, apparently over his bad temper of the previous night, taught and questioned Daine on the habits of dolphins and whales.
Late in the day, when they took a side road to the village of Buzzard Rocks, Daine picked up a growing hum. With it came a feeling of otherness, though not that of monsters, or even of the water and tree sprites of the Royal Forest. She intended to tell Numair once they had pitched camp.
Their talk was postponed. When they reached the cluster of huts and sheds that marked the town, they found it was deserted. Thayet broke the trainees up into groups, and they fanned out to search the cluster of buildings. Daine and Cloud followed Numair, who did a search of his own.
“It happened fast, whatever it was,” he said, almost to himself, as he peered into barns, wells, and chicken coops. “Yet they did have a chance to pack and gather livestock.” Then turning he asked, “What’s the matter with your ears?”
She blushed and stopped rubbing them. “I keep hearing this—sound.”
“Oh?” His look was skeptical. “Hearing with your ears, or your mind?”
She listened for a moment. “With my mind. Sorry.”
“Is it like the Stormwings?”
“No—more like the undine, but not like her exactly. And I have this feeling, as if—I don’t know—when I see a juggler or something marvelous.” She looked up at him miserably. “I’m sorry—I can’t tell you anyth
ing else.”
“Don’t worry. Come on—maybe the others have learned something. Tell me right away if anything changes.”
They joined the Riders in the village square. No one had found any clues. “They had time to pack,” Alanna said. “It wasn’t a raid or disease—”
The hum turned into a roaring chime in Daine’s head. Selda shrieked.
They came in low over the beach where the fishing boats lay, giant things too large for birds. The mounts went crazy with fear, needing all their riders’ attention. Spots, Cloud, and Tahoi shrank close to Daine and Numair, who were frozen with awe. Selda’s ponies broke from her hold and ran into the rocks—five other ponies and Sarge’s General did the same.
Daine realized poor Mangle was having hysterics, and went to grip his bridle. “Shush,” she told him absently. “Calm down.” Trembling, he obeyed.
“Weapons!” barked Thayet. Those who could do so grabbed their bows.
The birds—if they were birds—banked and came for another pass, giant wings shining like dim gold in the sun. This time they gave voice to shuddering, screaming roars. One of them raked the cart’s roof with its claws, slicing the canvas as neatly as butter.
Daine saw what was about to happen. “Stop!” she called, to attackers and defenders.
Buri got in the first shot, Thayet the second. The great creatures were out of range, but already they were curving around again. “No!” Daine yelled now to the humans. “Leave them be!”
“We’re under attack!” Buri yelled.
“Don’t shoot! They don’t understand. If you’ll give me a second—” But she could see fifteen arrows were fitted to strings. She screamed her fury.
Ponies and horses grabbed for the arrows, breaking them in their teeth. Sarge’s Ox actually knocked him over. Daine wasted no time watching something she knew she could catch trouble for later. She ran toward the sea and the incoming creatures, waving her arms. “No! Stop! It’s not what you think! It’s not what they think!” Closing her eyes, she grabbed her power and threw it out like a net, pleading, Listen to me!
