There was overall relief at that, relief so palpable Talia was surprised no one else could feel it, unGifted though they might be.
"It seems to me that the first thing we should do is to ensure that word of Elspeth's abdication spreads as far and as fast as possible," the Queen continued. "This will give her a greater margin of safety, and confuse Ancar completely. And at the same time, we should see to it that the reports of her demonstration of magical powers are as exaggerated as possible." Selenay smiled slyly. "The more Ancar thinks we have, the less he is likely to attempt a sudden attack. Let him believe that Elspeth brought us an army of mages and peculiar creatures, at least until his own spies tell him otherwise. That will give us some breathing space."
Nods and speculative expressions all around the table. Herald-Captain Kerowyn spoke up—and Talia noticed then with some amusement that in the brief time between when Court had been adjourned and the Council had been called, she had managed to change out of her despised "oh-shoot-me-now" Whites. "This is the time to use those night-message relays, Majesty," she said. "Ancar will be sure to read the messages if we make certain that at least one of the towers 'happens' to reflect to the border when they relay on." She grinned. "We can thank him for that much, at least. Companions and Heralds may be invaluable for carrying messages that are supposed to be secret, but the towers are unmatched for relaying anything you want your enemy to know."
"See to it," Selenay said with a nod, and Kerowyn frowned with thought for a moment, then scribbled down the message she wanted relayed and handed it to one of the trainees to take outside.
"Now, how can we use this situation to our best advantage?" the Queen continued. "We have the potential to gain a lot of time here, if we use it well." She looked around the table at her Councillors for suggestions. And now the mood had changed, from one of apprehension to one of anticipation and hope.
Talia relaxed further, and surreptitiously gave Selenay the sign that all was well.
For the moment, at any rate. That was all that anyone could count on right now.
Chapter Eleven
Elspeth knew that Treyvan and Hydona had resigned themselves to some kind of stabling situation when they reached Haven. Instead, somewhat to their astonishment, the gryphons had been housed in the visiting dignitaries' apartments just like the humans. Elspeth was pleased, but not completely surprised. She had recalled a set of two large rooms usually left empty, meant for receptions and the like. When the Seneschal had told her that the gryphons would be treated like any other diplomatic visitor and housed in the Palace, she thought of those two rooms. A question to the pages the next morning confirmed her guess was right. Those rooms were needed often enough that they remained ready and empty at all times; there was no reason why the gryphons couldn't have them. To reach the second room, you had to go through the first, so the arrangement was perfect. The gryphlets could nest in the inner room, and the adults in the outer.
Elspeth, Darkwind, and Firesong went straight to the reception rooms as soon as she confirmed the gryphons were there. The doors—double doors, like the ones in the Throne Room—were standing partially open, as if the gryphons were inviting visitors to come in. The room was completely empty, except for the lanterns on the wall and the adults' nest. She had expected nests of hay and sticks, however, and was greatly surprised to find that instead they had built "nests" of piles of featherbeds, with tough wool blankets over them to save the beds from the punishing effects of sharp talons.
"Featherbeds?" she asked, raising one eyebrow. "My—how luxurious!"
"And why ssshould we make nessstsss of nassty sssticks when we may have sssoft pillowsss?" Treyvan asked genially, lounging at his ease along one side of the "nest."
"I have no idea," she replied with a laugh that made the feather fastened prominently at the side of her head tremble. "I just wasn't aware that featherbeds were part of a gryphon's natural forests. No one ever told me that there were wild featherbed trees."
"And what made you think we werrre wild creaturesss?" Hydona put in, with a sly tilt of the head. "When have we everrr sssaid thisss?"
"She has you there," Darkwind pointed out. Firesong simply shook his head.
"Do not come to me for answers," the Healing Adept said. "What I do not know about gryphons is far more than what I do know! I cannot help you; for all that I know, they could nest in crystal spires, live upon pastries, and build those flying barges that we saw Kaled'a'in use—out of spiderwebs."
"We do not build the barrrgesss," was all that Treyvan would say. "And you know well that we do not eat passstrriess! But thisss iss not to the point; what isss—we musst find sssomeone who knowsss what has been going on herrre sssince you left, featherrrlesss daughterrrr." He gave her an opaque look. "Desspite that all ssseemsss quiet, it isss a quiet I did not trrrussst."
