Without waiting to be told, the Halian soldiers broke ranks and scattered, leaving the griffin a clear spot where he could land.
<
<> Weimerk blinked his great eyes at her, and sat down, straightening his wing feathers with his beak. Had he grown bigger? Or was it just that she hadn’t seen him for a while?
“What is it they’re shouting?” Tel stroked the griffin on the foot, as though Weimerk was a cat.
“They are saying ‘skyhorse.’” Weimerk shook his head and rattled his wings. “They should stop. Really, I am not a horse.”
“STOP looking at me like that.” Ester Nast tied off her apron and smoothed it down with her hands.
“You sure you’re up to working?” Elisk stood behind the bar, wiping out cups, checking their edges for chips and their glaze for cracks.
“I’m not up to lying in my bed any longer, that’s certain.” Ester came around the bar herself and began shelving the cups he approved where they would be handy for whoever had the bar shift that evening. “Why? Don’t I look better?”
To her surprise, her friend took her question seriously, stopped what he was doing, and looked her over with a calculating eye. “You’re a bit thinner,” he said finally. “And there are some shadows under your eyes, but on the whole, you look younger.”
“Younger?” That was the last thing Ester expected.
He turned back to the cups waiting to be checked over. “The gray in your hair’s gone.”
* * *
“What? I mean, I beg your pardon, Honored One?” Ker turned back to Baku. What should suddenly make her think of Ester?
“I said, they will find you a horse, Kerida.” Baku lifted her arms. As the only woman available, and therefore the only person allowed to touch the Princess Imperial, Ker was helping Baku rearrange her clothing into something that would let her sit safely on a horse. Baku’s veils had already been twisted into a headdress that was strangely similar to the helms worn by her Horsemen.
Before Ker could say anything, Baku’s guard chief sent two of his men scurrying to the horse lines, arguing about which horse the champion should ride.
“Don’t put them to the trouble,” she objected. “We’ll all be walking soon. No one can ride very far in these hills.”
Baku smiled. “It is for the look of it. We are Horsemen. It is not fitting for my champion to begin a journey on foot.”
Ker shrugged. That made a certain amount of sense. A moment later she saw Wynn Martan weaving her way through the surrounding soldiers, hair bright as ever, her grin splitting her face in half.
“Excuse me a moment, Honored One.” Ker met Wynn a few paces away, and they grasped each other’s wrists in a soldier’s greeting. With so many strangers around them, it didn’t feel comfortable to hug.
“How did you get here?”
“I was with the archers up on the ridge. When I saw how things were going, I came down for you.” Wynn’s grip was strong, and her grin never faded, but Ker saw shadows in her eyes.
“Svann would have loved this,” Ker said, guessing at the cause of the other girl’s sadness. “He’d be wanting to interview everyone and write a monograph or something.”
Blinking, Wynn looked up as though she wanted to watch the eagle that hovered far above them on a wave of warm air. “It’s not that, at least, it’s not only that.” Her eyes came back to Ker’s face. “I found Barid.”
“Barid?” Ker’s stomach sank.
“You’d better come.”
“One minute. Tel?” He was at her side immediately, but Ker waited, foot tapping, while he and Wynn greeted each other. “Stay with Bakura,” Ker said finally. “Wynn has something to show me.”
Without saying more, Ker followed Wynn back through the ranks of soldiers, to an area where wagons and carts of supplies had been drawn up in a loose square. They passed a few sullen faces, but most of the Halians looked at her with interest, if not approval. One or two backed away. Wynn drew her over to where several small, square wooden crates were stacked next to a handcart. Wynn indicated a dark corner with her chin, but at first Ker saw nothing. Then she made him out, tucked between a crate of provisions and a stack of sacks.
Barid sat with his back where crate and sacks met, his face pressed into his drawn-up knees, his arms tight around them. The bones on his neck stuck out plainly, and he looked scruffy, his hair uncombed, dirt in the creases of his hands.
“Barid.” Wynn kept her voice low and sweet.
