Mercedes Lackey and Larry Dixon - Mage Wars 03 - The Silver Gryphon.txt

by The Silver Gryphon [lit]

  She skinned out the snakes with Tad’s help, then arranged her snakes,

  along with her harvest of crickets, grubs, and pupae, on the blade of their

  shovel and placed that on top of the glowing coals. There wasn’t much aroma,

  but her bugs did toast quickly, and she was very hungry by now. She picked

  them gingerly off the hot metal and ate them, trying not to think too hard about

  what she was doing. They weren’t too bad, though; she could almost imagine

  that she was eating toasted grain if she didn’t pay too close attention to the

  shapes.

  The snake was better, and made it possible to finish her ration-bread. Tad,

  meanwhile, had placed his dried meat out in the rain to soak; he wolfed it

  down with no expression of pleasure when it was soft enough to eat.

  “Do you take first watch, or shall I?” he asked. She put a pan of water on

  the fire to steep her bruise-remedy in, then made up her potion with the

  addition of a couple of recognizable, foraged herbs known to numb sore

  throats. If they soothed a sore throat, perhaps they would make her bites stop

  bothering her.

  “I’d appreciate it if you would,” she replied. “I’m hoping this stuff will let me

  fall asleep without clawing my skin off, but it’s bound to wear off before

  daybreak. If I’m going to be itching, I might as well be awake so I can control

  myself.”

  He nodded. “The smoke worked as well as an ant hill, and my passengers

  are no longer with me to bother either of us. At the moment, I’m feeling fairly

  lively. You might as well get to sleep while you still can.”

  By now her clothing and her hair were both dry, though only her gryphon-

  badge was as pristine as it had been when they set out. Besides being

  stained, her tunic and trews were torn in several places, and the hems were

  beginning to fray. I look like a tramp, she thought ruefully. I hope Ikala is not

  with a search party . . . oh, that’s ridiculous. He would hardly expect me to

  look like a court lady, and I would be so happy to see a rescuer that the last

  thing I would be thinking of would be my clothing!

  Tad helped her wrap her herb-steeped bandages around the worst of her

  bruises, and to dab the remainder of the mixture on her insect bites, as best

  as his large, taloned hands would allow. At first, she thought she was going to

  be disappointed again in her attempt to heal her bites, but as the mixture

  dried, she noticed that her itching had ebbed, at least temporarily. The

  tenderness of her flesh was perhaps in some way eased by the tenderness of

  the gryphon’s care of her, as well.

  Tad looked at her, disheveled feathers slightly spiked from the moisture,

  with inquiry in his expression.

  She sighed with relief. “It’s working,” she said. “I’ll have to make more of

  this up and keep it with me in one of the waterskins. If I keep putting it on, I

  might find it easier to freeze in place without being driven mad.”

  Tad chuckled. “Good. Now we just need to find something that will keep the

  bugs off us in the first place—without driving us crazy with the smell!”

  With her mind off her itching, she turned a critical eye on Tad, and without

  warning him what she was about to do, reached over to feel his keelbone, the

  prominent breastbone that both gryphon and bird anatomy shared. That was

  the first place that a bird showed health or illness, as muscle-mass was

  consumed by a gryphon or bird that was not eating enough.

  It was a bit sharper, the muscles on either side of it just a little shrunken.

  Not something an ordinary person would notice, but Tad was her partner, and

  it was her job to do as much for him as she could. “You’ve lost some weight,”

  she said thoughtfully. “Not a lot, but it has to be either the short rations or the

  fact that you’re using up energy in healing. Or both.”

  “Or that I’m building leg-muscle and losing wing-muscle because I’m not

  using it,” he pointed out. “I don’t remember walking this much before in my

  life. Much more of this and I’m going to look more like a plowhorse than a

  hawk.”

  She granted him a skeptical look, and crossed her legs and rested her chin

  on her good hand. “I wish we’d find the river,” she replied fretfully. “No matter

  what is following us, if we just had the river, we could fish; I’d get some decent

  food into you. Even if there’s something following us and scaring off the game,

  I doubt that fish would be frightened off by a land predator.” The river, the

  promise of the river, it now seemed to embody the promise of everything—

  food, shelter and rescue as well. Perhaps she was placing too much hope on

  a strip of water, but at the moment it was a good goal to concentrate on.

  He heaved a huge sigh and scratched at one bug-bitten ear. “I really have

  no idea where we are in relation to the cliff and the river,” he confessed. “And

  this kind of forest is very strange to me. If this place were more like home, I

  could probably find a river, but I can’t see the sky and the ground cover is ten

  or twelve layers thick here. . . .”

  “I know, and I’m not blaming you,” she assured him hastily. “How could you

  know anything about this kind of forest? We never trained here. We expected

  we’d be going to an established outpost, with shelter, a garden, food stores,

  and weapons.”

