Gift of Griffins

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Gift of Griffins Page 28

by V. M. Escalada

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  “Kerida?” The tension in Tel’s voice told her she’d been quiet for a long time.

  “I’m all right,” she said. “I have something else I can try.”

  This time she focused on her own aura, sorting through the colors until she isolated the three that were common to all people: yellow, blue, and green. They seemed to glow extra strongly, as if they somehow knew they were needed. She stroked the green with her hands, and strands clung to her skin, like wool being carded. She twitched several strands loose, and they automatically twisted around each other, forming a single, strong strand that looped itself around her wrist like a bracelet. She turned and pushed the green loop into the emptiness that was her sister Ester, holding her breath until she saw the color would remain there by itself. She repeated each step with the yellow and blue, until all three colors had been transferred to Ester.

  At first, Ker thought she’d made a mistake, that nothing would happen after all. She tapped her right thigh with her fist.

  “Wait,” Tel said. “Give it a hundred count before you try something else.”

  She nodded, grateful for the calm in his voice. She had just reached the sixties when the three colors stirred, their movement sluggish but obvious. Slowly, they grew stronger, their glow brighter, until finally the familiar wavelike motion began.

  Ker sat back on her heels and rested her hands on her thighs, waiting. Ester’s breathing deepened, and Ker was certain that her sister’s face had more expression.

  “Ker.” Tel’s hand was once more on her shoulder. “Ker, we have to go.”

  “Not yet.” She managed not to snarl at him. “Wait for her to wake up.” She didn’t want to nudge Ester awake. Working with Mind-healers had taught her that impatience could ruin a good cure.

  “Ker, they’re closing the gates. The city’s on alert.”

  That did make her look up. “Closing the gates,” she said.

  “That’s right.” Elisk Stellan, Ester’s friend, stood in the open staircase. “Curfew’s early, and we’re told the gates have been ordered closed. They must be after your girl here. For the Mother’s sake, don’t be caught here in my inn.”

  Ker straightened to her feet, her eyes still on her sister. “Ester—”

  “She’s in my care. There’s nothing more you can do here but bring trouble on me and mine.”

  And after I’ve helped you and all. Ker knew what the man didn’t say aloud. It would be a poor way to thank him for everything he’d done for Ester already, to say nothing of Tel and herself. “Don’t worry,” she said. “We’ll be gone before they get this far.” She leaned over and kissed Ester’s forehead.

  For the first time she noticed Baku waiting in the farthest corner of the attic room. The girl was as pale as her coloring would allow, her gray eyes round as an owl’s, her arms crossed tightly in front of her, hands gripping the opposite elbows.

  “It’ll be all right,” Ker said in her calmest tone. “We’re leaving right now, and they won’t catch us.”

  “What did you do?” the girl asked. “She wasn’t there, and now she is.” She blinked, and her dark brows drew down in a vee. “Now she is.”

  “She is, isn’t she?” Ker looked from Baku to Ester and back again. “She really is.”

  Baku’s nod was slight, the movement almost invisible.

  “Ker.” Tel stood near the top of the stairs. Their packs had been ready since Jerek had told them Baku was on her way. They had only to pick them up and walk out the door.

  “Yes.” Ker gathered up Baku with an arm around the girl’s shoulders and headed her toward Tel. He picked up both his and Ker’s packs and started down.

  “Back door,” she said, as they neared the bottom step.

  “Teach your grandmother,” Tel said.

  Ker smiled for what felt like the first time in hours.

  * * *

  • • •

  Baku had not been in the tavern long enough to know where the back door was, let alone where it led. She did not even realize the space behind the tavern was a courtyard. It was so small she thought it merely led somewhere else. There were ceramic pots containing plants that released odors reminiscent of cooking and the kitchen. Another smell lingered that she remembered from childhood, but she could not quite put a name to it.

  Tel Cursar waved them toward a section of the wall that was bare of any plants. He made a small jump and hooked his fingers over the top of the wall, hauling himself up. Kerida handed him their packs, and then he lifted her up with a grip on her wrist. From the top of the wall, Ker reached for Baku’s hand and lifted her up just as easily. From here, Baku could see they were on a blue-tiled roof. Tel Cursar spoke. “I’ll lead, then Bakura, then Kerida.”

  Baku swallowed, but as it happened, she had less trouble keeping up than she had anticipated. Once or twice along the way she held her breath, where the top of the wall that was their path narrowed and great balance was needed, and again when they seemed to be walking directly over someone’s roof. After turning several more corners, Baku stopped, holding her breath.

  “Princess?” came a soft voice from behind her.

  Baku shook her head and continued following Tel Cursar. This was not the time to say she had been stopped by the unfamiliar skyline and the realization that she would never see that of her own city again.

  Tel stopped, beckoned her to his side, and pointed to a loose stack of crates and boxes. When he stepped down onto the highest one, Baku saw that they’d been set up to form a set of stairs. The unusual stairway led down into another courtyard, this one even smaller than the one they’d left behind at the inn. Small as it was, the yard held a coop for chickens, and a boxlike structure full of what looked like pigeons.

