Tempest

by Mercedes Lackey

  The riders dismounted in an impressively coordinated movement, and a few of the tribesmen—and women, Sheski could now see—gathered reins together to create several strings of beasts they led to one side of the field and staked out to graze. Again, Sheski resisted a nod as the riders tended to the needs of their mounts before all else. She turned her attention to the leaders of the Khyrsmi, who strode toward the waiting Haighlei.

  Their skin tones were light, though not as pale as the northern Kaled’a’in, and their faces were round, with narrow, wide-set eyes that accentuated that roundness. Most of them had dark hair, which some wore loose and others braided back. Their garb was mostly grays and browns, accented with fur trim, a necessity among those whose homelands included the snow-peaked mountains. Each one, however, wore at least one brightly colored accent in his or her costume, either natural gemstones or dyed fabrics or feathers.

  One carried an impressive hooded hawk on her shoulder, and the russet-feathered bird shifted its weight restlessly, catching Sheski’s scent and recognizing it as large raptor. Only now did the approaching Khyrsmi see Sheski, and she noted their ill-concealed starts with amusement. She was seated in an upright “guard” posture to one side of the tent flap, with one of the Haighlei’s most elaborately outfitted warriors opposite her, both of them shaded by a broad fabric awning concocted from a spare tent. She wore the protective breastplate and neck guard of her Silver Gryphon battle gear but not her fighting claws, and she knew she presented an imposing sight. They have no way of knowing I am only a small gryphon, she thought wryly.

  Prince Egharevba and his Guard Captain also stood in front of the opening, with Dea on one side, in a place of prominence. The whole array was constructed to present a subtle image of superior receiving tribute instead of greeting between noble equals.

  One of the three Khyrsmi in the front, an older man, narrowed his eyes, and Sheski guessed that he had read the wordless Haighlei message.

  Carefully, she thinned her shields. She had no intention of reading any of the Khyrsmi, which would be a violation of every bit of her training in the use of her Gifts, not to mention the terms of the Kaled’a’in alliance with the Haighlei. But she was open enough that, if any of them projected strong, unguarded thoughts or emotions, she would pick up the flavor of those thoughts with her small empathic Gift. It wasn’t much, but it might help them figure out who was involved in the sabotage of the bridge and the strange Mage Weather.

  From the older Khyrsmi, she received only an impression of affronted dignity, and her focus turned to the next of the leaders, a lean-muscled, attractive woman of middle age, with a scar along her right cheek. Her posture proclaimed her a fighter, and as such her emotions were calm and controlled—Sheski would get little from her. It was she who bore the large red hawk on a carefully constructed shoulder-pad. The last of the three was also the youngest, and Sheski guessed from the shape of his face and eyes that he was either son or nephew to the older man.

  “Honored Ones, we are pleased to greet you in the name of King Obaseki,” Captain Onabu said in the Haighlei trade tongue, sweeping a precisely not-too-low bow to the three Khyrsmi.

  “Through me, Chieftain Naranbaatar returns your greeting,” the oldest of the three replied in the same language, his own respectfully shallow bow directed to Prince Egharevba. Sheski almost grinned, for with that bow the elder showed his perfect understanding of Haighlei protocol and revealed that he could play the game but preferred not to. Fortunately for the alliance, the Prince himself cared little for stilted formalities, so she guessed the negotiations would be smooth. Except for the sabotage of the bridge, this would be fun, she thought sourly. The Kaled’a’in have much in common with these people, with their hawks and horses. A sudden burst of anger from the larger group of Khyrsmi caught her attention, and she kept one ear on the diplomats while studying the rest of the tribesfolk.

  The anger was quickly stifled, too soon for her to even guess from whom it had arisen, but her keen eyesight picked out other details. They were clearly expert horsemen, and all carried small bows, ideal for mounted combat or close quarters, strung opposite the natural curve of the wood for greater power. Their swords, too, were small, with a slight curve at the tip that she guessed was less likely to stick in a target in a moving battle.

