Gift of Griffins
Page 11
“We’re lucky it’s a pine tree.” Tel grunted with the effort of weaving a branch into three others. “More coverage.”
Ker nodded, not wasting any more breath. If she didn’t sit down soon, she’d fall down. Mind-speaking to Svann during the night had exhausted her as much as a full day’s worth of Flashing. And it would only get worse without proper training. Food would help, but all they had with them was the travel cake they’d brought from the Mines. The people of the Springs and Pools had offered them other food, but Ker would have been ashamed to take it from them.
It was a relief to sit quietly, feeling abused muscles relaxing as the wind picked up and the storm wailed around them. They were too well trained to fret over something they couldn’t help. Both the Halls and the military taught a certain sense of fatalism, the patience to let go of the things they couldn’t control.
“What about trying the jewel again?” Tel said.
Ker rolled her eyes. “Here I was thanking the Mother that neither of us was the type to get fidgety when we had nothing to do but wait.”
“Just a suggestion.” Tel grinned. “I could suggest other things, but I’m afraid you’ll say it’s too cold, or we’re too tired.”
“Well, I’m not too tired, and I should think we’d get warmer, wouldn’t we?”
He smiled as he reached for her.
Sometime later, Ker wondered whether she should trigger her Talent, see if she could tell anything about the storm, but even as she thought of it, she fell asleep.
“Still snowing,” Tel said, when Ker opened her eyes.
“It’s so dark.”
“I’d say the sun’s gone down. The wind’s picked up, and the temperature’s dropping.”
“That’s good.” Ker sat up. “If it gets cold enough, it should stop snowing all together.”
“Sure, and we know how to keep warm.”
Ker cuffed him with the back of her hand. “That’s hard to do while we’re taking turns breaking trail, which will also keep us warm. Give me a chance to see what I can Flash about the storm.” Paraste.
At first, all Ker Flashed was the snow itself, where it turned from water to ice crystals at some unimaginable height. Weimerk’s above that, she thought. He’s higher than the storm.
<< If you require my assistance, I will come.>>
<
Colors Flashed out at her from the direction of the road. “Tel! There are people out there, in the storm. They’ve wandered off the road.”
Tel was up on his knees, uncovering the entrance to their shelter when he stopped and looked at her. “Halians?”
She shook her head. “They’re Panthers, five of them. One of them is injured, not seriously, just a sprained ankle, but he’s having trouble walking and is slowing the others down.”
“They’ll leave him behind,” Tel said. “They’ll have to.”
Ker squeezed Tel’s arm. He’d been injured and left behind himself once and might easily have died from his infected wound if Ker hadn’t come along. He still didn’t talk about it much, even though he didn’t blame the soldiers who had left him. They had done the right thing.
She pulled on the cloak she’d been using as a blanket. “They’ve lost the road,” she told him. “If they don’t find it again before the snow stops, none of them may live to find it.” She felt Tel straighten, his muscles tense. “We have to go out for them,” she said.
“Right.” Tel pulled his own cloak out from under them. “You’ll have to Flash us there and back again. It’ll be crowded, but at least the Panthers will be safe.”
Ker wriggled her way through the embrace of branches and out into the storm. She almost turned back as the full force of the wind-driven snow struck her in the face. She felt Tel take her hand and, shutting her eyes, she began to lead the way back to the road, using only her Talent, and the illumination her aura gave her. From the road, the Panthers would be easier to reach.
Ironically, it wasn’t until they reached the road that Ker slipped and fell. Tel hauled her back to her feet and hugged her for a moment. She clung to the front of his cloak and realized that he was praying under his breath. “Listen to him, Mother, Daughter, and Son,” she whispered herself. “Help us now.” She patted him with both hands, then pushed him gently away. Taking his right hand once again in her left, she set off in the direction of the stranded Panthers.
“Start calling,” she said over her shoulder as they got nearer. If there was one thing that the military did better than the Halls, it was voice training. Officers needed to be heard over distances, something rarely true for Talents. “Let them know we’re close.”
“Panthers!” What she knew to be Tel’s best bellow seemed unlikely to penetrate the sounds made by the storm. “Panthers! Sing out!”
They kept moving, and Tel kept calling at intervals, and finally there came an answering shout.
“Stay where you are,” Tel bellowed. “We’ll come to you.”
It was likely that only strict military discipline prevented the stranded Panthers from disobeying and coming through the snow on the run—and likely getting themselves into worse trouble. As it was, they were almost stepping on the soldiers before the Panthers even knew they were there.
“Save it,” Tel said, as one of the Panthers started to identify herself. “We’ll get you back to our shelter first.”
Getting them back was far more trouble than finding them. Ker could still Flash the route clearly, but even in this short a time the wind had started to fill in their tracks, and they had almost to break the trail a second time. The injured soldier still had trouble, and it was so awkward for two of the others to give him a seat on their crossed hands that Tel finally picked the man up and slung him over his shoulder. With one hand to hold the man in place, he still had one to give Ker. The injured soldier himself reached out a hand to those following.
