“When you are ready, Honored One.”
A very few minutes later Baku stood in the doorway of a walled garden, surveying the neatness of the extended paths, the carefully trimmed hedges, fruit trees pollarded against the nearby southern wall. The ground before her was dry and hard, with none of the ice and snow she had expected.
But it was the ground. Even at the docks Baku had walked on carpets spread for her on the paving stones.
Would there be magic in this earth to help her? With no further delay Baku placed her right foot firmly on the land of Farama.
Nothing. No change. What is there here to help me?
* * *
• • •
Jerek Brightwing jolted awake, groping for the knife he kept under his pillow. “Wynn? Was that you?”
“Was what me?” Wynn sat up. She’d been sleeping on a mat across his door. It made Jerek feel silly having someone do that, but he felt safe, as well. Especially when the someone was Wynn Martan.
“Did someone call?” he asked her. “Did someone ask for help?”
“I didn’t hear anything,” she said.
“But that doesn’t mean there wasn’t anything to hear,” Jerek said, lowering his voice. “What if it’s me?”
Wynn scrubbed at her face, then lowered her hands. “Far-thinking you mean? Who? Dersay or Cuarel?”
“Find out if there’s news, can you? Without, you know . . .”
“Of course.” Wynn got to her feet, moved her bedding out of the way, and opened the door a handspan. She spoke quietly to the guard on the other side of the door. Jerek only heard a few words, his title, and “can’t sleep” and “put his mind at rest” before she shut the door again.
“There,” she said, sitting down again. “They’ll send and ask, and if there’s any news, we’ll know shortly.”
He nodded his thanks and pulled the blankets closer around him. He wished that Kerida Nast was back, but he didn’t want to say so out loud. He was sure of one thing. The something he’d been expecting had arrived.
* * *
“What is it now?” Ker hitched her pack a little higher on her shoulder and concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other.
“I’m not used to following you when we’re out-of-doors,” Tel said. “Usually, I’m the one with the good sense of direction. I’ve seen you get turned around in a hallway when you weren’t Flashing.”
“Very funny.” Ker peered upward, but though she knew Weimerk flew above them, he was too high for her to see. “It’s not really me you’re following, and you know it.”
“Sure. But I can’t see him, can I? And Daughter knows, I can’t feel him, or Flash him, or whatever it is you’re doing.”
“Still no excuse for you to be so grumpy.”
Tel’s pace, steady until now, skipped a step. Ker looked around at him. His brows were drawn down, but he wasn’t frowning. “What is it?” she asked him in a totally different tone.
“I was just thinking how strange it is that I’m not grumpy at all, I’m not angry, or upset, or even much worried.” He gave her a sidewise smile that brought an answering grin to her own lips. “I was just thinking that it’s been a long time since it was just the two of us—I don’t count him,” he added as Ker opened her mouth to contradict him. “The griffin’s not really here with us, even though he’s here.” Tel brushed her forehead with the tips of his fingers.
Ker looked away, but she nodded. She knew what he meant. It had been weeks since they’d been outside together alone.
The track they followed, once they’d left Luca with the Springs and Pools to decide which of them would go to the Mines, eventually met with a Polity road wide enough for five soldiers to march abreast. They were headed east, Tel had told her. East and a little north, and while snow dusted the road here and there, there wasn’t as much as there had been when they’d first come out of the Mines. Their mules they’d left behind, where they’d be more useful to the Springers. Even mules didn’t cover many more miles in a day than soldiers at a marching pace. And they couldn’t be fed on snow.
“Do we take the road? It’s going in the right direction.” While in the Peninsula they’d avoided using roads whenever they could, for fear of running into Halian patrols. “In theory we should be safe. All the Halians are in the Peninsula.”
“Not all,” Tel reminded her. “Didn’t my Faro tell us they’d landed in some other ports?”
“But that was to the west of here,” she said. “This is the way the Panther Wing would have gone, either back to the far border of Polstef, or south and east to Juristand.” Ker slowed again, and Tel slowed with her. “Tel, isn’t there a Hall on this road?”
This time he frowned. “Yes,” he said finally. “If I’m not completely turned around, and that’s not likely, Descoria Hall should be about three days’ march ahead of us.” He looked sideways at her. “But you could check that, couldn’t you?”
He meant she could Flash the road. Ker blew out her breath in a silent whistle. The last time she’d done that had been months ago, when they were on their way from their first encounter with the Feelers, she to Temlin Hall to join the Talents there and carry the news of the Halian invasion, Tel on his way to Oste, to rejoin the Bear Wing, and carry the same news.
Only the Halians had already found Temlin Hall, and burned it to the ground, killing everyone in it, Talent or not. That was how much they feared what they called “the magic of the body.”
“I’m not saying you should do it,” Tel said now.
“No,” she said. When had she stopped walking? “You’re right. I don’t want to walk in on a bad surprise, and I certainly don’t want to spend the next three days wondering what we’re going to find. Better if we know now.” Without giving herself a chance to change her mind, Ker pulled off her glove and placed her hand firmly on the roadbed, ignoring the chill of the frozen surface. Paraste.
