“Ye squeamish, lily-gutted, cack-handed incompetents,” Orain swore, “Afraid to get yer hands dirty, are ye? I’ll set an example, then! Where’s this dead thing ye spied, lad?”
Romilly began to walk toward the thicket; Orain followed and Dom Carlo said with asperity, “Go and help him, you men, as many as he needs! Will you let one man and a child drag carrion for three birds?”
Reluctantly, a couple of the men followed. Whatever animal lay dead in the thicket – she suspected it was one of the small multicolored woods chervines – it announced its presence very soon by the smell, and Romilly wrinkled her nose.
Orain said incredulously, “We’re to feed that to those fine birds?” He bent down and hauled gingerly at the smelly carcass; a stream of small insects were parading in and out of the empty eye-holes, but it was not yet disintegrated enough to come apart in their hands, and Romilly took one end of the carcass and hoisted, trying to breathe through her mouth so she would not have to breathe in much of the foul smell.
“A kyarebni would think it fine fare,” Romilly said, “I have never kept a scavenger-bird, but their bellies are not like those of hawks, and how would you like to be fed on grass?”
“I doubt not that y’re right,” said Orain glumly, “But I never thought to be handling stinking carrion even for the king’s men!” The other men came and lent a hand in the hauling; Romilly was glad when it was over, but some of the men gagged and retched as they handled the stuff. Orain, however, drew a formidable knife and began hacking it into three parts; even before he was finished the hooded bird on his saddle set up a screaming. Romilly drew a long breath of relief. She did not like to think what would have happened if she had been wrong, but evidently she had been right. She took up a small handful of fine pebbly dirt and strewed it over the cut hunk of the carcass, then, hesitating – but remembering the moment of rapport with the sick bird – went and unfastened the hood.
Orain shouted, “Hey! Look out there, lad, she’ll pick out yer eyes-”
But the bird, under her light hands, seemed gentle and submissive. Poor hungry thing, Romilly thought, and lifted the heavy weight – it took all her strength to set it on the ground beside the hacked carcass. With a scream, the bird plunged its beak into the carcass and tore hard, gulping down fur, pebbles, the smelly half-decomposed meat.
“You see?” said Romilly simply, and went to lift down the other bird. Orain came to help her, but the strange bird thrust angry beak at him, and he drew back, letting Romilly handle it.
When all of the birds had fed and were preening their feathers, making little croaking sounds of satisfaction, Dom Carlo lifted his eyebrow at Orain, and Orain said, “Ride with us to Nevarsin, lad, and then to Tramontana to deliver these birds to Carolin’s men; and keep them healthy on the way. We’ll feed you and your horse, and give you three silver bits for every tenday ye’re with us while the birds stay healthy. Your hawk,” he added with a droll grin, “Can no doubt hunt for himself.”
“Herself,” Romilly corrected, and Orain chuckled.
“Be a bird male or female, none cares except another bird of its own kind,” he said. “Otherwise with humankind, aye, Dom Carlo?” And he laughed, though Romilly could not quite see the joke. “Well, what about it, boy, will ye’ have along of us and the sentry-birds?”
Romilly had already made up her mind. She herself was bound, first to Nevarsin and then to Tramontana to seek her brother or news of him. This would give her protection and keep her fed. She said, “Gladly, Dom Carlo and Master Orain.”
“Bargain, then,” said Orain, and stuck out his calloused hand with a grin. “Now the birds have fed, shall we move out of range of the smell of their feeding, and have a bait of vittles for ourselves?”
“Sounds good,” Romilly said, and went to unsaddle her horse.