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

by The Silver Gryphon [lit]

  were easier ways to do that.

  “Not unless we have to start whittling down their numbers,” she murmured,

  thinking that this cave was both a good and a bad place to be. They could

  defend it—but it would be hard for rescuers to spot, and it would be very easy

  to place them in a state of siege from which there was no escape. The

  narrowness of the chimney that made it impossible for anything to climb down

  also rendered it impossible for them to climb up.

  “Right. Then tomorrow, if it looks clear, we go get some green wood and

  leaves from across the way to make a smoke signal with. We get all the dry

  driftwood we can and stock it in here.” He cocked his head to one side, and

  waited for her contribution.

  “Water we have, finally; I might just as well start fishing and as long as

  we’re running a smoke-signal fire, it can do double duty and I can smoke what

  we don’t eat.” That way if we’re trapped in here we’ll have something to eat.

  “We ought to go back down the way we came in and decide what kind of traps

  we can lay.”

  “At least one rockfall, right at the entrance, with a release one of us can

  trigger from in here,” he said promptly, and yawned. “With a lot of work and

  cleverness we can even barricade the opening of the cave with wood and

  rocks; we’re certainly clever enough, so all we need is the work. And that is

  about all of the thinking that I’m good for. I have got to get some sleep. I don’t

  need a blanket; it’s plenty warm enough in here next to the fire.” He winked at

  her. “I can even lie down on this nice, soft sand so that I’m between the fire

  and the entrance, and screen it with my body. I shall sacrifice staying near the

  cold and water to do this duty.”

  “Big of you. Help me spread out the bedding so it can dry,” she responded

  dryly. “Then you can sleep all you like—at least until it’s your turn on watch!”

  And may there be nothing to watch for—except a search party, and that

  soon, she thought, as he chuckled and moved to help her with the damp

  blankets. By now they’ll have missed us back home. We didn’t make the

  rendezvous, and the other patrol should have sent word back with their

  teleson. How long until we’re missing instead of overdue? And will they look

  for us when they think we’re only late? I wish I knew.

  I only know one thing. Father’s going to go out of his mind when he hears

  of this. I’m glad I’m not the one to tell him!

  Amberdrake stared at Commander Judeth; for a moment her words made

  no sense. Then suddenly, they made all too much sense.

  “They’re what?” All of Amberdrake’s hard-won equanimity deserted him. He

  rose out of the chair in his office as if he’d sat on a hot coal. Indeed, that was

  very much the way he felt.

  “Calm down, Drake, the youngsters are only overdue by a day,” Judeth told

  him. She looked outwardly calm, but he knew more than enough about her

  and the tiny telltale signals her body showed to know that she was seriously

  worried. And yet, that was simply not good enough. “The patrol they were

  relieving got to the rendezvous point expecting them to be there yesterday,

  and they weren’t there.”

  She’s worried. She’s only worried. And she still hasn’t done anything. “And

  they haven’t shown up yet.” He held both the arms of his chair in a strangle

  grip, and stared at her with unveiled accusation in his eyes. “So why aren’t

  you doing anything? You know those two are as by-the-book as any trainees

  you’ve ever had! They have never, ever violated orders. If they had a reason

  to be late, if they knew they were going to be delayed, they’d have sent a

  teleson message! If they haven’t, it’s because they can’t, because something

  happened to them!”

  His voice was rising, and he knew it, and what was more, he didn’t care

  that he was making a blatant display of his emotions. For once in his life he

  wanted someone to know how upset he was. Judeth made soothing motions,

  as if she thought he could somehow be propitiated by a few words. As if she

  thought he could be “reasoned out of his hysteria.”

  She was certainly going to try. “We are doing something, Drake; the patrol

  has left the rendezvous and they are going on out to see if they can’t find

  some sign of Blade and Tad. It’s too early to get in a panic about this—”

  Too early to get in a panic? Who does she think she’s talking to? He held

  himself back from exploding at her only by great effort of will. “You tell me that

  when it’s your child that’s missing!” he snapped at her. “Or have you gotten so

  wrapped up in being a commander that you’ve forgotten this isn’t wartime?

  Instead of telling me not to panic, I suggest you tell me what else you’re doing

  right now. And if you aren’t doing anything right now, I am not interested in

  hearing why you can’t! I’ll pull in every resource I have to see that something

  does get done, and without any nonsense about not getting into a panic

  because one person thinks it’s too early!”

  That was the closest he had ever come in his life to saying that he was

  actually going to use all the power and influence he held and had never used

  before, for any reason. And I will, I’ll do it, if I have to blackmail everyone in

  this city. Even her. It was a threat, a real one, and he was not bluffing. But he

  felt he owed it to Judeth to warn her that lightning was going to fall on her

  before it came. If he used all his influence, it would be worse than lightning,

  and Judeth’s position as commander might not survive the storm.

