“I think you can bet on it,” he told her seriously, and was rewarded with a sparkling smile. “I also think you’ve got to be getting hungry by now.”
“And you’re observant as well, or else you heard my stomach growling; let’s see what new goodies have been put out. There’s bound to be supper dishes by now.”
She dashed off, casting a glance behind to see if he was following, and he responded to the challenge. They raced each other down overgrown, little-used paths to the guest lodges. Summerdance had a distinct advantage because she knew the Vale so well, but he had longer legs, so they burst out of the undergrowth neck-and-neck, and found themselves part of a goodly crowd of equally hungry folk crowding into the entrance to the main hall.
By now Darian’s appetite had returned with a vengeance, and the wonderful aromas nearly drove him to distraction. A real meal had been spread out this time, with hot and cold dishes to choose from, instead of just snacks. Darian motioned Summerdance to go in ahead of him, feeling as if he would make a poor showing if he let hunger overcome manners. They took plates made of flat bread from a stack waiting at the side of the table, and heaped them with their choices; at Summerdance’s urging, Darian took portions of things he didn’t recognize. They stood together for a moment, looking around to see if there was anyone here that they knew, then spotted Nightbird. She sat in the middle of a congenial group of young men and women, most of whom were strangers to him. A few of Nightbird’s companions were younger than Darian was, but most were about the same age.
As soon as they’d spotted her, she noticed them, and waved them over. They found a couple of unused cushions and sat down with the rest of the group.
“Everyone, this is Dar’ian,” Nightbird said, giving his name the Tayledras pronunciation. “Dar’ian, pay attention,” she continued, with a giggle. “I’m only going to introduce people once!”
He paid quite careful attention to their names as Nightbird introduced her friends, and fixed names properly with the faces in his memory.
Meanwhile, he ate, enjoying all the new flavors. It was all quite different, except the thick slices of meat - and even that was spiced in a way he’d never tasted before. Round puffs of pastry proved to be breaded and fried slices of vegetable, a green paste that Summerdance had greeted with enthusiasm was probably from another vegetable of some kind and made a fantastic garnish on just about everything, little red. squares were not sweet, as he’d expected, but crisp and jjeppery. He wished he’d taken more of the flat round bread; it was wonderful when wrapped around the meat.
He spent more time listening than talking; for one thing, it was the first time he’d seen so many of his age in one place. For another, he was interested in what they did, since no one was ever idle in a Vale to his knowledge.
This was where he got some surprises. He had somehow gotten the vague idea that most Hawkbrothers were mages - that Snowfire and the other scouts were the exception. In a few moments, he learned that his perception was backward.
“So what’s your next assignment?” Nightbird asked a group of three sitting close together in a way that suggested close friendship rather than an amatory grouping.
“You’ll laugh,” said one of the two girls. “Mushroom hunting. The morels are coming up now, and the cooks want plenty.”
Nightbird didn’t laugh, she shrugged. “You can’t always be the ones patrolling the border,” she pointed out with inescapable logic. “Especially not with seven scout groups in training at the same time. You were just lucky on your first assignment, and got the exciting one. Besides, the cooks aren’t the only ones who want morels!”
“Exactly so,” agreed an older boy. “As I can tell you from my training last year. We spend more time hunting game and finding fungi than we do in patrols - and much, much more time in boring, uneventful patrols than in actually fighting anything dangerous.” He laughed. “As Whitehawk says, ’six weeks of boredom punctuated by half a candlemark of sheer terror.’ I think I’ll volunteer for the next Valdemar expedition; at least they saw some action.”
“Wouldn’t mushroom hunting be more in the line of hertasi?” Darian asked.
“Not really,” the boy replied. “The hertasi have plenty of work here in the Vale, and we can hunt mushrooms and check up on the territory inside our border at the same time. Despite what they might tell you, they can’t do every thing!”
Darian discovered from the subsequent conversation that a little less than half of them, male and female both, were scouts or scouts-in-training - a generic job that included hunting and gathering foodstuffs found growing wild in the woods outside the Vale as well as patrolling the boundaries of k’Vala territory. Two were mages - farther along in their studies than he was, but since they had begun earlier, and had certainly applied themselves better, that was only to be expected. One was a weaver and worker with textiles, which rather surprised him, as he’d gotten the impression that the hertasi did most of the crafting work.
But when he ventured to ask, he found out that the “trades,” so to speak, were practiced by as many Tayledras as hertasi. “Isn’t that dull compared with being a scout?” he asked tentatively.
The weaver laughed. “You heard the others. Now that we’ve got most of the nasties cleared out, and it’s easy enough to discourage poachers, it’s scouting that’s boring! I love what I do, and my teacher is Silverbird, the weaver who made the wedding robes. How could anybody be bored, learning to weave works of art like that? I even get to spend as much time in the woods outside the Vale as any scout, because I’m also working with Azurehart, the dyer, and we’re always looking for new colors.”
“It’s just as good doing metal work,” added another. “The hertasi haven’t got the strength to make anything large, or anything out of iron or steel. If you want a sword with a proper blade of twelve-folded steel, it has to be one of us who makes it - and who could get tired of that sort of work?”
