Kelvren’s daily bath was an occasion of much splashing and generally emptied the pool. When every feather on his body was soaked, he would shake himself out, thus ensuring that anyone and anything near by that was not already drenched would receive a fair share of the spray. Then he would flap laboriously to a smooth rock high above the pool, one of the few places in the valley that received sun for most of the day. There he would sit and preen until he considered every feather to be perfectly groomed, at least in a serviceable manner; after that his trondl’irn could do decorative and restorative tendings in the evening.
By checking the angle of the sun, Snowfire reckoned that Kelvren would be about halfway through the grooming process and damp, but not wet. Gryphons, being more complicated and imperfect creatures than the bondbirds, occasionally suffered some deficiencies, and one of the more common was a tail gland that produced an insufficient quantity of oil to keep the feathers healthy and weatherproof. That was Kelvren’s problem, and it was one of Nightwind’s duties as his trondl’irn to make up for that lack. So she would be with him, adding touches of very light, fragrant oil to the shafts of his larger feathers with a small artist’s paintbrush. After that, it was his job to preen it into the barbs. An odd task, but then, caring for gryphons evidently involved a great many odd tasks.
Snowfire walked down the winding paths that threaded the encampment with a lengthened stride that allowed him to move quickly without appearing to hurry. He soon reached the end of the valley and as he came around the last vine curtain and out into the full sunlight beyond the trees, he saw Nightwind sitting beside Kelvren on the gryphon’s favored perch. She was the only person in the entire group who had the same raven-wing-black hair as their Shin’a’in cousins, along with the golden complexion and intense blue eyes. She was not tall, but she held herself so well that she gave the impression of being taller than she was. Her finely-sculptured face reminded him a little of a vixen. She did indeed have a tiny paintbrush in one hand, and a pot in the other, all her attention concentrated on the primaries and secondaries of the wings he had stretched out over her lap like a great, feathered blanket. It looked for all the world as if she were gilding or painting the great bird.
In fact, she could have been painting him; for special occasions, besides wearing body- and leg-jewelry, the gryphons often had their feathers bleached, then dyed or painted, and sometimes strings of beads or bells were attached to the base of the tail-covert feathers or along the shafts of the crest-feathers or primaries. She had told Snowfire that this, too, was one of her skills - an uncommon one among trondl’irn. Kelvren was excessively proud of the fact that his attendant was so skillful a feather-painter. Snowfire himself had never seen a gryphon so decorated, and frankly, could not imagine it. The whole idea seemed very bizarre to him, as if Hweel should suddenly express a desire to be transformed with colors, like a firebird or a scarlet jay. But gryphons, being highly intelligent, had an appreciation for artistry and a particular eye for ornament. Since they were in a very real sense living sculptures by a long-lost master artist, Urtho, they felt rightly that they were canvasses for beauty to be worked upon. Snowfire wondered wryly if Urtho had bred them for vanity, or if this trait had been an “accidental” feature of these created creatures.
He hailed them both; Nightwind responded with a wave of her brush, and Kel with fanning the opposite wing from the one being tended to. He rounded the pool - as he had expected, Kel had pretty much emptied it, and it was now refilling from the spring - and climbed up the path to their rock.
“I take it from your expression that the situation is not exactly a good one?” Nightwind asked, as he sat down beside her with his back to the sun.
“In a word, correct,” he said, as Kel cocked an ear-tuft at him. He quickly summed up the most salient points of the questioning, and Kel snapped his beak and flattened his head-feathers.
“Not good,” the gryphon surmised. “It appearrsss that this trrruly isss an arrrmy, and not jussst a child’sss exagerrration. An arrrmy of rrreasssonable quality, asss well. Well arrnned, well trrrained.”
“And there is a high probability of a mage among them or leading them,” he reminded the gryphon. “My guess would be that he is leading them. And to be honest, we don’t have the strength to risk a direct or even indirect confrontation.”
Kelvren growled, but nodded reluctantly. “I do not like it, but you arrre, unforrrtunately, corrrect. But I sssshould like to venturrre a sorrrtie orrr two, ssstrrrictly ssspy missss-sionsss. At night, perrrrhapsss? With Hweel to guide, I am a good night-flyerrr.”
Snowfire gazed at the gryphon with surprise and admiration. “Now that is one of the better ideas I have heard today,” he replied, very pleased with the idea. “Hweel needs a certain amount of mental guidance, and you should have a backup, so that could be my role. I think I could manage that without needing to use a weapon.”
“That’s good, because until that wound is healed, you won’t be doing anything like shooting a bow,” Nightwind said, rather pointedly.
“I think,” Snowfire replied, with a bit of impatience, “that I am perfectly capable of figuring that out for myself.”
“And what about the time you went climbing right after a concussion, last year?” she asked.
