Gift of Griffins

by V. M. Escalada

  “You’re sure rescuing this princess from the Halians is worth taking Kerida away from the Feelers and the Bears and putting her into that kind of danger? Is Bakura part of the Prophecy, or what?” Tel kept his tone level. Kerida thought that Jerek himself was the one the Prophecy spoke about, the one who would unite everyone, Talents, Feelers, UnGifted people, and—yes—even the Shekayrin.

  Jerek stopped arranging the maps and looked up, licking his lips. “I’ve asked Larin, but you know what she’s like. If she doesn’t want to speak to you, you can’t make her. But Larin doesn’t tell me to stop Kerida from going. In fact, she gave me something for you to give her.” He felt inside his tunic and finally pulled out a small bag, the leather so old it had begun to flake around the edges. Jerek emptied it out into his hand and, along with a lock of hair, a chess piece, and what looked like a dried nut, was a jewel. Unmistakably, a jewel. Jerek picked it out and handed it to Tel before hiding his other precious things away again.

  “This is the one Luca found? The one that doesn’t work?” Tel pressed his lips together, eyeing the jewel laying in the palm of his hand.

  “Yes.” Jerek sat back on his heels. “Larin said Kerida would know what to do with it.” He drew down his brows, mouth twisted to one side. “Listen. I know that Baku can help us if we can get her away from the Shekayrin. Once—”

  Tel wouldn’t have noticed Jerek’s hesitation if he hadn’t been looking for it. Whatever he said next, it wasn’t what he’d been about to say.

  “They’ll obey her, her brother’s officers.”

  Tel nodded slowly. Did Jerek know how uncertain he looked? “I’ll be expected to report to my Company Commander. They may already be wondering where I am.”

  “And I’ll ask that you get sent with Svann and his party. It’ll make sense because he’ll look like he’s coming back with approximately the same number of people he went with. That’ll add weight to his story.”

  “I’m not arguing with you,” Tel said. “But I just don’t trust Svann, especially now that Ker’s not here to Flash him.”

  “That’s why Barid’s going with you. He can check Svann as necessary.”

  Tel swallowed, and wished he felt as sure as his Luqs sounded.

  * * *

  • • •

  Tel leaned his hips against a smooth outcropping of rock wall that seemed designed for just that, watching Svann out of the corner of his eye. Just a few paces away, the Shekayrin stared down at the jewel in his hand as if he expected it to talk to him.

  “Maybe he does,” Tel muttered. Wynn hovered at Svann’s elbow, and Pella, along with a few other soldiers, was waiting nearby, but that didn’t make Tel feel any better.

  Barid came up on Tel’s other side and found a perch of his own to lean against. Tel wasn’t sure what to make of the Talent. Kerida was the only one he really knew, and she wasn’t anything even close to ordinary. Though she had vouched for Barid. . . .

  “Not looking forward to going back into the Peninsula, I imagine,” Tel said. He could have kicked himself. Why remind the man how much danger he faced?

  “I’ll be all right. I survived there for months; it can’t be any harder now.” Barid looked sideways at Tel. “After all, we’re traveling with our own Shekayrin, aren’t we?”

  Tel examined the Talent closely. He was olive-skinned, like Kerida, but his hair and his eyes were much darker, close to black, and his nose broader. Though almost everyone had a nose broader than hers. Barid sat calmly under Tel’s assessment, his eyes unflinching.

  “You think that’s an advantage?”

  Teeth flashed white against Barid’s beard. It was odd to see a Talent who wasn’t clean-shaven. “You have a particular reason to dislike this mage?” Tel said nothing. Barid’s eyes glanced right, to where Svann stood, still looking at his jewel, before returning to Tel. “When you watch him, you get a certain look on your face.”

  Tel felt his shoulders go back and tried to relax. “I didn’t realize I was so obvious.”

  “Don’t take offense. I don’t think anyone but a Talent would have seen it, and as you may have noticed yourself, there aren’t many of us.” Barid shrugged one shoulder. “Which makes me wonder why I’m being sent with you, instead of staying here and helping Luca.”

