“And the ones you don’t emphasize?”
“Far-thinking and Mind-healing. People are going to be afraid that their thoughts are being read without their consent, even when you explain that’s not how it works. Some are made so nervous by the idea that even the sworn word of a Talent won’t convince them. For that reason, we’re being a lot quieter about those two Gifts.”
“I can see how you’d have to be. I’m not sure I’m happy about it myself.”
“But if I may, Faro,” Tel put in. “Far-thinkers are such a valuable aid to long-distance communications that they’re almost as important militarily as Lifters and Far-seers.”
“Ah, I hadn’t thought about that. Are there many of them? Could there be one with each Faro, for example, for communications between Battle Wings? Or, more useful perhaps, would be to have one with each Cohort within a Wing.” Her gaze narrowed while she worked this out.
“I don’t think there’s enough of them,” Ker said. “And besides, there’s a limit to the distance their Gift will span. Right now, for example, we’re using the griffin as a relay. There doesn’t seem to be any limit on how far his Gifts will reach.”
“‘We?’ You’re not speaking just of the Bears and their allies. When you say ‘we,’ you are speaking directly of yourself. Are you telling me that you can Far-think?”
“Only with the griffin,” Ker shrugged.
“Oh, of course, ‘only with the griffin.’ Should that reassure me? Does that mean my sister isn’t turning into a Feeler, as well as being a Talent?”
“That’s not what’s happening at all. I can Far-think with Weimerk because of a special connection he and I have, not because I’m becoming a Feeler. That’s not even possible.”
“If you had asked me two months ago whether the existence of Feelers and griffins was possible, I’d have said it wasn’t,” Tonia pointed out. She leaned forward, elbows on knees, tapping her lips with her clasped hands. Then she sat up again. “Kerida, why am I here?”
“To speak to me?”
“No, not why am I here in this room.” Tonia’s smile brought out the laugh lines in her face. “Why am I here in Descoria Hall, with the better part of three Cohorts camped in tents around me? Why am I not in Juristand?”
Ker shook her head, then glanced at Tel with eyebrows raised. She hadn’t thought on this level of military strategy in years. Juristand was the second city of the Polity, after Farama the Capital. It had started out as the farthest outpost to the east, a military camp, and then a fort, and then a town, and finally the center for day-to-day administration for what became the eastern provinces. With the loss of the Peninsula, it had become the gathering point for Battle Wing Faros.
“You’re keeping options open,” Tel said, his voice almost too quiet to be heard. “As long as you’re not in Juristand, you don’t have to decide whether you accept the Bears’ acclamation of Jerek as Luqs. You don’t have to commit yourself.”
“I’m not committing anyone else either,” Tonia said quietly. “With Juria Sweetwater in the Mines of the Serpents Teeth, me here, and Arrian Xent with his Wing in Ma’lakai, we can argue there is no quorum of Faros in Juristand. No official decision will be made to declare this boy as Luqs, but he can’t be rejected either.”
“You’re going to wait and see what happens.” Ker didn’t trouble to hide her disappointment. “But, don’t you see, your support could make all the difference. Once we stop the Shekayrin, you could easily retake the Peninsula with both the Bears and the Panthers.”
“And when will that be? Do you see the position the rest of us are in? Most of the other Faros haven’t had any direct contact with these mages—”
“That you know of,” Tel broke in. “Feelers and Talents may not be able to manipulate people’s thoughts, but Shekayrin can. They can change someone’s loyalties or make them blindly loyal. Some are better at it than others, but most can do something. I’ve seen this with my own eyes.”
Ker kept herself from looking at Tel. No point in making Tonia worried about him.
“And you’re suggesting, Third Officer Cursar, that some of these changed minds are in Juristand right now?”
“The orders to abandon the Peninsula came very quickly, didn’t they?”
“I may believe you, but others won’t.” She nodded and took a deep breath. “These allies you’re going to now, they’ll help you against the Shekayrin?”
“That’s what we’re hoping, yes. The Shekayrin also have a mythology about griffins, and it’s possible that knowing the griffins are with us will be enough to make at least some of them withdraw from the conflict. Without the mages, the regular Halian army will be vulnerable to ordinary warfare. And, who knows, if we could at least establish some diplomatic channels, we might be able to do something besides kill people.” Ker waited.