He ignored her, which appeared to cause her a great deal of amusement. “Hweel and I could go in together as far as that clearing where I rescued the boy,” he said to Kelvren. “Then you and Hweel could go on alone. We can get some idea from the boy how near the trees grow to the village, but my impression was that you could easily use them as cover quite close in.”
Kel nodded, clearly satisfied by having something constructive to do.
“Now that you mention the boy,” Nightwind put in, “how badly did he take to being questioned?”
Snowfire winced. “Well, he left the meeting in tears, if that tells you anything.”
“No more than I expected,” she replied with a shrug. “Did he happen to let anything out that would give you a hint to those other emotional burdens he’s carrying?”
“Some of his background. His parents were trappers, and apparently disappeared a year or so ago. The people of his village were afraid of the Forest and have been since the mage-storms brewed up some nasty creatures out there. Evidently the encounters they had with the monsters gave them some severe shocks. So the villagers disapproved of anyone who would go into the Forest on a regular basis, claiming that the Storm-Changed monsters would track such people back to the village to attack them.”
“So what happened when the parents didn’t come back?” Nightwind asked. “What made the villagers take him in?”
“Guilt, maybe,” Snowfire hazarded. “He was apprenticed to the village mage, who evidently was not very good, and didn’t get much respect. Dar’ian did not really want to be a mage himself. And the villagers did their best to persuade him that his parents brought their fate on themselves.” He assumed that Nightwind could make her own assessment from those rather bald facts, probably much more accurately than he could.
“Oh, no - “ she said, looking at him with all traces of amusement gone. “No wonder he’s a tangle of unhappiness inside! I hardly dare think of what he must be going through.”
“I do need your insight,” he reminded her. “You are the only Empath among us, you know.”
“I’m not trained in sorting out human emotions,” she protested, then made a face. “I know, I’m making excuses. Emotions are emotions.”
“But among my peoplesss, ourrr emotional sssolutionsss arrre much morrre dirrrect,” Kel pointed out with a chuckle.
“And your emotions were modeled on your maker’s, which were quite human. Point taken. Now, let me think a moment.” She pressed her fingers to her temples. “I’m going to assume that he had a strong and positive bond with his parents, so we have the obvious trauma of losing them, and the not-so-obvious trauma of not knowing what really happened to them. He could even be coping with the loss by inventi
ng reasons why they might still be alive, which is only delaying the mourning period.”
“That sounds reasonable,” he agreed. “The people of his village strongly disapproved of his parents themselves as well as their profession. I don’t imagine too many days went by without Dar’ian hearing how reckless and dangerous his parents were.”
“Which made it imperative to him to defend them, except that defending them would be disrespectful of the adults in the village, who would in turn punish him in some way, never thinking that this was telling him that he either had to disassociate himself from his patents - “
“Not likely. Hrrrr,” Kel rumbled.
“Or take on the same disapproval. It also told him that it was inappropriate to mourn them, since presumably he was now in the care of much ‘worthier’ people.” She shook her head fretfully. “I wish people would think before they do things like this to children! All right, so before he has lived a single day with these people, he has been given the message that they disapprove of him, it is wrong to care deeply about the parents he loved because they didn’t deserve it, and he is to be grateful to people whose ways are utterly at odds with his. That’s a fine way to begin a new life, isn’t it?”
Snowfire coughed, and scratched his head. “There isn’t a great deal I can add to that statement,” he said awkwardly. “Nightwind, pardon me for saying this, but you seem very - direct - for an Empath. The k’Vala Empath was more - how should I put this? - diplomatic.”
“The k’Vala Empath is one of your Elders,” she chuckled. “Besides, you aren’t the one whose emotional turmoil is under discussion. I might be more diplomatic with you.”
“Get back to the sssubject,” Kel grumbled, “orrr the two of you will begin courrrting behaviorrr again, and I will have to sssprrread thisss oil myssself while you ante posssturrring.”
“Oh, excuse me,” she mocked him, dabbing a bit of oil on the tip of his beak in a lightning-quick stroke of her brush. “Since you insist - now, you say he has Mage-Gift and was apprenticed to a rather ineffective village mage, but did not actually want to be a mage?” At his nod, she pursed her lips. “Again, I am going to assume that he liked his Master. So, his Master is of low status and meager ability. He has been bound to this man, regardless of his own preferences. And he has, no doubt, been told how grateful he should be for having been so bound. So - the message he has been given is that he is so worthless he is now forcibly associated with a low-status individual. Because they believe he obviously is incapable of making a logical decision, his own preferences are of no bearing on the situation. Because they tell him he is too ignorant to make his own choices, his future has been determined for him whether or not he likes it, and because he cannot understand why he should be pleased and gratified with the situation, he is obviously morally and mentally deficient.”
“Starfall quoted the Shin’a’in about the road to disaster,” he observed.
She massaged her temples with her fingers, looking pained. “I know that one. You know, it is a very good thing that there are none of them available for me to strangle, for I would be very tempted to do so. I am also very tempted to suggest that what happened to that village seems very like a proper retribution for what they loaded upon this poor child! But, of course, that would be making a moral judgment based on limited information, about another culture.”