  “This is where I left my horse,” he said. Kerida began to speak, but before she said a word, Tel raised his forefinger to his lips. “I know,” he said. “Three people, one horse. It doesn’t take a genius.”

  Still with his finger to his lips, Tel beckoned them toward a swinging door in the far wall of the courtyard. Apparently, the signal for “be quiet” was the same everywhere. Baku realized she was smiling and quickly settled her face.

  The first room was clearly used for storage, though at this time of year most of the hanging sacks and stacked earthenware pots were empty. From here, they entered a room many times larger than the courtyard, though just as narrow, that was part sitting room, part bedroom, and part kitchen. An older woman with hair and skin several shades darker than Baku’s own stood by an open fire, stirring a pot of something that smelled delicious before swinging it back over the flames. She didn’t look up from her task as the three of them passed behind her, though they certainly made enough noise to attract her attention.

  Perhaps she was deaf, or— Baku felt the hair on the back of her neck rising. Could this be part of Kerida’s magic? Was this how they were to be smuggled past the guards at the gate? Another woman, younger than the first, though with the same coloring, lowered herself down a ladder Baku hadn’t noticed, propped in a darkened corner. The younger woman froze, one hand on a rung, the other propping a basket against her hip. She held her position only for a second, the time it took for the three of them to take two paces, before resuming her climb down from the upper loft. The woman’s back was stiff, and she turned her head away from them, even though she would normally have had to look their way as she stepped off the ladder.

  They are deliberately not seeing us, Baku thought as she crept along behind Tel. It wasn’t magic after all, just people not looking. She didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed.

  There were still people on the street when they reached it. Curfew had not yet begun. They moved at a casual stroll, as if they had somewhere to be, but were not in a hurry to get there. Watching a young woman carrying
a small child, Baku stumbled on an uneven cobble and would have gone down if not for Kerida’s hand under her elbow.

  “Careful,” she said, as if Baku needed to be told. Still, she managed to answer the other girl’s look of concern with a smile. Kerida held Baku’s elbow for a moment longer before nodding and gesturing toward where Tel looked back at them. Baku felt her head clearing, and her breath coming easier. She must be getting her second wind.

  The number of people in the streets dwindled as they walked, and by the time they neared the gate, they were the only ones still out. What if the gates were already shut? Baku’s heart began to pound, and she had to stop herself from catching hold of Tel’s tunic from behind and tugging him back the way they’d come.

  Not that Kerida would have let her do that.

  Finally, there was nothing but air and pavement left between them and two guards talking to each other under the massive rolling doors. The gate was still open, but Baku could feel herself leaning away, though her feet continued to carry her forward. Tel made a signal, holding his left hand away from his body, and Kerida answered with a sound so low Baku was surprised Tel could hear it.

  The gates themselves had been rolled free of the chocks that normally held them apart, leaving only a narrow opening. She could see massive bars waiting to be lifted into place. Baku glanced back to see what Kerida would make of this and saw the girl holding her right fist clenched against her chest, murmuring to herself, lips moving silently, her eyes closed.

  Her eyes closed. Baku swallowed. She had seen much more intricate feats of magic in her brother’s court, but Kerida walking through the square with her eyes closed, despite the uneven pavement, seemed so much more real than those elaborate entertainments.

  As they drew closer, Baku’s breathing grew faster, enough so that she had to remind herself to take longer, deeper breaths. Ker had moved—still with her eyes closed—until she was walking with Tel on one side of her, and Baku on the other. She had lifted her fist to her mouth, as if she were speaking into it. She didn’t walk faster as they got closer to the gate. In fact, she seemed to slow down. Baku wanted to scream at her to get moving! At any moment, the guard facing in their direction would shift his eyes from his partner’s face and would be looking straight at them. In fact—

  The guard appeared to be looking over his partner’s right shoulder, but his eyes were closed, his mouth relaxed. He swayed slightly but was otherwise completely still. She could not see it, but Baku was sure the man’s partner was in the same condition. They slept.

  Baku was sure she did not take another breath until they were on the other side of the city wall.

  “Can you close the door behind us?” Tel said to Kerida, a hint of laughter in his voice.

  “Shut up.”

  * * *

  • • •

  By the time they were far enough away from the gate to think about stopping for what was left of the night, Ker’s legs were shaking under her, and she left it up to Tel to look for shelter. She even considered using the lifting Gift the jewel gave her to move her own feet, but many Lifters couldn’t move themselves, and this wasn’t the time to experiment. She kept Flashing just enough to have an early warning if they came across anyone else near the road. Finally, Tel signaled to her.

  “Olive trees.” He used the soft tones of guards on watch at night. “Might be a tool shed.”

  It took Ker a minute to realize he meant for her to Flash for it. She was even more tired than she thought. She nodded and crouched down on her heels, placing her hands on the grassy verge of the road. It was an orchard, but not an empty one. A drift of pigs had been left loose to forage whatever the winter had left under the trees. Asleep this time of night, but they’d still have to be careful not to step on them.

  “Sometime soon would be good.”

  As if his words conjured it up, Ker Flashed what she was looking for. “There is a shed,” she said, straightening to her feet and dusting her hands off on her trousers. “It’s quite a few spans that way,” she added, pointing. “But the same distance from the road as it is from the holding’s house. So long as we’re careful around the pigs, we should be all right.”

