want to know anyone that intimately. It would be like having every layer of my
skin peeled off—or doing it to someone else over and over.
She loved her father and mother, she knew they were wonderful, admirable
people, and yet sometimes the things that they did made her a little sick
inside. All a Silver ever had to do was stop a fight, or break some bones once
in a while, and apply force when words didn’t work. That was just flesh, and
flesh would heal even if it was shredded and bleeding—it wasn’t as serious as
getting into someone’s heart and digging around.
From that moment of understanding of who and what her father was, she
had been terrified that people would simply assume that she was like him—
that she wanted to be like him. Her greatest fear had been that they would
take it for granted that she would cheerfully listen while they bared their souls
to her—
Gods. No. Anything but that.
For a while, until the Healers taught her how to control her Empathic ability,
she had even shied away from touching other people, lest she learn more
than she wished to. Even after she had learned to block out what she did not
want to know, she had been absolutely fanatic about her own privacy.
At least as much as I can be while I still live with my parents.
She kept her thoughts strictly to herself just as much as she could; never
confided anything about the things she considered hers alone. Even affairs of
love or desire.
Especially matters of love and desire.
By now she wondered if both her parents thought she was a changeling.
Here were two people who knew everything there was to know about the
physical, and yet their daughter appeared to be as sexless as a vowed virgin.
She had made up her mind that she was not even going to give her father
and mother the faintest of hints that she might have an interest in partnering
anyone or anything. Unfortunately, they would not have been taken aback by
any liaison she cared to make. They were, in fact, all too assiduous at
suggesting possible partners, and would have been cheerfully pleased to offer
volumes of advice on approach and technique once she even hinted at a
choice!
And it would be advice of a kind she blushed even to contemplate. There
was such a thing as too much information.
Why can’t they be like other parents? she thought, rebelliously. Why
couldn’t they have been surprised that I was no longer an innocent little girl,
horrified by the idea that I might one day bed someone, and attempt to guard
my virtue as if it were the gold mines of King Shalaman? Any of those would
be so much easier to deal with!
She had found out personally that it was much harder to deal with sunny
cooperation than with outright opposition.
It’s a great deal like the hand-to-hand combat styles we Silvers learn, she
thought in frustration, noting down yet another item for Tadrith. When your
opponent moves against you, there are any number of ways you can counter
him. You can block him, parry him, evade him, or use his attack against him.
When he attacks, he gives you options, to counter him. But when he does
nothing—when he actually flows with your moves, it is impossible to do
anything to extract yourself from the situation.
Ironic, to think of her outwardly serene life with her parents as a combat
situation.
The only real escape from this ridiculous situation was to move away from
White Gryphon altogether. As she had advised Keenath, there were positions
available for Silvers in the Haighlei Empire. The ambassadors from White
Gryphon needed a token guard of honor in order to convey the proper
presence at the court of the Emperor; that guard was comprised mostly of
humans, but always had at least four gryphons and two each of the kyree and
dyheli. The tervardi preferred not to live in such a warm climate, and the
hertasi took sly enjoyment in their roles of servants, ferreting out intelligence
that would otherwise never have come to the attention of the ambassadors.
The Emperor also had two gryphon-guards assigned to him, serving
alongside the younger sons of the other Haighlei Kings.
I could ask to be posted there . . . I think I would enjoy the solitude of the
outposts, but there are more things to consider here.
Tad would never be able to tolerate assignment after assignment to the
lonely wilderness. He would go absolutely, stark, staring lunatic after a while.
He was a very social creature, and their partnership would not last very long if
she was the only other being around to talk to.
Not to mention what would happen to him without female gryphons about.
He only thinks he’s nothing like his father. He has as wild a reputation among
the fair flyers as his father ever had, if not more so. I had better check in on
him to make sure he gets some sleep before we leave.
She chuckled to herself, and Tad looked back at her for a moment in
curiosity.
And as far as that went, she was no chaste virgin, untouched and
unawakened. She might well go quietly insane if she lived too long away from
civilization.
For one thing, after too long out there, some very disturbing things might
begin to look attractive. Tension can do that. When I find myself eying snakes
and fondling branches, I’ll know I’ve been away too long. Still, that’s only one
thing to miss, and easy enough to simulate—it is far more difficult to replace a
lover’s concern. For another complication—well—there is Ikala.
She sighed. Ikala was important to Blade, and she had kept her parents
from finding out about him only through plotting and planning that would have
done a spymaster proud.
