Birds of Paradise - 5. Chapter 5

Cyrus stepped outside the birdcage that was his and Indivriar's home in the aviary and leaned for a moment against the glass. With all the doors closed and the heat through the floor, inside was as hot and wet as a steam house. Relief from the heat passed quickly as Cy's body adjusted to the normal summer weather outside. He wiped the sweat from his face with a grimace and peered back inside.

Indivriar had appeared to be recovering in the first few days, but now his condition had worsened. The black spots around the strange little pouches had spread, the area hard and painful to the touch. The shahzada had visited again that morning and frowned while the physicians shrugged and shook their heads.

Tempers in the aviary were as high as the tension as more of the songbirds fell ill. Letters arrived daily from all corners of the kingdom regarding the deaths and the falconers tended their duties with grim faces.

The wriggling bundles attached to Cy's stomach by a wool-lined pouch chirped, the chicks' inquisitiveness undaunted by the latest troubles. Their bird-like chirping began the moment Cy took possession of their pouch, ceasing only when they fed or slept, which was often. They remained tiny; he could cup them in one hand, but their legs were strong, kicking against the pouch as they changed positions.

They were also irresistibly cute and Cy peeked inside the pouch far more often than necessary just to watch them. Inside the cage, he took them out to cup inside Indivriar's hands. The songbird had been overjoyed to see them, the light in his eyes only returning for those brief moments as his illness worsened.

Cy glanced back worriedly, but then struck out on his usual walk through the compound. He walked to keep from going mad with boredom and anxiety. His tasks were few and centered around Indivriar and the chicks, but otherwise nothing was asked of him, and his requests for reading materials or an instrument to pass the time went unanswered. He had no letters, no visitors, nor was he allowed beyond the aviary walls.

The grounds occupied by the aviary were extensive and functioned under a strict hierarchy. The soldiers wore their blue uniforms and falconers' badges and sweltered under the hot summer sun. The falconers wore thick, leather trews and jerkins and long gloves tucked into their belts. They commonly went barefoot. The physicians went from birdcage to birdcage tending the ill songbirds and wore little beyond their falconers' trews, their white sashes wound about their waists.

There were hundreds of songbirds, of varying ages, in the compound, but he saw no female birds. To a one they were all male, which begged the question of how they were bred. The youngest were Indivriar's chicks, but the eldest were over one-hundred-fifty years old. Cy listened to them sing to one another and, although they ignored his attempts at communicating, he began to develop his vocabulary.

The language was deceptively simple. From what he could tell, there were no private thoughts amongst songbirds. They sang of fleeting impressions or feelings, and could spend hours describing the sunshine or the wind in their feathers or the blueness of the sky. He could hear the laughter in their voices, so he knew they told jokes, but he was only beginning to grasp the variation between actual conversation and the relentless, mindless singing.

He had yet to walk the same path twice, and noise towards one end drew him closer. About a half-dozen falconers had gathered in a clearing between two birdcages. In his travels, Cy had experienced many things, and the scream of a whip through the air and the wet, slapping sound which followed were unmistakable. He winced and moved more cautiously so as not to draw attention to himself. What he saw astounded him.

One of the largest, most magnificent songbirds he'd ever seen stood at the edge of his cage, facing the spectacle beyond the open doors. He clutched the bars in both hands, body pressed against the metal as if he meant to wiggle through them. His skin was the color of dark bronze, almost a burnt orange color, his plumage a riot of reds, oranges, and yellows. He was clearly enraged, all his feathers standing out from his body, muscles strung tight with tension. He did not sing, his gaze intent on the gathering. Why he did not exit the cage became obvious as Cy circled around: there were chains and a heavy lock barring the cage door.

