Tempests and Slaughter (The Numair Chronicles #1)

It was hard to be terrified when the god was this size. “Enzi, did you know you have a bird on your back?”

The crocodile snapped his jaws in vexation. Of course I know, idiot! Will you come down? It is hardly comfortable to bend my head at this angle!

“Of course,” Arram said, drawing his Gift back into himself. About to slide off his mattress, he asked, “Would you like me to hold the bird?”

Please. Her claws tickle.

Arram obeyed, gently cupping his hands around the small creature and scooping it into his hold. The little bird made no complaint. She looked at Arram with great, luminous eyes that shone in mixed colors of yellow and orange, touched with spots of blue. Arram could have looked into those eyes for the rest of the night, if the god had not scratched him lightly with one claw.

“Ow!” Arram cried, still keeping his voice down. Had Enzi spelled all three of his roommates? He looked at the bird again, trying to work out what made her gaze so fascinating. “Who, or what, is she?” Arram asked. “And why are you here?”

I need to ask a favor. A large one, Enzi said. If Arram did not know better, he would have said the god sounded embarrassed. You see, I was in the Divine Realms, visiting some immortal friends of mine. They are birds, and several nests were breeding. I believe that is when this little nestling hopped onto my back. When I am my normal size, my scales are so thick that I can’t feel anything so tiny. I came home and stopped by a colony of my mortal children. They told me there was a young bird on my back. Do you know how Mithros feels about those who steal his sunbirds?

“There are stories,” Arram said hesitantly. He thought with horror, Sunbirds! They’re sacred to Mithros! He looked at this sample of a sunbird, wondering how she could grow to be such a legendary creature. They spent their days rising from the treetops in the Divine Realms, spinning, flying as high as they could go. They spread their giant wings to reflect the sun in blazing colors, their tribute to the god. Mithros could show a human no greater sign of his favor than a sunbird feather, and his wrath would fall on the thief so reckless as to steal one. The thought of what the god might do to anyone caught holding one of the precious nestlings made him shake.

I must find a gift of suitable magnificence as an apology to the god before I can return his nestling. There is a way to handle these things. Perhaps you have heard the story of the Trickster Kyprioth in his guise as the Youth, and the time he borrowed the Smith God’s favorite hammer? The Great Gods are touchy. The right gift solves everything. I will only need a short time.

There was a crafty note in the god’s voice that Arram didn’t like. “What do you want of me?” he inquired, though he had a funny feeling he knew what the god was asking.

Look after her, until I find a way to placate the Master of Daylight, Enzi said. In return, I will do you any favor you may ask of me. A word of advice: Tell as few people as possible what she really is. You do not want Mithros to hear.

“I can’t,” Arram retorted. “I’m a student, and we aren’t allowed pets. They’ll take her from me.”

Your path will be made smooth. I will see to it, Enzi said majestically.

“I can’t leave her alone,” Arram said, growing more frantic. “Look at her! She’s all down!” He had learned more from his visits to the menageries than he had expected. “She’s still a baby—she has to be fed every hour or so!”

She is recently fed, and the way to tend to her will be made clear. This place is part of the roots of my power, the great river and the gathering place of my people. Arram felt the words roll through the air, like one of his masters’ spells in their power. What I desire here takes place, even among the two-leggers.

Arram drew a breath, wishing he’d thought of this before. “Why don’t you ask Master Sebo? You’re friends.”

She will take the young one straight back to the nest. All manner of unhappy questions will be asked. The sunbirds will remember I was there recently.

It occurred to Arram that perhaps Enzi’s tale of the nestling falling onto his unfeeling back was not entirely true.

Sebo will say it serves me right to be pecked by sunbirds. They won’t kill me, but they will try. Would you wish such a fate on me?

Arram opened his mouth to reply and closed it. Sebo would say that. She took a very dim view of those who stole young from their nests, even accidentally. He would hate to see Enzi tortured by creatures nearly as godlike as he was.

How had he developed a liking for this ugly, ill-tempered creature?

Arram looked at his handful. She regarded him with those beautiful eyes and peeped. “I still think the school will not let me keep her,” he replied. “How long will this take?”

Excellent, the crocodile god said briskly. A little time and all will be well. You will hardly know the bird is here. With that, Enzi was gone.

“He didn’t even tell me what you eat,” Arram complained.

The bird looked around the room. He realized she could see in the dark when she spotted the roll he’d brought from supper on his bedside table and started to cheep. He set her beside it, and she began to rip tiny bites from it. He wondered if he should offer her some grapes, but she halted her feast with a scrap left. She shook her fluff and looked Arram over. Finally she voiced a noise like “Preet!”

Arram looked at her. “Is that a good sound, or a bad one?”

She cocked her head at him.

“Can you fly?”

She fluffed up a second time and began to groom herself.

“Have you a name?”

One multicolored eye peered out of the fluff and blinked.

“I can’t think of any good names, and I have to call you something.” Arram yawned as the bird began to groom under her tail. “Will Preet do?”

She looked at him and said, “Preet!”

“I hope that means yes.”

“Will you be quiet?” demanded Diop sleepily. Arram jumped.

“Bad enough he snores,” Laman grumbled into his bedding.

A hand clasped his shoulder. Arram jumped. It was Ozorne, face, hair, and nightgown rumpled, his eyes alight with curiosity. “Where’d you get it?” he whispered. “It’s far too cold for baby birds.”

Arram scooped Preet up and admitted, “I don’t know what to do. She’s so little!”

Ozorne tweaked his ear. “Get dressed. I have a plan.”