“Cuarel? You’ll call the others?” Ganni rubbed his hands together, blowing on his fingers.
The scar-faced woman stepped nearer, wincing as her broken arm bumped against one of the others.
“Already have,” she said. “Sala’s on her way, and the rest of the small council with her.”
Tel frowned. Kerida was still looking out of the opening. “Where does this leave us?” he asked, when it seemed that she wasn’t going to turn around. “She’s spoken with your griffin. Can we be on our way?”
At these words, Ker spun around, argument clear in every tense inch of her body. But when he raised his eyebrows at her, her shoulders lowered, and she nodded. She’d have been saying the same thing, if her encounter with the griffin hadn’t turned her head.
If that was all it had done. Even now, there was a far-off look in her eye, and Ker was more than half turned toward the opening, as if part of her was already waiting for it to come back for her. He had to get her out now. They were both needed elsewhere, especially Kerida, and they’d better get out while they still could.
If they still could.
“You could stay,” Ganni said. “You’d be welcome.”
“We have our own commitments,” he said into the silence. “We have reports to make, and warnings to carry.” He pointed at the sky with his chin. “The griffin doesn’t change that for us.”
A sudden commotion in the background, and Larin squirmed her way between the waiting people, deftly avoiding the hands that reached for her. “I told you so.” She ran to Ker and wrapped skinny arms around her waist, sticking out her tongue when she noticed Tel looking at her. “No one listens to me.” Ker automatically laid her hand on the child’s head.
“Peace.” Sala threaded her way to the front, patting Cuarel on the shoulder as she passed her. She raised the hand that didn’t have a spear in it and everyone quieted. Military training for certain, Tel thought. You couldn’t get that crack of command in your voice without it. “Ennick, sweetheart, did you see the griffin? Is he happy?”
“He is. He was scared at first, but then Kerida talked to him—that’s Kerida—and—Sala, you should have been here! He was this big, and his wings went out to here, and he talked and everything.”
“That’s good, Ennick, just fine. You can tell me more about it later, all right? After supper, when I’m off duty.” She reached up to pat him on the shoulder. As tall as she was, the simple man was bigger. “That settles things for me, Ganni.” She turned to take in the rest of the small council, who by now had gathered near. “Are we all in agreement? This is the Second Sign?”
Everyone on the small council nodded.
“This is wonderful,” Norwil said, rubbing his hands through his close-cropped hair. “This’ll show those other Clans which of us is more important.” Sala rolled her eyes and shook her head, but she was smiling.
“I told you she was the one.” Larin was swinging from Ennick’s forearm.
“Yes, Larin, you did. You’re very smart.” Sala nodded. “What are your plans, Griffin Girl?”
“We need to go,” Ker said.
Tel looked at her, relieved to hear her sounding so normal. She’d lost her wide-eyed stare and looked more and more like the girl who’d told him off about his wound. Tel rested his right hand on her shoulder. How could she be so calm? Was it her Talent training, or did it have something to do with the griffin? And while he was thinking about that, what had happened between them? Would he get the chance to find out?
“But won’t they tell? The soldier at the least will.” The pointing finger came from the deep-voiced Midon. Tel managed not to snarl.
“‘They’ll tell.’” The words were followed by a snort. “’Course they won’t tell—who ever heard of such foolishness?”
This was an entirely new voice, clear, and thin, with just the hint of a crack in it. It reminded him of his grandmother, and Tel craned his neck to see where it was coming from. Ker nodded, her eyes narrowed. Whoever it was had to be in the shadows behind Larin, but he couldn’t see anything back there.
“Ach, you’re such children. You mustn’t stop them and you can’t. They won’t tell about us, because we’ll ask them not to, won’t we?” There were some smiles among the larger group, though one or two looked puzzled until their neighbors whispered in their ears, whereupon they, too, smiled. “We’re in the hour of prophecy—help them, don’t hinder.”
