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replied.
    “And we know who our best assassin is—Ullryck,” Lord Arrin said. He then churred. This, indeed, is a good plan, he thought to himself. “Yes, yes, a good plan. Send for Ygryk and Pleek right now!”
    Ygryk and Pleek followed Penryck as they flew through a tangled web of ice tunnels under the H’rathghar glacier. Their gizzards were tight. Their hearts beat rapidly. Never before had they been asked into this innermost sanctum where Lord Arrin had plotted and strategized against the H’rathian owls of the king. We are coming up in the world, Pleek thought. How they had made fun of him. No, worse. When he had first taken Ygryk as a mate, they all had sneered and treated him as if he were splat from a wet pooper of a bird, a seagull. But look at him now—and look at Ygryk—both of them flying toward the war room to be included in a high-level meeting.
    Lord Arrin began at once. “We have invited you here to perform a special mission.”
    “Your word is our command.” Pleek dipped his head obsequiously.
    “Ygryk, I understand that because of your superb vigilance you have just discovered that Siv has fled the iceberg.”
    “Yes, my lord.” Her voice creaked in the manner of those hagsfiends whose ancestors were said to have emerged from the smee holes that dotted the N’yrthghar. Somehow the heat or the steam from the holes and had given their voices an odd inflection.
    “I know that it is difficult for you hagsfiends with your…” He hesitated as if searching for the proper word.
    Don’t you dare say “primitive,” Penryck silently cursed.
    “…With your unusual brains and thinking processes to master the art of reason, but I have deduced that it would be most logical at this time for Siv to set out in search of her chick.”
    No credit for me, of course! Penryck thought.
    “Therefore,” Lord Arrin continued, “my proposition is simple. Ygryk, you are a superior tracker and you, Pleek, have learned well from this good mate of yours.”
    At last, Pleek thought, someone understands what a jewel my Ygryk truly is!
    “I want Siv as my queen,” Lord Arrin went on. “You want a child. You get me my queen and her chick. I’ll keep the queen and you keep the chick.”
    Pleek and Ygryk were overwhelmed. They slid from the ice shards they had been perched on and bent their legs so deeply that their talons skidded out from underthem and their beaks dug into the ice. “Merciful and all wise Lord Arrin,” Pleek began, “how shall we ever thank you for this?”
    Lord Arrin looked down at them groveling at the tips of his talons. “Oh, I’m sure we will find a way.” He blinked and the amber in his eyes cast golden shadows on the ice. He paused. “Now, you are dismissed.”
    The Great Horned and the hagsfiend, bowing and scraping, backed out of the war room. Then Lord Arrin turned to Penryck. “Send for Ullryck. She’s got no longings for chicks? No notions of mothering?”
    “Not our Ullryck, sir. ‘Twas said that her ancestors came from the deepest smee hole in the N’yrthghar, one that went straight down to hagsmire.”
    “Perfect, then, for this job. Give her flight instructions immediately. She’ll need two burly fighters with her for the trip back. They’re not to set off until Pleek and Ygryk are a few leagues out. Her half-hags should be able to pick up their scent. Give her a cover story if they discover her; just say that I felt they might need some backup if things got rough.”
    “Yes, my lord.”
    “My lord?” Lord Arrin blinked at Penryck with a hint of contempt in his amber eyes.
    Penryck was momentarily confused. Surely he does not want me to call him ‘Your Majesty’ yet! Not yet!
    Penryck dipped his head. His shaggy black feathers scraped the ice. “Your Majesty?” At the very core of the word was a quaver of doubt. But if Lord Arrin noticed he chose to ignore it.
    Fool! thought Penryck.

CHAPTER EIGHT
The Passion of Ygryk
    P leek regarded his mate, Ygryk, who