A moment later, Snowfire caught the child as he collapsed, all his joints suddenly gone loose, every muscle limp. He laid Darian down carefully in a spot of sun on the grass, and lowered all his own shields, joining his mind as intimately to Tyrsell’s as he ever had to Hweel’s. More so, perhaps, since that melding was so natural a part of a dyheli’s mind.
With the two of them working as one, the speed with which they built temporary shields around Darian’s mind was literally that of thought. Then Snowfire formed a deep link to Darian below the level of thought itself, so deep that the boy would never know it was there, and never detect any difference in the way he felt. While he held that link wide open, Tyrsell went to work on Snowfire’s memories. The herd leader extracted, not only the language of the Tayledras, but the knowledge of the language, and placed it carefully into the boy’s own memories, building it up from the level just above instinct, the way that a baby learns. Now Darian would not have to think to translate - he would have the Tayledras tongue as if he had been bilingual from his very first word.
In this fashion, Tyrsell’s way was infinitely better than the spell and Mindtouch that Snowfire had used to learn Valdemaran. Snowfire made a mental note to one day ask Darian - once the boy really knew what he was consenting to - to allow Tyrsell to reverse the process, and give Snowfire such a sure knowledge of the language of Valdemar.
Tyrsell was swift and certain; there was something about the way that a dyheli’s mind worked that (when they had Tyrsell’s particular Gifts) made them instinctive geniuses at laying in language-paths. In the time it took Snowfire’s heart to take three, slow beats, Tyrsell was done. He withdrew his mind first, leaving Snowfire to close all but the deep-link path behind him, and setting the shields he had laid in place to fade as the boy took over his own shielding needs. Darian would hear and understand any deliberate Mindtouch on the part of any dyheli or Tayledras, but no one could force his mind open, or really do anything other than talk with him. And Darian would never hear unwanted thoughts intruding on him if his ability to Mindhear suddenly became more than the close-range, rudimentary ability he had now.
As Snowfire withdrew and made some swift observations of the boy’s potential Gifts, he realized that such a thing was far more likely than he had thought when Tyrsell first proposed this operation. Perhaps it was the sheer number of traumas that the boy had passed through, but - well, going abruptly from “normal” to wide open was a very real possibility.
And it was a good thing that Snowfire had the deep-link in place. At that level, he would not eavesdrop on the boy’s private thoughts, but he would know if Darian was in distress, he would know if any of the boy’s potentials suddenly opened up, and he would be able to track Darian if he somehow got separated from the Tayledras encampment.
Tyrsell had certainly noticed the same things, and very diplomatically did not say “I told you so.” :A neat piece of work,: was all he said, and about that moment, the boy awoke - probably with a splitting headache. Still, Snowfire thought, not without sympathy, the spell would have given him as bad a headache, and maybe worse.
Darian’s words and actions confirmed that diagnosis, but he still remained polite enough despite the pain to thank Tyrsell for his efforts. Snowfire noted with pleasure that he spoke Tayledras with the unconscious ease of a native.
Tyrsell lost all interest in the boy now that the work was complete; that, too, was typical of dyheli, and because Snowfire was used to it, he wasn’t at all offended. Darian was too preoccupied with his headache to notice what could have been considered very rude behavior, but was really only more dyheli “expediency.”
But the boy all but forgot the pounding in his skull when Snowfire told him that he was about to meet a gryphon.
“A gryphon?” Darian asked incredulously, his eyes lighting up with absolute delight. “A real gryphon? Here?”
“A real gryphon,” Snowfire told him, smiling a little at his wide eyes. “Nightwind is only incidentally acting as our Healer; her main job is to be Kelvren’s trondi’irn.” Since that word was not Tayledras, but Kaled’a’in, and not part of the language as Darian had “learned” it, Snowfire explained it. “A trondi’irn is a special attendant for nonhuman creatures, although usually it is only the gryphons who need such help. They do all the things that the gryphons cannot - it is very difficult for gryphons to manage fine manipulations with talons, for instance - and they take care of the little ailments that nonhumans fall prey to. Because they understand these things so well, if they are attending to only one nonhuman, they often double as the Healers for small expeditions such as ours. Back in the times of long ago, a trondi’irn would often manage the needs of a very large group of gryphons or other nonhumans, but that is no longer the case.”
