Halls of Law

by V. M. Escalada

  “Oh!” She opened her eyes. “It’s a griffin.”

  There was a silence so profound it almost hurt her ears, followed by a rumble as though everyone, seen and unseen, had murmured at the same time. Norwil slapped his hands to his knees.

  “Griffins aren’t real.” Tel stretched out his hand, stopping short of actually touching the claw.

  “They are so very real.” For the first time there was an old man’s tremor in Ganni’s voice. “So real as starving. And so, it appears, are you, my girl.” He moved his head in slow arcs from side to side. “What more can you tell us? How did a griffin get into our tunnels?”

  It was curiosity in the old man’s voice, not disbelief. Ker turned the claw over in her hands. How. “It’s a baby,” she said. “Its nest . . . its nest was here in the mines, ages ago, before—before everything. A nest with three eggs in it.”

  “There are three of them?” From the rustling out among the crowd Sala wasn’t the only one concerned.

  “Hmmm?” Ker looked up, finding it oddly difficult to pull her eyes away from the claw. Hurriedly, she spoke her closing word. “No, there’s only the one. The first one out of the egg breaks open the others and eats them.” Ker looked around at wrinkled noses and unhappy grimaces. “It’s natural for them.”

  “Just thinking my brother would’ve tasted terrible.” Ganni made a gagging face, and several people laughed with him.

  The older woman on the council, Hitterol, leaned forward, her brows drawn down. “It must be hungry, and frightened.”

  “It’s a griffin, for the Mother’s sake,” Norwil said. “What’s going to frighten it?” There was still a light of satisfaction on his face.

  Ker shook her head. “No, she’s right. He’s just a baby.”

  Ganni clapped his hands. “See now? We have to help him.”

  “We should send the Talent, then,” Norwil said, turning to Larin. “So far she’s only told us what any Talent could. It’s whether she can befriend the griffin that makes her the prophesied one. Doesn’t it? That’s what the Fields and Paths Clan will say, let alone the Springs and Pools, when we claim the Prophecy came to us.” From the shuffling and murmuring, there were many who agreed with him.

  “Perhaps.” When Larin saw that everyone was looking at her, she smiled and shrugged, then swung her feet.

  “Just what is this prophecy?” For a moment Ker thought no one had heard Tel, then she realized they were all simply waiting. Norwil stood, and cleared his throat.

  “Let all the people of the land awake and listen,” he said, and it was obvious that he was reciting. “For the day of joining comes. It comes near.”

  Ker jumped as every voice in the cavern repeated the last three words.

  Norwil sat, and Ganni stood. “Watch horses of the sea come clothed in thunder. Longships bring nets of blood and fire. Blood of the earth.”

  “The First Sign.”

  This time Ker was ready for it, and the chorus of voices didn’t startle her.

  Ganni sat and the other woman, Hitterol, stood.

  “Hear the runner in the darkness, eyes of color and light. Speaks to the wings of the sky. Speaks to griffins.”

  “The Second Sign.”

  Everyone in the small council, and everyone seated close by, turned and looked at Ker.

  Hitterol sat, and the next councillor, Midon, stood. Until now, he hadn’t spoken, and his deep voice startled Ker again.

  “See the bones of the earth touch blood and fire. Net the souls of the living. Bones of the griffin.”

  “The Third Sign.”

  This time, Ker almost said it with them.

  Midon resumed his seat, and Sala stood.

  “See the child eyes of color and light. Holds the blood and the wings and the bone. Child of the griffin.”

  “The Fourth Sign.”

  Ganni looked at her again, though no one else did, and smiled.

  Sala sat, and Larin bounced to her feet. “The child rides the horses of the sea. Bears the blood and wields the bones of the earth. Brings freedom and light.”

  “Freedom and light is near; the day of joining comes.”

  “Not so very helpful now, is it?” Ganni actually looked sympathetic. “Not for you, at least. It’s ours, you see, given to us, not yours. At least, not yet.”

