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They send a signal like a beacon, a ghostly signal, but visible to those who can see the imprint of
power....
Like the bird? Is that what drew it?
Nyx was silent, her eyes on Meguet while she mused, using the calm in her cousin s face to focus her
thoughts. I still don t know, she said at last, where that bird s sorcery comes from. Perhaps it was
simply made to find this place. Or any place of power.
For yet another mage? Meguet looked shaken. Nyx, how many mages will we have to contend
with?
Nyx shrugged. It s only speculation. I ll worry when I find something to worry about. She paused,
listening, the wine halfway to her lips. She put it down abruptly. Like now. My mother is coming.
The room composed itself in an eye-blink, as if, Meguet thought, its tidy self had been simply waiting in
abeyance around the moment of time Nyx searched through- Carpets and skins lay underfoot, weapons
and tapestries hung on the walls, books surrounded them on shelves and pedestals. The account books
Calyx had been studying lay open on a table, her pen angled on a page to mark a place. The mound of
chairs that had been balanced in an impossible pyramid on the wine table fanned around the hearth; not a
shadow or a flame had been misplaced. Nyx picked her supper out of the air and set it on a table. The
door opened.
The Holder entered, followed by her two older daughters, and Rush Yarr; a pair of armed guards
flanked the stranger. Even dressed in more civilized fashion, he looked formidable, tall and muscular,
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something of the bird s wildness about him. Meguet, remembering the rage and desolation in his cry,
wished she had thought to arm herself, for he was a man unaware of his own anger. The bird s fury
shaped itself into jewelled leaves; what form the man s might take was as yet unknown, perhaps even to
himself.
But, entering, he seemed quiet enough. He barely glanced around himself; his eyes found Nyx and clung.
Nyx gestured at a chair; he sat hesitantly, as if he had forgotten how. Meguet moved unobtrusively to a
table near him, leaned against it. Rush Joined her. The guards stood behind the Holder and her daughters,
silent, watchful. Nyx, at the hearth, studied him, fingering a strand of tiny pearls sliding down over one
ear.
Is there a name I can call you? she asked. One you might remember to answer to?
He was silent, dredging unknown fathoms of memory. He said finally, Every name I reach for eludes
me. It might be anything. Or nothing.
His face formed suddenly, clearly, under Nyx s absent gaze, as if, until then, she had only seen the
firebird. His eyes reminded her of something. She slid the strand of pearls behind her ear and
remembered what: the little cobalt box on the mantel behind her. She blinked; the entire room was still,
everyone fascinated, it seemed, by her silence. She gathered her thoughts, which had been fragmented by
a color. Two things I must do first. I want the bird s fire and I want its cry.
His lips parted; he whispered, How?
I ll tell you how after I have done it. I don t want to be turned into a gaudy pile of leaves every time it
looks at me. And the cry that bird makes is like the crying of every bird I have ever tormented in my
sorcery- It would wear me to the heart.
He was staring at her, transfixed, as if she had just changed shape, or taken shape, in his eyes. He made
a sudden movement, muscles gathering, his hands closing on the chair arms. The cry came and went like
lightning in his face. Silver flashed from behind the Holder as one of the guards moved. Meguet caught his
eyes, held him still. Nyx continued, her voice grim but deliberate, Mages find themselves sometimes on
strange roads, in strange places. You can trust me, but you don t know that. My past casts a shadow. If
you want a mage without a shadow, you must fly farther north, to a mage called Diu, who is very old and
tired, but would do a favor for me if I asked. You must
The bird found you, the man said. He was still gripping his chair, but he had made no other movement.
Nyx waited; he added, some feeling breaking into his low voice, I don t know how long the bird flew to
find you. But, entering this house, it cried its magic until you listened. You must do what you can. What
you want. The bird will choose to stay or go. It s no question of trust. Or of choice, for me. I have no
choice.
The Holder opened her mouth, closed it as the sorceress s eyes flicked at her. Nyx said, answering her
unspoken question, I cannot know how the bird found me, or why, or if it was sent until I begin to work.
I suspect that the spell was cast very long ago, and that the bird came here simply because it sensed a
thousand years of magic in this tower. So I will assume that, for now, all I have to do is remove a spell.
And if the bird was sent? the Holder asked. Perhaps by the mage who appeared yesterday? You
may put the entire house in danger.
Well, Nyx said softly, it won t be the first time.
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