“Really!”
“He should be a day or two behind. If you meet, he may ask if you’ve seen me.”
“And you want me to say I haven’t.”
Varia nodded. “Please.”
“My name is Everheart. A name given me by a tomttu; we have our own names, unpronounceable to you. And yours?”
“Varia.”
“Let me see if I can guess what’s happened,” the bird said. “You’re a Sister, a young girl who’s run away from the Cloister. Right? I’ve heard of such. And your Dynast will have set a tracker after you.”
Varia stared.
“You’re speechless; obviously I’m right.”
“Not entirely. I’m—somewhat more in the Dynast’s attention than a young girl would be. I’m forty-three, not some sixteen-year-old to be brought back for correction and counseling. I escaped a—a punishment house, and this time they might kill me.”
It seemed to Varia that if the bird had had eyebrows, they’d have arched at that. His aura suggested that he didn’t quite believe her. She didn’t herself. They’d degrade her, perhaps break her will, even her mind, but they wouldn’t deliberately kill her.
“Hmh!” the bird said. “I wish you well in your escape, and I certainly won’t betray you.” It chuckled. “I’ve been told that among humans, a gentleman never tells a lady’s secrets.” Pausing, he cocked his head. “I do have that right, don’t I? Who might your tracker be, do you suppose?”
“A man named Tomm.”
“Tomm. Tomm is known to us. In fact I know him on sight. We all do I suppose; what one of us knows, the others know, or can if we care to look. It’s how, over the centuries, we’ve learned your language. By sharing, word by word, phrase by phrase.”
Varia stared.
“But I must tell you,” he went on, “that my silence won’t help you much. Tomm has a talent that apparently you’re not aware of. No doubt his most important talent. You see, he can question any creature, large or small, about you. Mostly birds, because we see more, and our perceptions are very largely visual, as humans’ seem to be. He may not gain much detail from his questions, for the minds of most species handle only simple concepts. But the question, ‘have you seen this one?’ accompanied by a mental image . . .” Everheart physically shrugged. “The eagles and greater hawks are no more susceptible to his demands than I, for their own reasons, of course, while the vultures and goshawks and falcons?—I doubt they’d hear his thought. They are totally focused on their own affairs.
“Crows, now—crows he may or may not ask. They lie, inveterately. But if he can recognize when they lie and when they do not . . . Some of your Sisterhood can do that, I’m told. And crows can be bribed, if he has something they might covet. Some shiny gew-gaw. Or a piece of fat; they are fond of fat. Beyond crows, there are many susceptible species too unimaginative to lie: sparrows, bluebirds, thrushes, waxwings . . . And jays, the tattlers of the forest! Very definitely jays!”
The great bird paused to threaten a rival. The lesser raven drew back too slowly, and there was a moment’s squawking before it rose on flapping wings, to circle in rumpled dignity. Then Everheart looked at Varia again. “He won’t tell either. His species is proud, like my own, and the eagles and greater hawks. And stubborn, as you’ve just seen.
“Meanwhile I recommend that you keep to the deeper woods, where you’ll be hard to see from the air. Avoid meadows and open ridges. And jays so far as possible, for they tell everything. Now if you’ll excuse me.”
He began to peck and tear again at the troll-mangled flesh of poor Maude’s ribs. Varia watched for just a moment, then turned and hiked off into the forest, stepping carefully with her bare feet.
Hiking barefoot went better than she’d expected; in avoiding areas where the forest roof was open, she also avoided the stonier places. Now she held northward more than westward. Occasionally, unavoidably, she roused a jay, but they seemed so territorial, she decided the odds were small that Tomm would run into one of these particular jays. Crows, on the other hand, flew widely, but hopefully wouldn’t see her in heavy woods.