“You don’t get a vote here,” Midon said, his face and his voice sullen.
But the unseen speaker only laughed. “Boy, if you don’t stop being such a fool, I’ll tell your mother. Gods, it doesn’t take a Seer to know why no woman will have you.”
Most of the group looked down, or away, at this, but some smiled openly. Tel found himself doing the same. He saw Midon looking at him and smiled broader, shrugging one shoulder. Ker poked him, and he turned an innocent look in her direction.
“You’re not helping,” she whispered.
“Don’t be so sure.”
“Enough.” Sala thumped the rock floor with her spear. “I have asked for confirmation, and received it. The Griffin Girl may go as she wishes, and her soldier with her, though we will ask them not to speak of us.” Sala gave a short bow in the direction of the darkness behind the little girl.
“So then, Lizar, you and Marko wait here for the griffin. Amel, you and Borgan will escort our guests to the exit they need.” Sala’s eye fell on him, and her look made him stand up as straight as he could in the confined space. She turned to the old man. “You’ll look after it, Ganni?”
“That I will.”
The dark woman nodded and turned back to the group. “This council meeting is dismissed. Thank you for your time and attention.”
In almost less time than it took to dismiss them, the people who’d made up the council were gone, disappearing silently into the darkness, leaving only the two guides, Ganni and the other woman from the council, Hitterol. At the last minute, Midon turned to give them one final hard look, his lips pressed tight, shaking his head, before he, too, was gone.
“A lucky thing that old woman spoke for us,” Ker said. “Who is she?”
Ganni smiled. “You saw her, did you?”
“Of course, I did.” Ker glanced at Tel, a puzzled look on her face, before turning back to Ganni. “She was standing over there, with Larin.”
“How about you, soldier boy, did you see her?”
Sudden exhaustion made Tel answer honestly. “I heard her speak, but I couldn’t see anyone.”
“But—” Ker shut up, her upper lip between her teeth. “Must have been the shadows,” she said finally.
“Sure.” Tel shrugged. What possible difference could it make now? The important thing was that they were going to be allowed to leave. “Will the rest of our gear be returned?”
“It’s being carried to your exit now.” Ganni fixed them both with his hard eyes. “You can’t talk about us, do you understand?”
“Of course.” Tel would have agreed to anything. Smiling, Hitterol took his hand and Ker’s, and she waited until she was sure she also had their attention.
“I’m not certain you do understand,” she said. Her voice was like music, soothing and soft. The silver strands in her faded red hair shone in the dim light. “Any mention of us, no matter how fleeting, and you endanger us all. That would be a poor return for our hospitality.” She smiled. “To say nothing of what it might do to the Prophecy. You can’t talk about us to anyone else. You must promise.”
“We promise never to talk about you, don’t we, Tel?”
Ker was serious. Tel paused. Keeping his promise would mean lying to his superiors—or at the very least leaving something out of his report. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Son and Daughter knew, he thought with an inner grin, it wouldn’t be the first time.
“Sure, I
promise. Who’s going to believe us, anyway?”
THE tunnels were angling downward again, and cross passages appeared more and more often, but it was obvious that both Ganni and Ennick knew exactly where they were going. Tel was unusually quiet, so much so that Kerida kept looking behind her to make sure he was still there. The first few times he grinned, but gradually the grin turned to something more like a grimace.
She shivered, wondering whether his aura might hold a clue to how Tel felt—if she were brave enough to Flash it. She missed the beauty of what she’d seen when in contact with Weimerk, but a small part of her was relieved the colors were gone.
“Here we are, then, youngsters.” There was fatigue in Ganni’s voice, though his eyes were as bright as those of Ennick, grinning over the old man’s head. Ganni stretched out a hand and touched Ker’s shoulder, putting his other hand on Tel’s arm. “We trust you to keep your promises.” He wasn’t exactly asking.
On impulse, Ker covered the old man’s hand with her own. “Will you be safe here? With the griffin?”