  “You’re being sent along to keep an eye on Svann.”

  “Well, no one’s said that, not exactly. But what other reason could there be?” Another glance at Svann. “Luca Pa’narion says there’s nothing to worry about, that he’s examined him.” Barid swiveled his eyes again, to leave no doubt who he was talking about.

  “Kerida says the same.” Tel felt his ears grow hot. This would be the first time he’d ever repeated anything that had been said only between the two of them. He had a feeling Kerida wouldn’t be very happy about it if she found out.

  “But you don’t agree.”

  Tel shrugged. Barid switched his focus to his own crossed ankles, then looked across at Tel’s feet. He frowned, mouth twisted to one side. “How tall are you?”

  Tel laughed in spite of himself. “I’m not sure,” he said, still smiling. “Last time anyone checked I hadn’t stopped growing.” It felt good to laugh with someone, even if the laughter died away quickly. Svann had looked up from his jewel, a puzzled look on his face as if he couldn’t remember who they were or why they were there.

  “The one who had me, the one they rescued me from when we were trying to use the Pass, he was like this one.” Barid looked down at his feet again, his voice cool and gentle. “A nice enough person. Organized. Civil. Careful of his horses and of the people with him. I started to think he wasn’t really that bad. That maybe the one I’d seen slaughter everyone I knew at Questin Hall was some kind of aberration. Lunacy isn’t confined to the UnGifted.”

  “But,” Tel prompted when it looked like Barid wasn’t going on.

  “But then we came across this woman who argued with him. She said that no matter what, her son had gone into the Halls of Law, so she knew perfectly well men could be Talents. That no one in their family was deluded. That she’d seen his Talent before he’d been examined. And that, furthermore, she was a good deal older than him and had a better understanding of the world, and he should listen to her.”

  Tel smiled. “Sounds like my grandmother. In fact, it sounds like everybody’s grandmother. But I take it the Shekayrin didn’t agree with her.”

  “With a perfectly calm face, slowly and gently, he touched her on the forehead with his soul stone, and she collapsed into the arms of the people with her. At first, I thought she slept, but once we had continued down the road, I heard the crying behind me, and I knew he’d killed her.” Barid looked over at Tel, making sure he had his attention. “He didn’t have to. It wouldn’t have made any difference at all to leave her alive. You can’t ever forget how dangerous they are.” He shrugged. “You just can’t.”

  Tel tilted his head back and shut his eyes. That summed up his own thoughts. He believed Kerida. He did. Svann was on their side. But for how long?

  “Hey.” Wynn gestured at them to join her. She still stood next to Svann, bouncing a little on the balls of her feet. She had her bright red hair braided into half a dozen smaller plaits and tied securely back. To wear it in a single braid would be to say to the world—and all the Halians in it—that she was a soldier. And women were no longer allowed to bear arms.

  “Svann’s got something he thinks is going to help you.”

  The Shekayrin looked up from the pack he’d rested on the ground at his feet. The sunflower tattooed around his left eye seemed to move in the flickering light. “Ah, Tel, good. I thought to wait until we arrived in Gaena, but Wynn Martan tells me I should give you this pass now, as we may be separated.” Svann took what looked like a dispatch out of the pouch he wore at his waist. It was parchment, folded in thirds, with the ends folded to the middle. A wax seal had b
een impressed into the center, holding the folds solidly together. He offered the packet to Tel.

  Tel reached for it, and then hesitated. When he saw the seal, he swallowed. It looked exactly as though Svann had used his jewel to impress the seal when the wax was soft.

  “This declares you to be a courier for a Shekayrin, and no one can keep you from your errand. With it, you may use any road. If you are stopped, you merely show them this.”

  “And what errand am I on?”

  “You will not be asked.”

  Tel pressed his lips together, nodding, but didn’t take the pass.