The whip cracked down again, and Cy followed the songbird's gaze to the cluster of falconers. They stood in an arc around a post pounded into the ground. Manacled to the post kneeled a young man, his back streaked with red. From the scars Cy could see, this was not his first beating and he remained silent throughout his punishment. The falconers stood quietly as well, and the songbird music was likewise hushed, but, oddly, seemed to have a tone of vindictiveness. Who towards, Cy wasn't entirely sure, but he thought the target was the red songbird.

When the whipping concluded, the falconers left the boy there without a word and walked away. Cy held his breath that the chicks would remain quiet so as to not draw attention to them. He started when he heard the birdsong trill what could only be called an 'all-clear' alert, and the sunset-colored songbird opened his mouth.

He slid to his knees in the cage, stretching his arm out towards the boy at the post. The music brought tears to Cy's eyes.

He sang a song asking for forgiveness, his voice both caressing and soothing, but spiked with sudden, unrestrained yowls of either yearning or rage. The overall effect was chilling and Cy gave thanks for what little understanding he had. The boy out there no doubt felt terrified for his life.

As the birds sang to each other, Cy was able to distinguish three voices: the red bird and two others in the opposite cage. The red bird did not sing to the other two; he appeared to ignore them entirely, focusing on the boy. From the nagging tone in the songs of the other birds, Cy guessed they scolded the their fellow, and he couldn't blame the beautiful creature for occasionally sending a heated note or two their way.

Cy didn't want to interfere, he didn't need to borrow trouble, but his sharp ears caught the same possessive connotation that Indivriar used. This one, however, was directed at the boy chained to the post, and suddenly the punishment took on a different connotation.

Closing his eyes to better hear, Cy listened. The songbird sang of beauty and joy, of blue, never-ending blue, and a silence just as large. The way he used the phrases gave Cy the impression of a name, the name the songbird had for his mate.

Cy's heart leaped in sudden excitement. Could it be he wasn't as alone as he'd thought? The boy wore the same leather trews as the falconers, and his discarded jerkin and gloves lay in the dirt nearby.

The moment he moved, the red bird stood up and stopped singing. The other birds' singing also paused, but deliberately changed topics, something to do with the weather. He couldn't see them, but it felt similar to someone turning their back on him to avoid a conversation. He decided to follow the red bird's lead and ignore them.

The boy still kneeled by the post, forehead resting on his manacled wrists. He looked up dully when Cy stopped beside him, resignation shifting to surprise, and then suspicion.

"I won't hurt you," said Cy, dropping to sit beside him. The boy's jerkin bore the cords of a falconer's apprentice, but he was much older than the other boys of the same rank.

Cy was confused, and glanced back to the songbird. The red bird still stood by the cage bars, his glare boring into Cy's skin. Were the two mates? It had seemed like it. Why, then, would the falconers allow one of their own to do so, when they had threatened Cy with death over the same thing?

The boy wouldn't look at him, wouldn't answer his questions, just kept shaking his head 'no.' It was enough to make Cy lose his temper. He glanced again at the fuming songbird and then back to the boy, thinking. He could not stand others to be around Indivriar. Perhaps he could use that here. The red bird had obviously been frantic at the punishment meted out.

Deliberately, Cy reached out and brushed his fingers over the boy's shorn head, causing the boy to look up at him with startled, wide, blue eyes.

They both jumped when the red songbird slammed his body against the bars of his cage, his music more of a screech of anger than a song.

"Well, I think that got his attention," Cy murmured with a smile for the boy. "What do you think?" The boy turned away silently, to rest his head again on his bound hands, apparently ready to ignore everything.

Frowning, Cy leaned in closer, watching the songbird closely for his reaction. He pursed his lips, thinking through the few phrases he'd learned in the birds' complicated language.

The songbird threw himself against the bars again, but other than the warning tone, the only word Cy could recognize was, "Mine!" He frowned thoughtfully. Was the difference between their positions the fact that Indivriar was sick, or was it something more?

