"Where is he?" Therula fumed as she stalked from the stable of Crutham Keep. "Where is my worthless half-brother?"
    Brastigan was supposed to be helping her with Fire Rose, the chestnut colt their father had given her. The young horse was so beautiful; she had been longing to ride him, but he was still too skittish. No one was better with horses than Brastigan, and he'd promised to help train Fire Rose. Instead, he went off to the low-town -- getting drunk again, no doubt. He did that far too often.
    Therula stormed angrily across the packed earth of the castle courtyard. She realized what she was doing when a pair of serving maids bobbed in nervous curtseys. Therula drew a deep breath and slowed her pace, consciously assuming a calm expression. She could practically hear her mother telling her that a royal princess must not stomp and scowl, however frustrated she might be. She would simply have to find Brastigan later and express her disappointment directly to him.
    As Therula continued toward the inner keep, a falcon winged between her and the granite towers. A shrill cry came, thin with distance. Therula paused, looking up and down the broad courtyard. No one was near the mews, nor did she remember anyone planning to hunt with falcons today. If they had, Therula would have been invited.
    The bird of prey banked and soared over Therula's head. It was a prairie falcon by its brown and buff coloring, but much larger than any she had seen before. She saw its wings with feathers spread wide, like hands with too many fingers. Something white was clutched in its talons -- perhaps a scroll of parchment?
    What she didn't see was the dangling strap of a falconer's jesses. Intrigued, Therula turned to follow the falcon with her eyes. If this were a wild bird, what was it doing here, above the king's fortress?
    The falcon banked again, still descending, and gave another shrill cry. A word came to her clearly over the air: "Unferth!"
    Therula took a step backward. Unferth was her father, the king of Crutham. Then she shook her head. Birds couldn't speak. She must not have heard correctly. The falcon glided down toward the great hall, where King Unferth and Queen Alustra should be holding court at this time of day. It stretched out its talons and beat its wings to alight on the peaked roof. The falcon settled its wings and stood in proud silhouette. Therula could have sworn its fierce, pale eyes were fixed on her.
    "Unferth!" the falcon shrieked.
    There was no mistaking that time. Therula stared back at it, fear fluttering in her chest. Birds did not speak unless magic made it so.
    "Unferth!" it cried again.
    This creature was no mere falcon. Whatever it was, it wanted her father. Therula forced herself to move, lifted the folds of her riding skirt with a pretense of regal dignity, and hurried toward the great hall. All thoughts of Fire Rose and Brastigan had vanished from her mind.

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