[Belin]

Oh, yes, he remembered Krikaw. His fault, not Akaaw’s, but there was no reason to make an issue of that. Brak had a point; Akaaw had brought them there, and seemed to care little what became of those who followed. Indeed, Akaaw and Fingot together had spoken ill of those who had died of exhaustion, blaming the laziness and the weakness of these friends of his, staunch birds whose blind zeal had amazed Kadwyr for most of his short life. Oh yes, he remembered. But he also remembered Brak’s terrible fall through the trees, and the cries of crows convinced, his own voice among them. And if Krikaw had died needlessly, Kadwyr saw no need to follow suit. He had always considered himself a sensible crow, a crow that understood the workings of the murder and the ways of the world. Who had power must be obeyed, ran the maxim. And those who questioned maxims were fools…or leaders. He eyed Brak with uncertainty.

"And Hardclaw, and Mitakaw?" he asked experimentally. "Do you remember that?"

"Craaawk," sighed Brak disgustedly. "His skull’s as hard as his claws, and you know it. Without Fingot and Akaaw, he’d be nothing. If it’s Fingot you’re afraid of, say so. But if fear and not loyalty is holding the murder together, perhaps it should be dissolved. And where is their loyalty to you? Did they save you from danger? Did they—"

"Look," broke in Kadwyr tensely. Brak looked. It was small, hidden, and barely perceptible, but there was a faint hint of red at a distance on the ground below them.

"Is that...fire?"

Kadwyr chuckled, deep in his throat. "Fire," he said. He had a sudden desire to land so that he could preen. Fire. His mind was full of thoughts of himself, himself as the discoverer of their quarry, himself as the hero of the mission, himself as a favorite of the wizard, no longer overlooked in favor of the snobbish children of that decrepit crow, no longer sneered at for his youth, taking the glory that was rightfully his and that Akaaw would never accord to him.

"It is the wizard, of course, who wished us to find them," said Kadwyr, "and it is he who wants the news. The wizard is stronger than either of them. And who has power must be obeyed." He chuckled again.

Brak was watching him closely. "I can count on you then?"

Kadwyr made a sound like one he had heard the strawheads make, riding out. "Kadwyr Sharpeyes," he said, giving himself a title, as nobody had bothered to give him one before, "is in service of your cause." The other crow nodded slowly and with some satisfaction.

Kadwyr glanced back briefly over his shoulder. He did not know what had become of Eschkor. He must have returned to the murder, if he had in fact escaped. His friend, Kadwyr reflected sadly, was a very sensible crow, and a great follower of the maxims.

**********************

The sun was rising as they headed north. The eyes of Kadwyr and Brak were fixed upon the speck of fire they had discerned among the prickles and brambles beneath them. Around them, the crows of Brak’s company had spread out and were circling back and forth, searching carefully. Kadwyr peered back for a moment, trying to see whether the rest of the murder was visible in the still-dim sky, but found his view blocked, this time, by the many black-feathered bodies around him. He had already forgotten how much difference it made to be able to fly slightly above the others or to the front of them. He clacked his beak in irritation and wondered whether they would be visible from the ground. His own change of tactics really made for much better spying, he thought—had Akaaw really intended to fly over their quarry unobtrusively with the entire murder behind him? Foolishness.

All the same, he missed his own company, even Korag, who would doubtless claim to have been there the whole time, and he was keenly aware that all the real power here was Brak’s. He wondered how many of them would join him when they returned. All, he thought, if the plan worked the way that they hoped it would. But he would have liked to have Eschkor with him now.

They were nearing the place where they had seen the fire, and, small and low as it now was, a flash of red was still visible among the bushes. They circled lower, searching. “There!” croaked one of Brak’s crows, gesturing toward the ground near the area he was searching. Two men, one of them with the look of a leader and one no more than a child, cowered under a holly bush, as if they hoped not to be seen. Near them slept several others, Men, children, and an Elf and a Dwarf. The crows stared at them silently as they swept overhead, still moving to the north with the winds. The mission was complete. They would turn east again shortly.

Kadwyr strained for altitude, until he thought he could see the great murder, still moving westward. But between them and the others was another group of three or four, calling back and forth to each other in confusion and flying approximately northeast. One of them circled back occasionally, using a trick of balance that Kadwyr had only ever seen in one bird. Eschkor?

Cautiously, he dropped behind the others for a moment to see.

[ June 11, 2003: Message edited by: Belin ]