He frowned at the elaborate silk linings. Though there were some Sunflower Shekayrin who suggested that silk had a way of dampening the effects of magic, it had never been proven to Kvar’s satisfaction. “Pure superstition,” he said, as he had many times before. He twitched the layers of cloth aside and lifted out the mask, using the tips of his fingers. He had worked with the Emperor many times and recognized what an astonishing likeness this was. Magnificent. A true work of art. Further proof, if any were needed, that the mask was no ancient artifact. Otherwise, how could it have Guon Kar Lyn’s face on it?
Kvar turned it over and found the inner side just as smooth, just as carefully polished. It would have to be, he reasoned, if one were to be able to wear it for any extended period. Finally, he lifted it to his face. At first, he found peering through the empty eye holes a trifle disconcerting, though his vision was only slightly obscured. It fit surprisingly well, considering the mask had not been made for him. Smiling, he began to speak. Nothing. He cleared his throat and tried again. Still nothing. It took several more tries until he would admit it would not work for him.
He went to lift it from his face, but it did not move. Between one breath and the next, the mask grew tighter and then tighter still, until he could not breathe at all. He tried to fit his fingertips under the edge of the mask, but there was no room, not even for a fingernail. Desperate, he grabbed his soul stone, and with it augmenting his strength, he lifted the mask from his face using magic. His face free, he staggered backward, drawing in huge gasps of air, his throat raw as if he’d been screaming. The mask had fallen neatly into its box. At this moment Kvar would not have been greatly surprised if the wrappings had enveloped the mask of their own accord.
He approached the box now with caution, his stone clutched in his hand. The white mask lay faceup, the wrappings only layers of cloth after all. He gritted his teeth and picked the mask up again with his free hand. Nothing. It did not try to bite or smother him.
He raised the thing over his head, ready to smash it against the stone mantel of the fireplace. But then he waited. If the mask would only work for the Princess Imperial, then he had only to control the girl. And he was already doing that.
* * *
Ker dipped her hands into the cold water of the pond and splashed her face. She shivered. She hadn’t bathed or washed since leaving the Springs and Pools; she wasn’t about to bathe in this frigid water, but a clean face felt good. She tied back her hair with a leather thong. This wasn’t a time to be remembering the warm bathing pools of the Springs. “Are you going to be much longer?” she called to Weimerk, floating in the middle of the water, his wings spread out, his chin resting on the surface, his tail lazily swishing back and forth, holding him in place like a man treading water.
“It was you who wanted to stop.” Weimerk’s voice sounded completely adult now.
Ker reached over her head, clasped her hands, and stretched her torso first to one side, then the other, feeling the muscles in her back and sides loosen reluctantly. They had no reason to hurry—in fact, the contrary. Ker wasn’t looking forward to bringing bad news to those waiting in the Serpents Teeth. And once she was safely back, Weimerk would have to return to Griffinhome. “I needed to feel real ground under me,” she said, her hands now in the small of her back. “And I’m getting stiff. It’s like I’ve been on horseback for days. I ache all over. Hey!”
Weimerk appeared beside her on the bank, shaking water off his fur and feathers like a wet dog, lifting each paw in turn and giving them a shake as well. “You do not use the soul stone to its full potential. It can be used to heal others. Why not yourself?”
Ker finished wiping water off her face and lowered her hands to her hips. “It can be used to heal? When were you going to tell me this?”
“I have just told you.”
“But why didn’t you tell me before? Never mind.” She held out a hand, palm toward the griffin. “Because I never asked you. You should tell me things that I might find useful, even if I don’t ask.”
“That is not the way. Rather ask yourself why you have not asked this question earlier? You know that the jewels give Gifts that are similar to those of Feelers. Why have you not investigated this yourself?”
“Oh, right. In my copious free time.” But that didn’t mean Weimerk was wrong. She should have thought about how she could better use the jewel. As soon as she got back, she’d have Svann help her. “Wait, Feelers can’t heal, at least not without me.”
