The Crow Read Free Page B

looking sharply at Hem, and appeared to invite the man in. The man shook his head, and she fled to find Saliman. Hem and his captor stood outside in the heat in complete silence for some time. Hem passed the wait staring at the front doorstep, his teeth set against the pain in his ear. The bird in his hands was still alive; he could feel its heart fluttering against his palm.
    At last Saliman came to the door. When he saw Hem his eyebrows shot up to his hairline.
    "Hem!" he said. "What have you been doing? Alimbar el Nad! Greetings!"
    The man, his sense of grievance exacerbated by the wait, poured out his complaint. Saliman answered him in Suderain, and Hem stopped trying to follow the conversation. At least Alimbar had let go of him. He stood patiently, rubbing his ear with his free hand. It seemed Saliman was trying to invite Alimbar inside, while Alimbar insisted that he would not enter. After a few more exchanges the man seemed a little mollified, and finally he bowed to Saliman, who held open the door for him. Saliman turned to Hem and waved him in also. His eyes were hard.
    "You," he said in Annaren, "I will deal with later. I want you to go to your chamber, and to stay there."
    Hem, who had been totally unfussed by Alimbar's anger, quailed before Saliman's. He nodded meekly and scurried off.
    Back in his chamber, Hem carefully put the bird down on his bed. It gave a small squawk and then lay with its eyes shut, its breast heaving. Hem, who was familiar with birds, was puzzled: it was of some kind he did not know. It looked like a crow, but its plumage was white. It was obviously a fledgling, only just losing its baby fluff to adult feathers; its tail and wing feathers were stubby and short, and it had a scrawny, half-made look about it.
    Gently, Hem examined its injuries. He couldn't find any great damage, apart from a couple of savage tears in the flesh of its body and neck, but there could be internal hurts that he couldn't see. No bones seemed to be broken, and it wasn't bleeding freely anymore. What worried him most of all was the shock; birds could easily die of it. He looked around his room, and saw the chest in which he kept his spare clothes. He summarily threw his clothes onto the bed, spread a cloth he used for drying himself on the bottom of the chest, and gently placed the bird inside.
    There, little one, he murmured in the Speech. You are safe now.
    The bird made a soft peep, as if thanking him, and Hem closed the lid so it would feel safe in the dark. Then he worried that it might not have enough air, and stuffed a shirt under the chest's lid so it wouldn't close completely.
    If it was alive in an hour, he thought to himself, it would have a chance. In two hours, more of a chance. If it was alive tomorrow, it would definitely live.
    It would need water. He had a jug and a cup on his work-table, but no dish to put water in for the bird. He could get one easily enough from the kitchen, but he didn't dare leave his chamber; if Saliman arrived and Hem was not there, he would be even angrier with him. He would have to wait until Saliman turned up.
    He sat and fidgeted on his bed, wondering how Saliman would punish him for his latest escapade. Would he be thrown out of the Bardhouse? Hem uneasily considered the possibility: in his mind, it seemed quite likely. When he thought about it, there weren't many reasons for Saliman to keep him there; none of the other minor Bards liked Hem much; he was always getting into trouble, and he wasn't exactly shining in his classes...
    Within a short time, Hem's fear had turned into a certainty. Where could he go, if he didn't live with Saliman? He would have to live on the streets. Perhaps he could get work in the marketplace as a caller, carrying the goods for sale and telling of their virtues. He could be good at that... and then he remembered he couldn't speak Suderain. He would have to be a thief, then. He was good at stealing things. Though it would be more difficult