Since the griffin gave her the ability to see auras, she could Flash people without touching them. But objects—and the Hall, and the road itself for that matter, weren’t anything but big objects—she had to touch, just like any ordinary Talent.
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Ker shook her head. Griffins had been the mythical tutors and mentors of advanced and powerful Talents, according to the stories. For centuries any such student was called “Griffin Class” and given early to the Inquisitors for special training. It puzzled her that Weimerk had always seemed bored by the idea of other Talents, showing no interest in finding or helping any of them.
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“Well? Is the Hall there?”
Cursing, Ker pulled her hand off the surface of the road and rubbed feeling back into it on the front of her tunic. “Yes, it is, as it happens. And the Panther Wing is there as well.”
“That’s good news, or isn’t it?” Tel took her hand and began to rub it between his own. “Isn’t your sister Faro of Panthers?”
“What? Yes, sorry. My oldest sister, Tonia.” Except that Talents weren’t supposed to have sisters. “It’s just that Weimerk’s always in my head, I’ve got no privacy.” She shook her head. “You’ve no idea what it’s like.”
“Of course, I do. It’s like being Flashed by a Talent, except all the time.”
Ker blinked, lips parted. Did everyone feel that way about it? Tel grinned at her look and kissed her on the forehead. She pushed him off. She hated to be kissed on the forehead—which, of course, was why he did it.
It wasn’t until they set up camp for the night, and the flickering light of the fire hid their faces that Ker felt comfortable enough to
talk about it.
“I don’t actually know what you’re thinking,” she said.
“I don’t mind.” Tel bumped her shoulder with his elbow.
“No, really, it’s more like I know you, yourself. I know what you would think about something, not the thoughts themselves.” Necessarily.
“That makes me feel so much better.” He laughed and slipped his arm around her, hugging her close.
“I don’t know how you can find it funny.” But she relaxed into his embrace.
“After what Svann did to me, I find it wonderful.” The laughter was gone, but he spoke calmly, easily. “You’re not trying to change how I think or feel about anything or anyone. You just know what I think or feel. Really, it’s almost comforting. And it’s certainly easier than lying all the time, like the Halians do.”
“What do you mean? How can they be lying all the time?”
“You know what I mean. Everyone tells certain kinds of lies. ‘No, that tunic doesn’t make you look fat,’ or ‘No one notices that you’re losing your hair,’ that kind of thing. But about important stuff, life-level important, there’s never been any point in lying. Someone could always ask you to let a Talent check, so you might as well tell the truth to start with. I mean, most people wouldn’t ask a Talent to find out if someone really did love them, but everyone knows that you could.”
“That’s funny. That occurred to me when we were with the Springers. How hard it must be to live never being sure what someone else really thought or meant. I never thought about how it made things different for us.”
“Well, I think lots of people just never bothered with the big lies, you know, the ‘I love you’ lies.” He rested his cheek on her hair. “You know how I feel, without my having to say it.”
“Yes, well it can’t come up that often,” she pointed out. “‘Talents do not live in the world,’ remember?” She shivered, and Tel pulled her closer. She tried not to think about that. They were working to restore a world in which they couldn’t be together. And now she had to meet with her sister—who she couldn’t acknowledge. She pushed the thoughts away.
“But Talents must have fallen in love with Talents,” Tel pointed out. “And if you think that no one in a Battle Wing ever fell in love with one of the Talents assigned to that Wing, then you don’t know how the human heart works.”
“Have it your way,” she said. “Right now, this human heart wants to sleep.”
But Ker found she couldn’t fall asleep no matter what she’d told Tel. The presence of Weimerk above them meant they didn’t have to keep watch, but she slid herself carefully out of the circle of Tel’s arms and sat up, rubbing at her face, and particularly at the muscles around her eyes. She’d spent the whole day squinting at sunlight on the few patches of snow. Maybe it would be easier to travel at night. She reached out to Weimerk and was startled to find him asleep as well, drifting and floating on some updraft so far above them as to be almost in another world. She’d known that certain birds of prey could nap while floating on a thermal, but she’d never thought that applied to Weimerk even though he was half eagle. Though he slept, and didn’t answer her, she felt his deep awareness of her. If she needed him, he would be awake, alert, and at her side almost before she could complete the thought.
She pulled out the small pouch she wore on a cord around her neck and let the jewel slide out onto her hand. The facets seemed as solid as the ground beneath her, but she knew that if she focused on them, she could make their pattern change. Her dream of helping jeweled people seemed farther away than ever. She wished she had more time to study, to practice. Svann had talked about the years of study it took to become a Shekayrin, study and discipline and practice—not unlike what Talents went through at Questin Hall.
Svann: Kerida Nast, is this you?
Ker dropped the jewel and had to fumble it out of the tangle of clothes in her lap before she heard the voice again.
Kerida: Svann?
Svann: This is extraordinary. It is the specialty of the Daisy Shekayrin to use the stone to communicate. I begin to think you must be the one the Prophecy speaks of.