“But you have you.”
Ker squeezed her eyes shut, reminding herself that Weimerk wasn’t doing this on purpose.
“If I were rested and feeling better, would I be able to use the jewel to speak with the Far-thinkers? Or are we out of range?”
“That is immaterial. They have no soul stones.”
Right. “But what if I needed to speak with someone at the Mines?”
“Are there no others with jewels?”
Ker felt like slapping herself on the forehead. She must be even more tired than she’d thought. She pulled the jewel out of the front of her tunic and held it in her hand.
Kerida: Svann?
Svann: Kerida Nast, I have been attempting to reach you, but it seems I am not strong enough to sustain the connection myself.
Ker rubbed at her upper lip. She’d been ignoring a warmth under her tunic for days. Like an idiot, she’d never connected it with the jewel.
Kerida: I’m afraid that might have been me. I didn’t know what it felt like to receive a message.
Svann: I am pleased, nonetheless. Tel Cursar has returned safely.
Kerida: I knew, thank you. Ker touched the lump under her tunic that was Tel’s plaque. She checked it every morning.
Svann: I have finally received permission to return to Gaena. I will be leaving in the morning after—
“Svann? Are you there? Svann?” Ker looked up at Weimerk. “What happened?”
“One or both of you lost concentration. Do you find it tiring?”
Ker tucked the jewel away again. “I know. More practice, more discipline.” She’d been hearing that advice for years.
“That does not make it less true.”
“Look, it’s not like I’m cutting classes and going fishing, I’m doing the best I can with no time and not much help and—” Ker sucked in some air and shut her mouth. And she was tired, and alone, and frightened, now that she knew the griffins wouldn’t come to help them, and Weimerk was all well and good, but he wasn’t Tel, and soon he’d be gone as well. . . . She swallowed. “Sorry. I’m all right now,” she said.
“I never doubted it.”
Ker rubbed at her face with hands grown suddenly cold. “So, what about Far-thinking with Dersay, or Cuarel?”
“Think what you ask. You are a Talent, and with the jewel you are a mage. . . .”
“But I’m not actually a Feeler, so I don’t have their Gifts, not exactly.”
“Precisely.”
“But what if I need to talk to someone at the Mines? Once Svann goes, there isn’t anyone there I can reach.”
“Certainly, there is. You have done it before. You and I together. Focus your attention on the one to whom you wish to speak.”
Of course, the person she really wanted to speak to was Tel. It was good to know that he was safe, if tired and hungry, but it wasn’t like speaking to him.
“It must be someone who can hear you.”
“I know, sorry.”
If only Sala were still alive. She was the Far-thinker Ker knew best. Think of someone else. Think of someone else. For all she knew this power of the griffins would allow her to contact even the dead.
“Now you are being silly.”
Who then? Dersay, or Cuarel?
Jerek: Who is that? Baku?
Kerida: It’s Kerida Nast. Jerek? Who’s Baku?
Jerek: Thank the Mother. Are you all right? Luca came back without you, and Wynn’s going away. . . . Even through this tenuous connection, Ker could hear worry in Jerek’s “voice.” I heard that Tel is back, and I’ve sent Ennick for him. He should be here any minute.
It had been so long since Ker had smiled that she felt her dry lips crack. Could she hold this connection long enough for Tel to reach Jerek’s rooms? Would the giant Ennick take him around by the back way, or—
“It is I who maintains this connection, and you are wasting time.”
Jerek: Kerida? Ker? Are you still there? What about the griffins? When will they arrive?
Ker’s heart sank. She glanced at Weimerk, but he didn’t look any happier than she was.
Kerida: They’re not coming.
Jerek: What do you mean they’re not coming?
Kerida: They say they won’t come until the Prophecy has been fulfilled.
Jerek: But it’s their Prophecy!
Kerida: They say they’re through giving Gifts to us, that now we’re on our own. Jerek, I’m so sorry—maybe if someone else had gone.