He flinched before lifting his head enough to expose one red-rimmed eye. When he saw who it was, he looked up, wiping his mouth on his kneecap. “Wynn? Wynn Martan?” He held an incredibly filthy finger to his mouth. “Shhh. They’ll hear you.”
Ker squatted down as close to him as she could get. “Who’ll hear us?”
Barid lunged forward so quickly he had her forearm in his hands before she even saw him move. “Kerida? I didn’t tell them. Honestly, I didn’t tell them anything. They already knew. They already knew everything. What could I do? There was no point in denial. No point.”
His grip was painful enough to make Ker squirm. “It’s all right, Barid.”
“I couldn’t let them kill me. I’m Griffin Class, it’s important for me to be safe.” It wasn’t clear who Barid was talking to—his friends or himself.
“Stay here, Barid. You’re safe now.” Ker managed to free her hand without breaking any of his fingers. “The Shekayrin are defeated. I’ll send someone to fetch you. One of the Feelers, all right?”
The smile he gave them chilled Ker’s heart. There was nothing left of the Talent who had been her mentor in Questin Hall.
“What’s wrong with him?” Wynn asked as they headed back toward the head of the procession.
Ker hadn’t had to Flash Barid to know the answer. “Exactly what you think is wrong. He is the one who told them; he knows it, and it’s killing him.” Ker crossed her arms, hugging herself. “He must have decided to feed them bits of information, to keep himself alive, convincing himself each time that they were inconsequential. Fear is a terrible thing.”
“Is there anything we can do?”
“Nothing we can do, no. But maybe a Mind-healer can help him.” Ker pushed her hair back off her face. She’d lost the tie somewhere, and her braid had fallen apart. “Can you look after him for now?”
The other girl nodded. “We’ve a Lifter with us archers. He’ll take care of things. Then I’ll come to you.” With a last touch to Ker’s shoulder, Wynn disappeared into the crowd.
It took the rest of the day just to organize the marching order. The first issue was Bakura’s escort. Six of her Halian officers and the Faro of Panthers were finally agreed on. The Halians—most of them Horsemen—looked at Tonia Nast out of the corners of their eyes, while Tonia smiled a tight smile that showed no teeth. Right now, the entire Halian group was so subdued from the magic they’d witnessed—the Voice of the Emperor, the attack and defeat of the Shekayrin, to say nothing of the griffin—that they would follow the Princess Imperial without question. She was theirs. She gave them rights and legitimacy.
“Just as my brother the Emperor intended,” Baku said. Ker couldn’t be sure if the princess spoke ironically.
The rest of the Battle Wing soldiers had formed into two groups, one the same size, more or less, as the Halian troop and marching with them, the other keeping themselves at a distance but near enough that they could watch the procession, just in case. With the remaining Shekayrin confined under the supervision of a team of Feelers, the only Gifted were with the Wings, but good soldiers always have a backup plan.
“You look worried.” Ker rode just behind Baku’s horse, with Tel on her left.
Tel shrugged. The shadows under his eyes looked like soot. “What do you think will happen with
those Shekayrin?”
Ker leaned over and touched his knee. “I know you want them all gone—even dead—and I can’t blame you. But you understand that can’t happen, don’t you? They’re Gifted, just like us, just like the Feelers. We know what they want now, what they need. They don’t have to be our enemies.”
“Some will want to return.” Baku turned around in her saddle; she’d overheard them. “I expect some of the Poppies will want to go back, they have more status in Halia than they will have here. But I have hopes the Daisies, the Roses, and the Sunflowers will decide to stay. Weimerk made an impressive entrance, and they will think on that.”
The procession reached the mine entrance shortly after midday. It had rained earlier, but now the rocks were sparkling in the sun. The space around the entrance looked nothing like it had when Ker had last used the Valley of Simcot exit. The narrow ravine, with its sharp towers of rock and pockets of scrub pines and wild heather, had been transformed into a massive, shallow hemisphere, complete with rows of seats formed out of the rock.
