“They are not good eating,” Pashov tells me again. “They can be eaten if starving, but the meat tastes unpleasant. But the nests do burn for a long time.”
“I see. I’d hate to take a nest that’s occupied, though.” I studythe wall of calling, flapping birds. God, there really are so very many of them. “How come only some are in use?”
“Dirtbeaks mate for life,” Harrec says. “The female will lay an egg and the male will cover it. The female feeds him.”
“Poor female birds, always having to feed the men,” I tease. “There’s a good analogy for you.” When all three of them stare blankly at me, I clear my throat. “Um. So what happens if there’s no mate?”
Harrec shrugs. “The egg does not hatch.”
Oooh. “So there could be a bunch of eggs up there in empty nests because the female doesn’t have a mate?”
Pashov gives me a speculative look. “Do you want me to check for you?”
Oh god, do I ever. Eggs are my favorite food in the world. “Can we? I mean, if there’s one in a nest that’s been abandoned, it’s probably frozen, but I could thaw it.” And then scramble it. Or fry it. Or use it to cook up a potato and meat quiche…and now I’m drooling.
My mate nods firmly. “I shall get you an egg and a nest.”
“The old nests are at the bottom,” Farli chimes in. “You might have to look to the top.”
Harrec snorts. “He cannot climb nearly as high as me. I will get an egg for you, Stay-see.”
Pashov shoots him a black look. “You will not. She is my mate, and I will get her an egg.” He points at Harrec. “From the top.”
I glance up at the wall. “Guys? That’s kind of high. I don’t know if that’s a great idea.”
But the two men are ignoring me, locked in their own weird pissing war. They stare at each other, Harrec’s expression challenging, and Pashov’s angry.
“From the top?” Harrec repeats.
“All the way to the top,” Pashov agrees, and storms forward.
I shoot an uneasy look at Farli, but she just rolls her eyes. If she’s not worried, I guess I shouldn’t be.
I watch as Pashov storms up to the wall of birds. I expect them to fly away, but they only squawk and flutter their wings at him. They’re either going to give him a fight, or they’re too lazy to retreat. Pashov grins over at me, and it’s clear he thinks it’s the latter. Maybe he’s right and the birds are harmless. He would know.
I relax a little. Pashov loves to have fun, but he wouldn’t let things go too far.
He begins to climb, each hand anchoring to rock, then he hauls his body up. He’s surprisingly graceful for his size, and I watch his tail flick back and forth as he moves. Pashov is nimble and scales up the cliff quickly, heading to the first nest, which is a few feet above what I could reach. It’s empty, with no squatty, angry bird in it, and he pries it down off the wall, then tosses it to the ground. “No egg.”
Farli trots forward to retrieve the nest, shying away at the angry calls of the birds as she approaches.
Harrec just cups his hands to his mouth. “Climb to the top, fool! That is where the newest nests are!”
Pashov’s tail flicks harder with irritation, but he continues climbing. As I watch, one of his hands gets close to an occupied nest and the bird squawks angrily and pecks at his hand.
“Be careful,” I call when he switches handholds. “Maybe this is a bad idea.” I don’t know if he can hear me from his vantage point on the wall. I don’t want to be a nag or a spoilsport, but at the same time, I’m watching my mate climb and my concern is growing. Perhaps it’s just my fear of heights, but he’s climbing…really high. And those birds are really pissy. Another snaps at him as he climbs near, and another looks like it wants to take a bite out of his tail. Those are just the ones in the nests, too. If some of the ones perching high on the lip of the canyon get an idea to come and attack, it could get ugly.
My mate is high off the ground now, at least twenty feet above us. The birds are riled, their angry cawing turning deafening. Some are starting to take to the air, and one swoops at Pashov’s back, which elicits a laugh from Harrec and Farli, and a horrified gasp from me.
I suddenly don’t want eggs anymore. This doesn’t feel safe. I just want Pashov back on the ground so he can put his arm around my waist and I can touch him and smile at him. Nothing else matters.
“Higher!” Harrec calls. I want to smack him.
Pashov reaches the next empty nest, and his shoulders move a little. He holds something aloft in the air, and it’s large, rounded, and a delicate speckled brown. An egg.
“Great, now just come down,” I whisper. He has to be thirty feet up by now. I’m tired of this. I don’t like it.
As I watch fearfully, Pashov tucks the egg into the front of his tunic. He pries the nest off the ridge and tosses it to Farli below. Instead of coming down, though, he moves his feet along a ridge of rock, climbing sideways instead of down. He’s moving to a nearby empty nest. He reaches into it, and then brandishesanother egg high into the air with a flourish. My lips twitch with amusement at that. Show-off.