After what seemed an eternity they reached the fallen pine. Tel sank to his knees under the man he carried, unable to take another step. The injured man, easily the freshest of them all, eagerly helped enlarge the shelter enough for them all to squeeze in. Tel took out his glow stone and set it at his feet, muffled with a corner of his cloak.
“Thank you,” a woman’s voice came out of the dimness, once the panting and huffing and puffing had subsided. “How did you do that?”
“I’m a Talent,” Ker said. “I could Flash the pathway.”
“Huh. Well, thank you, Talent. I didn’t know you people could do such things.”
“It doesn’t come up all that often,” Tel said. “And not all Talents are as good at it as Kerida—Talent Nast, is.”
“Nast? Then you must be—” The woman’s voice stopped abruptly. The Faro of Panthers was Tonia Nast, Kerida’s oldest half-sister. But as Talents did not live in the world, they no longer had any family outside the Halls of Law, and it was highly incorrect for anyone to suggest that they did.
“Thank you, Talent,” the woman said again. “I’m Rascat Skyfeather, Barrack Leader, Red Company, Ruby Cohort of Panthers, though I guess I don’t need to tell you that. These others are part of my barrack. We were scouting to the west when the storm hit, and we thought we could keep ahead of it. We were wrong, and lucky that you people were here.”
“I’m Tel Cursar,” Tel said. “Third Officer, Black Company, Emerald Cohort of Bears.” He hesitated, but he knew that he had to say something if he didn’t want to raise even more questions. “We’re on assignment from my Faro.”
“If you’ve a ways to go yet,” the Barrack Leader said. “You’ll be able to rest a bit at the Hall. We’ve camped there, watching the road.
Uh—” She cleared her throat. “You might be interested to hear that our Faro is with us.”
Ker kept her face still and her breathing steady. Of course, her older sister would be with her Battle Wing. She might even have news of her other half-sister, Ester—or their parents. If Tonia agreed to see her. In any case, it might be best not to— She took a deep breath, and she felt Tel’s long fingers wrap completely around her wrist.
“What we’re interested in,” she said, “is whether you have anything to eat besides travel cake.”
* * *
• • •
With everyone taking it in turn to carry the injured man or break trail, it still took them three more days to reach the Hall.
Descoria Hall was much smaller than Questin, where Talents from all over the Polity and beyond had come to be trained, before the Halians burned it to the ground. It was smaller even than Temlin Hall, which Ker had seen only in ruins. This part of New Province was sparsely populated compared to the Peninsula and wouldn’t warrant a permanently occupied Hall of Law. Descoria would be a place where traveling Talents—and others who had permission—would put up while using the road.
The two-story, timber-framed building had strong wooden shutters but no glass windows. The Halls of Law would have contracted with local farmers to keep Descoria supplied and in repair. There was a rough stable that would hold no more than five horses, but there’d be no gardens, no fruit trees, nothing that would require residential care.
Once or twice Tel had hinted to Rascat Skyfeather that he and Ker could be on their way much faster by themselves, but each time the Barrack Leader had countered his hint by pointing out that with more of them to break trail on the road they were making decent time, or that without the Talent, there was the possibility the Panthers would lose themselves again. Technically, Tel outranked Skyfeather, but the Panthers outnumbered them. Ker was just as happy that Tel didn’t put his authority to the test, once it became obvious that the Barrack Leader wanted them to accompany her. The last thing she wanted was to be delivered to her sister as a captive.
<
<
<
<
There was a longer pause than she was used to having in her mental conversations with the griffin. <>
Ker took a deep breath. <
From the look of the encampment around the Hall, at least three cohorts were here to support their Faro. They were welcomed with enthusiasm when they reached the perimeter guard. Medics were summoned to deal with the injured man, and Ker and Tel were passed along with an escort almost before Rascat Skyfeather could thank them again.
The camp was set up along the same lines as any permanent Wing camp or fort. A main track leading to the Hall building was surrounded by the tents of the soldiers. Snow had been removed or covered over with branches to improve the footing.
“I don’t like the look you have on your face,” Tel said out of the corner of his mouth “What are you thinking?”
Ker shrugged. “Easy in, but not so easily out. Griffin or no griffin.”
“The Faro’s quartered in the Hall building,” their escort said, once they’d passed through most of the camp. “Faro’s kept our Talents with us, so I’m not sure what room there is. Not to worry, though, Talent Nast. I’m sure some junior officer will get turfed out, so you’ll get a bed.”
Ker exchanged a look with Tel. Neither of them had expected to run into other Talents.
“Thank you, but I’d just as soon stay with my escort, if it’s all the same,” she said.
“I’m sure that could be arranged, if you don’t mind sharing a tent.” The Barrack Leader didn’t sound convinced.
“Until not long ago, I shared a dormitory with twenty other Candidates,” Ker said. “A tent with only a Barrack to share with will feel like luxury.”
“HONORED One, I am Horse Captain Inurek Star, chief of your personal guard.”