Haighlei Kings with more than one son—and most of them, ceremonially
wedded to a new priestess-bride each year, had many children—sent those
sons off to be the personal guards of other Kings. This ensured that there
would be no warfare and no assassination attempts, for every King had
hostages from every other King. Furthermore, every King had the opportunity
to win the loyalty of the sons of his fellow Kings, giving him an ally in the
courts of his neighbors. It was a good system, and in the highly structured and
rigid culture of the Haighlei, it worked well.
Ikala was one of those younger sons, twentieth in succession behind the
actual Crown Prince of Nbubi. But instead of being sent to serve in one of the
other Courts, he had elected to come to White Gryphon instead, to be trained
by Aubri and Judeth and serve in the Silvers.
The culture of the Haighlei was a strange one by Kaled’a’in standards.
Every action was tightly bound up in protocol; every moment cemented with
custom. The Haighlei lived in the most rigid society that the Kaled’a’in had
ever seen or heard of; change was only permitted when decreed by the
Emperor and his chief priests and then only at the Eclipse Ceremony. . . .
How anything gets changed at all is a mystery. There was a hierarchy for
everything, from the gods to the poorest beggar, and no one was ever allowed
to leave his place in that hier
archy except at approved times, under rigid
circumstances. And that was why Ikala, son of a King, was here in White
Gryphon.
Ikala cannot bear the constraints of his people any more than I can. Ikala
had found relief here, as she hoped to find it in the wilderness. Perhaps that
was why she had felt so drawn to him from the first. They were both trying to
escape from lives that others wished them to lead.
Ikala was not the only Haighlei here; many found an escape in White
Gryphon from the intolerable rigidity of their own culture. Although there were
not as many as Blade would have expected, they were generally young, for
the old were content to wait for their next lives to improve their lot. They were
also more often female than male, even though there was no real difference in
the way that men and women were treated by Haighlei law and custom. This
was just as well, since there were more Kaled’a’in men in White Gryphon than
women—an accident that Snowstar and Cinnabar thought might be due to
one of the more subtle effects of the mage-storms following the Cataclysm
that destroyed Ka’venusho. Perhaps that was the reason why so many more
young Haighlei women came here than men; the perfectly ordinary reason of
husband hunting!
The Kaled’a’in had been nearer the source of the blast than the lands of the
Black Kings, and nearest when the storms were at their worst. Many other
subtle changes had taken place during their migration here, not all of them as
obvious as a superfluity of male children.
There were changes that affected the mages, for instance. We had more
than half of the mages associated with Urtho’s army. You’d never know that
now.
The mage-storms had made it very difficult to practice magic, for the
strength of spells literally varied from storm to storm. But once the last of the
storms had passed, it became evident that they had not only affected magic,
they had affected the mages as well. Some, formerly powerful, had lost much
of their ability. One or two who had only been at the level of hedge-wizard
before the storms were able to aspire to the rank of Master. Some had
undergone personality changes so subtle that the effects did not come to light
for months or years, growing slowly odder and less social, until at last they
would gather their belongings and vanish into the wilderness alone. One had
caused a great deal of damage before he left, both physical and emotional.
That one was not Hadanelith, though Hadanelith had caused a fair share of
emotional damage himself. It was generally granted, however, that Hadanelith
had not been warped into what he was by the mage-storms. All evidence
seemed to indicate he had always been quite mad, and quite dangerous.
Only the mages of k’Leshya were so affected, at least, as far as anyone
knew.
Then again, perhaps Shalaman’s Nameless Brother was turned into what
he became by the storms as well. We’ll probably never know for certain.
At any rate, since now the rate of birth for boys and girls was about equal
again, the next generation would not have the trouble finding mates that this
one had until Haighlei women started coming in by curious ones and twos.
Ikala had intrigued Blade, however, because he was very much different
from the other Haighlei that had drifted into the city. He had kept to himself
and simply observed for several weeks, after accepting hospitality at the
hostel set up for visitors. He had not made any secret of his lineage, but he
had not attempted to trade on it either. He had gone about the city quietly
watching everything and everyone— while the Silvers were watching him, as
they watched all newcomers. Then, one day, he presented himself to Judeth
and asked to be taken into the Silvers as a trainee.
Had he been making up his mind if he wanted to stay? Had he already
known he intended to remain and was only looking for a place where he could
earn his way? Not even Blade knew—unless he had told Judeth, which was
possible—and he had spent more time talking to her than to anyone else.
This was a fact that she had taken great pains to conceal from her loving
family, as was her growing affection for him. She wasn’t certain what she was
going to do about that yet. As with many things, it would have to wait until she
returned from this assignment.