Kerida: Never mind that. She turned the jewel over in her fingers, finally letting it lie flat on her palm, faceted side up. She spoke to it, and Svann’s voice seemed to come from it, as if she heard it with her ears, and not with her mind. How is this happening?
Svann: I believe it may be due to your ability to mind-speak with the griffin. This may have opened those channels in your abilities which allow you to use the stone to communicate. I could devise a series of tests which would clarify—
Kerida: Svann, maybe another time?
Svann: Of course, your pardon. But you must admit, it would be a fascinating study.
Kerida: How is everyone? Excited by the prospect of research, Svann would forget to tell her if the Mines were on fire.
Svann: Three new Talents, followers of Luca Pa’narion, have arrived. Otherwise, no losses since you left us. However, it now appears my former countrymen have finally realized that parties sent to the Pass do not return.
Kerida: Luca is on his way to you now with Feelers from the Springs and Pools. They should reach you soon.
Svann: So the Far-thinkers have told us. I hope the High Inquisitor will persuade the council to agree to my return to Gaena, before anyone should come looking for me. I have been gone more than a month, and while no one would expect me to communicate with the stone, neither have I sent any word to anyone. Indeed, my powers of communication are weak—this success must be to you alone, is it not fascinating? Barid may be sent with me.
Ker rolled her eyes. Typical of Svann to jump from topic to topic.
Kerida: Barid?
Svann: He has been restless since you refused him a soul stone. He asked the Time-seer to give him the stone Luca left in her keeping. I am afraid she laughed at him.
Kerida: She’s just a child—at least when she’s not seeing the future. Maybe Luca can sort this out. But is it even safe for you to go back?
Svann: Your concern is heartwarming, but do not fear for me. I am planning to tell them that I received information about a cache of jewels and went to investigate. In my excitement I neglected to send any messengers. I am a Sunflower Shekayrin. We are known to become lost in our studies.
Kerida clapped her hand to her mouth before her laughter could wake Tel up.
Kerida: If you say so. You shouldn’t go back alone.
Svann: No, no. That would seem very peculiar, would it not? As many as possible of the soldiers who accompanied me in the first instance should be with me, to lend verisimilitude to my story. They will all be blocked against other Shekayrin, of course.
Kerida: Run at the first sign of trouble.
Svann: That would be the plan. Was he laughing? But it is possible that I would need to stay behind in captivity to give the others time to escape. And he would do it, too. Ker saw that as clearly as if she were Flashing Svann directly. Still, I believe Barid will be allowed to go with me, if only to ensure I do not go back to my old ways. Barid could Flash me whenever he feels the need.
Kerida: I’m not sure how much help that will be. Barid would be more useful in the Mines. There’s too much work for so few Talents, even if most of them are Griffin Class.
Svann: I feel sure all will be well.
Ker would feel better if it were Larin making that prediction.
Kerida: I’m afraid to let you go. What if we can’t do this again?
Svann: Once is usually enough to establish the connection, though it will get stronger with use. I wish I were with you. I would see the Griffinhome.
Kerida: Maybe when all of this is over. Let me know when you reach Gaena.
Svann: As you wish.
Ker sat tapping the jewel to her lower lip for some time before finally putting it away. That was certainly interesting.
> * * *
• • •
Ker related her conversation with Svann to Tel the next morning as they packed up their camp.
“Too bad you haven’t learned how to use the jewel to push things away,” Tel said as he watched large fat flakes drift steadily from the sky. “That would be a whole lot more useful right now than being able to tell Svann it’s snowing here.” He peered at her from behind snow-dusted lashes. “Do you think it might be worth a try?”
Ker sighed. “I didn’t want to tell you, but I’ve already tried it.” She also didn’t want to tell him about the panic she’d felt when she’d dropped the jewel into the snow and couldn’t find it until she Flashed for it. She’d been so shaken, she’d forgotten to use her Talent. “I couldn’t keep it up for more than a few seconds at a time. We can’t lose the road in any case,” she added. “I can Flash that whenever we need to, and Weimerk can help us with directions if we need more than that.”
“And where is he?”
“Above the storm.”
Tel hefted his pack with a sigh. “Don’t say it, I know. He can take you but not both of us.’”
The snow fell gently, and without wind, but it fell steadily, accumulating more quickly than Ker liked. Tel constantly stamped his feet, though they were snow-laden again in an instant.
Finally, Ker stopped, grabbing hold of Tel’s sleeve when he didn’t stop with her. “We can’t keep this up,” she said. “We may not get lost, but we’ll wear ourselves out. Let’s find a place to hole up and wait out the worst of it; at least we can take turns breaking trail for each other once the snow stops.”
“If it ever stops,” he said.
Ker triggered her Talent and focused on the sides of the road, searching for some copse of wood or a rock formation that might give them some shelter. She finally found what they were looking for several dozen spans farther along, where a shallow-rooted tree had fallen in some recent windstorm and now leaned, its branches intact, against an outcropping of rock.
“It’s all rock here,” she said, as they broke enough branches to allow them entry to the center of the tree, where it formed a canopy above them. “The tree couldn’t put its roots down deep enough to survive the wind.”
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