On Cy's left breast was a red, raised patch of skin like a welt. He had only noticed it when one of the physicians pointed it out, but the welt was in the exact place where Indivriar had occasionally licked him during their trip. That tended to be the same place he held the songbird when Cy cuddled him or walked him around. Combined with some scathing, rude jokes from the falconers about songbirds 'marking' their mates, Cy checked his penis and found a smaller red area, more like a mosquito bite where the songbird had bitten him their first night.

He looked at the boy now, looking for marks, but found none in view. He supposed there might be some lost beneath the criss-crossing scars and whip marks, or under his trews, but he wasn't about to check there.

The language of the songbirds was music, thoughts, and feelings all in one. As a bard, Cy had been trained to project feelings into his music, so that part was easy, but putting complex thoughts into the picture-words the songbirds used was tricky, and generally left him feeling like he was losing half of the conversation, with all the nuances and levels of meaning.

He patted the silent boy's arm and opened his mouth to sing, attempting to mimic the early morning greetings he heard the songbirds sing every morning. He wanted to project friendliness, but knew that his nerves made the notes slightly sharp.

::Good morning, bird of red like the sunset.::

He watched as the songbird's feathers puffed back up around his body, his face contorting into a furious scowl. Cy desperately hoped he wasn't insulting the bird. He needed this to work.

::I appreciate you speaking me,:: he sang next, stringing together the impressions to hopefully make a coherent sentence. ::I am called Sun-in-the-Leaves, and I want to help.::

The songbird drew back from the bars, his expression darkening still further, and he sang ... something! Cy thumped his thigh with a frustrated fist.

::Please! No one else will talk to me, and I need your help.::

The songbird scowled, crossing his arms over his chest.

::My ... my mate,:: Cy stammered, embarrassment coloring his face as well as his song. ::He's sick.:: He faltered there, unsure of words, his music desperate and afraid, his hand going to the pouch he wore with the wiggling babies. ::Please, help me.::

Ryubyn stood impassive, a thousand thoughts crowding his head. A child had better grammar than this human, but Ryubyn had never heard of a human Singing. He was startled and a little intrigued, but his worry and anger over his mate shoved all other thoughts aside. This human had a mate, one of the People, and yet was not bound or beaten. He also carried his mate's chicks, newborns that Ryubyn could hear attached to the human. It was everything Ryubyn had ever wanted and he snarled again with anger and longing.

His mate flinched, a minute flickering of the skin over his shoulders, and Ryubyn threw himself against the bars again. Silent-Sky was so gentle, his song without words, but soft like an early morning breeze.

That human came asking for help, from him, and Ryubyn had been begging for help for his mate for years! He called to him now, wanting so much and devastated by the fear his mate held for him.

Cy stirred, looking at the boy again to say quietly, "He calls for you."

Ries kept his face averted, closing his ears to the bard's words. He closed his eyes as well, pressing his lips together to hold back tears or sobs. The pain in Ryubyn's voice hurt worse than the ten lashes he'd received today. The reasons didn't matter. Ries knew he was already dead; it was just a matter of when.

"Will you not say something?" Cy asked. "You are his mate. Surely you see that!"

There was no answer. Cy looked at the songbird again. How to appeal to a songbird? He was caged, and his mate was beaten in front of his eyes. They should be together. His eyes fell on the chains and locks, and Cy remembered the trick Indivriar had done with the door of his cage. He'd come out. Possibly this bird had done the same. Cy didn't believe the songbird would voluntarily allow his mate to be beaten.

He looked up. Patches of blue dotted the canopy overhead, reminding him of the songbird's call. ::Large and blue like the sky,:: he sang, softly at first, and then louder. He sang all the colors of blue: blue like jewels and blue like the river, blue like the sparkling pool in the heart of the jungle, clear and still, and empty. ::He is my blue bird. Beautiful as morning and night and afternoon. N'Indivriar. My mate.::

Tears sprang to his eyes, unnoticed, to drip down is cheeks. Indivriar's body was so hot, so dry, and he gasped all the time now. Cy had never seen anyone die of thirst, but the fever was so high, sapping all of the songbird's strength, his glow, and his determination.