  Sala spoke up. “Do you know where the griffin is now?”

  Ker blinked, her ears still ringing with the last words of the Prophecy. What could it all mean? She frowned. She’d been asked a question.

  Where. “That way.” She pointed off to her left, behind Ganni. Everyone turned to follow the direction of her finger.

  Maybe it was the light, but Ker thought she saw an odd gleam in the old man’s eye, as he turned back to face her. She could have sworn he was about to smile.

  “Good,” Norwil said. “Let’s have her go to it. Then we’ll know for sure she’s the one the Prophecy speaks of. Can we vote?”

  Sala was nodding. “All in favor?”

  Every member of the council put out their hand, palm down. Sala stood and looked out into the cavern. “Does anyone disagree with their delegate?” There were whispers of conversations, but no one spoke up.

  “Then it is settled. The Talent will meet with the griffin.”

  Hitterol stood, holding out a hand to Larin. “These two are dead on their feet, Sala, and hungry. I vote the griffin waits until morning.”

  • • •

  Tel sat down next to Ker with a thump. They’d been shown into an alcove cut out of the rock wall of the great cavern. A thick curtain of woven grasses served as a door; the place was clean, and there was bedding on a sleeping ledge. Relatively fresh bedding. They’d been given back their pouches and their personal knives, but nothing else.

  “Can we trust them?” Tel sounded as though he needed to clear his throat. “Have you any idea what this is all about?”

  “Not a single clue.” She wasn’t going to share her thoughts on Feelers. He’d think she was completely crazy.

  Almost as though he could hear her thought, Tel echoed it. “Son and Daughter, Ker, who are these people?” He blew out a breath through his teeth. “Griffins.” He slapped his leg with his left hand. “What next? Feelers?”

  It did seem silly, now that someone had said it aloud. “The griffins in the stories are always good, though, aren’t they?” Not like Feelers, she didn’t say aloud.

  “That’s right.” Tel frowned. “Do we know anything that isn’t from a story?”

  “Not so very much, I’d wager.” The voice out of the darkness made them both jump. How easily they’d started to feel secure, because they’d been left alone with a light.

  Ganni pushed the curtain to one side and dropped Ker’s pack in front of them before sitting down, cross-legged. He squinted in the light of the glow stone, and bowed his thanks when Ker covered it over with a corner of her cloak.

  “Still, you ask a good question, soldier boy, and one it so happens I can answer—if so be, you’ll then answer some of mine.” The old man grinned. He nudged at the pack with his fist. “I’ve brought your food. Perhaps I can tell you what I know while you eat, eh? Mind you, some of what I have to say will sound like stories, but I assure you, it’s history you can find in the libraries in Farama the Capital.”

  Maybe not, Ker thought, shivering despite Tel’s nearby warmth. The libraries in Farama had been kept in the Hall of Law.

  “They lived here once, the griffins—no, not in these mines, and you needn’t look at me so fierce, youngster. On the surface. In the valleys and on the slopes. There was a stone here, a jewel, precious to them, that we mined for them, we humans. We think that’s what the Prophecy speaks of, when it says ‘bones of the earth.’”

  “And when the supplies ran out, the griffins left?”

  “Don’t run
ahead now. It’s me telling this tale. The histories say they were driven away. But they lived here once and had their dealings with humankind. That’s fact and not story. Does that not fit what you yourselves know of them?”

  Ker exchanged looks with Tel. Were there stories told about griffins in the Battle Wings? She couldn’t remember her father or even her grandmother telling any. Tel stayed quiet.

  “The Talents have a tradition that the griffins were their first teachers,” she said. “That they taught the brightest and the best. We still have a saying ‘Griffin Class,’ when we mean someone’s really excelling.” Griffin Class. That’s what Luca Pa’narion had said about her. That’s what had given her hope, for a future in the Halls. She shrugged, suddenly uncomfortable. “Other than that? They’re supposed to have the body of a lion, the head and wings of an eagle.”