“And that would be wrrrrong,” Kel said, with an ironic tilt to his head. “Ssso of courrrsse you could not possssibly do that, unlesss it werrre sufficiently enterrrtaining.” The gryphon half-rumbled, half-burbled a laugh, and received a poke in the side in return.
“Well, now I have some clearer idea of what I will probably be walking into when I go root him out of my ekele,” Snowfire sighed. “Mind you, I have no doubt that the boy is as full of mischief as a gryphlet, is quite convinced that he knows better than any adult born, and is stubborn, willful, and rebellious. Just exactly as any other boy his age would be. Nevertheless, it seems to me that if these folk intended to create a situation designed to bring out the worst in him, they could not have been more effective.”
“That would be my conclusion, Snowfire,” Nightwind agreed, and dropped a thistledown-soft kiss on his forehead. “Now, go and see what you can do to turn the child around. You have a knack for that which astonishes me. For someone who claims to have no ability as an Empath, you certainly handle young creatures well.”
“Let’s hope it is a knack, and not just a streak of good luck,” he replied, and stood up. “And as for you, old bird,” he continued, looking to the gryphon, “I should think a distraction would do him some good, and you are the most distracting creature I can think of. Would you care to help me out with him?”
“Why not?” the gryphon agreed genially. “But - not immediately. I think he isss likely to indulge in morrre weeping, and I have only now gotten my featherrrsss drry.”
“Vain bird,” Snowfire told him with mock severity, and took himself back down the path to his ekele, leaving Night-wind and Kel together on the sunning rock.
He had no doubt that Kel was waiting to get Nightwind’s advice about how the gryphon should handle the boy, and not for any specious reason about drying feathers. That was fine; they should, ideally, have different approaches. After all, they couldn’t both play “elder brother.” Let me see; Starfall obviously is better suited to the role of “respected elder” - and when Dar’ian sees that a mage is the highest statused person in our group, that might make him change his mind about magic. Nightwind may be waiting to see if he accepts her as “mother surrogate” - it would be better if he made that choice. I think he is a little too clever to accept her if she puts herself forward in that role, and I know she knows it could be trouble if she tried to force it on him. The gryphon being the gryphon, he will no doubt take the role of “mysterious wonder” or “entrancing enigma” and play his appearance for all he can, to work in advice we could not give.
As he continued to plan out several possible approaches to take, he reached the door of his hut and carefully parted the curtain of vines. The boy was huddled up on his pallet with his face to the wall - and somewhat to Snowfire’s surprise, the owl, who was normally rather aloof, had come down off his perch and was on the ground beside the boy with one wing stretched over him as if Hweel were sheltering a nestling.
The owl turned his head and fastened his great golden eyes on Snowfire as the Tayledras entered. Instead of words, Hweel Sent emotion, a complicated flavor of distress and protectiveness.
:Boy hurts. Inside, loss. Shelter lost, caring lost. Pain, but no blood.: Hweel finally articulated.
:I know,: Snowfire replied simply. :I’ll do the best I can for him.:
Hweel relaxed immediately, as if certain, now that Snow-fire understood and had promised to help, that Snowfire could solve all of the boy’s complicated problems. Sometimes Hweel’s absolute trust in his bondmate’s ability to solve any problem was as irritating as it was touching, but Snowfire took great care never to convey that irritation.
Hweel relinquished his place on the boy’s pallet, waddling over to be lifted up to his perch, and once the owl was back where he belonged, Snowfire took up the place Hweel had vacated. He touched Darian’s shoulder carefully.
“Dar’ian,” he said, quite calmly. “I came to see if you were feeling any better.”
His immediate answer was a sniff, but Darian at least sat up. “N-no,” the boy replied, his voice hoarse.
Snowfire suppressed a chuckle, which would have been taken amiss. At least the lad is honest! “I’m sorry to hear that; no one wanted to upset you, least of all Starfall. He is quite personally distressed that you were made so unhappy by our questions; his last words to me were that he is not accustomed to having children run from him in tears.”
Darian rubbed his reddened eyes and sniffed again, but looked up at Snowfire with mingled surprise and disbelief. “Why should he care? It doesn’t matter how I feel - “
“But it does,” Snowfire
interrupted. “It matters a great deal. Adept Starfall is a great favorite among the children of our Vale; he is accustomed to being liked for his kindness as well as respected for his wisdom, and it makes him feel badly if someone is hurt by his actions or words.”
“I’m not worth worrying about,” Darian mumbled, looking down at the ground. “There’s no reason why he should think about me. There’s no reason why any of you should think about me, you’re all important people. You’re all these amazing warriors and mages, you can do things that nobody back in Errold’s Grove would believe, and I’m - I’m just the worthless troublemaker nobody else wants.”
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