  Most of them were strong, fighting men in their prime, with a few women like the one who bore the large hawk. There was only one other older man, although not as old as the chief diplomat. Her Mage Sight read traces of magic around him; it felt like shaman’s magic, but not as strong as Kaled’a’in Adepts. He wasn’t likely to be the source of the Mage Weather.

  Movement caught her eye, bringing her focus to another Khyrsmi, a much younger man. His hand caught the edge of his cloak, and he nervously fingered the clasp holding it over his shoulders while he studied the waiting Haighlei. That clasp had an unusually bright blue stone at its center, a blue like the lagoon at White Gryphon on a calm, sunny day, when one could see the sands at the bottom. His eyes scanned the Haighlei in turn, with what seemed more than idle curiosity. Although if any of them could “read” a gryphon’s body language, they might think the same about my attentiveness, she thought. And considering his youth, some anxiety is to be expected—he’s probably had less training for this sort of thing than Dea and I.

  “You come with a small group, Prince Egharevba,” the older man said, his gesture encompassing the honor guard, drawing Sheski’s attention back to the diplomatic greetings. His voice and inflections gave the trade tongue a musical sound.

  “To bring an army would be an insult to you and to the peace between us,” the Prince replied smoothly, and Sheski’s crest feathers lifted in amusement. Of course, he chooses to forget that a good-sized battle contingent stands on the other side of the black-rock gorge.

  “Come, let us step into the tent for its shade and comfort,” the Prince continued. “My noble mother would be horrified that I have kept you standing and talking in the sun!”

  “The sun, we are accustomed to,” the older man replied with a smile that creased the weather-worn skin around his eyes, “but a comfortable cushion for a seat would be a pleasure.”

  When the six diplomats—Prince Egharevba, Captain Onabu, Deavann, and the three Khyrsmi—entered the tent, Sheski and the other Haighlei guard relaxed their stances. The rest of the Haighlei stationed themselves along the forested edge of the truce field, while the Khyrsmi did the same on the plains side.

  :?: Deavann nudged her mind.

  :We’ve settled in to wait, the Khyrsmi on their side, the Haighlei on ours.:

  :You can listen through me. Simpler than repeating everything to you later.:

  Sheski blinked at Dea’s openness, then carefully aligned her mind to her partner’s so that she could hear the conversation. She did not use Dea’s eyes to see as well, imagining instead the placement of the six inside the makeshift meeting tent. It was not as formal as the Haighlei would have liked, for the most elaborate gear had been carried by the servants still on the far side of the chasm.

  Protocol dictated that the Haighlei, as nominal hosts of the meeting, introduce themselves first, and Captain Onabu was just speaking of Dea herself.

  “—Last is Deavann of White Gryphon, representing our Kaled’a’in allies.”

  “We are honored to meet one of the Kaled’a’in, although she does not have the appearance of a northerner.” It was still the oldest Khyrsmi who spoke, and Sheski could hear notes of humor and question in his voice.

  Dea chuckled. “Indeed, noble sir, my late honored parents were of King Obaseki’s kingdom, but as an orphaned child I was adopted into the Clan of White Gryphon. I am pleased to act for both the people of my birth and the people of my heart.”

  The Khyrsmi nodded approval at her words, then began his own introductions. He, Ganbaatar, was brother to Chieftain Naranbaatar, and the younger man was the Chieftain’s heir, Chu
luun. As Sheski had guessed, the young man was also Ganbaatar’s son. She wondered idly if the Chieftain did not have children of his own, that his nephew was his heir, or if the tribesmen chose their heirs from among all the possible candidates. The woman, Sarnai, was referred to as “the Chieftain’s Hawk,” which Sheski supposed to be similar to the captain of the guard or a chief bodyguard.