  Her eyes darkened dangerously at his words, but her voice remained calm

  and even, which was something of a testament to her own control. Judeth did

  not like threats, but she was a realist, and she must know that he was not

  bluffing. “Right at this moment, the original patrol is flying out about a day in

  the right direction to see if they can find anything. If they don’t, they’ll go north

  of the track, then south, to see if they somehow went off course. Meanwhile,

  we’re working on it. We’re not just sitting around, waiting to see what

  happens. We’re trying to find some way of locating them from here, and—

  and—” she finally raised her own voice as he got ready to explode again. “—

  and we are putting together search parties. Those will leave in the morning,

  since we can’t possibly get one together before then. There is no point in

  grabbing unprepared people and sending them out at random. Now, if you

  can think of anything I might have missed, I’d like to hear it.” The truth was, he

  couldn’t, but that didn’t stop him from wanting some action right that very

  moment, something besides merely “readying a search party.”

  “I can’t think of anything, but I’m—this is difficult. It’s hard to think,” he

  admitted grudgingly. “Does Skan know yet?”

  “Aubri’s telling him.” Poor Aubri, her tone said, but Poor Skan, was what he

  was thinking.

  He was afraid of this. He didn‘t want Tad to go off on this assignment any

  more than I wanted Blade to. I know he thought about going to Judeth a
nd

  asking them to be reassigned to something else, and didn’t do it. And now he

  must be wondering if he is to blame for them being missing.

  “I’ll tell Winterhart—” he began, his throat tightening at the thought. Gods,

  how do I tell her? This was my fault, if it all comes down to it; something I said

  or did made Blade want to be in the Silvers in the first place, all my

  interference made her want to be assigned somewhere far away from here—if

  I hadn‘t tried to meddle in her life so much, she would still be here—maybe

  even doing something else with her life. And Tad would have a different

  partner, one that wouldn’t have urged him to ask for assignment out of the

  city. He desperately wanted someone else to take on the burden of telling her,

  so that he did not have to face her accusing eyes. Cowardly, yes, but —

  “No, I’ll tell her,” Judeth said firmly. “I already know where she is, and I’m

  Silverblade’s commander; that’s part of my job. You go to Skan; I’ll send her

  to you there.”

  There, as everyone in White Gryphon knew, was “Kechara’s nursery” this

  time of the day. Skandranon spent at least an hour with her and the other

  children, human and otherwise, every afternoon. He loved to spend time with

  them, telling stories, playing games. Once again, Amberdrake got to his feet

  and headed for the door; this time Judeth didn’t stop him.

  As soon as the White Gryphon Council Hall was finished, the spouses of

  every city official had demanded the addition of real offices to it—Winterhart

  included. “We’re tired of you people bringing work home, and we’re tired of

  having work follow you home,” she had said, both in her capacity as “spokes-

  spouse” and in her capacity as a city official herself. “Home is where you go to

  get away from idiots who couldn’t find the public latrine without a map and a

  guide! And every official gets an office, even if it’s no bigger than a closet!”

  she had added. “I don’t care if the post of k’Leshya Clan chief has never had a

  physical office before, the k’Leshya Clan chief has also never lived in anything

  other than a tent before, and if he can break tradition by living in a cave, he

  can break it a little more by having an office and regular hours, and he can bar

  the door when his office hours are over!” She had glared at Amberdrake, and

  her eyes had said, And that goes twice as much for you, my dear and over-

  obliging spouse!

  Since Lionwind’s wife had been standing behind Winterhart, nodding her

  head at every word and with one hand on her knife, he and every other city

  official had readily agreed.

  The offices were all built into the cliff behind the Council Hall, small and

  private, and close to the other public buildings. The administrative building for

  the Silvers was not that far away from Amberdrake’s office, and in that

  building was the nursery they had made for Kechara when she was still acting

  as the communication center for the Silvers. She shared it with the youngsters

  of anyone else in the Silvers or in city administration who needed to have

  someone tend their little ones while they worked. It was a good arrangement

  for everyone, and it gave Kechara a never-ending stream of playmates who

  were all her mental age, even if she was chronologically six or more times

  older.

  Even though Kechara’s powers were severely limited, she could still “talk”

  to any gryphon within the city territory. That alone was useful to the Silvers,

  and a very good reason to keep her right where she always had been.