“Is anyone safe anywhere?” He patted her hand. “He’s speaking to us, so all’s well. Come back to us if you can, young ones.”
Tel waited until they were a good few paces beyond the exit before he dropped his pack and wrapped his arms around her. Startled, Ker almost pulled away, but the comfortable warmth and nearness of him made her relax into his embrace.
“Kerida.” She nodded and his arms tightened. “Those people are Feelers.”
She nodded again.
“And there was a griffin.”
“Yes, there was.”
“I’m not going crazy.”
“Well, I wouldn’t go that far.”
He barked out shaky laughter, his hands steady on her shoulders as he backed away. “Are we lucky to have escaped with our lives? Or have we allies we never expected?”
“A little of both, maybe,” she said. “Thank the Mother we fit into this prophecy of theirs. Though we’re not to tell anyone about it . . . or them,” she added.
“Seriously, I’ll say it again, I’m not sure anyone who wasn’t here would believe us.” He finally released her and picked up his pack. “What does it all mean, this prophecy business?”
“At the moment, it means they let us go,” Ker said.
“And they’ll help us in the future—or help you. They didn’t seem to like me much.”
Ker lifted her shoulders and let them fall. Ganni had healed Tel, and then saved his life. She cleared her throat, as a sudden need to cry swept through her. She took an unsteady breath. “I’d say something clever and reassuring, but I can’t think of a thing.”
“Now that’s something to thank the Mother for.” Tel looked around at the moonlight, his weak smile fading. “Shouldn’t it be midafternoon? Or can Feelers manipulate that as well?”
“More likely they just keep to a different clock. And why not, since they don’t have the sun?” She rubbed her forehead. “Dawn’s not that far off.” She tried to relax shoulders that kept creeping up. Suddenly, things seemed so open and wide. She looked at the sliver of moon that hung just above the horizon to the west and frowned. “How many times did we sleep?”
“What?”
“Look.” She pointed upward. “Going by the waning of the moon, it’s been three days since we entered the mines. I don’t remember sleeping three times. More like once. No wonder I’m so exhausted.”
“Not much rest in our immediate futures either,” Tel said. “Three days.” He looked up again, examining the placement of the moon and the stars. “We’re a ways to the southwest from the road, even if this is the closest exit to it.”
“What do you mean ‘a ways’? We’re in Bascat, aren’t we? We’ve crossed the Serpents Teeth, haven’t we?” She hitched her pack a bit higher, and took a deliberate step forward. They needed to be moving, not just to make up time, but to keep warm.
Tel, still looking up, nodded. “We’re on the right side of the mountains, but I can’t tell exactly how far we are from the road. At least a day, I’d imagine.” He glanced at her. “And then, not far from Temlin Hall.”
They’d each be going their own way then, and Ker wondered if Tel was feeling reluctant to leave her. She shook herself. That was about as useless a thought as she’d ever had.
Her experience with the griffin had been one of those breakthroughs her teachers at the Hall were always talking about, though none of them had ever mentioned the auroras of color and light. She wondered if she would know what Tel was feeling if she touched him now, the way she’d known with Weimerk? There was another useless thought.
“Are you going to include them in your report?” On the word “them” Tel had jerked his head back toward the entrance, as if he didn’t want to say the word “Feeler” out loud again.
Ker shivered, and not from the cold. Luckily, Tel had stepped ahead of her and didn’t see. She knew perfectly well she should tell the Senior Talent at Temlin about the Feelers. But she had an idea of how those hidebound bureaucrats would react to the news that there were Feelers in the Serpents Teeth—they might even decide the Feelers were a greater enemy than the Halians. And if she didn’t report the Feelers, what could she say about the griffin, or their prophecy? She touched the front of her tunic, where the claw everyone else had forgotten about was still tucked safely away.
“I don’t know,” she said finally.