“The hertasi can’t blow glass either. It’s too dangerous for them to get that close tp.(the furnaces,” said a girl with a profusion of scarlet-anoli-gold glass beads strung on the hair of one side of her head. “The glass work has to be done by humans.”
The others chimed in with similar praise for their professions, and he now learned that most of the Hawkbrothers of k’Vala were actually craftspeople, with only minor abilities at magic. In this little group alone, there were the weaver and smith, both in training, as well as Nightbird who trained to care for the gryphons, Summerdance who was going to be a plant worker, and the girl glassblower and a young man who was already a practicing fletcher. A Vale was truly a largely self-sufficient organism; certainly as self-sufficient as Errold’s Grove had ever been.
After they’d all finished eating, the group somehow stayed together, and went off to virtually take over one of the dancing circles. At that point, Summerdance found a partner with as much energy as she, and relinquished Darian’s company to Nightbird. Since Nightbird had not yet heard the tervardi sing, and Darian’s lessons had not included the complicated couple dances the others were performing, he went with her back to the platform and happily sat through two more sessions of their music.
Finally, though, the long day began to catch up with him, and he caught himself yawning.
“I’m ready for more dancing,” Nightbird declared, when the music group took another break. She glanced over at him, caught him in mid-yawn, and giggled. “You look more like you’d rather be asleep.”
Since she’d carefully said “asleep” and not “in bed,” he took the comment at face value and not as another invitation. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand and grinned sheepishly. “Well,” he temporized, “I was up at the break of day, and running from the time my feet hit the ground.”
She laughed. “I’ll tell you what; partner me for one dance set, and then we’ll see how you feel.”
He nodded agreement and helped her to her feet; they wound their way across the Vale until, quite by accident, they came
across a third dance circle and joined it. This one, populated by people of Snowfire’s generation, wasn’t quite as rowdy as the one that Summerdance had gravitated to, but it was lively enough for Darian.
Once again, these were dances that Darian had not learned, but they were easy enough to follow. This was a cross between a couple dance and a round dance, with each couple performing the moves of the set in turn while the others kept time, clapping. The dancers put Nightbird and Darian at the end of the line, which gave him seven chances to learn the next move before he had to do it. The dances moved briskly, with some pretty acrobatic moves as the dances grew more complicated with each new tune. There was quite a lot of twirling, turning, and lifting one’s partner, and Darian found himself running out of energy after a while. So did Nightbird, too, evidently; after that one set of dances, she retired from the field, declaring herself defeated by her own lagging energy. “I’m for a swim,” she decided after a moment. “What about you?”
A swim seemed like a good idea; a fine way to cool off after all that dancing. Conveniently enough, the large swimming pond turned out to be just on the other side of the trees and bushes screening the dance circle; Night-bird just led him around the corner, and there it was.
There were other people at the swimming area who’d had the same idea, but the place was quiet and only dimly lit with flickering lanterns with colored paper shades, and no one seemed bothered by two more joining them. Single swimmers drifted across the still surface with leisurely, slow strokes, barely making a splash, or floated on their backs, feathering the water with gentle movements of only their hands.
Nightbird slipped out of her gown while he was still letting his eyes adjust tdjthe relative darkness, and she plunged into the water without a backward look. He peeled off his clothing and followed, taking sensuous enjoyment in the silken feeling of the cool water on his hot skin. He concentrated only on making as little sound and turbulence as possible, to preserve the tranquil atmosphere.
Darian crossed the pond a few times, then the last of his energy ran out completely. Spotting a pile of towels and robes at the side of the pond, he climbed out, dried off, and helped himself to a loose, comfortable robe from the piles beside the pool.
Most of the other swimmers were gone, leaving the quiet pond, the soft light, and the sound of music drifting over from the dancing circle. Darian yawned. I don’t want to go to bed yet - but I’d like to find a place to lie down and rest for a little bit without getting in anyone’s way.
It occurred to him that there should be several lounging places here, tents made of insect netting draped over frames with flat cushions inside, just large enough for one or two to rest in after swimming, or for child watchers to sit in while keeping an eye on little ones playing in the pond. After a moment, he found several, tucked into a curve of foliage. They were all empty, and he parted the netting and settled himself down inside one, feeling luxuriously indolent but no longer sleepy - or so he thought.
The next thing he knew, it was quite light outside his shelter, and there were hertasi moving about, picking up the odd plate, cup, or pair of breeches left beside the water. He felt entirely rested, so he must have slept soundly and well - so soundly that, whatever had gone on around him, it hadn’t disturbed him in the least.
And, as he had expected, Kuari had found him. Apparently baffled by the enshrouding folds of the insect netting, the eagle-owl perched on the frame of the shelter, vaguely visible through the fog of netting.
He found the opening in the net and fought clear of it, shaking the frame just enough to wake Kuari. The bond-bird opened one eye halfway, then roused all his feathers with a pleased expression when he saw that it was Darian and he was awake.