Darian nodded earnestly, but it was very obvious that his mind was not on Nightwind and her duties. “Is he really as big as they say?” he asked eagerly. “Is he really as big as a house? Can he really fly? Does he eat whole horses in a bite?”
Snowfire chuckled. “Oh, gryphons are not as large as all that, but if they spread their wings wide, I think it is safe to say that their wingspan is easily as big or bigger than a house. And although they do not eat whole horses in one bite, they do eat quite a lot. Kelvren has to do a great deal of hunting to keep himself supplied with meat.”
“Can he talk?” Darian asked next, practically skipping in eagerness to see the marvel. “Will I hear him thinking at me like Tyrsell?”
“No, he speaks Tayledras very well, although he tends to have what we call a ‘gryphonic accent.’ You’ll see what that means in a little.” Snowfire patted the boy’s shoulder. “He really is looking forward to meeting you.”
By this time they had wound their way back to the clearing, and as Snowfire made that last statement, a deep voice spoke from the shelter of a shadowy bower immediately ahead of them.
“Ah, but isss the young gentleman quite prrreparrred to meet me?”
A deeper shadow rose out of the rest, and strolled forward into the sunlight, then posed perfectly in the best possible light. Kelvren looked truly magnificent, and knew it.
Darian’s eyes widened, and he stared at Kelvren with all the fascination of a Kaled’a’in messenger-bird with a shiny new toy.
Darian had not yet gotten used to the wonder of being able to talk to Snowfire in the Hawkbrother tongue without having to think about it, when a deep, resonant voice speaking out of the shadows just ahead of them captured all of his attention. He and Snowfire were standing in a rare patch of brilliant sun in the middle of the clearing that he had been taken to for the meeting; ahead of them, the shadows were so deep and black by contrast that he might have been peering into a well. When he tried to make out who or what was speaking, the contrast defeated him.
“Ah,” said the voice, a rumbling bass with odd overtones, “but isss the young gentleman quite prrreparrred to meet me?”
A moment later, part of the darkest shadow detached itself from the rest, and moved forward into the sun. And although it was not as big as a house, it was entirely large enough to satisfy Darian.
The creature that moved into the sunlight was a glistening golden brown with a hint of metallic gold at the edges of each of his perfectly-defined feathers. His head, broad and handsome, with jaunty ear-tufts, had a definite eagle look about it, and at a guess, the folded wings would easily span the length of a house, if not more. Both front and rear feet ended in formidable talons, each as long as Darian’s hand. He sported a wide leather collar adorned with delicate scrollwork attached to an equally handsome body-harness with a chest-plaque, the front yoke of which had a matching leather pouch attached. As he stared down at Darian, looking every bit as haughty and regal as Darian could have wished, he took the boy’s breath away. He was, in every way, a wonder, and Darian could not have taken his eyes off of him if the earth had fallen away beneath the boy’s feet.
Once he had come fully into the sun, the gryphon didn’t move, which was probably just as well. D
arian’s heart was pounding with excitement, and he had a shivery feeling as he looked at that huge beak and those cruel talons that his excitement could easily turn to fear.
“I think you’ve made a conquest, Kel,” Snowfire laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners with merriment.
“Asss it ssshould be,” the gryphon replied, raising his head a bit higher with such unconcealed vanity that Darian, too, was startled into a laugh. And the gryphon joined in their laughter, proving that he was not unaware of his vanity and the absurdity of it.
“Darian, this is Kelvren Skothkae, who is an unranked gryphon-scout of the full k’Vala gryphon-wing,” Snowfire told him, his eyes sparkling. “Kel, this is Dar’ian Firkin k’Valdemar.”