  “Emphasis on the food stores,” Tad said hoarsely, as if the momentary

  thought of all the food he was used to eating made him homesick. He rubbed

  at his throat a moment and then swallowed. He’d been gulping more air for

  days than was healthy for him.

  She frowned with frustration. “I’m sure there are plenty of things to eat

  growing all around us, if only I knew what they were! Roots, stalks, leaves—

  even some things you might be able to eat, too!” She waved her hand,

  helplessly. “We haven’t the luxury of experimenting, since we don’t dare make

  ourselves sick, so we’re stuck. Only a native would know how to find his way

  around a place like this.”

  “A native like Ikala?” Tad replied shrewdly, and chuckled when she blushed

  involuntarily. “Well, I wish he was with us.”

  “I do, too—” she began, intending to change the subject, quickly.

  “And probably for more reasons than one!” he teased, not giving her a

  chance to change the subject, and sounding more like his old self than he had

  in days. “I can’t blame you; he’s a handsome fellow, and he certainly

  accounted well for himself in training. It wouldn’t be a bad thing to get to know

  him better.”

  “I suppose,” she said, suddenly wary. There was nothing that Tad liked

  better than to meddle in other peoples’ love lives. “If we’d had a chance to ask

  him more about forests like these, we might be faring better now.”

  He saw what she was trying to do. “Oh, come on, Blade!” he coaxed. “Stop

  being coy with me! Am I your partner, or not? Shouldn’t your partner know

  who you’re attracted to?” He gave her a sly, sideways look. “I know he’s

  attracted to you. It’s obvious, if you’re watching.”

  “And you were watching, I suppose,” she gru
mbled, giving up on her

  attempt to distract him to something more serious. He laughed.

  “I’m supposed to watch out for you, aren’t I? You’d be happier with a male

  friend to share some— hmm—pleasant moments with, and I know it would be

  easier dealing with you if you were happier.” He tilted his head comically to

  the side.

  “Oh, thank you,” she said sarcastically. “Now you sound like both my

  parents. They can’t wait to get me—attached.”

  Into bed with someone, you mean, she thought sourly. And Tad knows it.

  He should know better than to echo them! He knows how I feel about that!

  ‘They’re obsessed with it, and have built much of their lives around

  pleasures of flesh. They think of it as a means to all happiness, even if it is by

  a strange, obscure path! Seeing you bedded with someone is not my goal. I

  simply want to see you content in all areas of your life,” Tad said persuasively.

  “He’s certainly a fine prospect. Good-looking, intelligent, and open-minded

  enough that you wouldn’t get all tangled up in Haighlei custom with him. Good

  sense of humor, too, and that’s important. And being trained as a prince, he

  knows that you have to be able to concentrate on your duty, you can’t just

  devote yourself slavishly to a man. Hmm?”

  Blade fixed her partner with a stern and fierce gaze, neither agreeing nor

  denying any of it. “You’re matchmaking,” she accused. “Don’t try to deny it;

  I’ve seen you matchmake before, you’re as bad as an old woman about it!

  You want to see everyone paired off and living—well, if not happily ever after,

  at least having a good time while the affair lasts!”

  “Of course!” Tad replied smugly. “And why not?”

  She growled at him. “Because—because it’s invasive, that’s why not! I

  repeat—I get enough of that kind of nonsense from my parents! Why should I

  put up with it from you?”

  He only snorted. “I’m your partner, I have to know these things, and I have

  to try to help you get what you want and need, whether or not you know what

  it is! I’d tell you, and I’d expect you to help me. We both have to know if

  there’s something that is going to have us emotionally off-balance, because

  that’s going to affect how we do our job. Right? Admit it!”

  She growled again, but nodded with extreme reluctance. He was right, of

  course. A Silver’s partnership was as close as many marriages, and partners

  were supposed to confide in each other, cooperate with each other, in and out

  of the duty times.

  And for some reason, what seemed so invasive from her parents didn’t

  seem so bad, coming from Tad. Perhaps it was because Tad was a gryphon,

  and not human. Despite the gryphons’ abilities to see things like a human did,

  Tad would always be one step removed from complete empathy with Blade,

  and that gave her a barrier of safety.

  “So tell your partner how you feel about it.” He settled his head down on his

  foreclaws. “What do you think of Ikala, then?”

  Rain drummed down outside their shelter and pattered through the

  branches they had piled on the roof. Lightning made patterns of the branches

  screening the front of the shelter, reflecting whitely off Tad’s eyes and the

  silver gryphon-badge on her tunic. As usual, rain and thunder were the only

  sounds that could be heard outside.

  Inside—the smoke had finally cleared away and the fire burned brightly.

  She was dry, full, and warm. Her shoulder didn’t hurt too much, and she was

  in a well-camouflaged shelter with two very solid walls on either side of her

  and a cushioning of springy boughs between her and the cold, damp ground.

  In short, there was nothing to distract her from her thoughts, which were

  confused to say the least.