The man’s use of the old-style title rather than the Halian rank of Tekla, told Baku immediately that here was one of the new traditionalists, those among her brother’s people who revered the old nomadic days before the Horsemen reached the Halian Empire and made it their own. That and the smell. Tradition had it that their nomadic forebears had only bathed in the warmer months, so these new horsemen would be deliberately unwashed until the spring.
“Greetings, Horse Captain. I trust I do not take you from your duties?”
“It is our privilege to guard and escort the sister of the Lord of Horses.” Inurek Star and the two men with him all bowed in the direction of the chest that held the Voice of the Emperor.
That was unexpected. At home—in Halia—even the new traditionalists referred to her brother as the Sky Emperor. Why should they feel freer to pursue their eccentricity here? “You are here to escort me to the public audience room?”
“We are, Honored One.”
“Very well. You may proceed.”
Any other time Baku would have found the manner of her escort amusing. Her guard walked three before and three behind, and while alert and evidently ready to draw their weapons at any provocation, they walked like horsemen, swaggering, proud, defiant, and looking every man in the eye.
At the moment, however, while she welcomed the distraction they afforded her, they were not enough to make her forget what was ahead. She had formally met her husband, the Luqs of Farama, in the council room on the previous afternoon. The marriage documents had been read aloud there. She was hearing them for the first time and had been a little unnerved to hear herself referred to constantly as “the Princess Imperial” as if she had no name of her own. Even knowing it was the traditional form of such documents had not helped. Yesterday, every attendant in her entourage had witnessed the ceremony, but only Narl accompanied her today, walking immediately behind her left elbow. Inurek Star and his men led them into a room somewhat larger than the council chamber, but here there were no rugs, just a polished wood floor decorated by a pattern of inset tiles. Her escort walked her across to the consort’s chair and arranged themselves behind and to the side.
“Am I ever going to see you without the veils?” Dern Firoxi’s conversational tone surprised her. She had expected something more aloof.
Baku wore the informal silver-embroidered overveil, covering a new gown with divided skirts that Narl had had created for her overnight. “Of course, my lord Luqs, but in privacy.” She mentally reviewed the number of veils she had brought with her. She would be more often in public now than she had been since childhood.
“Oh, yes, that’s right. They told me.” The man looked around him with one eyebrow raised. “Well, I don’t know what it was like in the Emperor’s court, my dear, but here you’d better watch your step.”
Baku straightened. She couldn’t tell from his dry tone, but was he threatening her? He might be Luqs, but as the Princess Imperial, she was more important to the Halians present than he. Inurek Star might not care about her as a person, but he would defend the sister of the Horse Lord to the death. She wished now that she had not listened to Narl’s advice to leave the mask behind.
Then she saw Dern Firoxi stiffen, and she realized it was not he that should concern her.
The Shekayrin who strode into the audience room at this moment was not a tall man, but his manner made him seem so. Somehow, the mage’s dark red hair looked bloodier than was natural, and his long blue tunic bluer, leeching what little color there was from the walls. As he came nearer, Baku made out the poppy on his tunic front, and tattooed around his eye. She had never seen him before. Until now, there had only been Rose and Daisy Shekayrin around her. It had been a Poppy Shekayrin who had examined her for her brother, who h
ad netted her. Baku was glad that her veils covered her involuntary shiver, and her glance toward Inurek Star standing to her left, his arms crossed in front of him.
The Poppy came directly to them, speaking to Dern Firoxi first. “Most of the cases this morning are of no consequence. You may address them as you please. In the matter of the inheritance of Kennaru Holding, you should decide in favor of the uncle.”
The instruction did not surprise Baku; after all, clerks and aides were employed precisely to free judges—including the Emperor—from having to research the cases and petitions themselves. But that it was a Poppy, and not a Daisy or a Rose, that was unusual. And his tone—no one, not even a Shekayrin—would dare to use such a tone to the Sky Emperor. She clasped her hands together under the veils.
She had not thought she could sit up any straighter, but when the Poppy turned his eyes—incongruously, the pleasing color of dark chocolate—on her, she felt her spine stiffen. She wished she had not done it, but it seemed the mage took no notice. She expected him to introduce himself and was further taken aback when he addressed her with no courtesy at all.
“I’ve heard about the nonsense at the dock when you arrived. It’s embarrassing that a Shekayrin should be so superstitious about some trifle of uncivilized barbarians. Don’t expect a repetition.”
Without turning her head, Baku glanced at the man who was Luqs. Dern Firoxi looked away, toward the door, as if he were absorbed in thought—but the tension in his jaw showed he pretended.
“You will address the sister of the Lord of Horses with more respect.” Inurek Star spoke, smiling, and it was not a smile Baku would have liked aimed at her.
The Poppy inclined his head to the Horse Captain in a shallow bow, more than he had offered her or the Luqs. “As you say, Tekla.”
Which was not in any way an apology, or an earnest of future improvement. He turned back to Dern Firoxi. “The first petitioner will be sent in, my lord Luqs.” The mage turned on his heel and left as quickly as he had come.