Honor-Bound [ Lore of Penrua: Book III ]

17

"Where are we going now?" Uachi asked, following Diarmán through the darkened hall of the keep. He frowned at the tapestries they passed. Most of them featured tall men or women in forests, but Uachi could not connect the stories to any lore he knew. The flame-haired man who was present in many of the tapestries certainly was not one of the Blessed Sovereigns.

"To meet with one of my brothers. I told you I thought I knew someone who could help you." Diarmán paused at the mouth of a stairway and gestured up. "I expect we'll find him here. It's the aviary."

Uachi peered up the shadowed stairwell and nodded for Diarmán to precede him. He took the stone steps slowly, allowing a space to open up between the lordling and himself. Uachi had come to more or less trust him, and he was certain that his true identity as a confidante of the Penruan emperor was as of yet unknown to Diarmán's family, but he could not afford to let his guard down. Indeed, he had a hand resting on the hilt of his dagger as he emerged behind Diarmán into a room that, if he judged correctly, was in one of the towers of the keep.

An animal scent pervaded the air. Creatures rustled in alcoves all along the walls. Some were open, and here and there Uachi glimpsed a feathered resident stirring; others were closed off with iron grilles. There was a young man bent forward, tending to something within one of the larger cells. The floor along the walls was littered with sweepings redolent with the scent of droppings and peppered with feathers of every shape and size.

Nearby on a wooden perch was an owl, watching the man. As Uachi and Diarmán entered the aviary, the owl swiveled its head, looking over its back toward the two of them. It ruffled its feathers and adjusted its stance on the perch, shifting from one foot to the other.

"Padréc," Diarmán said. "I'm home."

The young man backed up a step, pulling his head out of the cage. He had the same flame-colored hair as Diarmán, but slightly longer; his disheveled curls were barely restrained by the leather cord tying half of them back. He grinned, spreading his arms. "Brother! Welcome home!"

Diarmán smiled back, but held up both hands. "If you don't mind, I'll decline the embrace."

Padréc looked down at himself and laughed. It was clear from the state of his clothes and the stiff-bristled broom he held in one hand that he'd spent the better part of the afternoon at work. "I'll save your clothes, but it's good to see you. Who's this?" He turned a pair of bright hazel eyes on Uachi, surveying him with a thoughtful look. It was neither friendly nor unfriendly, simply curious.

"A friend. His name is Uachi, and he needs your help."

Uachi had not yet been informed what sort of help Padréc could provide him, and looking at the boy, Uachi wondered what could be in his capacity to give. He was clearly a few years younger than Diarmán, just at the threshold of manhood. He did not look to be much of a ranger or a fighter. Uachi glanced between the two brothers, folding his arms.

"Well, then." Padréc set his broom aside in an empty alcove. He turned away from them and busied himself for another moment with the cell he had been cleaning. Then he glanced at the owl and nodded his head toward the freshly-tidied space. To Uachi's amazement, the owl shifted again, rustled its feathers, and then it spread its wings and took flight with hardly a sound. It made one silent circle of the aviary before coming to rest on the alcove and shuffling inside. Padréc closed the grille behind it and latched it.

Then he turned to them again, dusting off his shirt front. "Let's go down. If you don't mind, I'd like a quick washing-up before we talk."

"We'd like you to have one too. You smell like shit," Diarmán said cheerfully. He gestured for Padréc to lead the way, and the younger man, with a roll of his eyes, started down the stairs.