Jerek: No, you’re the Griffin Girl. No one else could have reached them but you.
He was quiet long enough that Ker feared the connection was gone after all, though she could tell by how her head felt that it was still there.
Jerek: Fine, then. That means we don’t need them. We have you. You’re the one Larin saw, you’re what we need. You’re their last Gift.
“He is not wrong.”
Ker blinked. Trying to listen to both of them at once was giving her a headache. Jerek sounded determined, but not as if he had any real hope. She didn’t envy his having to tell everyone else that the help they were counting on wasn’t coming after all.
Kerida: Jerek, there’s more. Weimerk can’t stay with us. He has to go back to Griffinhome.
Jerek: Mother help us. We were counting on him to hunt for us when we sent supplies to the Springs and Pools.
Kerida: Listen, Jerek, I don’t think you quite—
Jerek: No, you listen. There’s nothing we can do about the griffins, but there may be another way. A way to solve the problem of the Shekayrin and the Halians at once. I need you to go to Farama the Capital right away. I need you to help Baku escape.
Kerida: And what, for the Daughter’s sake, is a Baku? And how was that going to make things better?
Jerek: She’s the Princess Imperial and she’s on our side and she planned to help us from the palace, but she’s not safe there anymore, so she needs to escape. They say she’s married to my father and . . .
Ker bit her lip. Could the girl be telling him the truth? Was it even her? What if this was some ploy to trap Jerek himself?
“Far-thinkers cannot lie to each other in that way,” the griffin said. “She cannot disguise her identity, nor her purpose if it is truly felt.”
Jerek: She may be the only one who can help us now, but no one here will listen to me. Now he really sounded desperate. I’m going to send Tel.
Kerida: Tell him to meet me at the Ram and Boar Inn. It’s in the theater district.
Ker waited, but Jerek didn’t answer. “Did he hear me?”
“He heard.”
Ker could barely summon the energy to stand up. She leaned against Weimerk’s flank. “Then it’s off to Farama.” Her voice sounded odd and she cleared her throat.
“I will take you there, but then I must return to Griffinhome.”
Ker pushed herself upright. Knowing something was coming didn’t make it any easier. “I wish you didn’t have to go.”
“My kin cannot be disobeyed in this, though I will never forgive them for parting us.”
Ker felt exactly the same, but it wouldn’t help Weimerk to let him know how angry she still was. “You’re going to need them someday, even if it’s only to mate.”
“I know you are right, but I will not forgive them.”
Ker scrubbed at her face with hands that felt grimy. “Well, I guess we’ll have to fulfill the Prophecy without you.”
“Not without all of me. We can still speak to one another; distance will not part us. And, through me, you can speak to others. There is other help I will give you now: griffin colors like the flame that warms you. Flash me.”
Paraste. Weimerk had already helped her with her nausea and feeling cold. What else did he have for her?
“I wondered if you might like to be invisible?”
* * *
“She’s all right? You spoke to her?” Tel could barely keep himself from grabbing his Luqs by the shoulders and shaking him until more information came out. “Where is she?”
“I don’t know,” Jerek admitted. “We didn’t talk about that. Listen.” The boy’s face hardened, and Tel suddenly saw what he’d look like when he was older. If he ever got any older. “The griffins won’t help us—they won’t come at all until the Prophecy is fulfilled.”
“You mean when we don’t need them?” Tel gestured an apology. This wasn’t Jerek’s fault. “Sorry, my lord Luqs.”
“Not as sorry as I am. I can judge from your reaction the kind of response I’m going to get from the others when I tell them.” Jerek pushed his hands through his hair. If it got any longer, he’d have to braid it like a soldier. “There is something else we can try. I’ve arranged for you to go with Svann and the others, but—”
“It’s Svann, isn’t it? What’s the Motherless dog done now?”
“Sit down and listen.” Jerek rubbed his eyes. “Sorry. Can Ennick bring you some food, or something to drink?”