Somehow it didn't surprise Elspeth to hear Treyvan call her that, as he called Darkwind "featherless son." His sharp eyes had gone straight to the feather braided into her hair the moment she and Darkwind had entered the room. Although he had said nothing, she knew he knew that it meant. She felt warmth and pleasure at the gryphons' approval. She had Starblade and Kethra's approval of this liaison, but in many ways the gryphons were a second set of parents to her lover, and winning their approval as well made her spirits rise with a glow of accomplishment. That glow of accomplishment faded quickly, though. Treyvan was right. This was the calm before the storm, and there was no telling how long the calm would last. Days—weeks—or only candlemarks. Too soon, whenever the storm broke.
"If there is anyone in this Kingdom who knows everything important, it's Herald-Captain Kerowyn," she said decisively. Of course Kero knew everything; she was in charge of Selenay's personal spies, and she might have a good guess as to when this calm would end.
"Now, we have two choices," she continued. "We can bring her here or we can go to find her. The latter choice is not going to be quiet. Treyvan, you and Hydona are the most conspicuous members of this rather conspicuous group; would you rather we brought her to you, or would you rather that as many people saw you as possible?"
"I would rather they stayed put," came a clear, feminine voice from the door, "but that's my choice, not theirs. On the other hand, here I am, so you don't have to come looking for me."
Kerowyn pushed the door completely open and gazed on the lounging gryphons with great interest. "We can move elsewhere if you want," she continued, looking into Treyvan's golden gaze, "but there isn't anywhere much more secure than this room, if you're worried about prying eyes and nosy ears, if I may mix my metaphors."
It was Treyvan who answered. "Yesss, warrriorrr. I am trroubled with thosssse who may overrrhearrr. But I alssso wisssh to know why you wisssh usss to rrremain in ourr aerrrie. You do not trrussst usss, perrrhapsss?"
Elspeth didn't know if Kero could read gryphonic body language, but Treyvan was very suspicious. He did not know what Kero's motives were, and he was not taking anything for granted. This set of rooms could easily turn into a prison.
Kero laughed and entered the room, her boots making remarkably little noise on the granite floor. "Simple enough, good sir. You may have convinced the highborn, Heralds, and Companions that you're relatively harmless, but you haven't gotten to all the servants, and you'll never convince some of the beasts. You go strolling about the grounds without giving me the chance to sweep them first, and you'll panic a dozen gardeners, scare the manure out of most of the horses and donkeys, and cause every pampered lapdog that highborn girls are walking in the garden to keel over dead of fright. You don't really want angry gardeners and weeping girls coming in here yapping at you, do you?"
Treyvan snapped his beak mischievously. No matter how serious a situation was, he could find something amusing in it. "No," he replied. "I think not." Already he was relaxing; Kero had put him at his ease.
"Excellent." Kero was not in Whites—as usual. She wore riding leathers of a dusty brown, worn and comfortable, her long blonde hair
in a single braid down her back. She turned to give Elspeth a long and considered appraisal, lingering over the new Whites. "Well, what is this all about?" she continued. "Trying to set new fashions?"
Elspeth shrugged. "Whatever. I can promise you I can fight in them. Not that I expect anyone to be able to get close enough to me to have to deal with them hand-to-hand."
"Oh, really?" Kero turned away—then lunged, with no warning at all, not even by the tensing of a single muscle.
But not unexpectedly; Elspeth had been her pupil for too long ever to be taken by surprise, especially after tossing out a challenge like that one. Instead, it was Kero who got the surprise, as Elspeth lashed out with a mage-born whip of power and knocked her feet out from under her. Kero went down onto the marble floor in a controlled tumble, and if Elspeth had not been as well-trained as she was, Kerowyn could have recovered for another try at her. But Elspeth was not going to give her that chance. She kept a "grip" on Kero's ankles to keep her off her feet, then wrapped her up in an invisible binding. Kero did not resist, as most Valdemarans would have. Elspeth knew she had seen magic often enough when she led the Skybolts as a mercenary company in Rethwellan and southward. She simply waited, lying there passively, until Elspeth released her, then got to her feet, dusting off her hands on her breeches.
