Would I still find the answer to that question? Oliza had abdicated. She did not plan to have natural-born children. Why was the vision of Keyi still coming to me so strongly?

I felt Obsidian struggle against the magic I had left on him, and shift it until he could lay a cautious hand on my shoulder.

"Talk to me," he said.

"Fire," I whispered. I squeezed my eyes shut against the image. "It's too much. I can't control it."

"Can't control what?"

Everything.

The future."

"No one can," he said.

The anguish I felt wasn't my own. It belonged to the serpents and the avians who would be destroyed in a future in which this child existed. Even so, it felt as if my heart had been ripped from me...

Suddenly, for the first time since the day I had spun my first sakkri, I was weeping. I cried without tears and without sound, but still my breath hitched and my body shook. I reached for Ecl, my peaceful oblivion, but this close to Maeve's km and the balancing magic they still held, I couldn't make myself fall into the void even if I could have forgotten that damning vow to Nicias.

Without words, Obsidian wrapped me in his arms, holding me as I struggled to free myself from the aching sorrow. Was this how other people felt, all the time? How could anyone live if at any moment they could be struck by this pain? Even when I shoved back all the screaming, wailing and weeping, I could taste tears on the back of my tongue and feel them making my lungs tight and my chest heavy.

Finally, as the dry sobs subsided, I asked, "Wiry?"

"Why what?"

"Why comfort a mongrel falcon who would strike you with magic just for coming near?"

He tilted his head, a quizzical, almost amused expression on his face. "You really don't know?"

"You've said you were loyal to my father," I said, guessing.

"True, I was loyal to Anjay Cobriana. If he had lived to be king, I would have followed him. When you first came to Wyvern's Court, I introduced myself to you because I knew you were his daughter. But that is not why I am still here right now."

"Then why?"

He shook his head as he rose to his feet, and offered me a hand to help me stand. "I would never be able to walk away from someone in the condition I found you in. I don't have a falcon's power, but I could feel your agony half a mile away." When he saw my confusion, he asked, "Doesn't anyone on Ahnmik ever just do the right thing?"

I snickered.

"Right is a relative term when you're dealing with the white falcon." Hesitantly, I took Vere Obsidian's hand, but this time there was no flash of power. No visions overwhelmed me as I rose shakily to my feet; I was too burned out for even my volatile magic to catch a spark.

Chapter 6

"I've never thought of you as a falcon until now," Vere said, "when I heard you speak of yourself as if Anhamirak has never touched you. I suppose it was arrogant of me, to ignore one half of your parentage because I was fonder of the other."

"If you have to ignore half my blood, I would rather you ignore my father's," I said, cut by his words, which I had heard in many forms as a child.

He shook his head. "Then you would have been dead long before I let you walk these woods."

"I could kill you before you could injure me," I pointed out. "I could kill you in such a way that you would feel like it took you centuries to die. I was raised on Ahnmik, after all. I might have been a dancer, but I learned many of the Mercy's tricks." He nodded. "I suppose you could, except for one thing."

"What is that?"

"You would have to care enough about your own life, and my death, to do it. And you don't, not nearly." I shrugged. "Perhaps."

Perhaps. I felt very tired, very worn down by the despair in my visions, for someone who couldn't care less if she lived or died.

As if summoned by my thoughts, the child darted across our path again. White-blond hair streamed behind the running figure.

"I told Nicias I would check on Oliza for him," I said, shifting the topic to something that concerned me more, "since I knew that you would not want him to come here himself." Partly I spoke to fulfill my duty to the peregrine, but I was equally interested in learning Vere's opinion of the abdicated princess. Keyi's possible fathers were many, but her white-blond hair in this particular vision could come only from one of the white vipers of the Obsidian guild.

"She's here. Heartbroken by what she has had to do, but confident that it was the right thing. Betia will help her through it." He paused, considering, before he added, "I have no objection to her being our guest, but I would like someday to know why she made the decision she did. I haven't wanted to pressure her."

"And you think I might know?"

"I know you know," he replied. "It's only a matter of whether you'll tell me."

"When your kin first left the Dasi, do you know what happened?"

"I suspect you're going to tell me I don't," he said wryly. "In the ancient days, the Dasi were able to summon spirits for guidance and call the rains to feed their crops. Namid's priest could see if a mother was kindled with life just by looking at her, and when it was time, he could usher that life into the world with ease. Brysh's priestess could take a dying man's last breath just as painlessly and wrap the survivors in peaceful mourning. When your ancestor Maeve left the Dasi, all control, all balance, left with her. Rams turned to floods that swept away homes and drowned dozens of men, women and children."

A bassinet, swept down the river, with a wailing infant inside.

"Namid's touch could burn a woman so the life inside her bled. Just a glance from the aplomado Syfka  -  who had been sworn to Brysh  -  could make a person fall, and a glance from Kiesha, Anhamirak's priestess..." I shuddered. "Can you imagine a cobra's being able to kindle fire with those garnet eyes?"

"They nearly can still," Vere whispered.

"Serpents don't remember what it was like in those first days, but I've seen it. If somehow Oliza and her mate survived her coronation  -  an unlikely enough possibility, since serpents will not accept an avian Nag, and avians will not accept a serpent alistair  -  Oliza's child would bring back those days of despair, which the entire avianserpiente war was fought to keep at bay." The war. Nicias felt that the falcons' actions had been unjust, that kindling the war had been evil, but what else could have been done, when there were no good decisions that could have been made?

"How can you know this?" Vere asked me.

"Sakkri."

I replied.

Why was I trying to warn this white viper of what the consequences might be if he or one of his people joined with Oliza? What did I have to lose if Wyvern's Court burned?

It would possibly mean my reconciliation with my mother, and therefore my Empress, presuming I survived the fire.