  :I don’t quite trust her, this Sarnai,: Dea Mindspoke suddenly. :She’s so controlled in response to all of us, but her eyes tighten when she looks at the younger one.:

  :Maybe it’s not about us and the treaty at all,: Sheski replied, an idea dawning in her mind. :Maybe it’s an internal power struggle, and the treaty with the Haighlei is an opportune time for someone to act against the Chieftain.: She considered for a moment. :I’d almost rather it were just about the Haighlei. It would be much easier to accuse them of sabotaging the treaty.:

  :Now there I disagree with you. If it’s internal, we only need to point it out and let them deal with their own.:

  :Unless someone decides to drop another bridge while we’re on it. Or try assassination.: She paused again. :I don’t think that would be their style, but one never knows. The Haighlei would find it appalling enough to reject the treaty entirely.:

  :And a rejection at the Eclipse Ceremony would be doubly damning. There might be no coming back to alliance after that.:

  Sheski was silent for a long time, listening to the back-and-forth of the diplomats through Dea’s ears while she pondered what they knew—and didn’t know. If there was a traitor among the Haighlei, he or she must be one who disliked the alliance with the Khyrsmi. But still willing to work with one or more of them for a time, in order to disrupt the treaty. Is the Haighlei traitor working with Sarnai, the Chieftain’s Hawk? If she is displeased with the heir, is she planning to start battle with the Haighlei? And perhaps arrange that the young man doesn’t survive the encounter? Our full party would have been too large for a score of Khyrsmi to consider taking on, but the smaller honor guard is an even match.

  She fanned out some of her feathers to catch the tiny breeze that snaked under the tent awning. It all made sense in her head, but she had nothing she could point to for proof. With a whisper of power, she shifted her attention to the musical voices of the Khyrsmi on the other side of the field, using a hint of magic to help her understand their speech. She needed every bit of information she could get in order to protect the Prince and preserve the alliance. If the negotiations went well, it would only be a few days for any plots to play out.

  • • •

  :We have crossed the bridge and are coming with the fewest warriors possible. Harfryth and Cloudfeather, of course, Priest-Mage Aisosa, Truthsayer Itohan, myself, and a bare half-dozen Haighlei guards. The rains make it slow going, though we should still arrive before midday.:

  Sheski frowned at Frostmoon’s words, which meant the unknown traitor must still be present among the small guard group. :The treaty negotiations have gone smoothly these past two days. All will be ready for Priest-Mage Aisosa and Truthsayer Itohan to confirm when you arrive. If Dea and I are right, one of those with you is the one responsible for the Mage Weather. Be cautious and travel well.: She didn’t add their other speculations, but released the link with the teleson and turned to her partner.

  “I suppose we should tell the Prince and Captain Onabu to expect rain in the next few marks,” Dea said with a small smile.

  Sheski nodded, reading her own worries in the tightness around Dea’s lips. They were both certain that something was going to happen, but neither had any idea what it would be. Silvers might be prepared to handle the unexpected, but they always preferred to know what was coming.

  “Should we tell Captain Onabu and the Prince our suspicions?” Dea had suggested it several times, but Sheski shook her head, her golden crest feathers dancing.

  “We can point to nothing. From your observation of the negotiations, Sarnai has been utterly professional, except for the darkness in her eyes when she looks at Chuluun, and sometimes Ganbaatar. On guard outside the tent, I have heard enough to pick up a little of their language, and her own son, Turgen, travels with them. He’s the youngest one, full of first-time nerves, with the bright blue cloak pin.” Dea nodded that she recognized the description. “I think Chieftain Naranbaatar is actually his father.”

  “Which explains Sarnai’s resentment of Chuluun. But why would the Chieftain’s nephew be his heir, and not his own son?”

  Sheski shrugged. “We don’t know enough of the Khyrsmi to say. And even if we put all these circumstances together, and if we believe there is a traitor among the Haighlei who is allied with Sarnai, we still cannot say why they are trying to harm the alliance. And without any proof, we sound like speculative, fear-mongering grannies.”

  “Nothing else to be done, then, but make what plans we can.” Dea opened the tent flap, and the two Silvers crossed the Haighlei camp to the Prince’s larger tent.

  The Prince was already prepared for the day’s negotiations, his loose trousers mostly covered by a knee-length crimson robe embroidered with golden thread. The glittering sun’s rays beaded around the split neckline were far less elaborate than what Sheski had often seen among the Haighlei, but this was the most decorated garb that had made it across the gorge. It was still impressive, the fabric stiff from the combined weight of gold thread and gemstone beads. He looked up as they entered. “What word from the others?”