  “If you distrust me, Tel Cursar, please, have Barid Poniara Flash the pass.” Svann spoke as if he wasn’t worried, and as if the idea that Tel didn’t trust him wasn’t offensive. Tel hesitated and then waved Barid forward. He didn’t care if they saw he was afraid; there were more important things at stake.

  Barid took the package in both hands and closed his eyes. Tel knew from Kerida that it wasn’t necessary, but many young Talents closed their eyes to help them concentrate. As they got older, more practiced, they weren’t so easily distracted.

  Barid opened his eyes. “It’s what it’s supposed to be. Exactly what he described.”

  “I’d love to have one myself, truth to tell.” Wynn’s eyes were huge in her face.

  Svann took the pass back. “Here, Tel Cursar, place your thumb mark on the seal.”

  Barid says it’s a pass. Tel held his breath as he touched his thumb to the seal. The wax felt warm. He took his thumb away and accepted the pass in his other hand.

  “I’m not sure what my reception in Gaena will be.” Svann spoke as though he was picking up the thread of a conversation. “So much depends on the reaction of the Rose Shekayrin with whom I served. Indeed, it may be best if you do not enter the town with us lest you be delayed.”

  “Gentlemen,” Wynn interrupted. “It’ll take a full day—and a bit—to get to the Simcot Exit. And while it’s the closest one to Gaena, it’s not that close.” She turned to Tel. “Once you’re changed, we can be on our way.”

  “What’s wrong with my clothes,” Tel said. “I put them on clean to speak to the Faro.”

  “We’re with him”—Wynn pointed her thumb at Svann— “but you’ll have fewer questions to answer when you’re alone if you’re wearing these.” She gestured at one of the soldiers waiting behind Svann who came forward with a stack of folded clothing. Shirt, under and over tunics, trousers, all military in cut, they were neither the black of the Eagles, nor the purple of the Bears, but a dark gray Tel had never seen in any Wing of the Faraman Polity.

  “You will find them a good fit, I believe,” Svann said.

  “The last soldiers we caught in the pass were wearing these,” Barid said. “Before I was rescued, they told us that all the military in the Peninsula would be wearing this color in the next month or so.”

  Tel accepted the bundle from a grinning Wynn Martan. “Like I said, you’ll be less likely to be stopped in the first place if you’re in this uniform.”

  “And if you are stopped,” Svann added. “You have your pass. You cannot be detained.”

  * * *

  Ker had Weimerk drop her off in a farmer’s field two hours before dawn. They were close enough to the road she and her parents had used to enter Farama the Capital when she was a child that she couldn’t get lost. She stopped when she felt the smoother surface of the road under her feet.

  <>

  It was actually a relief that Weimerk didn’t already know. <> she pointed with her chin away from the capital. <>

  <>

  What would she find? Tonia hadn’t heard any recent news.

  <>

  * * *

  • • •

  Farama the Capital was made up of two sections: the inner, walled city that remained from Jurianol’s day, when she had become the first Luqs and made the town her capital, and the secondary city which had sprung up outside of those original walls, as the population of the capital grew and expanded. The inner city still housed the Griffin Palace, and the principal buildings of the Polity, including the central Hall of Law, where the Inquisitors had their offices, and from where the network of Talents were administered and managed. Ker couldn’t help wondering who occupied that building now. Or whether it still stood.

  The entrances to the walled portion of Farama the Capital had always been gated, but Ker had never before seen one in use. In fact, if she’d thought about it at all, she would have guessed that the gates were ceremonial only. She saw now she would have been wrong. As she got closer, she could see the gates were in fine shape, well-maintained and strong. More than a touch ironic, that they’d been useless against the enemy within.

  Ker had been putting off trying out her new Gift of invisibility. She’d felt comfortable enough when practicing with Weimerk, but now, alone, she didn’t feel so confident. She couldn’t leave it any longer, or she’d be at the gate before she knew it. If it wasn’t going to work, now was the time to know. She slowed her pace slightly, and drifted off to the side of the road, out of the main foot traffic. Paraste. There it was, a beautiful moss-green color, a gray green, really, with maybe a hint of soft pink. She spun it thin, weaving and knotting it into a fine net just like Weimerk had told her, letting it fall over her like a lace bedcover. She remembered to check for her shadow. She grinned. Perfect.

