Free Hawkmistress! by Marion Zimmer Bradley Page B

trainer. All too often, when first freed, the hawk would rise into the sky, wing away into the violet clouds and never return. She faced that knowledge; she could not bear to lose Preciosa now, and it was all the more likely with a haggard who had hunted and fed for herself in the wild.
    But Preciosa would return, Romilly was confident of that. She flung off her nightgown and dressed for the hunt; her stepmother had had her new green-velvet habit laid enticingly ready, but she put on an old tunic and shirt, and a pair of Darren’s old breeches. If her father was angry, then he must be angry as he would; she would not spoil Preciosa’s first hunt by worrying about whether or not she spotted her new velvet clothing.
    As she slipped out into the corridor she stumbled over a basket set in her door; the traditional Midsummer-gift from the men of the family to mothers, sisters, daughters. Her father was always generous; she set the basket inside, rummaged through it for a handy apple and a few of the sweets that always appeared there too, and thrust them into her pockets - just what she wanted for hunting, and after a moment she pocketed a few more for Darren and Alderic. There was a second basket there too; Darren’s? And a tiny one clumsily pasted of paper strips, which she had seen Rael trying to hide in the schoolroom; she smiled indulgently, for it was filled with a handful of nuts which she knew he had saved from his own desserts. What a darling he was, her little brother! For a moment she was tempted to ask him, too, on this special ride, but after a minute of reflection she sighed and decided not to risk her stepmother’s anger. She would arrange some special treat for him later.
    She went silently down the hallway and joined Darren and Alderic, who were waiting at the doorway, having let the dogs outside - it was, after all, well after daylight. The three young people went toward the stable.
    Darren said, “I told father we were going hawking at dawn. He gave you leave to fly his racer if you would, Alderic.”
    “He is generous,” said Alderic, and went quietly toward the hawk.
    “Which one will you take, Darren?” asked Romilly, slipping Preciosa on to her wrist. Darren, raising his eyes to her with a smile, said, “I think you know, sister, that I take no pleasure in hawks. If father had bidden me to exercise one of his birds, I would obey him; but in honor of the holiday, perhaps, he forbore to lay any such command on me.”
    His tone was so bitter that Alderic looked up and said, “I think he means to be kind, bredu.”
    “Aye. No doubt.” But Darren did not raise his head as they went across to the stable, where the horses were ready.
    Romilly set Preciosa on the perch as she saddled her own horse. She would not command any man to disobey her father against his conscience; but she would not ride sidesaddle on this holiday ride, either. If her father chose to punish her, she would accept whatever he chose to do.
    It was sheer ecstasy to be on a horse again in proper riding clothes, feeling the cool morning wind against her face, and Preciosa before her on the saddle, hooded but alert. She could feel a trickle of awareness from the bird which was blended of emotions Romilly herself could not identify … not quite fear as she had come to know it, not quite excitement, but to her great relief it was wholly unmixed with the terrifying rage she had felt when she began training the hawk. The clouds melted away as they rode into the hills, and under their horses’ hooves there was only the tiniest crackling of frost.
    “Where shall we go, Darren? You know these hills,” Alderic asked, and Darren laughed at them.
    “Ask Romilly, not me, my-” he broke off sharply and Romilly, raising her eyes suddenly from her bird, intercepted the sharp, almost warning look Alderic gave the younger man. Darren said quickly, “My sister knows more of the hills and of the hawks than I do, Lord ‘Deric.”
    “This way, I