Drift: River of Falcons Book 1

Plans Change

"Master," the servant said, bowing deeply, "three of the four search parties are back. They report that the runaways are not in the eastern forest, nor are they near the Palace, nor in town."

"The fourth?" Vultan demanded.

"They have yet to return."

"Then they run into resistance. The runaways must have anticipated them. Gather the leaders of the other search parties!"

"Yes, Master," the man said as he bowed his way out of Vultan's chambers.

Vultan strode across the room to a rack of staffs. Selecting one, he went to a window and peered out into the darkness. His attention was drawn to a pinpoint of flickering red light. He muttered a magnification spell, pointed his staff at the light, and sighted along it. "Signs of a fight, but no sign of that girl," he said, speaking his thoughts out loud. "And Simius hasn't reported in."

Frowning, he walked over to a low divan and settled himself back on it. He lay, still as death, his breath so slow as to be barely perceptible, for some time. Then he broke the trance and sat up. "That idiot!" he hissed. "Hardly a trace of him to be felt! He's probably gotten himself killed." He stood and ran his long, bony fingers through his beard, a thoughtful look in his eyes. Then he strode across the room toward his chair again. "Yes, the new apprentices definitely need to see what happens to anyone who gives my plans away," he said as he sat down.

"Master?" his servant spoke from the doorway.

"Do not interrupt me!"

"I am sorry, Master, but Magus, Atratus and Crag are in your entry hall. Shall I send them in?"

"No. Tell them there will be an assembly by the Black Oak, then go ring the summoning bell."

"But—"

"Don't."

"Sorry, Master. How many bells?"

"Twenty-one."

"Oh dear," the servant said under his breath as he left the room.

*

Drift was strangely sleepy. She lay back, her arms and legs limp, wondering whether she was in her own bed at home in the cottage again. No, I fell in! She opened her eyes and took a breath. Her scream came out silently and painfully as she pushed water from her lungs instead of air. With a great effort, she rolled her numb body around until she was more or less upright in the water and her head was bobbing awash at about the level of her nose. She snorted out water, tipped her head back and managed to get some wet air in.

Then she concentrated on her legs, willing them to push out and down. She kicked weakly for a little while, her nose bobbing at water level. Then she felt something firm beneath her. She was approaching a beach.

She struggled toward the shore, coughing out water, her tears mingling with the water dripping out of her hair and running down her face. She felt the prickling of new blood entering her limbs. She made it to knee-deep water before loosing her footing.

She was sitting in water up to her chest, near a steep little spit of sand with gnarled tree limbs hanging over it. She coughed out more water and took a deep breath of cool, foggy night air. It seemed to help. She stood again, feeling more prickly than numb, and spotted the upside-down rowboat. It was floating well beyond reach. She could not see Ubi at all. She took as deep a breath as she could, and began wading toward the boat on numb feet, shouting Ubi's name. He did not answer.

She was up to her neck in the water again and all feeling had almost left her legs when one hand brushed against something that felt like wet cloth. She grabbed it and found that she was holding a fistful of her old cloak.