A short time later they slipped outside in winter shirts and breeches. Preet was enveloped in a ceramic bowl wrapped in several wool garments, with only a tiny hole at the top to admit air. Arram knew they were on their way to Master Lindhall, but he couldn’t think of any way out of it. He didn’t know how to properly care for a nestling. The god simply didn’t understand university rules, or how closely the masters watched the students—or at least, how closely they seemed to watch him.
Once more they made the long climb up to Lindhall’s fourth-story quarters. Arram was surprised to notice it didn’t seem like such a labor as it did before, until he remembered that he now made a similar climb to the library several times a day. He smiled to think there was some good to being in the room with two rude older boys.
Once they were on the fourth floor, Ozorne looked at the door to the room used by Lindhall’s assistant. Then he shook his head. “Why deal with pudding-heads?” he asked. He looked at Arram, who was opening his mouth to protest. “Besides, Master Lindhall likes you. He always asks after you.”
There was nothing Arram could say to that. While he studied with Sebo, Ozorne studied with Master Lindhall. He watched his friend walk over to the master’s door and knock on it. After a long moment of waiting, Ozorne knocked harder.
Lindhall opened the door. He did not look happy. “I swear to Kyprioth, if those cursed ostriches have escaped their enclave again…” He blinked. “Ozorne, it is not nearly time for your class, and I was up past midnight healing broken ribs on a giraffe.”
Ozorne gave a little bow. “Yes, Master Lindhall, I know, but…” He pointed to Arram’s burden.
Lindhall squinted.
Trying to unwrap the bowl as fast as he could, Arram came closer. The last scarf fell to the tiles, revealing the small fluffy bird in the bowl. She blinked up at Lindhall as he blinked down at her. Finally she said, “Preet!”
From inside the master’s quarters Arram heard a chorus of bird cries and songs of every degree.
Lindhall grabbed Arram’s arm and pulled him into his quarters. Looking back, he ordered Ozorne, “You too.”
Ozorne gathered up Preet’s wrappings and followed, closing the door in his wake. The noise was much worse in the master’s sitting room.
Lindhall covered his ears and shouted, “Would you tell them to be quiet?”
Preet croaked, and the noise from the other birds stopped.
Lindhall lowered his arms. “Well, let’s have a look at you.” He held out cupped hands. Gently, Arram tilted the bowl until the small creature tumbled onto the master’s palms.
For the first time in his life, Arram created a fast lie. “Sir, I found her on a walk a little while ago, but I’ve never, um, seen her like before, not in the garden where I found her, or the menagerie, or anywhere. She can’t fly, and I couldn’t find a nest. And I didn’t want to leave her free while I went to class, or wake anyone to ask for a cage—”
That did it. The nestling began to scream. Master Lindhall neither dropped Preet nor squeezed her when she announced her opinion of cages: Arram was wide-eyed with admiration.
“Stop it,” the master told her. She looked up at him, made a small growling noise, and stopped. To Arram he said, “I will forgive you for a story that is almost entirely lies. I suspect you have been sworn to secrecy. Certainly you reek of contact with a god. I am not certain what your bird—”
“I named her Preet, Master,” Arram said.
“You named her Preet.”
“She doesn’t seem to mind.”
The bird looked at Arram and said “Preet” very firmly.
Lindhall smiled. “I see. Arram, those of us who are your masters, or yours,” he said with a nod to Ozorne, “will know the origins of this bird, though that is not true of those below our level of skill. Not even the younger masters will notice certain…anomalies. You cannot see them, can you?”
“She looks like a small dun-and-gray bird to me, Master Lindhall,” Arram admitted. “Except for her eyes.”
“She’s the same to me, Master,” Ozorne said. Grudgingly, he added, “Her eyes only look black, as nearly as I can tell.”
“That will change.” Lindhall rubbed his chin, which rasped from lack of shaving. “Leave her with me while you are at class, but I expect you to be here after supper and at night to feed her. She will require feeding quite often. I will send a message to your proctor and to the guards to ensure you are not stopped on your way to and from this building. You will need to leave early to bathe in the morning and change clothing.”
“Yes, sir,” Arram said gloomily, thinking, Splendid! More work!
Lindhall yawned. “Let us see to her housing. Come with me.”
He led them back down the hallway that Arram remembered, through his sitting room and past closed doors, toward the animal care rooms. At the end of the hall was a single door labeled “Work Only” in bold letters. Lindhall nodded for Ozorne to open it.
Within was a long room. Lindhall spoke the word that caused the light globes overhead to come to life, revealing a place like a cross between a carpenter’s workshop and a tailor’s room. Shelves above and below the tables were built into the walls to hold bolts of cloth and lengths of prepared wood in addition to spools of thread, small jars of needles and pins, larger jars of different lengths of nail, measuring strings, hammers, and other tools. Arram couldn’t begin to imagine what it was all for.
At one end a hearth was set into the wall. Lindhall went to it and, balancing Preet on one hand, felt the side of the kettle hanging there. “Excellent!” he said with satisfaction. “Ozorne, if you will pour three cups of tea?” To Arram’s shock, Ozorne produced cups from a cabinet beside the hearth and did just that without complaint.
Arram blinked, feeling helpless. Preet bobbed up and down on Lindhall’s palm, babbling as she fixed her gaze on Arram.
“Very well, youngster,” Lindhall said, carrying her over to him. “Put her in your shirt pocket, not on your shoulder,” he advised. “She hasn’t the strength yet to grip tightly enough.” Arram obeyed, gently tucking the little bird into his pocket. Lindhall accepted a cup of tea from Ozorne. “Now—Arram, am I right?” Arram nodded. “See if you can choose the proper cage for her.”
Arram turned and found shelves that supported stacks of wire half domes, one on top of another. They formed rows of different sizes, from tightly woven cricket cages to four that were big enough to house owls. Arram made his choice of dome and base, placing them on a bare counter.
Ozorne sipped his tea as he handed a cup to Arram. Preet craned toward it, but Arram was not letting her try it. Setting it aside, he looked around and saw a small fountain in another corner.
“Is that drinkable?” he asked, pointing. “Sorry, Ozorne.” He’d interrupted his friend, who was asking the master a question.
Ozorne grinned at Arram. “Sorry? I haven’t had this much adventure in weeks!”
“It is fresh water,” Lindhall told Arram. “Get some for her.” He looked at Ozorne, who was gathering small, flat dishes. “You truly love it up here, don’t you?”