“It’s too bad you weren’t able to tell me all this before,” Tonia said finally. “As things stand right now, I’ll either have to stop you from going or send a large force with you. Either way, things won’t work out the way you want them to.”
“But, Tonia—”
“Relax, I’m not planning to do either. The trick is how to arrange for your escape from the middle of my camp. I should have insisted on your having a tent. You’d have had a better chance of sneaking away than you will from inside these walls.”
“There is a way.” Ker looked at Tel. “A daring daylight escape.”
“Not for both of us,” he said, understanding her right away. “Lucky you don’t need me.”
Oh, yes, I need you. From the look in his eye it was as if he’d heard her. “No, I guess not,” she said aloud.
“Are you two going to tell me what you’re talking about?”
“The griffin,” they both said at once.
* * *
Larin laid the Luqs of Swords down on the Talent of Swords and sat back, wriggling on her stool and laughing.
“No one is this lucky.” Jak Gulder tossed his cards down on the tabletop, chalking the new score on the slate next to his right hand.
Jerek grinned. He had his three tricks and so was safe. Larin had taken her last—and winning—trick from Jak Gulder. Jak was looking better, though according to other Bears, the former Kaltor still wasn’t completely himself. He’d been jeweled by a Poppy Shekayrin and turned into an enemy, just like Tel, before Svann had brought them both to the Mines. Kerida Nast had been able to restore Tel completely, but Jak hadn’t been so lucky. Errinn Mind-healer said that maybe he’d been turned too long to ever return fully to his former self, but Jerek still had hopes. If Jak couldn’t be cured, what did that mean for all the others in the Peninsula who’d been jeweled much longer, some of them for years?
Jerek swept up the cards and squared them. “My turn to deal,” he said as he shuffled.
“Do you think she’s cheating by looking into the future, seeing what cards are coming?” Jak’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. He gripped the edge of the table abruptly, almost as if he was losing his balance. Then he relaxed.
“I don’t see what else it could be. She’s not old enough to be so good.”
“It’s rude to talk as if I’m not here.” Larin’s voice suddenly sounded like someone’s old granny. Even her face took on a tougher, more angled look.
“Well, actually, Ara, you’re not here.”
The strange semblance of another, older woman faded away. Larin fell into a fit of giggles.
“Can you really hear her?” Jak looked from Jerek to Larin and back again. “The old Time-seer?”
“Most of the time, yes. I can’t see her, not really, though Kerida says she can.”
“That’s ’cause you aren’t the Griffin Girl.” Larin made a dealing motion with her hands. “Jak Gulder, were you a better card player before the Shekayrin jeweled you?”
Jerek paused with only three cards
dealt out. Everyone was used to Larin and her abrupt statements, but this cut a little close to the bone. At the same time, he was curious; what would Jak’s answer be?
The older man frowned, his eyebrows drawing together. A look of uncertainty passed across his face. “I’m not sure. I think so, but . . .”
Larin hopped off her chair and ran around the table to pat Jak on the knee. “Don’t worry, Jak Gulder. You’ll have to be in a different time, but you’ll be better again.”
“Was it something you saw?”
Larin never answered that kind of question directly, but before Jerek could step in, the little girl unexpectedly spoke up. “It was, it is. But I won’t play cards with you after that.”
“I’ll try to bear up under the disappointment.” Jak smiled.
A woman wearing the colors of the Opal Cohort appeared in the doorway from the anteroom. “Your pardon, lord Luqs. Errinn Mind-healer’s come for the Kaltor.” Soldiers in the Bear Wing still gave Jak his rank, though he no longer had any duties, not even the administrative ones that Kaltors—usually from high noble families who wanted their offspring to get some military service—usually fulfilled.
Jak rose to his feet. “Coming, Commander. With your permission, my lord,” he bowed to Jerek, “My lady,” and to Larin.
Jerek watched him walk out of the room, trembling ever so slightly, like a much older man.
“Did you really see him back to his old self?”
“’Course I did. I thought you listened to me. I thought you weren’t like the rest of them.” Larin’s lower lip popped out a little, but her eyes sparkled with mischief.
