"I can't imagine what you could be talking about, or what it is that's come," Firesong replied, curiosity piqued in spite of himself. "Well, what is it? A captured monster? Solaris parading through the city with a portable Temple of Vkandis?"
"Neither." An'desha pulled off his quilted Shin'a'in jacket with a shower of droplets from the melted snow, and grinned. "A floating barge from k'Leshya. They've been Gating their way across country with help from the gryphon's, which is why we didn't know they were coming; the gryphon-mages were taking it in turn to fly ahead, scout a remote location, and come back to build a Gate to the next spot. That let them get within striking distance of Haven without raising a fuss. Once they got there, they came overland by road the rest of the way. They were just waiting to see if the breakwater would hold before they chanced a Gate."
A barge? From k'Leshya? "Who? And why?" he blurted without thinking. "And why now?"
"To answer the last question first, now is because they had to. Among other things they brought someone who calls herself a trondi'irn; apparently she's a sort of gryphon-keeper, and she's come to make sure our four stay in good health. About a quarter of the barge is full of her stuff, or rather, the stuff for the gryphon's." An'desha looked quite smugly pleased with Firesong's surprise. "There's also one of my people, a Sworn-Shaman like Querna, but a man. He's supposed to be here to advise Jarim, rather than replacing him, and I must admit Jarim seemed kind of relieved to see him."
Firesong got the feeling that Jarim wasn't the only person relieved to see this shaman. Another point of difference, of rift, between them?
But An'desha didn't notice his silence. "Then there's a expanded delegation from k'Leshya, about a dozen, counting the trondi'irn, and three more gryphons, and they've brought a lot of things Darkwind's been fussing over—" He interrupted his own description with a shrug. "I'm starving and missed breakfast and lunch at the Collegia. Well, why don't you go see for yourself?"
"I believe I shall." Surprise gave way to a consuming curiosity. "Would you mind if I offered them the hospitality of the ekele? I can't imagine any of them would feel all that comfortable in the Palace."
An'desha flushed faintly. "Actually, I wanted to talk with you about that. Would you mind if I—moved temporarily into the Palace? I seem to be spending all my time there, and I've been offered a room in the Palace if I want it. That would—ah—leave you more room for the people from k'Leshya."
For one moment, Firesong throttled down rage. Deserting me already? How dare he—after everything I did for him!
But he hid it carefully. Getting angry at An'desha would only drive him further away. Instead, he tried assuming a mask of indifference. "If that's what you really want, it's fine with me."
"I would think it will just be until we find another solution for when the breakwater goes." An'desha looked at him pleadingly, and Firesong now felt a surge of satisfaction.
So—since I agreed so easily, now he's worried? Good. Maybe I can make him jealous for a change!
He shrugged, deepening his pose of indifference. "Whatever you want. I'm going to go see if I know any of these folk, and tender my invitation."
He felt his mask slipping and turned away. Then, so that An'desha did not see any of the conflicting emotions on his face, he ran up the stairs to fetch his own cloak and boots—which fortunately were not in the bedroom. He heard An'desha following slowly and waited until the Shin'a'in was rummaging around in the bedroom, packing up, before he went back down to the garden again. Aya joined him with a trill of satisfaction, flying to take a secure perch on his shoulder as he went out the doors.
He pushed through the snow with his restless thoughts flitting from one subject to another. For one thing, he hadn't given any thought to the gryphons' health; he'd just taken it for granted that they were healthy. They always recovered quickly from injuries, and never seemed to be ill.
But the youngsters were about to fledge; this fall they'd been making short glides from the tops of fences and woodpiles. Well, not quite glides. More like controlled plummets. They still were only about half the size of their parents, so they probably had one major growth spurt coming. If they doubled their size in a year or so, from all Firesong knew of other creatures, he was certain that would put a tremendous strain on their bodies. There would be special nutritional demands to keep up with such a growth spurt. Perhaps that was why the trondi'irn was here....
Or perhaps it was because of Treyvan and Hydona themselves. There might be some traces of minerals or other things they needed that they couldn't find for themselves. They are a created race, after all. The Mage of Silence made them up, and I don't care how much of a genius he was, he couldn't possibly make every detail perfect. Humans had been around for a great deal longer than gryphons, and look how imperfect they were!
Even our bond birds get strange ailments; that's why we each have to be an expert in the treatment of each particular type of bird. He hated to think of all the strange things that might go wrong for a gryphon.
As he broke through the trees, it was clear that there was something causing a great stir at the regular Palace stables. There was quite a crowd there, and something bulky and dark in the middle of them. The floating barge?
