J. H. Sked

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courtyard, and joining Ariaan in his room shortly afterwards.
     
    The three hawks were waiting silently when two pairs of footsteps approached and halted outside the door. A mumbling of voices, and then the heavier tread retired hastily back down the corridor, fading away well before the timid knock sounded.
     
    “It’s open,” Ariaan called out. There was a startled silence from the other side of the wood, then another of those timid, scratchy taps.
     
    Seiren reached out – he was leaning against the wall beside the door – and opened it himself.
    The lad outside still had his hand up, staring at the sudden open space as if he didn’t quite know what to make of it.
    He blinked up at the blonde hawk with large, moist brown eyes.
     
    “Ser.” He stopped. “Ser. I – I need t-to speak to the h-hawks.” He closed his eyes and cringed, as if expecting a slap, and Seiren exchanged a quick glance with the other two in the room before answering.
    “You’re in the right place, lad. Best come in, then.”
     
    Ricky opened one eye and peered at him. Seiren smiled reassuringly, then took him by the arm and drew him gently into the room, the peg leg thumping on the stones.
     
    “What’s your name, lad?” Ariaan followed Seiren’s lead and spoke softly, running a swift, appalled eye over the boy.
    He was painfully thin, though clean enough – it appeared he had taken the time to bathe his head and hands – and his one foot was bare, covered with scratches and healed over scabs.
     
    Seiren led him to a chair and sat him down, then looked over his shoulder at the other two hawks.
    Touching the boy had being like handling a bag full of glass marbles; the bones had moved beneath his hand under the fragile skin as though seeking an escape route.
     
    I’m getting him some broth from the kitchens. He looks like he hasn’t eaten for a month. Seiren sent on a tight link.
    Get some berry juice, too. Amber replied. She could see the first sores blooming on the drawn skin beside the boy’s mouth.
    “Elrick, ser. From Five Hands village,” the boy answered as he slipped gratefully onto the chair, flicking a wary sideways glance at the blonde hawk as Seiren slipped out of the room.
     
    “Have you been on the road long, Elrick?” Ariaan asked.
    Elrick smiled at him, a gap-toothed grin that was unexpectedly sunny.
    “Oh, yes! Ser,” he added.
    Amber smiled back; that grin was infectious.
    “This is Ariaan, I’m Amber. Our friend is Seiren. Don’t worry about the ser part, eh?”
    “My ma called me Ricky,” the boy said earnestly. “They call me Elrick when I’m in trouble.”
    “Do they now?”
    “Aye.” The smile melted as swiftly as it had appeared, and the boy blinked rapidly, turning towards the window to hide his tears.
     
    Ariaan looked at Amber, who shrugged. She had little enough experience in dealing with the average human, let alone their cubs, and Ariaan glowered at her before grasping at the reins of the conversation once more.
    “You were a while on the road, Ricky?”
    “About five day’s walking, se – Ariaan. But I got a lift this morning, on the back of a cart. They brought me into town, so they did, with a big brown horse pulling us. Everyone waved.” He smiled again, wistfully.
    He’d never ridden on a cart before, and the novelty had been almost as great as the relief to his feet, although it had paled besides his first view of a large town, and the great grey Keep that squatted above it.
     
    Seiren re-entered the room bearing a tray with a steaming bowl, a chunk of bread and cheese, and glass of red juice.
    Ricky stared at the tray, trying not to drool. His stomach clanged and growled at the smell from the bowl, rich and meaty. Ricky, whose experience in meat eating had extended as far as the odd rabbit that Dakron snared, and once, a taste of the young deer unlucky enough to get caught in Anna’s vegetable patch, wondered if these hawks ate meat every week.
     
    Seiren set the

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