“Makes a nice theater,” Ker said, suddenly reminded of the actor she’d met in Farama the Capital.
“Messages will have to be sent all over the Peninsula.” Ker heard her sister Tonia’s voice from up ahead. “Other Halians, and those Faraman soldiers who’ve been jeweled and misted, aren’t going to accept the new order as easily as the ones who’ve heard the Voice of the Emperor.”
“Even those walking with us now might have a change of heart in a few days, when the wonder of it all has a chance to wear off,” Baku said.
Which was one of the reasons they were all meeting outside the Mines and Tunnels.
The spot Jerek Brightwing waited for them wasn’t even near the entrance, Ker saw with a nod of approval. The boy Luqs looked taller, and somewhat better dressed than the last time she’d seen him. His hair had grown long enough to tie back. The Faro of Bears stood to his right, Luca Pa’narion and Ganni Lifter to his left, and over his head the banners of Bears and Panthers moved in the breeze. Jerek held Larin’s hand. Ennick was standing behind his left shoulder and started to wave frantically as soon as he caught sight of Ker and Wynn.
“Better wave back before his arm falls off,” Wynn advised, doing the same herself.
Baku and her escort stopped a short distance from where Jerek stood. The boy came forward halfway to meet her. The Faro of Panthers stepped up to help Baku off her horse, waiting until the princess had straightened her clothes and adjusted her grip on the mask.
“Makes you wonder how they manage without female officials to help their ladies off horses, truth to tell.” Wynn grinned and wiggled her eyebrows, making Ker stifle her laughter.
“Their ladies aren’t allowed to ride, remember,” Tel said.
“Right.”
Tonia Nast took up a position on Baku’s left, and the top Halian officer stood to her right. Ker moved forward until she was standing behind them, just as everyone had agreed. A junior officer held a long pole supporting a placard made of stiffened silk that proclaimed the presence of the Princess Imperial.
Baku’s was the next move; all this had been carefully choreographed between her and Jerek, with a little input from the Halian officer, the two Faros, and Ganni Lifter. Still, the girl hesitated, her right hand tapping quickly against her thigh. Ker could imagine what was going through the princess’ mind. For all that they had been Far-thinking for almost three months, Baku and Jerek had never actually seen each other.
Suddenly, Larin came racing over, ducking hands that reached out to grab her, and ran straight for Baku before anyone could stop her. She wrapped her arms around Baku’s waist and hugged her so tightly the princess had to take a half step back to keep from falling over.
“I told them, I told them you were here. ‘The child who rides the horses of the sea, who bears the blood and who wields the bones of the earth, who brings us freedom and light.’”
Ker shivered. Just for a minute, Larin had been speaking with the voice of the old Time-seer, Ara, and even now, the little girl’s shadow was the wrong shape.
“That’s you!” Larin bounced up and down. “And here you are. I told them!”
Before anyone could stop her, Larin had hold of Baku’s hand and was dragging her across the space that separated them from the Faraman delegation. Tonia, the Halian officer, and Ker had to trot to catch up, arriving in front of Jerek at the same time.
“I thought you’d be taller,” he said, smiling into Baku’s eyes.
“Really? Because you are exactly as I pictured you.”
The Halian officer cleared his throat. “I present the Honored Bakura Kar Luyn, Princess Imperial of Halia, sister to the Sky Emperor Guon Kar Lyn, Son of the Sun, Father of the Moon, and”—the officer’s voice faltered, and he drew himself up even straighter—“Lord of Horses.”
Juria Sweetwater stepped a pace closer. “I present Jerek Brightwing, Luqs of the Faraman Polity, Prince of Ma’lakai, Lord of Juristand, Faro of Eagles.”
Ker suspected that the “Lord of Juristand” part had been added in to make Jerek’s titles match the Emperor’s, at least in length.
Baku cleared her throat and held out her free hand, palm up. “Husband,” she said in a loud, carrying voice.
Jerek put his hand in hers. “Wife.”