Probably. Firesong recalled very clearly how he had coveted one of those wonderful creations; coveted it as he seldom coveted any material object. Like many other creations, only k'Leshya had retained the knowledge that made them possible after the Cataclysm, largely because only k'Leshya had custody of as much of the Mage of Silence's library as had been saved. Based on the kind of covered barge that transported goods and trading families up and down the rivers of the time, the floating barges did just that—float. They generally hovered about an arm's length above the ground, but could go as high as the treetops or as low as the width of a single finger. It was possible to use magic to move them forward, but normally they were drawn by teams of horses, mules, or oxen-beasts being far "cheaper" to use than a mage. The biggest advantage was that they could carry literally as much as you could stuff into and strap onto them, for they were "without weight" and could be drawn by beasts with scarcely more effort than if they were moving unencumbered. Since they did not have wheels, they could go where there were no roads. Firesong could easily picture being able to load everything he owned into one of these barges, and traveling the world....
He hurried his pace, and saw the package-laden top of the barge rising above the crowd around it. An'desha must have come to fetch him as soon as the delegation arrived; it didn't look as if anyone had even unpacked as yet.
He joined the crowd of curiosity seekers; as soon as those nearest him saw he was there, they parted for him, enabling him to work his way in to the center. There seemed to be a lot more baggage than even a delegation of a dozen could account for—what had they brought with them?
The newcomers were instantly obvious from their costume; a blending of Shin'a'in and Tayledras style, but with a curiously antique feeling and exotic cut to it, and in colors as vivid as the flowers of a Vale. The gryphons were already in attendance, all four of them, paying close attention to three new gryphons and a young woman in brilliant orange and scarlet garments billowing out to the elbows and knees, where they were then confined by wrapped bands of black-and orange embroidered straps. Beside her was a man in vivid blue and white, whose long black hair and back seemed oddly familiar.
Treyvan raised his head and spotted Firesong. "Heigho!" he said. "And herrre at lassst is that old frrriend of yourrrsss, Sssilverrrfox!"
Silverfox? Firesong froze in mid-step, as the kestra'chern Silverfox turned to greet him with a cheerful face lighting up with pleasure. Why didn't An'desha tell me Silverfox was here?
For a moment he was angry all over again, but reason prevailed. How could he have known I even knew Silverfox? That was long, long before we met each other, and I don't recall ever mentioning the k'Leshya except in passing.
His temper cooled again quickly, and he was able to gr
eet Silverfox with unalloyed cheer—which was just as well, because the quality of the embrace that the kestra'chern gave him was very promising indeed.
"What brings you here, of all people?" Firesong asked as they separated. "I should have thought you would have preferred to stay in the Vale and not plunge yourself headlong into this inhospitable clime!"
"As to that, it's no worse than the weather outside the Vale," Silverfox replied easily. "And as to what brought me—we traditionally send members from each of the Disciplines when we put together a delegation." He nodded at Treyvan and Hydona. "The first to make an approach are always from the Silver Gryphons, of course. The Silvers are—well, I suppose you'd call them our version of Heralds. Peacekeepers, law enforcers, and so forth, but they also include our scouts. Usually they aren't actual gryphons, unless we're sending them quite far away. That was why Treyvan and Hydona were first selected to find the Vales, and then volunteered to come to Valdemar."
"But why a kestra'chern?" Firesong repeated.
Silverfox laughed. "Because the kestra'chern are one of the Disciplines, pretty bird!" He indicated his fellow k'Leshya with a long finger as he told off the "Disciplines." "Artisans, Administrators, Scholars, Silvers, Husbandry, Mages, and Kestra'chern. Actually, there are two of us kestra'chern; trondi'irn come under the Discipline of Kestra'chern. And we never send the last Discipline—that's Shaman—out with a delegation. There's no need for that, and besides," he added with a grin, "we brought Lo'isha shena Pretara'sedrin with us, so there's rather a superfluity of priestly types."
As if responding to his name, a Shin'a'in garbed from head to toe in a dark, midnight-blue turned and flashed a pearly smile in their direction, before returning to his conversation with Jarim.
A cold burst of air reminded Firesong just how ridiculous it was for them all to be standing around in the snow. "Look, I can't imagine why we're all freezing out here when we could be warm. I came to offer you the hospitality of my home. I think you'll all fit in; there's at least a few amenities of civilization—"
"Oh, Whitebird will want to stay with the gryphons, so that will be one less—and Artisans, Administrators, and Mages will want to set up a proper embassy suite in the Palace. I suspect you're only likely to get me, Husbandry, and the Scholar," Silverfox said cheerfully. "That's only four. And we store easily. If you've got a hot pool for soaking, the rest will probably come use it. Summerhawk of Husbandry is a marvelous cook, so they'll probably come to eat as well, but I suspect otherwise they'll want to be where the business is." He smiled apologetically. "I'm afraid they are all very earnest and intent on their duty. They're planning on spending every waking moment with your mages and artificers, developing the next set of protections from the mage-storms."
Firesong was secretly relieved that the k'Leshya mages would probably not be taking him up on his offer. He doubted any of them would think highly of his excursions to investigate Falconsbane's Sanctuary, much less that he was considering using it.... He'd been able to conceal his activities so far from the other mages at Haven, largely because he was better than most of them. I don't know that I can hide what I'm doing from mages with unfamiliar skills. Gods only know what k'Leshya has still in the way of mages we've lost. And as for what they might have developed, I can't even begin to guess.
