Protector of the Flight. Robin D. Owens

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СКАЧАТЬ see that they had much in common, but he looked like a stand-up guy, and the more choices she had, the better.

      They all ate in silence. When they were done, Marian said, “Speaking of the Choosing and Bonding, we’d better get back.”

      “There’re hours until evening,” Alexa grumbled. “Marian—”

      “Back,” Marian said firmly. “You can’t prepare for something this life altering too early.”

      Calli’s burger turned to lead in her stomach.

      “Just gonna dump Sevair?” asked Alexa.

      “If he’s going to put a token on the Choosing table, he’ll have to prepare, too,” Marian said. She gestured around them. “The place is almost empty. Most of the Chevaliers are probably up in Horseshoe Hall meditating and bathing and Singing.”

      “Singing?” asked Calli.

      “Praying,” Marian said.

      “Oh.” It would probably be a good thing to do a bit of that herself. Calli didn’t consider herself a very spiritual person. Her dad certainly didn’t truck with any sort of religion, so she wasn’t quite sure who she’d pray to. The closest she’d come to a spiritual experience lately was flying on Thunder. That decided her. “I’d like to see the volarans again.”

      “Shoot,” Marian said, digging into a pocket of her gown and dropping a couple of gold coins into Alexa’s outstretched hand.

      Alexa winked at Calli. “I won the bet that you’d want to fly again before this evening.”

      Calli stared at Marian. “You’re the one who was there when I took off and landed yesterday. You like volarans better than Alexa, why would you think I wouldn’t want to fly today?”

      “You fell off yesterday. You don’t have the tack you like. You should be thinking of the Choosing and Bonding ritual and preparing for it.”

      “I won’t fall off. Thunder wouldn’t let me. Bastien’s bringing a variety of tack for me to examine, so I’ll find something acceptable. As for preparing for the Choosing and Bonding, I’d rather keep my mind and hands occupied. Furthermore, I think the most spiritual experience I’ve had in my life was on the back of that volaran yesterday.”

      Marian’s expression softened. “I understand.”

      “So do I,” Alexa said, smiling.

      “I am the volarans’ Exotique,” Calli said.

      Masif wiped his mouth and hands with a napkin, then stood. He’d eaten very efficiently. All his turnip fries were gone. Without ketchup. There was no hope they’d link up together. He stood and slid from the table, offered Alexa a hand.

      Alexa opened her fingers and picked out a gold coin. Masif curled her fingers back over the money and said something. He nodded to Marian and Calli.

      On the other hand, the guy was obviously treating them. A gentleman. She could go for a gentleman.

      Alexa and Marian murmured thanks in Lladranan. Calli waited and said, “Thank you,” matching his serious expression.

      He set several gleaming silver coins on the table, bowed once more and walked away.

      “Nice guy,” Alexa said.

      “Very serious,” Marian said.

      “Yes, we seem to prefer the rogue and charmer types, huh? How about you, Calli?”

      “I’d like a man who’d love me.”

      Again those warm smiles. “That’s what’s important,” Marian said. She stood and Calli followed her, glancing around the place, not looking at the trophies. Not many people lingered. Two gay couples, one male, one female, all of whom smiled at her, and a grizzled old man, stood at the bar. The other booths were empty.

      “One moment,” Alexa said. She went toward a door on the wall.

      “I’ve never been in there,” Marian said, following.

      Feet slow, Calli asked, “More trophies?”

      “Not exactly.” Alexa pushed open the door. The room was dark but the minute she walked in, light came on. She waved to roughly faceted quartz crystals sitting in brackets.

      “An older lighting system, interesting,” Marian said. She stopped and looked up.

      Calli entered the room and looked up, too. It wasn’t a large room, but it was high-ceilinged and held hundreds of flags in several rows from the top of the room to just above a tall Lladranan man’s head.

      “Heraldic banners of Chevaliers and Marshalls who’ve died the last two and a half years fighting the Dark,” Alexa said.

      Looking closer, Calli saw many were ripped and torn, showed brown stains of earth and blood. A couple were burnt and eaten away as if acid had spilled on them. Other colored stains, green, yellow or black, also decorated the flags.

      Calli gulped.

      Alexa stared at a big maroon banner edged in gold except where a chunk was burnt. Her expression was inscrutable. “That one belonged to Lord Knight Swordmarshall Reynard Vauxveau, Bastien and Luthan’s father.”

      Swordmarshall Thealia held that title, Calli knew, the greatest title in all the land. So the most powerful man in the country had died.

      Marian said, “We must return to the Castle.” She walked back into the barroom. Alexa did, too, leaving Calli alone.

      Calli stared at the flags, hanging still and solemn. Her heart tightened in awe and fear. All these people had fought against the monsters displayed in the other room, and lost. Died.

      Soon Calli would bind herself to a man who’d fight. She’d be expected to fight, too. Or defend with magic, Shield to the man’s Sword. Risk limb and life and volaran. Volarans must have died, too. She put a hand to her throat.

      She wanted a husband and a family and a ranch and beautiful volarans.

      This was the price.

      11

      As they were leaving town, Calli heard the worst thing in the world, horses’ terrified cries. She ran in the direction—more by feel and the screeching notes of mental noise than by ears. It was farther than she expected, through the town to the outskirts. There she saw a small round pen where a man flailed at two horses, a black and a bay, with a snapping whip, raising blood.

      A protective force field rippled around the man with the whip, but Calli could see his aura beneath—a nauseating yellow-green color. In the shadows of the building another chartreuse glow pulsed with meanness and excitement as he watched the abuse.

      “Stop!” Calli shouted, running fast. Fury burned in her so hotly she thought her hair crackled out from her head.

      The men turned to her, sneers on their face. Then they froze. The guy with the whip dropped his arm, openmouthed.

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