  “They taught more than Talents, and were counselors to the Luqs,” Ganni said. “That claw now, is it an accurate judge of its size?”

  “It’s a little larger now, I think.” Ker frowned. “This claw came out when the new one grew underneath.”

  Tel was reaching for the backpack, but hesitated, his hand hovering as he looked at Ganni from under his eyebrows.

  “I’ve told you, go ahead, boy. Don’t mind me, I’ve eaten.”

  Tel pulled the pack toward him with his left hand and tried to steady it with his feet while he manipulated the closures. Ker ducked and shifted as his elbow came perilously close to her head.

  “Here, let me.” She reached forward.

  “Is his wound so fierce? Let me look at it whilst you hold the light.”

  “No, thanks,” Tel said, before Ker could get in a word. “I can wait.”

  “It’s me that’s brought you the food, youngster. If any of us meant you harm, you’d be harmed. And are you? No. So don’t be foolish. How is tending to your injury a bad thing for you?”

  Tel’s lips pressed together. “I’m fine.”

  “Really? So ready as a champion to swing your sword at all comers? If we give it back to you, that is.” Ganni smiled, but there was no malice in it.

  “Not to worry.” Tel wasn’t exactly smiling back. “I can fight left-handed.”

  “If you two are finished showing each other your teeth, let’s get on with checking the wound. Yes!” Ker said as Tel began to shake his head. “This is how you got into trouble in the first place. And I’ve no yarrow left. We can’t afford for you to get worse again.”

  “Listen to her, boy. Your own officers would tell you the same.”

  Ker didn’t know if that was the argument that convinced him, but, jaw clenched, Tel submitted, letting Ker loosen and remove his harness, ease off tunic and under tunic, and untie the sling she’d made of his shirt. She had him sit down in front of Ganni and knelt to one side. She frowned, drumming her fingers on her thigh.

  “Could you hold the glow stone for me?” the old man asked her. “So steady as a star in the sky.”

  Ganni peered through slitted eyes as the light fell full on Tel’s back and shoulder. “Dim it a little, my dear one.” Ker shifted her grip.

  Tel’s skin pimpled in the chill air. “Well?” he said.

  “It’s not worse,” Ker admitted. The cut seemed shallower, the edges less red, but that was the most she could say.

  “Then what’s taking so long? I’m freezing here.”

  “Patience, youngsters. I’ll have seen more wounds than both of you put together, I should think. Hold the light here, to my right. There, that’s better.”

  The new angle was awkward, and tired muscles made her hands tremble. In the wavering light, Ker found herself squinting to follow the movements of Ganni’s fingers as they probed and prodded the wound, almost as if the old man was massaging the flesh of Tel’s shoulder. Ganni pressed his thumbs along the partially healed cut, as if smoothing the edges, and sat back.

  Ker moved the light closer. She blinked, and touched the wound herself, feeling the smoothness of what was now a half-healed scar. She looked at Ganni, and found the old man looking back at her, his eyes bright and his grin wide. He waggled his eyebrows at her and made a slight shrugging motion with his shoulders.

  “What? What is it?” Tel twisted, trying to peer over his own shoulder.

  “Seems it’s better than she thought, boy.”

  Ker opened her mouth and closed it again without speaking. What, exactly, could she say? The wound had healed. A moment before it had been open and sore, and now it was healed. Her skin tingled, and the air felt as it did before a thunder storm. She chewed at her lower lip. She thought about Tel’s reaction when he’d learned she was a Talent, and kept quiet. “It is better than I thought,” she said, coughing to clear her throat. “Much better.”

  “I’d leave his arm free,” Ganni said. “He’s fierce unbalanced with it bound. A man likes to feel square on his feet.”

  Tel couldn’t argue with that, Ker thought, though from the look on his face, he wanted to.