Cy's fists fell to his knees and he bowed his head, sobbing with the pain-filled notes he sang.

He sang of the fierce desire confronting him amidst sadness, comfort leading to the wonder of the chicks and falling to despair as Indivriar could barely tolerate any touch. He was dying, and there was nothing Cy could do.

::Help me,:: he sang. ::Please, please help me. Somebody help me.::

The songbird alone in his cage wept, too. The two other birds came down from their perches to sit on cushions where they could see, staring at the human wailing his grief. One by one they joined in to share the burden and ease the pain. Brothers Eld and Meryc huddled together to take comfort in one another. The anxiety permeating the aviary was not contained to the humans, but the songbirds welcomed the disease as much as they feared it.

::Enjoy his body,:: the brothers sang. ::Live the days you have left and --::

:: Shut up!:: screamed Ryubyn. He clung to the bars again, baring his front teeth at the brothers in furious pain. They were not mated. They did not know this grief! Ryubyn was young and strong yet, but he feared falling ill, of losing his blue-eyed mate, and he could well imagine the pain this human was enduring.

Ryubyn had lived his life within the grasp of the deadly disease, the brothers responded. He knew nothing!

::You sanctimonious, pretentious assholes!:: he yelled at them. He forgot that he defended a human, feeling only his desperate pain and fears in the simple, heartrending tune.

The brothers' voices blended into perfect harmony, scornful and lecturing their much younger cousin. ::Life is life. Accept it!::

::No!:: He shook his head in denial, sinking to his knees as he clung to the bars, staring at Silent-Sky. ::No! I won't! I won't! I won't!:: He gasped a few breaths. ::He is mine, and I want him. I don't want to die without him being mine. My mate.::

Meryc snorted in derision and turned his back. The human had fallen silent, staring at the identical green songbirds, but they cared nothing for his stare. Humans.

::Child!:: thundered Meryc as his brother reached up to soothe him, reminding him that Ryubyn had yet to listen. He was beyond reason.

::You brought this upon yourself, Ryubyn!:: he snarled back. ::Mating some human. Did we not tell you? Did you not listen? Always thinking you are above all, simply because the humans like to see you fucking us! More chicks to be raised in this prison! Why must you be so stubborn?::

::Meryc. Meryc, calm yourself.::

::Why cannot he fall ill and die?

Ryubyn flinched, but he kept his eyes on sky, singing his love louder to block out the hurtful songs. The human shifted, his head turning from the brothers to stare, and Ryubyn's brows drew together slightly.

This human could Sing. He was mated and he had young. That was what Ryubyn wanted and longed for with all his heart. His parent and uncle brought him up to be wary of and hate humans, to resist with everything he had, and he'd been faithful to their memory. He resented being trapped here, with no choice in his life. He wanted more, wanted the world sung about in the old songs, songs that were so far removed from this hell that they were little more than dreams and fables, legends from the past.

He was desirable as a sire, and Ryubyn did his duty, but he hated everything about it. Though he did not desire to hurt his fellows, he was brutal and detached because otherwise he feared for his sanity. Only his brother had ever understood him, and he'd died in Ryubyn's arms because Sancre was not beautiful or fertile and therefore had no value. The humans had not even tried to help him.

Now, oh now they would, because they were afraid, but that was then. He'd watched his brother die, because he could do nothing, but his childhood naivete died with him.

He would tolerate no other companions, even had he any brothers left. He thought he would die then, but he was born stubborn, and he refused. He didn't know why until one day he saw the Silent One.

The other birds sang of this one, a human who was kind and watched the world with large, blue eyes full of wonder. He never spoke, and the other humans pecked at him cruelly, but he was gentle with the sick and the old and the weak, and the songbirds treasured him.

Ryubyn scoffed. No human could possibly be good or gentle or kind. They were all evil. Hadn't they cast his brother aside as if her were trash? Did they not treat the People as less than animals? He wouldn't listen, tormented by lonely grief and hatred.