It would mean Nicias's broken heart as well.

And of course, the loss of Wyvern's Court.

Our conversation was interrupted as we reached the Obsidian campsite, and I was grateful for the timing. It kept me from pondering why I found myself trying to protect Wyvern's Court when letting it burn might gain me everything.

The Obsidian camp was simple. Hammocks, designed so they could be taken down swiftly if necessary, had been strung between the trees around a central fire. The Obsidian guild was tolerated by the current monarchy, but in the past they had been actively hunted, and they had never dropped their habits from those days. All their camps were transient, and all their members armed.

As we entered, a pair of serpents was performing a flame-dance. They wove their bodies against each other, sliding around, over and through the campfire. A mistake, and those watching would choke on the smell of burned flesh. I closed my eyes, and for a moment I saw the triple arches of Ahnmik. The three arches were among the highest structures in the city, less only to the yenna'marl, the white towers. To fall from that height...

Some days, I felt as if I might still be falling.

I opened my eyes, forcing my attention past the dancers, to where Oliza was curled in the arms of her wolf, Betia. The wyvern's eyes were swollen, as if she had been crying, and she was watching the flame-dance intently, as if to avoid drowning in her own thoughts. Her expression, which reflected how I felt every moment of my waking life, drew me to her almost against my will.

Betia saw me first, and her gaze met mine.

Don't hurt her the wolf said, quite clearly, without needing to speak. She has been through enough today.

I nodded, knowing she would sooner snap my neck than let me harm her mate. Betia's attention prompted Oliza's, and the wyvern visibly braced herself as she watched me approach.

I almost said, I understand.

I knew why Oliza had left, knew the horrors she had seen, which no one should ever have to face. I was probably the only person in this world who fully understood. But as I looked into Oliza's eyes, the words fled. The once princess had her mate for understanding. She had Obsidian land for sanctuary. And, I realized, she had the blessed amnesia that came to those who worked sakkri without training. She remembered only enough to know that she had chosen this exile for a reason, and to fear the woman who had twice triggered the terrifying visions of the future.

I took a step back, surprised by how much it hurt to see such wariness in her.

"I'm sorry," I said, without being able to help it.

"Why?" Oliza's voice was guarded, with good reason. She had no way of knowing that I had not intentionally shown her the visions that had eventually led to her abdication. Araceli, heir to the Empress, had hinted more than once that it would please the royal falcon house if Oliza never took the throne of Wyvern's Court. If the veiled request had come from Cjarsa, or if my loyalty to Nicias had not stayed my hand, I would not have hesitated to sabotage Oliza's reign.

Oliza was right to be nervous. She had no reason to trust me.

"For intruding," I said. "Nicias was worried. Since he can't come here, I told him I would look in on you."

Oliza relaxed a little when I said the peregrine's name. "Please, thank Nicias for checking on me, and tell him that I'm sorry I couldn't let him know where I was going. I'm with friends." She added, "I couldn't stay at court."

"He understands."

As do I. "I'll let him know you are safe."

"Thank you."

I turned to go, but she called my name.

"Hai?"

"Yes?"

"I know my leaving hurt Nicias. Take care of him?"

The image of Nicias as Ahnmik's cold prince briefly flickered through my memory. I wondered if Oliza had seen that vision, and if it had made any difference. "I will, as long as I can."

I walked away from Oliza and Betia and back toward the dancers.

"Watching their movement, I could almost read the pattern left by the dancers' bodies. The white vipers currently performing had just enough magic to lace the air with innate power but not enough to hold the spell in place. Otherwise, a daraci'Kain like this would have had the power to call the rain... or, if unbalanced, to drown the earth.

""What do you think of our dancers?" Vere Obsidian asked me. I shook my head, trying to banish the image of dancing from my mind... trying to forget the white arches, where I had experienced the greatest bliss and the greatest devastation.

"They're lovely," I said, with no real emotion in my voice. The dancers had sunk into a deep bow, feet, knees, head and hands pressed to the ground. There were two reasons for the bow: the first was to give thanks to the audience, and the second was to recover their strength.

On Ahnmik, such a bow would sometimes last days, as the dancers rested. Those dances were rare, but incredible to behold, especially when performed by someone of the upper ranks.

"Hai?"

"What?" I snapped, more forcefully than I had intended. Vere Obsidian held out his hand. "Dance with me."

Fool.

Didn't he know my wings were broken? They had been scarred, tortured and lost the last time I had tried to dance, in the skies of the white city. "Are you still courting my father, Vere, or are you courting me now?"

He arched an eyebrow. "I might do both," he admitted, "if I thought I could ever mean half as much to you as your peregrine does. But what man on this earth could hope to compete with the prince who brought you back to life?"

The honest reply, so blunt that it could have come only from a serpent, diminished my useless anger. I just shook my head. "I don't dance anymore." I rubbed my hands over my arms, smoothing away goose bumps. "Please, just... understand."

"It's hard to understand when you refuse to explain." Serpents!

Only they would insist on dragging such pain back into reality, on rehashing and sharing such vile histories.

He waited, until I found words that could answer him. "The ancient dances were meant to weave magic. I can't control my power even when I do not call upon it; if I try to dance, I don't know what will happen."

"There's more," he said softly, no doubt reading the deeper fear in my eyes.

"Another day, viper."

He sighed. "As you wish... cobra."

I winced as I turned away.

Better to forget.

Chapter 7

In desperate need of comfort but not wanting to bother Nicias, I traveled to a still pool deeper in the forest. To detach myself from the chaos of this reality, I immersed myself in the cold water. I swam deeper, until my lungs burned and my heart raced, and then finally those physical pains faded as my magic replaced breath and blood. I reached for the city of Ahnmik.