"You'll do," was all she said, but Elspeth glowed from the compliment, and Darkwind winked at her.
"And you have learned much of magic, lady," Firesong observed, "Enough to know not to fight mage-bonds, which is far more than anyone else in this land would know. And I am curious to know how you came by this knowledge."
Kero gave Firesong a long and penetrating look; in his turn, he graced her with one of his most charming smiles. It would have taken a colder woman than Kero to ignore that smile; it would have taken a more powerful wizard than Firesong for that smile to affect her. But in the end, she decided to answer him.
"Simple enough; I'm not from around here." That was in Shin'a'in, not Valdemaran; Firesong's eyes widened a trifle and he gave her a look full of respect. Kero looked around for somewhere to sit, and finally chose the side of the gryphons' "nest" by default. "I was born and grew up in the south of Rethwellan. I was the granddaughter of a sorceress, trained by a Shin'a'in Swordsworn who was her partner, adopted as a Clan Friend to Tale'sedrin, then took a place in a merc company. Eventually I got the Captain slot, and circumstances brought us up here." She shrugged. "We hired on because I knew Prince Daren, we both trained with the same Shin'a'in, and the Rethwellans owed the Valdemarans a debt that hadn't been discharged. The Skybolts were part-payment on that debt. Never guessed when we came riding over those mountains down south, I'd lose all my mages and pick up a stubborn white talking horse."
:No more stubborn than you.:
Every Mindspeaker in the room looked startled at that, with the sole exception of Kerowyn. She only sighed. "That was my Companion Sayvil," she said, apologetically. "She can Mindspeak with anyone she pleases, and she won't pretend otherwise like the rest of 'em. Next thing is I expect her to start Mindspeaking people without the Gift. She's gotten worse about it lately."
:That's because there's been more need for it lately. And speaking of "Need"—:
"I suppose the damn sword decided you didn't deserve it or something?" Kero asked. "Or did you get fed up with it and drop it down a well like I threatened to do?"
"She's with Skif's lady, Nyara," Elspeth began, hesitantly addressing the air over Kero's head. "That's a long story and—"
:You!: came another, and far more excited voice. From the other room bounded a startled kyree, trailed by the gryphlets. :You had Need! You! You must be the youngling trained by my famous cousin Warrl! Lady Tarma's pupil! The one Lady Kethry gave Need to!:
He bounded over and prostrated himself at her feet for a moment, in the kyree imitation of a courtly bow. :I have heard so much about you! My famous cousin Warrl said you were destined for greatness! You must tell me all of your life so that I may make it into stories!:
All the time that Rris was chattering in open Mindspeech, Kero's face had taken on an expression that Elspeth had never, ever expected to see.
Completely blank, and slack-jawed. She was, quite clearly, taken utterly by surprise.
She recovered fairly quickly, however. "I don't believe this," she said under her breath, as Rris finished and waited eagerly for her answer. "I mean—what are the odds? Who ever sees one kyree in a lifetime, much less two, and for the two to be related? I just don't by-the-gods believe this!"
Rris took on an air of extreme dignity, and fixed Kero with an admonishing gaze. :My famous cousin Warrl used to say that there is no such thing as coincidence, only mortals who have not fought the winds of fate.:
"Your famous cousin Warrl stole that particular proverb from the Shin'a'in he ran with," Kero countered. "It happens to be about five hundred years older than your 'famous cousin Warrl.' And believe me, I fought so-called 'fate' plenty. I don't believe in fate." She shook her head again. "All right, kyree—what is your name?"
:Rris,: he said proudly. :Tale-spinner, History-keeper, and Lesson-teacher of the Hyrrrull Pack.:
"All right, Rris, I'll tell you everything you'd like to know, but—" she interjected, holding up a hand to stave off the eager creature, "—not now. We have a lot to do, and I have the depressing feeling we have a very short time to do it in. It's only a matter of time before Ancar hits us, and right now we can only pray he follows his old patterns, and makes several feints and tests before he decides to truly come after us. Now, unless I miss my guess, what you lot want is intelligence, right?" She looked around at the others. "Not only what dear Ancar has been up to, but all the things that have happened since Elspeth left."