Shaking, Tel almost fell back into the chair Ennick had pushed forward for him. He put his hands down on his thighs and took a deep breath. The kid had enough to worry about without Tel yelling at him. He needed to take himself in hand. “No travel cake,” he said.
“Ennick, some soup and a piece of crumble pie. That won’t raise any eyebrows. Oh, and water.” He turned back to Tel. “I’d ask for wine or beer, but I never have before, and that might make people wonder.”
“You’re the Luqs. What can they do?”
The boy’s face stiffened. “Yes. I’m the Luqs when they want to have a meeting, or when they need something officially ordered. But when I ask for someone to go to Farama, they ‘take it under advisement.’ The rest of the time I’m just a kid, and they’re busy protecting me.”
Tel blinked. Of course, Jerek couldn’t be more than, what? Fourteen? Normally, people weren’t considered adult enough to make their own choices until they were seventeen—fifteen at the earliest, under special circumstances and after everyone could be sure they weren’t Talented. You could enter the military at fifteen, for example, but you couldn’t expect much advancement until you were older. You could get engaged, but not married.
“Sorry,” he said finally. “How can I help?”
“I’m going to send you with Svann, but like I said, I really want you to get to Farama the Capital. Kerida said you’re to meet her at the Ram and Boar. You’re going to help her rescue the Princess Imperial.”
“What’s a Princess Imperial?”
Jerek’s eyes narrowed. “Should I wait until you’ve had something to eat? You’re not usually this slow.”
Tel felt his ears grow hot. He rubbed his face. “No. Go on, please. I won’t interrupt.”
The boy watched him for what felt like a long time, and then his face relaxed as he told Tel about Bakura, and the Voice of the Emperor. Despite what he’d just said, he couldn’t stop himself from interrupting Jerek with questions.
“How’s this mask going to help us?”
“She believes the soldiers will obey her when she uses it. They’re loyal to her brother first, not the Shekayrin.”
“The Shekayrin can control people.” Tel was grateful that Ennick arrived with the food. He needed all the distraction he
could get.
“Not a lot of people, not all at once. They can be overwhelmed by numbers. Baku says that’s how her people took Halia in the first place.”
“Blades of grass.”
“Exactly. If we get a sufficient number of people against them, we should be able to knock them out and take their jewels away.”
Tel swallowed the spoonful of soup he had in his mouth. “I feel a ‘but’ coming on.”
Jerek was silent for long enough for Tel to finish his soup and start in on the pie. The boy looked like someone deciding what part of the story he was going to keep back. Tel forced himself to keep quiet.
“She’s afraid that this invasion isn’t about her brother and his plans at all,” Jerek finally said. “She thinks the Shekayrin—and this Pollik Kvar in particular—had another goal all along: to get themselves more jewels and take the Peninsula as their own territory. Griffins or no griffins, we still have to stop them. She can turn the army against them, but she must be free to do it. Right now, she’s not even allowed access to any of the important officers. She says she can get out of the palace on her own, but she doesn’t know anyone to help her after that, and neither do I.”
“I’ve never been to Farama the Capital.” Tel squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. “Never mind, ignore that. Ker’s a Talent and she’s got a jewel. She could probably rescue the princess herself.” But she’s asked for me to go to her.
“Well, that’s what I’m hoping,” the boy said. “But I’ve got some information for you.” He dug under his mattress and pulled out a few squares of dirty and much-folded paper. “I asked people who knew the capital well to tell me stories about it,” he said, as he knelt on the carpet. “They think I’m curious because I’ll live there one day, but I’ve made maps from what they told me.” He glanced up. “Don’t look, Ennick. You know how maps make you feel funny.”
“Sure, Jerek.”
Tel watched the boy spread out the pages, arranging them in order so that they presented one large picture. Jerek concentrated, his brows drawn down, his mouth in a straight line.
Gift of Griffins Page 18