Free Mercedes Lackey - Anthology by Flights of Fantasy Page A

           "He
is still half wild and would be frightened to be among us. The dark and quiet
of the shed will be soothing for him, and he will learn that when I come, there
will be food and something to relieve his boredom. These are the first steps to
forming a bond." The hawk shifted, and Naim drew in a rasping breath.
                 Adelia
frowned. "I do not like it that he should be fearful."
                 "It
is his nature, my lady. Those creatures that do not fear humans don't live to
breed."
                 She
laughed at that, then fell silent for awhile,
"When we return home," she said at last, "I will have Wren tend
to your hand." She couldn't use wounded flesh in her experiments. Still,
by the time she'd gathered the needed ingredients, these slight punctures
should be healed.
                 A
week later Adelia flung down Nairn's hand in disgust.
                 "Why
are these wounds not healed?" she demanded.
                 "They're
very deep," Nairn answered. "One of the punctures went right to the
bone, I'm sure."
                 She
glared at him, hands on her hips. "Well, this is very inconvenient!"
He bowed and she spun away from him with an impatient tsk !. "I detest delay," she snapped. "Absolutely detest it!"
                 Nairn
opened his mouth to speak, closed it, frowned, then licked his lips. "My lady," he said at last, "I must speak to
you on a matter of some concern to me."
                 Adelia
cast a disdainful glance over her shoulder and asked, "Of what matter
could a matter of concern to you, be to me?"
                 He
bowed, and her brows snapped down into a frown. She decided that she didn't
like all this bowing. A mere nervous tic, she thought contemptuously. A habit,
like clearing one's throat before speaking or always saying, " therefore ." It is an imperfection. And I do not like it
that my subject should have an imperfection. Working with imperfect material
had created the disaster that was Wren.
                 "I
am the son of Baron Tharus of Arpen. If you will but send to him, he will
ransom me, I know. Whatever price you ask, he will pay it." Nairn gazed at
her most earnestly.
                 "Hmph,"
she said, turning to look at him. "You are the son of a baron?" '
                 "Yes,
my lady."
                 "Don't
bow," she cautioned him. "So you are familiar with the use of a sword
and lance?"
                 "Yes,
my lady."
                 Oh,
excellent! she thought, hugging the information to
her. I must translate those skills to my new creature. I knew I'd made the
right choice in this slave!
                 "And
how did the son of a baron come to be in a slavepen?" she asked in idle
curiosity.
                
                 "I
was kidnapped," he replied, "and carried over the border."
                 "Oh, really? Well," she said and brought her hand
to her face, "I don't imagine your father wants you back, then."
                 "I
promise you that he does," Nairn insisted, somewhat piqued. "I am his
only son and his heir."
                 "Then
don't you find it odd that your kidnappers never applied to your doting papa
for this ransom you so confidently promise. I doubt the slave dealer gave them
as much as I paid for you, and I assure you, Nairn, you weren't very
expensive." She smiled, knowing by the look in his eyes that she'd shaken
him, at least for a moment, and it amused her tremendously.
                 “I
have an enemy who may have paid them to do it," he said slowly.
                 In
a sudden shift of mood Adelia became bored by the subject, and she cut him off
with a graceful gesture.
                 "It
doesn't matter!" she said dismissively. "I don't need your pathetic
ransom. I can provide for myself very well.