  “They have crossed the chasm, and the Mage Weather continues.” The Prince frowned. “They have split the contingent,” Sheski continued, “to leave most of the warriors at the gorge to guard the backtrail and prevent further sabotage.”

  Prince Egharevba raised his brows. “Why should they not all travel with Aisosa and Itohan?”

  “Did not Ganbaatar comment on the small size of your company when the Khyrsmi arrived?” The Prince and Captain Onabu nodded. “And did you not say that it would be an insult to have brought a larger group?” Another nod. “Then how could we explain a small army?”

  Onabu’s eyes widened, the whites stark against his dark skin. “By all the Gods,” he whispered. “We would have been shamed. It is good that you remembered and warned the others.”

  “If we need to explain the late arrival, perhaps we can hint that Priest-Mage Aisosa’s advanced age required slower travel.”

  “If you value your knuckles, I would only suggest that well out of the Priest-Mage’s hearing,” Dea said drily, and they all grinned. Aisosa might be the oldest traveler among the diplomatic group, but he was as fit as any of the Prince’s elite guardsmen and would surely take offense at any implication of weakness. “It would seem that whoever wished to disrupt the confirmation of this alliance is still intent on doing so,” Dea continued. “I suggest that Captain Onabu take extra precautions—without appearing to take extra precautions, of course.” Her expression was perfectly bland.

  The Prince chuckled. “Of course,” he replied, his voice equally bland.

  Captain Onabu informed the Khyrsmi that the Priest-Mage and Truthsayer would arrive in the late morning and that the final confirmation of the treaty would take place then. The Khyrsmi, in turn, spent the morning gathering their gear, obviously intending to return to the high grasslands as soon as the diplomacy was complete.

  From her station near the tent, Sheski listened to their musical chatter with carefully concealed interest. Most were excited to plan their departure, with a sense of relief that their obligations had been met. Only from Turgen did she read a vague sense of unease, an elevation of his nerves. There was anticipation around him, as well, but it was not the happy sense of the others. As the skies clouded and the first spatters of rain struck them, his unease peaked, and she closed her shields to prevent her own stomach from roiling in response.

  Several of the Khyrsmi pointed at the skies and exclaimed their astonishment at the strange weather, and a frown
creased the shaman’s face. He had not been involved in the previous days’ negotiations, but she often saw Ganbaatar deep in conversation with him. He half-closed his eyes, and she was certain he used his own magic to “look” at the weather patterns. His frown deepened, and as soon as he emerged from his partial trance, he went to Ganbaatar.

  On their side of the field, the Haighlei sighed with resignation and retrieved their oil-capes from the tents. Over the next candlemark, the rain intensified and the winds shifted to come from the forest instead of their usual track from the high mountains.

  In the drenching rain, the small party’s emergence from the forest path was far less impressive than any of the Haighlei would have wished. Even Harfryth was a diminished and bedraggled gryphon, looking far less impressive than the preened and dry Sheski, despite her larger size.

  Alert to every movement, Sheski studied the approaching Haighlei, searching for any unusual behavior. What caught her eye was a flash of color: One of the fighters wore a pendant, prominently displayed, with a brilliant blue stone at its center. A piece of the puzzle fell into place in her mind.

  :I think—: she began to Dea, but her thought was interrupted as the man reached into his belt pouch, and movement among the Khyrsmi flickered at the edge of her vision. Without hesitation, she leaped forward, brushing past the Haighlei guards who flanked her. :Get Turgen!:

  The Haighlei and Khyrsmi stood in frozen astonishment as she lunged into the midst of the newcomers, pushing Aisosa and Itohan aside to reach the one who turned as if to flee. He had no chance against her speed and strength, and she flattened him beneath her, her talons folded to make bruising fists of her forefeet rather than raking his flesh. His head struck the ground hard as he fell, and his body went limp.

  Even as Sheski rushed through the Haighlei, Deavann ran toward the Khyrsmi. As she bore down upon them, a single arrow flew from their midst, a wild shot that ripped through the loose fabric of Chuluun’s tunic. Before another could join the first, Dea seized Turgen, one arm trapping the young man against her, knocking his bow to the ground, while the other brandished one of her paired swords.