“Unranked?” Kelvren replied, cocking his head to one side speculatively. “Perrrhapsss now - but I think ourrr wingleaderrr had bessst look to hisss posssition, or think about rrretirrring. I intend to make a grrreat name forrr myssself on thisss expedition.”
“You’ve certainly said so often enough,” Snowfire teased, and Kelvren snapped playfully in his direction, then turned his head pointedly toward Darian, pretending to ignore Snowfire.
The boy found himself the focus of those huge, piercing eyes, and suddenly understood why rabbits froze when hawks caught sight of them.
“And what think you of ourrr little family?” the gryphon asked. “Arrre we all you had thought we would be, when you thought of Tayledrrrasss?”
“More,” Darian was able to say honestly, and with unfeigned enthusiasm. “I - I think that you’re all just - just - unbelievable!” He shook his head carefully, to avoid making the headache any worse. “And you, sir, you’re just like seeing an amazing tale come right to life in front of me! I never thought I’d ever get to see a real gryphon in my whole life, and I never, ever, thought a gryphon would be as - as - as wonderful as you are!”
“Rrreally?” the gryphon purred, and Darian could tell that he was very pleased. He even preened a little. “Well. Thank you! I hope I can jussstify that impresssssion.”
“You could prove how great a tracker you are by finding Nightwind,” Snowfire suggested, with a twitch of his mouth that showed he was trying hard to keep from laughing.
“Pah, that takesss no trrracking,” Kelvren replied dismissively. “You will find herrr at the pool, wherrre I left herrr. I believe ssshe is waiting forrr you and wissshesss to sssee thisss obssserrrvant young brrrancherrr.”
“And you? Are you coming with us?” Snowfire asked.
“I am ssstarrrved, and if we arrre to underrrtake that sor-rrtie tonight, I mussst eat now ssso I am crrrop-light but enerrrgizsssed.” With that, the gryphon spread his wings, which were even larger than Darian had imagined; as Snowfire took Darian’s shoulder and pulled the boy back to the edge of the clearing, Kelvren made one or two experimental wingbeats that sent wind whipping around both of them.
Then, leaping grandly into the air with a thrust of his wings that was vastly more powerful than his trial, the gryphon took off, creating a veritable whirlwind within the confines of the clearing, and sending dust and stray leaves surging into the sky in his wake.
Darian stared after him with his mouth dropping open in amazement. Wings pumping rhythmically, the gryphon surged up above the treetops, then vanished above the foliage.
Snowfire laughed, then patted him on the shoulder. “He did that for your benefit, you know,” the Hawkbrother said with amusement. “He could very easily have gone to the mouth of the valley and taken off from there. In fact, it would have taken him a lot less effort - but gryphons seem to love to impress an audience, and you are the only one of us who isn’t used to seeing him take off and land. I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if he tries to find out where you are before he comes in for a landing, and arranges to make a dramatic entrance in front of you.”
“Are all gryphons like that?” Darian asked, still dazzled.
“Most of them; endlessly cheerful, considerably vain, but able to make fun of themselves. Oh, and beautiful, of course, but we try not to say that too often in front of them; they’re conceited enough as it is,” Snowfire chuckled, his shoulders shaking a little.
Darian’s eyes began to water from staring so long into the bright blue of the sky, and his head throbbed in protest. He moved quickly back into the shadows, and Snowfire must have noticed the grimace of pain he couldn’t repress, for the Hawkbrother gestured him to take a particular path leading out of the clearing and set off down it himself. Darian followed him willingly now, recalling that Snowfire had said something about Nightwind having some way of getting rid of that pounding ache.