"We need to unpack—and I think you ought to stay for that much of it, my friend," the kestra'chern continued. "We brought some things along I suspect you've been missing. Our hertasi made you up some new clothing for one—you came here rather lightly packed, and I doubt these folk, pleasant as they are, have any notion of fabric or design!"
Firesong shuddered, recalling some of the things he'd been presented with by well-meaning tailors of Haven. No sense of style, and as for the limited palette of colors, the less said, the better! They wanted to dress him as a molting peahen.
"Introduce me to everyone so I can make my offer and they can decline or accept it on their own, would you?" he said, rather than commenting on the deficiencies of Valdemaran costume. "That way we can take the luggage and all straight to the ekele and you can get settled in properly."
"Luggage and presents, my dear friend," Silverfox said slyly. "I oversaw that part of the packing myself."
Firesong laughed. "Should I be greedy or polite? Being polite, I should pretend I don't have any great urgency to see what you've brought, but being greedy, that is the only reason why I would willingly stand here in snow up to my elbows while you sort yourselves out!"
Already his heart felt lighter for Silverfox's presence. And as he helped unload the barge and sort packages and bundles, something else occurred to him.
Here, presented on a platter as it were, was the perfect way to make An'desha anxious and jealous, if it could be done at all. He had one last chance to win the Shin'a'in back.
Silverfox reclined indolently in the hot pool several days later, after having given Firesong a profoundly satisfying demonstration of at least one of a kestra'chern's sets of skills. "I fear we have annoyed one set of your artificers with our arrival," he said lazily.
"Oh?" Firesong was feeling too pleased to be annoyed at the mention of the artificers. "How is that? From all I hear, your mages are getting along splendidly with them. It's a bit awkward cramming Treyvan and Hydona into the room so that there are enough translators, but so far as I've heard that's the only thing like a problem."
"Oh, it is the ones who are messing about with boilers and steam," Silverfox chuckled. "I must admit I fail to see the attraction; the only places I care to have steam are in the kitchen, in the steam-house, and rising above the waters of a soaking-pool."
Firesong laughed. "Oh, I understand what the trouble is. That girl Natoli and her friends were helping the steam fanatics when you arrived, but now they are crawling all over your floating barge, day or night. And when they are not examining the barge, they are trying to take apart some of the other useful things you brought with you. In the meantime, they have deserted the steam proponents to learn what mechanical wonders you have devised."
"That is why we brought artisans, dear friend," Silverfox retorted, with a half-smile. "So that the rest of us do not have to attempt to explain what we do not understand. So far as I know or care, it is all magic!" He laughed. "I told one of them that it is all run by magic smoke. When the smoke escapes, the object ceases to function!"
Firesong had to laugh at that, too—since most of the mechanical contrivances of the artificers normally emitted great quantities of smoke when they stopped working, exploded or burned to the ground, especially the ones powered by steam boilers.
"Your friend An'desha has been making himself invaluable to them, so they tell me," Silverfox added.
Firesong's thoughts darkened at the mention of An'desha's name, and he controlled his expression to avoid giving himself away. He had been paying Silverfox his exclusive attentions in the hope that if anything would bring An'desha back it would be jealousy, but to his dismay, An'desha actually seemed pleased and relieved to see him so often in the kestra'chern's company. His last attempt to fix An'desha's wandering attention had certainly not turned out the way he had thought it would. In fact, another kink in his plans had developed, for when An'desha was not translating for the k'Leshya, he was most often in the company of the Sworn-Shaman, which certainly put paid to any hopes of weaning him away from his growing mysticism!
Yesterday he'd decided to bury the remains of the relationship before they began to stink, although he was not at all happy about the end of it. That really only left him back in the same position he'd been in when the k'Leshya delegation arrived. Either he resign himself to a life predominately alone, or—
Or I find a way to extend that life and even my odds of finding my lifebonded.
Just as his thoughts took that grimmer turn, however, Silverfox stretched languidly, striking an unconsciously provocative pose that distracted him. Steam veiled Silverfox's head and torso, giving him an air of mystery. "You've been rather quiet and
subdued for the past several days," the kestra'chern observed. "If I didn't know you better, I'd say you were brooding over something, but you keep saying it's only the weather. Is the weather here really depressing you that much?"
"Oh it isn't the weather, really—at least it isn't the primary problem," Firesong found himself admitting. "I do confess that I hate leaving all that snow where I have to look at it every moment, though. Back in our Vale you'd never know it was winter unless you went outside the protected area, and I generally managed to avoid that in bad weather."
"Hmm." Silverfox stretched again, arching his back and closing his eyes for a moment. "Still. There's something rather pleasant about being in here, where it's warm and comfortable, and being able to look out there and know that if you don't want to subject yourself to miserable weather, you don't have to. Don't you think?"
Firesong shrugged uncomfortably. "I said it wasn't the primary problem."
"So what is depressing you?" Somehow Silverfox had managed in all his stretching to work around behind Firesong, and began massaging his tense shoulders with strong, skillful fingers. "Perhaps I can help."
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