  “I suppose I don’t really know,” she said slowly, as Tad’s dark eyes

  watched her with that intensity that only a raptor could display. “He is very

  handsome, he’s very charming, he’s quite intelligent . . . but I just don’t know.

  Part of the time I think I like him for himself, part of the time I think I’m

  attracted to him just because he’s so exotic, and part of the time I think it’s

  because he’s the only person in White Gryphon that my father doesn’t know

  everything about!”

  Tad chuckled heartlessly. “There is that. I’ve noticed that Ikala has never

  once had the occasion to patronize a kestra ‘chern. Amberdrake should find

  him more of an enigma than you do.”

  “That would certainly be an improvement,” she said acidly. “It would be very

  nice for once to have a conversation with someone without the person

  wondering if Father was going to tell me all the things he’d really rather I didn’t

  know.”

  “And it would be very nice for you,” Tad commented, “to talk to your father

  without wondering if he was going to tell you things you’d rather not know.”

  Blade nodded, and Tad shrewdly added, “I don’t go to kestra’chern, so you

  are doubly safe talking to me about how you feel; word will not reach your

  father. May I give up all my hedonism if I lie.”

  Blade smiled despite herself. Depend upon a gryphon male to count that as

  the ultimate oath.

  “He’s under control,” she added. “He’s a very controlled person. I like that.”

  I like it a great deal more than unbridled passion, truth to tell

  Tad coughed. “Still,” he prompted helpfully. “Some might say that argues

  for a certain coldness of spirit?”

  She snorted. “You know better than that, you’ve worked with him. He loses

  his temper about as often as anyone else, he just doesn’t let it get away from

  him. And—so far as not visiting a kestra‘chern—”

  “And?” Tad’s eyes sparkled with humor.

  She blushed again. “And he hasn’t exactly been— well—chaste. He’s had

  female friends while he’s been here. They just weren’t kestra’chern. Even if

  they were casual. Recreational.”

  And I could almost envy Karelee. I wish she hadn‘t been so enthusiastic

  about his bed abilities.

  “Oh?” Tad said archly. “He hasn’t been chaste? I suppose you were

  interested enough to find out about this.”

  She coughed and tried to adopt a casual tone.

  “Well, one does, you know. People talk. I didn’t have to be interested,

  people gossip about that sort of thing all the time. I only had to be nearby and

  listen.” She favored him with a raised eyebrow, grateful to feel her hot face

  cooling. “Winds know that you do enough talking, so you ought to know!”

  “Me? Gossip?” His beak parted in silent laughter and he squinted his eyes.

  “I prefer to call it the ‘gathering of interpersonal information,’ for ‘management

  of sources and receivers of pleasure.’ “

  “Well, I call it gossip, and you’re as bad as any old woman,” she retorted.

  “You are just as bad when it comes to matchmaking. And as for Ikala—he is

  attractive, and I don’t deny it, but I think you’re getting way ahead of yourself

  to tie the two of us together in any way. I don’t even know how I feel, so how

  could I even speculate about how he feels? And anywa
y, you and I have our

  missions to run, and when we get out of here, we have a long tour of duty at a

  remote outpost to take care of. If we don’t die of embarrassment at having to

  be rescued.”

  If we are rescued, if we do get out of here. . . . The unspoken thought put a

  chill in the air of the tent that the fire could not drive away. All frivolous

  thoughts faded; this was the change in subject she had tried to make, but not

  the new subject she would have preferred. Reflexively she glanced out

  through the screening branches. It was getting darker out there, and it looked

  as if—once again—the rain was going to continue past nightfall.

  That might not be so bad, if it keeps our unseen “friends“ away.

  “Well,” she said, as lightly as possible, which was not very, “now you’ve got

  my brain going, and I’m never going to be able to get to sleep. I’ll just lie

  awake thinking.”

  He yawned hugely. “And I am warm and sleepy. I always get worn out

  listening to people’s reasons why they won’t be happy. Shall we switch

  watches?”

  He didn’t wait for her to answer, settling his head back down on his

  foreclaws. She shrugged. “We might as well,” she replied, and edged over

  until she was in a position where she could see through a gap between two of

  the branches hiding the front of their shelter. She memorized the positions of

  everything in sight while the light was still good enough to identify what was

  visible through the curtain of rain. The flashes of lightning helped; if she

  concentrated on a single spot, she could wait until the next lightning bolt hit to

  give her a quick, brightly-lit glimpse of what was there, and study the

  afterimage burned into her eyes.

  Tad hadn’t been lying about his fatigue; within a few moments, she heard

  his breathing deepen and slow, and when she turned to look behind her, she

  saw that his eyes were closed. She turned back to her vigil, trying to mentally

  review what she had done when she constructed the shelter.

  She had tried not to take too many branches away from any one place. She

  had tried to pile the ones she brought to the shelter in such a way that they

  looked as if they were all from a single smaller tree brought down by the

  larger. With all this rain, every trace of our being here should have been

  washed away. No scent, no debris. . . .