Firesong nodded for all of them. "And let me get the last two of our group," he said. "Skif and his lady, the current bearer of your mage-sword. I think you will be surprised at what has become of the blade. It has changed, warrior, greatly changed. We wish this kept reasonably secret—but not from you. You, I think, need to know what kind of an ally Need has become."
He turned before anyone could stop him and went off at a brisk walk, robes flowing behind him. He returned quickly with Skif and Nyara. Skif also wore the hertasi-designed Whites—Whites with a number of surprises built into them—and Nyara wore a hertasi-made surcoat and light armor—though it would have been very difficult for anyone who was not aware that it was armor to recognize it as such. As always, Nyara carried Need sheathed at her side, but before anyone could say anything to either of them, the sword spoke up, and Need's mind-voice was sharp with shock.
:I know you!:
Kero jumped this time, she was so startled. She stared at the blade, and then swore, fervently and creatively, using several languages that Elspeth didn't even recognize and describing several acts that Elspeth thought were anatomically impossible.
"—bloody hell!" she finished with a wail, throwing up her hands in despair, as if in petition to the unseen gods. "Isn't it bad enough that I get a lover who takes over my dreams, a talking horse, and a uniform like a target? Isn't it enough that I go from being an honest mercenary to some kind of do-gooder? Does everything in my life have to come back to haunt me and talk in my head?"
It took all morning to fill Kero in on everything that had happened to Elspeth, Need, and Skif since they left, but the Herald-Captain refused to impart so much as a rumor before she heard Elspeth's story. Occasionally, Kero fixed the sheathed blade with a sharp glance, and Elspeth suspected that Need was gifting her former bearer with choice comments of her own. They were, in many ways, two of a kind. Evidently Kero began to figure that out for herself, for after a while those pointed glances took on a hint of amusement.
Elspeth was just grateful that she wasn't "blessed" with the sword's presence anymore. And she had the feeling that Kero felt the same.
Finally, after a break for a noontime meal, Kero made good on her bargain.
Elspeth had pillows brought in so tha
t they could, all sit comfortably, while the gryphons lounged with their fore-quarters draped over the side of their nest. They sat in a ragged circle, with Kero at one end and the gryphons anchoring the other.
"First of all," she said, playing with the end of her braid as she looked at Elspeth, "I want you all to know that not only do I approve of the way Elspeth handled herself yesterday, but the entire Council still approves of the abdication. It's going to confuse Ancar so much he won't know what to make of it. He'll have to wait to see what his spies have to say about it all before he even begins to plan. He's going to be certain that the abdication was a ruse, until he gets reports that Elspeth really did give up all of her power. He's going to be hearing all kinds of rumors, and it's going to drive him crazy. He couldn't imagine anyone ever giving up a high position."
"I thought as much," Elspeth said with satisfaction.
"Now I've got a little advice for you and your handsome friend," Kero continued, looking directly and only at Elspeth. "I know you're not the Heir anymore, and who you couple with makes no difference. But there are people who are watching you. Don't make any announcements about pairing up for at least a couple of months; that way no one will think to accuse you of being a softheaded female who lets her heart overrule her head, all right?"
Elspeth raised one eyebrow. "Does it matter if people think I'm a softheaded female? As you just said, who I pair with has no real meaning anymore."
Kero gave her the look, a scornful expression that had withered sterner hearts than Elspeth's. "It might not to you, but you're an example for others, whether or not you realize it. It might seem very romantic to give up throne and duty for the one you love. I'm sure the younger Bards would be thrilled with such a rich topic for balladeering. No one is going to pay any attention to the fact that you're taking on more responsibility as the first Herald-Mage in an age. You fell in love, and told your duty to take a long walk, that's how starry-eyed young fluffheads are going to think of it. And while you're at it, think about the hundreds of young people out there who will use that as an excuse to abandon responsibilities of their own because they think they are lifebonded! Some chowderheaded young fool who doesn't know the meaning of the word 'duty' is encouraging them to run off to a life of endless love, that's how it would look. Right now, that's the last thing we need."
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