But having a Silver well acquainted with another court than Shalaman’s
would mean that White Gryphon could open up a second embassy in Nbubi.
Ikala could prove invaluable there, as an expert in the background, able to
advise the ambassador as Silver Veil had advised Amberdrake in Shalaman’s
court. And that would be a fine place for Blade and Tadrith to be posted—and
perhaps even Keeth.
Unless, of course, Amberdrake managed to get himself appointed as
Ambassador there—or Winterhart did—
No. No, that couldn‘t possibly happen, she reassured herself hastily.
Father’s needed too much here. Mother wouldn’t go without him, not after the
mess that almost happened the last time. And he knows that there’s no one
here that could replace him.
Of course he could always train someone as his replacement. . . .
Oh, why am I making up these stupid scenarios when I don’t even know
where I’m going after this, or whether Ikala and I would ever be more than
close friends, or even if Judeth would consider Tad and me for posts with the
Embassy! She realized that she was making up trouble for herself out of
nebulous plans that weren’t even a possibility yet!
Things must be going too well if I’m planning for opposition that doesn’t
exist and problems that would take a thousand variables to come up!
Just about then, Tad spoke to her. “I can’t think of anything else,” he said.
“What about you?”
“I haven’t had any great inspirations for the supply list, but then I haven’t
been really thinking about it,” she confessed, and frowned at the scrawled
document in her hands. “I’ll tell you what; let’s go talk to Judeth or Aubri, and
see if either of them have any suggestions.”
Tad clicked his beak thoughtfully. “Is that wise?” he asked. “Will it look as if
we aren’t capable of thinking for ourselves?”
“It will look as if we are not too full of ourselves to accept advice from those
older and wiser than us, and if we tell them that, they’ll adore us for it,” she
responded, and got to her feet, stamping a little to ease a bit of numbness.
“Come on, bird. Let’s go show the old dogs that the puppies aren’t totally
idiots.”
“Not totally,” Tadrith muttered, although he did get to his feet as well. “Only
mostly.”
Two
“Outpost Five, heh?” Aubri stretched both his forelegs, one at a time,
regarding the blunted, ebony talons on the end of each claw with a jaundiced
eye. Wind rattled the wooden wind chimes harmoniously in the open window
behind him, and Tad watched golden dust motes dance in the beam of clear
sunlight lancing down to puddle on the floor beside the old gryphon. “Let me
see if I remember anythin
g about Outpost Five.”
Tad sighed as Aubri went through the whole of his dry, impish,
“absentminded” routine, first scratching his rusty-brown headfeathers
meditatively (which made more dustmotes dance into the light), then staring
up at the ceiling of the dwelling he shared with Judeth. His head moved again
after a long moment, and Tad hoped he was finally going to say something.
But no—he looked down at the shining terrazzo floor, inlaid in a geometric
pattern of cream and brown that to all outward appearances fascinated him.
That is, he seemed to be staring at those places; like any raptor, a gryphon’s
peripheral vision was as good as his straight-on sight, and Tad knew very well
that Aubri was watching them—well— like a hawk.
“Outpost Five,” the elder gryphon muttered, shaking his head so that the
fragments of feather-sheath dislodged by his earlier scratch flew in all
directions. A single headfeather, striped in brown and cream and as large as a
human’s palm, drifted down to lie in the pool of sunlight beside him. Its edges
were outlined in light, and the white fluff at the base glowed with a nimbus of
reflected sunshine. “Outpost Five . . . now why does that sound familiar?”
This could go on for some time if Tad didn’t put a stop to it. He fixed Aubri
with a look that said wordlessly, I know just what you’re doing and I’m not
falling for it. In tones of deepest respect, he told his superior, “You and
Commander Judeth took Outpost Five three years ago, sir, when we first took
responsibility for it from the Haighlei. You said the tour of duty was a vacation
from trainees who couldn’t molt without explicit written instructions.”
Aubri blinked mildly, but his great golden eyes were twinkling with hidden
amusement. “Did I say that? I’m cleverer than I thought. Well, yes, I think I
remember Outpost Five, now that you mention it. Pretty remote; it’s hard to
find volunteers to man it. Good place for a vacation if what you want is
thunderstorms every evening, fog every morning, and just enough of the sun
to taunt you about, its existence. There’s a reason why the Haighlei call that
kind of territory a ‘rain forest.’ It is wetter than a swimming kyree.”
Well, good. That’s one thing that wasn’t in our lessons on manning
Mercedes Lackey and Larry Dixon - Mage Wars 03 - The Silver Gryphon.txt Page 4