  “Pigs?” Baku’s aura was looking faded again. All the more reason for them to get off the road and rest, even if they couldn’t risk a fire.

  “It’s not much farther now,” Ker told the princess. “Walk where I walk. Don’t worry about the pigs.”

  “ALL I’m saying is what have we got a pass for if we’re not going to use it?” Wynn’s feet were wet, which did nothing to sweeten her mood. The farmer’s field was certainly flat enough for easy walking; there just wasn’t any way to tell the wet patches from the dry. Spring rains were great for crops but not so wonderful for the feet. “Do you remember how long it took us to get to Gaena? And we had horses.”

  “Then it’s an equally long time getting back, isn’t it? And you’re wrong on two counts. First, cross-country, as the griffin flies, is often faster than horses by road. We don’t stop to feed them, or water them, or rest them. And the best thing to do with this pass”—Pella tapped the satchel hanging against his hip—“is avoid being asked for it.” He looked up at the sky, squinted at a far-off cloud a little too dark for comfort, and grunted. “And don’t think I don’t know what you’re thinking.”

  “Why? What am I thinking?”

  “That Svann knows the way by road, so he won’t find us if we don’t stick to the roads. You’re thinking we didn’t wait long enough, that if we dawdle a bit now, he’ll catch up. But only if he knows where to find us.”

  Wynn pressed her lips together. She hated to admit that was exactly what she’d been thinking. The hollow feeling in her chest grew. “He’s dead, isn’t he,” she said aloud.

  “I think so,” Pella said after a silent moment. He spoke like a soldier, like someone who knew that death was always waiting. “We gave him the full three days, and then a bit; you know we did. He’d have come if he could; you know he would. He didn’t come, and he didn’t send word, and there’s only one reason for that, isn’t there?”

  “Mother, Daughter, and Son welcome him into their company.” Wynn hoped her voice was as steady as Pella’s. He’d been a soldier much longer than she had, but she’d grown up on the streets. She was just as tough as him. Tougher.

  “The Father, too. They believe that way, you know.”

  Wynn nodded. “What was the second count?”

  “Huh?”

  “You said I was wrong on two counts, what was the second?”

  “I outrank you.”

  “You’re not even an Eagle.”

  “I still outrank you.”

  Wynn walked along quietly for several paces. “I thought you were going to say that old Goreot was going to charge us triple if we stayed any longer.”

  “All right, you were wrong on three counts, then.”

  * * *

  • • •

  Jerek: You’re free.

  Baku: I am free of Pollik Kvar, yes, for which I am forever grateful. It is only that this freedom makes me feel the net all the more.

  * * *

  • • •

  “I didn’t think I would have to tell anyone, still less a Talent High Inquisitor, that Feelers are outlawed. To be dampened on discovery if they cooperate, executed if they don’t. I may not be Inquisitor rank myself, but it doesn’t take one to see where there has been a disregard of the Law.”

  Luca Pa’narion shut his eyes, and Setasan mentally squared her shoulders and prepared to fight.

  “The law you refer to has been suspended at the request of the Luqs of Farama.”

  “The Luqs of Farama does not make the Law.”

  “I was about to say: ‘and his council.’”

  Luca’s even tone only made her shake her head and pray to the Mother for patience. “His council�
��at least half of whom are Feelers themselves, and the other half military—no friends to Talents as I shouldn’t have to remind you. And what of the Luqs? No one’s disputing that he’s of the blood, but he’s a child, easily persuaded. The Faros listen to you—though the Mother knows why—and you could—”

  “Setasan, this is not the time.” His tone hadn’t changed, but Luca’s face had become a hard mask.

  She took a breath . . . and closed her mouth on the words she’d been about to say. Six months ago, she would have said it was impossible for one Talent to use military force against another, but now she couldn’t be sure. What she’d said was true. The Faros of Bears and Panthers both listened to Luca Pa’narion. If what he said to them about her was unfavorable. . . .

  “Very well,” she said finally. “We must speak of this again, but for now I will concede that it is not the time.” She made the short bow exchanged between Talents and left the room.

  When she reached the privacy of a neighboring tunnel, one of her two companions cleared his throat. “I thought we were going to withdraw our services?”

  “Luca may be right.” It made her lips pucker to say it. “But not in the way he believes. This may very well not be the time. At present, we need the outlaws to push the invaders out. We’re of no use in battle, but these Feelers attend with the cohorts, right on the battlefield. Who knows? That might even thin their numbers for us. So, we let them help us win, and we deal with them later. One enemy at a time.”

  * * *

  • • •

  “I didn’t come to eavesdrop.” Cuarel handed him a cup from which Luca detected the welcome odor of hot kaff. “I heard you speaking to someone, I didn’t know it was her.” The Far-thinker sat down beside him.

  “You heard, then?”

  “I suppose I didn’t have to, really. She doesn’t make any secret of what she thinks about us. Guess we got used to you, and the other Guardians, and Kerida Griffin Girl. We forget that most Talents will think like her.”

 

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