“Me either,” Tel admitted. “Let’s hope we think of something when the time comes.” He straightened up. “Off that way, northeast. We should find the road easily enough.”
“Do we want to?”
“Snow closed the pass, didn’t it? It’s not as if they can come through after us. And snow or no snow, the road will be easier going than cross-country.”
That was true enough. “I know the road from the pass goes right by Temlin Hall, but that’s all I do know.”
“So I can see you safely there, at least. Oste’s about a day or so farther along. The Mother knows the Luqs wouldn’t be comfortable with the Battle Wings any closer to the Peninsula.” Once again, there was a smile hovering in Tel’s tone.
Ker nodded before glancing back over her shoulder at the mine entrance. “Should we get moving, then? We’d be able to get quite a bit farther along before the moon sets, and even after that, there’s enough snow to keep things bright for walking.”
Tel shook his head, mouth twisted to one side. “Anxious to get back to the comforts of your Hall, are you? I don’t blame you.” His face sobered quickly. “Though I don’t envy you the news you have to bring them.”
Ker rubbed at her forehead again, and swallowed. She hadn’t thought about that. No, she’d managed to put that thought right out of her mind. Bad enough that she’d seen what she’d seen, and had to remember what she had to remember. Now she was going to have to tell it all to someone else, and bring down on them the same devastation she’d already suffered herself.
At least they’d believe her. At least she wouldn’t have to go through what Tel Cursar and his mates had experienced. A touch on her shoulder startled her.
“Hey,” Tel said. “Don’t worry, we’ll get there.”
“I’m looking forward to it,” she said. He drew down his brows, nodded, and set off between the trees. As she stepped out after him, Ker was surprised to find that what she’d said was actually a little bit true. “The sooner I can tell my superiors about the Halians, the better. Let older and wiser heads worry about what to do next,” she said to Tel’s back.
“I’m with you,” Tel said. “That’s what senior officers are for.”
When the shouting started, Talian Pepin remembered his training and ran toward it, not away. It was the blond boy they had by the elbow, the tavern keeper and the large man with the broken nose who’d been eating in the common room. Talian bounced on his toes trying to see more, just like
everyone else in the wide part of the street just outside the Pig and Acorn Tavern. They were shaking the blond boy hard enough that he couldn’t have answered their questions if he’d wanted to.
“He was hanging around my table, I tell you,” Broken Nose was shouting. “If he doesn’t have my purse on him, it’s because he’s passed it off to a confederate.”
“Then it’s long gone, that’s certain,” the tavern man said. “We’ll have him examined, is what we’ll do, we’ll—” He snapped his mouth shut and went red in the face. Several of those watching looked down, feet shuffling, and a few on the edge of the crowd melted away.
Tavern Man was murmuring to Broken Nose, and Talian edged his way closer. He didn’t really know the blond boy, he’d seen the kid around, but he didn’t belong to Old Goreot like Talian did. Still, the old lady would want to know what happened here.
“No, I won’t let him go! He took my purse, I tell you, and I’ll have it out of him one way or another.” Broken Nose stabbed at Tavern Keeper with his thick finger. “How do I know you’re not in with him yourself? It’s your place I was robbed in.”
Now Tavern Keeper stepped back, looking Broken Nose up and down with his lip curled in disgust. “Fine, then,” he said. “We’ll take the boy to the town hall, and see what they say. But I’ll tell you right now, you won’t be happy with it.”
Talian melted away with the rest of the onlookers, bored now that it seemed there’d be no fighting. The two men were both right; the thief had passed the purse to a confederate, and it was long gone. It was just bad luck that the blond boy wasn’t the thief. Bad luck for the boy, too, since there’d be no Talent who could clear him.
Talian shook his head as he walked away, careful to keep his expression neutral. Bad luck for everyone.
They found the road shortly after sunup. Though they’d been going north, and a little east, there was less snow here than there had been at the tunnel entrance.
Halls of Law Page 15
