The shouting and anger and all manner of voices churned as if a storm blew through. Trouble dead. Volias dead. Surri dead, whichever eagle she was, and her reeve with her. Nallo hadn’t even learned every reeve’s name yet, much less figured how to tell the eagles apart.

Sweet, still hooded, shifted restlessly on her night perch, much disturbed. Pil appeared at Nallo’s side.

“The hells,” he muttered, sounding very like a Hundred man. “After that time Sweet pulled off her hood, I made sure to fasten it correctly. I’m glad you didn’t!” He fixed his eagle with a possessive stare.

“Where’s Volias?” she asked, surprised into speech by his volubility.

“At rest by the dead eagles. Him and the other reeve. What now?”

“No one’s in charge! All the senior reeves are cursed dead, aren’t they? After that first day, I don’t think I exchanged more than twenty words with the commander, eh? ‘How’s the training going? Ofri treating you well?’ ”

“Who will the others listen to?”

“How can you be so cursed calm! They’re all dead. Volias just dropped dead. And those in the hall—the reeves, the council members, the cursed militiamen—they were cut down like sheep, stinking with it, and you can stand there because you’re a cursed rotting outlander who doesn’t know . . .” He took in the abuse that poured out of her until she ran out of breath and heaved, thinking she was going to retch out the boil of anger and heartbreak, but nothing came but dry sobs.

“Who will the others listen to, Nallo?” he said in the exact same tone.

She wiped her eyes. “Peddo, maybe.”

He left.

“I’m a cursed idiot,” she said to Tumna, who looked over at the sound of her voice, probably to agree with her. “You’re the best raptor who ever lived. You know that, don’t you?”

The bird tipped her head sideways, considering this statement.

“So you stay here, with your prizes. Eat them, for all I care, although their flesh will likely poison you. Ah, the hells!”

She stepped into the corridor and grabbed Likard and the fawkner next to him. “Are there other murderers on the loose?”

“Those are the only two hired in within the last year,” said Likard. “So likely they were sent in on purpose, don’t you think? Cursed traitors. Wish I could strangle them myself.”

He seemed likely to go on in this vein, so she went back into the loft, untangled the hood, and approached Tumna, tapping the signal that made the raptor flutter back to her night perch and lower her head. But she couldn’t bear to hood her. She turned to face a crowd of fawkners.

“What are you gawking at? Can you haul this rubbish out of here? It stinks!”

She remained by Tumna while others dragged away the corpses. Eiya! She hadn’t believed Volias, had she? Just a cursed stupid thing to say, she’d thought, a crude form of arm-twisting: If your eagle dies, you die.