The way that the paths here twisted and turned around little groves and vine-covered huts and tiny water gardens made him very confused, and made this place seem much larger than it probably actually was. It was very bewildering, and Darian had quite lost his way when they came out into sunlight again, at the side of the smaller of two pools of water. This was clearly the end of the valley; a short, cliff cut out of the rocks of the hills rose before them, with steep, tree-covered slopes on either side. A spring emerged from the rock at the base of the cliff, feeding the two pools and a stream which led from them into the tangle of the Tayledras encampment. One of the pools was considerably smaller than the other, being just large enough for - say - a gryphon to bathe in.
“This is where you will bathe,” Snowfire said, pointing to the smaller pool. “You see the sluice there? Lift the lever when you are done, and the dirty water will drain away - then drop it, and lift that lever, and new water will flow into the pool from that larger one. Don’t worry about trying to find bathing things. Just come here and start to undress; a hertasi will see you and there will be soap and towels beside you before you are finished disrobing. Your clothing will disappear as if by magic, and clean clothes will be waiting for you when you are done bathing.” Snowfire smiled at his expression of surprise. “Now you see why we hate to travel without our hertasi friends.”
“I dunno,” Darian said dubiously, looking down at the pool and then out at the spring that fed it. “It looks awfully cold.” Of all the things he hated most, he hated cold baths - which was mostly all he got, since everybody else in the village had precedence over him at the bathhouse.
“Ah, I forget you cannot heat your water with magic - or can you?” Snowfire looked at him quizzically.
He shook his head, and regretted doing so almost at once, as his head protested. “Not that Justyn ever taught me,” he replied.
“Well, can you call fire?” the Hawkbrother persisted. At Darian’s cautious nod, he looked satisfied. “It is the same, only spread out over the water and not concentrated on the kindling. I would ask you to try it, but I think you had better wait until I find where Nightwind has gone.”
He peered around the clearing, and then left Darian to nurse his head beside the pool while he went off to investigate some of the places at this end of the valley that were not immediately visible. Darian stared at the surface of the pool and wondered why on earth Justyn had never taught him how to heat water. It would have made a great many winter baths more bearable.
But maybe he didn’t know how, Darian told himself, trying to be fair. I mean, it could be that only the Hawkbrothers know about this sort of thing. It isn’t all that logical to think you can use the same magic that calls fire to heat up water - fire and water are opposites, right? So maybe it wasn‘t his fault he didn‘t know.
Just then, Snowfire appeared, parting the trailing branches of a huge willow, and holding them aside to let Nightwind pass through them. Of all of the Hawkbrothers that Darian had seen thus far, she was the only one who didn’t have snow-white hair, or hair dyed in patterns of pale cream and various shades of brown. Her hair was as black as a raven’s feather, and she wore it in a heavy knot at the nape of her neck, with little wisps escaping from it. Her eyes, set under a pair of brows as curved as a falcon’s wings, were a darker blue than the others, and her skin was just a few shades duskier.
Her clothing was a bit different, too; nothing he could put a finger on, since he hardly cared what he wore from one day to the next, but something he definitely noticed - and on the breast of her tunic was a peculiar silver badge, rather like the wings and head of a bird of prey. He thought perhaps he had seen it before, and then he realized that he had - in the center of the chest-piece of Kelvren’s harness. Perhaps it signified that they weren’t actually Hawkbrothers, but were - his new memories supplied the word - Kaled’a’in.
She had a basket over one arm, and a friendly smile on her lips, and held out one hand to him which he took in reflex. “I don’t know if you recall me from last night,” she said, her speech betraying a faint accent, as opposed to the way his new memories told him that Tayledras should sound. “I’m Nightwind, in case you’ve forgotten or this ruffian forgot to mention my name, and I understand you have one demon-rending headache.”
“Well,” he said, feeling suddenly shy. “It does hurt.”
“I can certainly understand that,” she replied, and put her basket down to take his face in both hands, turning his eyes into the light and examining them. “Yes, indeed, I can certainly understand that. However, I think I have a remedy for you; it’ll taste vile, but it will work.”
Owlflight v(dt-1 Page 21