  As Amberdrake hurried toward the building, every muscle and nerve

  writhing with anxiety, he couldn’t even begin to imagine how Judeth had

  thought that Aubri could break something like this gently to Skan. She must

  have been so upset by the news that her ability to reason had flown right out

  the door! Aubri hasn’t the tact of a brick. When Skan—

  “DRAKE!” The bellow of a gryphon enraged could probably be heard all the

  way up to the farms, and the gryphon that burst out of the door of the Silvers’

  headquarters looked perfectly ready to chew up iron and spit out nails. Burst

  was indeed the correct term; the white-and-black gryphon erupted from the

  door flying, his head swiveling in all directions, presumably looking for his

  friend as he gained altitude. “Drake!” Skan bellowed again, from a height of

  about three lengths above him. “These idiots! They’ve lost—”

  “I know, I know,” Amberdrake shouted back, waving his hands frantically.

  “That’s why I’m—”

  Skan folded his wings and landed heavily, as if he were pouncing on

  something, every feather on end. “I want every mage in this city working on a

  way to find them!” he said wrathfully. “I don’t care what they’re doing! This is

  an emergency! I want everybody pulled in off of whatever they’re doing, and I

  want search parties out there now! I want messengers sent to Shalaman! I

  want every man the Haighlei can spare out there looking, too! I want—”

  We have to work this together, or they’re not going to listen to us.

  Amberdrake seized his friend’s head in both hands, hooking his fingertips into

  the gryphon’s nares. He pulled Skan’s beak down so that the gryphon was

  looking directly into his eyes. “I know,” he said forcefully. “Believe me, I feel

  the same! We have to call the Council to authorize this, Skan, but I don’t think

  anybody on it is going to disagree with us, and if they do—”

  Skan growled wordlessly at the very idea.

  “If they do, we—we both know things they wish we didn’t,” he pointed out.

  “We do. And I’ll use that.” There it was; Skan agreed with him. It wasn’t

  right, but it was better than arguing with shard-counters until it was too late to

  do anything.

  “But there’s no point in scattering everybody like a covey of frightened

  quail,” Drake persisted, trying

  to convince himself as much as Skandranon. “All right? Let’s get things

  coordinated. Judeth told the original patrol to look for them; right now that’s all

  that anyone can do out there. We have to organize, and get people out there,

  talk people into using Gates again if we have to. We have to get Council

  backing for all that before anything else can be done, and that isn’t going to

  happen if we’re both standing here and wasting precious time screaming like

  outraged parents!”

  “We are outraged parents!” The gryphon kicked clods of dirt in flurries of

  rage. “I don’t want to have to follow procedure!”

  Amberdrake put his fists on his hips and leaned toward Skandranon. “We

  will get Council approval, by whatever means necessary.”

  I hate it, but that’s the case. If we want to have more than just “the usual

  effort” from the Silvers, we have to get Council authorization. And that’s where

  the threats of blackmail come in.

  Skan growled again, but without as much force behind it. “Damn it, Drake,

  why do you have to be so right?” he snarled. “All right then, I’ll go back in

  there and have Kechara call in the Council members so we can authorize all

  of this
.”

  Amberdrake wanted to add don’t frighten her, but he held his tongue. Of all

  of them, Skan knew best how not to do anything that would make Kechara

  unhappy. He was her “Papa Skan,” and she loved him with all of her heart—

  which was as large as her poor brain was small. He would no more do

  anything to frighten her than he would allow Blade and Tad to languish in the

  wilderness, unsought-for and unrescued.

  He headed back toward the Council Hall, certain that if Winterhart and

  Zhaneel were not already on the way there, after Kechara’s call, they would

  be.

  Skan came stalking in shortly after Drake, and within moments after that,

  the rest of the Council members came hurrying in. Judeth was one of the first,

  looking very surprised and taken aback, and just a little annoyed; and

  although Skan leveled an icy glare at her, his tone was civil enough.

  “I’ve called this meeting,” he said. “Since this is an emergency situation.”

  He waited only until there were enough Council members present to

  constitute a quorum, and until everyone was seated before nodding to Judeth.

  “You’re the commander of the Silvers, so I think it best that you explain the

  emergency to the rest of the Council,” he said crisply. Judeth looked as if she

  wanted to say something scathing to him, but held her tongue, which was

  probably wise.

  Amberdrake had a good idea of what she was thinking, however. She was,

  first and foremost, a military commander, and under any other circumstances,

  the fact that two of the most junior members of the Silvers were missing—or

  overdue—should not have been considered an emergency the Council should

  be concerned with. Only an hysterical—but powerful—parent could have

  thought that it was.

  And Amberdrake would have cheerfully throttled her for suggesting any

  such thing, if she dared.

  Throttled her, then revived her so I could throttle her again. Part of him was

  appalled at this capacity for violence within himself; the rest of him nodded in

  gleeful agreement at the idea. Then I’d revive her so that Skan could have a

  turn.

  But she evidently knew better—or the threat of his influence made her think

  twice about suggesting any such thing. Judeth explained the situation, coolly

  and calmly, while the other members of the Council listened without making