  “Turn around,” she said, as she shook out Tel’s shirt. Not that any mere shaking was going to get the creases out. It was filthy, but he’d need the warmth. She tapped his shoulder, and he raised his arms obediently. She pulled the shirt down over them, following it with both his under tunic and the purple tunic that marked him as a Bear. Finally, she pulled on his harness, adjusting the straps where needed. The half-familiar movements helped to calm the flutter in her stomach, and the hairs on the back of her neck flattened.

  “There,” she said, once she had the last buckle fastened.

  Tel moved his shoulders back and forth a couple of times, gently at first and then with increasing freedom. A smile formed on his lips, as he reached again for the pack, this time with both hands. He took out a travel cake and unwrapped it, cutting it into pieces with his knife before passing her some, using the waxed cloth it came in as a plate.

  “So tell us,” Tel said, as he settled back with his portion of cake. “What makes the griffins so important now?”

  Ganni was cross-legged again, back in his original position. Just an old man making himself comfortable. “You heard the Prophecy. It tells us that the day of joining comes, that freedom and light come. It mentions the longships, you heard that. That’s the First Sign.”

  Ker sat up straighter. “But the griffins? Where do they come in?”

  “The coming of the griffins and the one who’ll be able to speak and deal with them, why, that’s the Second Sign. And it’s long been held that this one wasn’t one of us, but a Talent. Who else could speak with griffins better than their old students?”

  Ker nodded. “So it’s the griffins that are supposed to do all this joining?”

  The old man’s laughter startled Ker so that she almost dropped the piece of cake she still had in her hand. “We’ve been mulling it over and studying it all this long time, and it’s as complicated as a spider’s web. It’s Larin who knows the hows and whys of it now, since the elder Time Seer is gone.”

  Tel wrinkled his nose. “Time Seer?”

  Ganni laughed again. “What else would you call the one who sees the future?”

  • • •

  Ker chewed on her lower lip, watching Tel as he brought out more food. Now that they were alone, she knew she should tell him about her suspicions, but every time she tried, the word “Feeler” stuck in her throat. Tel was just a soldier—and she never thought she’d say that, but there it was. Soldiers couldn’t always be trusted with the finer points of the Law. As the only Talent available, the Feelers were her responsibility.

  Besides, there was a griffin to deal with. One myth at a time.

  “Have you done much hunting?” was what she finally said.

  “Some.” He shrugged, turning away to unwrap a stick of dried sausage, breaking it carefully in half and handing over her share. Ker accepted, biting into the sausage with her si
de teeth.

  “The sausage may have been a mistake,” Tel said, but only after the last bite was gone. “The salt’s making me thirsty.”

  “Sure,” Ker agreed. “But I’d rather starve than eat another bite of travel cake.”

  “You don’t like it either?” For a moment their smiles were exactly as carefree as the ones they’d shared back in the kitchen of the Hall. That thought sobered Kerida in a hurry.

  “What is it?” Tel’s smile vanished as well.

  “Nothing.” She shrugged. “Just that I was reminded of the first time we met, when you were sent to pick up the supplies the Cohort Leader asked for.”

  “That was, what, fifteen days ago? Twenty, since the Halians entered Farama?” He shook his head. “Seems like it should be longer, when so much has changed. It’s a different world now.”

  There were so many things Tel could be thinking of. The loss of the Luqs, the breaking of the Eagle Wing—Ker resolutely put thoughts of Ester out of her mind, only to find them replaced by images of her last sight of the Hall. She’d looked back just once, as her borrowed horse reached the line of trees on the far side of the west pasture. Light from the fires had been visible in the windows of the great room. She managed not to think about what she’d seen inside.

  “I’m sorry I took offense when I found out you were a Talent.” Tel sounded like he’d been waiting to say that for a long time.

  Ker sketched a wave with her hand, shifting her eyes away from him before he could see her confusion. “You were sticking up for your own. I understood.” I didn’t like it, but I understood. “Things have never been easy between the military and the Halls. The blade and the whetstone, my grandmother used to call them. Neither one’s any good without the other, but both want to be in charge.”

  “I suppose we’re the blade and you’re the whetstone?”