  Except for the small child—so small Ker couldn’t tell if it was female or male—who stopped and stared straight at her. “Crap.”

  The child giggled. Ker let her invisibility go and squatted down to look at the child eye-to-eye. She put her index finger to her lips. The child’s eyes grew wider, and she—definitely she—mimicked the gesture before running off. Gifted, Ker thought, eyeing the number of the child’s colors. Indigo, or maybe black, the thread was too thin to be sure. Either a Time-seer, or a Far-thinker. If she lived to learn how.

  Which means we have to get our country back.

  When her heart slowed down to something that resembled normal, Ker built the moss-green net again. She waited, but apparently there weren’t any other Gifted of any age in the crowd. She’d just have to hope that was also true of the gate guards—and that they weren’t so bored they’d be easily distracted. By an unexpected shadow, for example.

  Immediately ahead of her walked a farmer, his donkey cart heavily loaded with what had to be the last of the winter cabbages and squash. Ker shoved her hand into her pouch and wrapped her cold fingers around her jewel. She focused on one particular cabbage, perched shakily on the top of the heap. Concentrating, remembering the lessons Svann had given her, Ker pushed and lifted the vegetable, flinging it as far ahead in the line as she could manage. Immediately, voices were raised, turning quickly into cursing and accusations.

  Ker’s heart dropped as she glimpsed her own shadow. Using the jewel had weakened her invisibility, leaving her temporally exposed. Nothing to see here, she said to herself as she hastily respun her mossy-green net. She walked slowly but deliberately up the side of the column. You don’t see me. She’d have to talk to Weimerk about this phenomenon later.

  She should have known that the guards at the capital gates would react professionally, no matter how bored they might be. While two were wrapped up in dealing with the argument that had broken out in the line, a third stood back, hands on hips, eyes scanning back and forth, watching the crowd, not the argument. Ker breathed carefully, concentrated on keeping her pace even, on making as little noise as possible. On the completeness of the net she wrapped around herself. Her mouth dry, she was afraid to check if she could still see her shadow.

  The officer’s head swung toward her, and Ker held her breath. She kept walking, slow and steady, and his eyes passed right over her, as if he saw nothing. Hardly d
aring to resume breathing, Ker passed through the gates, and into Farama.

  Her first impression was that the buildings were smaller than she remembered, and the cobbled streets dirtier. Ker had only been here as a child, when her mother had brought her and her older brother for the cycle of plays and musical performances that honored the Son in spring and fall. She was certain she could find her way to the Griffin Theater. From there, the Ram and Boar should be easy to find. If worse came to worst, she could ask. Surely everyone around that district would be used to people asking for directions.

  As she remembered, half an hour of walking brought her to the three squares that made up the theater district. Around them were half a dozen playhouses, ranging from the imposing and grand Griffin Theater, with its enormous banner, to the modest stage known as the Luqs’ Seat where one- and two-act plays were performed. Taverns and alehouses in the district often housed the players and were venues for singers and musicians.

  Ker walked around the largest square, afraid to draw attention to herself by stopping, but no matter how casually she walked, she couldn’t tell which of the streets leading out of the west side of the square was the one she wanted—if that even was the west side of the square. Tel was right after all; she could get lost in a corridor. At last she paused in front of a poster advertising an upcoming musical evening and triggered her Talent. Paraste.

  This time when her aura appeared, it looked hazy, almost faded. So did everyone else’s, she saw when she looked around her. Her pack felt suddenly heavier. She was Flashing, but it seemed that without touching the ground, she still couldn’t tell which street she wanted.

  Don’t panic. Stay calm, breathe deep. You’re tired, and you’re hungry. This has happened before. Terestre. Sure, it had. Practically the first thing Candidates were taught at Questin Hall was that Flashing used up energy like any physical activity, so Talents had to stay rested, fed, and in good general health.