“Of course, I do. You know you can count on me.” Jerek winked at her, and Larin winked back. What must it be like, he thought. Did she just see things, or did she occupy different times simultaneously, as Kerida thought? Only Ganni Lifter and Hitterol Mind-healer seemed completely comfortable in her presence. And I thought I had it rough.
“That’s right, so that’s why I’m giving you this.” Larin was wearing a small pouch attached to the sash belting in her tunic, just like a grownup would. From it, she took out what was unmistakably an inactive jewel.
“Where did you get that?”
“From Luca.” Larin gave him a look that plainly said: “You idiot.” “Kerida needs it. You give it to Tel Cursar, and he’ll give it to her. She’ll know what to do.”
Jerek accepted it, trying to hold it by the tips of his fingers. He knew it was inert, completely unfaceted, but that didn’t make him feel any better. “Whatever you say, Larin.” He knew there wasn’t any point in reminding Larin that neither Tel nor Kerida were here.
The child stretched up to pat him on the head. “You’re a good boy, my dear.”
* * *
The second time Kerida caught herself drumming her fingers on her thighs, she crossed her arms. When she caught herself drumming on her upper left arm, she shoved her hands into her armpits, as if she was trying to warm them. She didn’t want to look nervous. Soldiers, especially Company Commanders like those around her now, were trained to notice things like that. They’d wonder why she was fidgeting. As a Talent, they might not ask her, but they’d keep their eyes on her. And they might notice that she was trying hard not to look upward.
Company Commanders noticed things like that, too. Or so her sisters had always told her.
Had they been in an actual fort instead of a makeshift encampment, she might have been allowed to stay in the Talents’ quarters, but under field conditions everyone not on duty, including Talents, had to show themselves for morning parade. And it gave her an excuse for being up, dressed, and outside as early as possible.
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“You’ve got that faraway look on your face again,” Tel’s voice in her ear interrupted her. “Try frowning or something. Talents usually frown.”
He was right, now that she thought about it. Except for Serinam, one of her tutors at Questin Hall, and Luca Pa’narion himself, most Talents did frown. And, come to think of it, she could frown at how tight and uncomfortable her clothes felt. It had been quite a trick to choose the most necessary items from her pack and at the same time find spots to distribute them in, under, and around all the clothing she could wear without any unusual lumps showing. The job hadn’t been made any easier by their complete lack of information as to what she could expect, either on the journey or at Griffinhome itself.
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Ker wondered if the griffin could hear her sighing. He seemed to hear so much else. <
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There was a long pause. <
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A snort. <
An understatement if she’d ever heard one. <
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Ker had a feeling she’d come to regret teaching him that word. <
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Crap. She was already regretting it.
She heard the whistle that signaled the release of the ranks. Finally. The soldiers around them split off to attend to their orders, a few Barracks returning to their cook fires while the others trotted off under the watchful eyes of their Barrack Leaders and Company Commanders.
“Think you’ll ever make it to Company Second Officer?” They were strolling leisurely to the latrines, and conversation along the way was more natural than silence. There were glances exchanged as they passed other soldiers, and from the number of people who whispered into the ears of their neighbors, they were passing along the news of who and what she was. But no one stopped them, the direction they were ta
king explanation enough for the curious.
“Promotion’s always faster under battle conditions, you know that.”
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“Crap,” she said under her breath. Why hadn’t she thought of that? “Weimerk says I should take your plaque. Can you give it to me without anyone else seeing?” she added in answer to Tel’s grunt.
Tel exhaled. “You’d know where I was, how I was.” He touched the front of his tunic, just where his plaque would be hanging on its loop of braided leather. Soldiers got their plaques when they finished their training and wore them until they left the military, or died, whichever came first. The symbols stamped onto the metal identified each soldier and recorded any change in their status. There were some twenty-year veterans who had two plaques, and Ker had heard of someone with three, but she’d never seen it herself.
“You’d be in trouble for losing it,” Ker said.
“I’ll be in trouble anyway, for losing you. We’ll just have to hope your sister can cover for me both ways.” He’d loosened the ties of his tunic and the closure of his shirt as if he found the air too warm. He had the leather thong in his hand, but Ker knew he wouldn’t be able to break it by yanking. Everything that could be done to make plaques hard to lose was done.
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