Four fawkners stood against the far wall of the north loft, under the eaves. One clasped her right hand to her left arm as though she’d been raked. Another held a hood, ties dangling, as they all stared despairingly toward the center of the parade ground. The yard was cleared of all eagles save one, who clutched a perch and stared belligerently at the fawkners. The idiots hadn’t even gone in to examine her wound; dried blood and fresh glimmers discolored one wing.

“She’s really angry,” said Volias. “You know what she did to—”

“Let me finish,” said Joss to Volias. “Nallo, do you recognize that eagle?”

“That’s the one that protected us on the trail. Can’t you see its injury? Why isn’t anyone helping it? I thought these fawkners knew everything about eagles.”

“They need to hood it first.”

“Why don’t they?”

“She’s really angry,” repeated Volias.

She did look angry, with her neck feathers puffed out and the rest of her slicked down.

“They need that hood on so they can treat her injury,” said the marshal. “She’ll settle down then.”

Volias frowned. “You can’t mean you’ll send Nallo out—”

“If that injury isn’t treated properly, the eagle will not survive. If the eagle dies, Nallo dies.”

“You’re saying that to scare me. To get me to agree.” It was ridiculous the way they were all scared of the big eagle, not that she wasn’t a frightening sight when you really compared how puny the humans looked compared to the magnificent size and weapons of the raptor. But Nallo had sheltered under that vicious beak before; the bird had saved Jerad from the bandits.

With a grunt of disgust, she strode over to the huddled fawkners. “Give me the hood.”

Blood stained the skin of the woman clutching her arm. “She’s favoring her right leg,” she said, calm as you please, “which is what saved me from worse. If she strikes, she’ll strike with her left. Watch for the talons.”

A man handed her the heavy leather contraption.

“How do I get this on?”

“That part fits around the beak,” said the injured woman. “Just get the eyes covered. Once she settles, we’ll do the rest until you’ve learned more.”

One of the other fawkners, a short, fine-boned man, whistled under his breath and shook his head, but the rest simply watched as she took a step back.

“Oh, I see,” she said as she opened it out. The leather was soft and pliant, heavy because there was so much of it, and there was an obvious hole for the beak. She’d grown up dealing with goats. This couldn’t be that different.

Yet as she approached the eagle, whose fierce gaze fixed on her, her heart raced until her ears throbbed. That beak was big enough to rip off her head.

The eagle moved, a swipe with her talons. Nallo leaped back out of range as, behind her, a man groaned and many voices gasped.

“Just keep going.” That was the marshal, calling encouragement. “If she’d meant to hook you, she’d have made contact. You’re much slower than she is.”