And that was it, as far as the Halians were concerned. Baku had been married to the Luqs of Farama the minute her brother had put his seal and thumbprint on the necessary documents. By accepting Jerek’s hand instead of the other way around, she pacified the more traditional among the Horsemen who would recognize in that gesture that Baku’s was the higher status.
<> Weimerk’s unmistakable mental voice drew Ker’s attention upward.
The sky darkened, and a wave of sound passed over all the waiting people. Luckily, the griffins didn’t try to land in the newly created valley, perching on the craggy edges instead. More than half of the soldiers present kneeled, though Jerek and Baku kept firmly to their feet.
“Welcome, Child of the Prophecy.” It was impossible to tell which griffin was speaking, but Ker thought she recognized Deilih’s tone.
Baku pressed her lips together and moved to stand more clearly at Jerek’s side, their clasped hands between them.
“We greet you,” Baku said. “What is your business here?” Jerek added.
Clever, Ker thought. By finishing each other’s sentences, they demonstrated that they were of the same mind. That didn’t make it less eerie, however, and it was going to take some time to get used to.
“Now that there is peace between the Gifted, we will return to our breeding grounds in the mountains you call the Serpents Teeth.”
“You didn’t help us when we needed you,” Jerek said. “Why should we help you now?” Baku added.
“You succeeded by using the Gifts we gave you long ago.”
Well, she’s got us there. Ker caught Tel’s eye and lifted an eyebrow. He lifted one shoulder and let it drop.
“You may lay your eggs here,” Baku said, after a quiet moment. “And bury your dead as is your custom. But there is no need for you to be continuously present,” Jerek added.
“Agreed.” Every griffin in sight rose simultaneously and was gone.
“Well, that was abrupt,” Jerek said.
“They don’t really care about us,” Tel said. “Even Weimerk didn’t really care about the rest of us, only Kerida. He helped us because she wanted it, not because he wanted to.”
Another shadow overhead, and a griffin landed on the field. Weimerk. A weight she hadn’t been aware of lifted from Ker’s heart. He hadn’t gone with the others.
“Tel is correct. I do only what I ‘want to,’” he said, digging his claws into the dirt.
* * *
• • �
��
Ker found Tel stretched out full-length on the grass, in the sunshine.
“This has been the longest three weeks of my life,” Ker said as she sat cross-legged next to him and took his hand. “And they’re still not finished. Where will the Feelers live now? Some of the Halians want to go home because they’re not jeweled. How do we get them there? Though it seems most of the horsemen want to stay.”
“We should create a Horse Wing,” Tel suggested.
“It’s not a bad idea, but I think they’ll have to come to terms with the Eagle Wing first, since the Eagles will want to protect Jerek, and the Horsemen Baku.” She looked at him. “It’s been less than a year, but there were a lot of changes made that will have to be undone, just to turn Farama back into Farama. On top of that, they have to choose who’s going as ambassador to Halia—though having seen the mask in action, I doubt there’s much the emperor needs to be told.”
“I guess their imperial selves will have to be getting back to Farama the Capital now, though they may not be Luqs of anything but the Peninsula. I’ll bet those people in Juristand aren’t going to give up their new power easily.”
“They’ll still have to send their Talents to us for training. There’s no one left senior to Luca Pa’narion, and Talents will stand by Talents, not the Battle Wings.” She could feel a headache starting. Errinn Mind-healer was going to have a lot to do.
“Even old pinch-face and her group?”
Ker grinned at this reference to the Panther Wing Talents. “They haven’t been as vocal about things since the griffins came. I think Setasan’s lost her following.”
“Maybe we should go to Halia.” Tel sounded wistful. “Be ambassadors or something.”
“I don’t think they’re ready for female ambassadors.”
Tel shook his head. “We should go somewhere, seriously, before someone does give us something to do.”
Separates us, was what Tel was really saying. The whole “Talents do not live in the world” tradition wasn’t changed yet . . . and might never be.
Gift of Griffins Page 34