But his stubbornness and temper ran off the human chicks, squabbling amongst themselves over who must tend the songbird's cage, and the falconers eventually sent in Ries.

Ries was from a family of falconers. Even though his mother claimed he was mute, his father and all his brothers had been falconers, and that's what he wanted, too. He worked hard and made no complaints, and even the worst-tempered songbirds behaved with him.

The apprentices always came to Ryubyn's cage under guard, because he had attacked and seriously maimed several boys since his brother's death. The guard herded the songbird to one end of the cage and kept him there while Ries cleaned and tended to the songbird's habitat. He emptied, scrubbed, and re-filled the pool, replaced soiled cushions with fresh, cleaned the feed trough and floors, scurried up and down the ropes and ladders so like a bird himself, and made note of any amenities that needed repaired or replaced. It was standard work, simple but labor-intensive, and Ryubyn was enthralled.

The other songbirds warned him, but Ryubyn ignored them. He'd never wanted another songbird the way he wanted the human chick. The wide, blue eyes like the sky were soft, and he looked at Ryubyn with wonder, not fear. Ryubyn truly felt beautiful for the first time in his life. He wanted with a desire that shocked and frightened him. Dreaming of blue eyes glistening with answering desire filled all his thoughts and song.

He sang and sang and sang to court his chosen mate, but, like all humans, Silent-Sky was deaf to the words. Frustration welled up in Ryubyn and he acted up as he'd never done before, ripping pillows and bedding to shreds, dumping food and water containers, and finally retreating to the top-most bower to sulk.

His opportunity came at last. Silent-Sky came alone. Ryubyn didn't care why; he acted, ignoring his neighbors' warnings and admonitions. He pinned his mate to the floor amidst the feathers and straw and kissed him.

Humans might be deaf, but Ryubyn made his intentions clear with bites and licks. He could feel his mate's fears, but he was too impatient. He didn't know how much time he had, but he had to make Silent-Sky his before it was too late.

It was almost long enough. His mate was responding, eyes sparkling with desire that made Ryubyn want him more and more. So lost was he that his first indication that they were no longer alone was the stout stick which hit him right between the shoulders. They tore Silent-Sky away before the bond between them could stabilize, and Ryubyn suffered one of only a handful of beatings in his life. Under normal circumstances they dared not mar the sunset beauty, but emotions were high and Ryubyn savaged both guards before more arrived to subdue him.

::Give him back,:: he finished his musical narrative. Give me my mate!:: He bowed his head, leaning against the bars of his cage and weeping in his rage and loneliness.

Cyrus stared, his mouth agape as the song went on and the tale of the bird and the boy spilled forth. He didn't understand all the layers of meaning, but he felt Ryubyn's grief deep in his gut where it resonated with all of Cy's fears concerning his own mate.

Leaving the boy, he approached the cage and knelt beside the songbird. Man and bird looked at each other. Cy crooned a soft lullaby that seemed to comfort Indivriar.

Ryubyn listened, hearing the unspoken promise beneath the music. Pride was cast aside to plead for what he wanted more than anything in the world: ::Please.::

::Can you help Indivriar?:: Cy stared at the songbird intently.

::Who?::

::My mate!:: he answered impatiently. ::Indivriar, my mate. He is sick.:: His throat tried to choke off the words when his heart spasmed painfully. ::He is dying.::

::Indivriar'an,:: Ryubyn corrected absently. The name sounded familiar, but was not one he knew, so he wasn't of the compound. Other strangers had been brought back lately. Indivriar'an must be one of them.

::Can you?::

Ryubyn reached out to wet his fingers on the human's tears. He made his decision and nodded. ::I will help you.::

Grabbing the songbird's hand, Cy smiled for the first time in days as fresh tears ran down his cheeks. ::Then I will help you. Thank you. Thank you!::