:Hunt?: Kuari asked eagerly, his huge golden eyes staring unblinking at Darian. :Real hunt, not stupid coop birds?:
:Poor Kuari. It has been a while since we went hunting, hasn’t it?: he said with sympathy that was in no small part induced by the fact that he himself felt very good. :Come on, I’ll get changed. You go see if you can get Kel to go along, and we‘ll go for a real hunt :
Kuari hooted with enthusiasm, and shoved off from the frame, which threatened to topple over as he left it. Darian saved it from imminent collapse, then gathered his robe around him, picked up his clothing from where he’d left it, and trotted for his quarters.
When he emerged from the door of the guest lodges, clean and dressed in one of his old sets of scout clothing, with a bow and quiver in his hand and a light pack on his back, Kelvren and Kuari were waiting for him. Kuari was fluffed up and standing on a branch with one foot tucked under his feathers, and Kelvren posed in a beam of sunlight.
The young gryphon had actually grown a bit since Darian had first met him four years ago, adding muscle to his chest and legs. His head had matured as well; definitely aquiline, it no longer had that faintly “unfinished” look that young eagles and adolescent gryphons shared.
Every gleaming, golden-brown feather was neatly in place, from his ear-tufts to the tip of his tail; his talons were freshly honed, and his bright eyes gleamed with sheer delight in living. Obviously, though others might be suffering from a little too much self-indulgence last night, Kel wasn’t one of their number.
“Wind to thy wingsss!” Kelvren saluted him genially, his eyes flashing with good humor and eagerness. “And I hope yourrr courrting wass asss ssssuccesssful asss mine!”
Darian laughed; Kelvren was as much a hedonist at heart as any other gryphon, and as frankly uninhibited. “And if it was?” he asked.
“Then neitherrr of usss will have complaintss about ourrr homecoming,” Kel replied with a wink. “Kuarri sssaid we hunt; that iss a good thought. Nothing much getss done the day afterrr a celebrrrration, even the herrr-tassi do not do much but pick up a bit. No one cookss, mealss will be what wassn’t consssumed yessterday. Sssince I will make my own kill, I will make my own choice, and it would be good to get sssome frrresssh wild meat.”
“That’s essentially what Kuari said, and I’m all for it.” Darian hefted his bow and quiver of arrows by way of confirmation. “Where should we head for?”
“Norrth of the Vale entrance,” Kel replied promptly. “I hearrd good rrreporrtss of the hunting in that dirrrection.”
“I packed up some of the leftovers from the feast for myself, so we don’t have to come back until dark - how do we post word of where we’re going?” When he and Kel had gone out hunting together back in Valdemar, that had been the inflexible rule - post where you are going, and be back no later than a candlemark after dark. That way, if something happened to you, people would know that you were overdue, and what direction you’d been heading when you ran into trouble.
“I alrrready did,” Kel assured him. “With Firrrelance the chief trrrrondi‘irrrn, with Peluverrr, the seniorrr grrryphon, and with both theirrr herrrtasi. Ssso sssince you have prrrovissionsss, we can go!”
He was obviously itching to be on the wing, because as soon as he had finished speaking, he launched himself up into the sky, sending clouds of dust and debris in all directions. Darian was used to his impatience by now, so he sent Kuari up after him with a nudge of his thoughts, then followed both of them afoot, a little eager and impatient himself.
“Ahhhhhh - ” Kelvren spread his wings and legs out in the sun, flattening himself against the soft meadow grass, and started to get the glazed, half-conscious look he always wore when he was seriously sunbathing. He looked drunk, or drugged, or stunned, or -
“You look like a gryphon-rug,” Darian observed, layering meat, cheese, watercress, and sliced peppers between two rounds of the flatbread he’d first tasted last night. He set out more of the honey-and-nut pastries on a broad leaf, and propped his flask of cool spring water beside them. Kelvren turned his head just enough to give him a disgusted look.
“What a vile notion,” the gryphon replied. “Wherrre do you get thossse perrrverrrted ideasss?”
Darian took a hearty mouthful of his meal, and ma
de a point of chewing it thoughtfully before he swallowed it and responded. “Mostly from the fact that you’ve flattened yourself out until that is exactly what you look like. The only other comparisons I could make would be a lot less flattering than that one. The only thing round about you right now is your crop.”
Since an entire young wild pig now resided in that crop, it might well bulge. Kelvren had not only been successful, he’d had just enough of a chase to give him some excitement, followed by a fine, clean kill.
Kuari had been just as successful, snaring an unwary tree-hare, and he drowsed on top of a stump in the shade of a small tree on the edge of this clearing.
The meadow itself, formed when one of the enormous Pelagiris trees toppled over and took several of its brethren with it, made a fine glace for everyone to rest. Darian was going to come home just as much of a mighty hunter as the others, though he had no wish to eat his catch raw. He had four fine young brush-grouse, a delicacy that everyone enjoyed; he intended to present Starfall with one, Snowfire with two, and keep the fourth for himself. There was no reason at all why he couldn’t roast it on a spit for dinner tonight; he knew how to cook, and maybe Summerdance might be interested in sharing his meal. She’d probably want some of the handsome feathers, too, so he’d remember to save them.
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