Page 28 of Gryphon in Light

Ayshen poured honeywater for Firesong and brought it to him. Firesong accepted with a nod of thanks. “Well,” he temporized. “I am more wary of adventure than I was before. I don’t rush blindly forward anymore. I adventure the way a cat would, if you will. With careful examination and taking plenty of time to look things over before walking, not rushing, into it. At any rate, we discussed this pretty thoroughly. Your injuries are still in the process of healing, and your energies are still unsettled; the latter is a good reason to be gone from here, but the former suggests that we should do so at a more temperate pace than we would if I were younger and you were in a less frangible state.”

Wait, what? Did Firesong just say—he is old? He doesn’t look old! He can’t be old! Firesong had always seemed ageless to Kel. Like a tree, or maybe a rock. Was he saying that for effect?

All of Kelvren’s senses sharpened—even more than usual—and then much more than usual! A gryphon’s eyes were already sharper than an eagle’s, but suddenly he was aware of the tiniest details. The herringbone weave of Firesong’s tunic and breeches, the way one strand of hair kept separating from the rest and wafting out on a breeze only it could sense, the tiny, almost invisible lines at the outer corners of his eyelids, the—

“What are you doing, Kel?” Firesong asked, calmly, as Kel heard all of the over- and under-tones of his voice, saw the vibration at his throat as he spoke, even saw himself reflected as a self-illuminated image in Firesong’s eyes—

“Watching you.”

“Oh, you’re doing quite a bit more than that,” the Adept replied. “Keep your focus on me, but turn your attention inward. See what you are using your energies for.”

Now, this was a whole new exercise, and the novelty of it kept him from doing anything but trying to figure out what Firesong meant. Focus on the Adept, but look inside himself? If a gryphon’s eyes could have been crossed, his surely would be doing just that!

But his memory flung up an early image—how it had been to learn to use power to hold himself in the air, how that had been—yes!—looking inward and outward at the same time! And then everything snapped into place, and he continued to drink in the smallest details of his friend, from the elaborate silver rings on his hands that echoed the rings binding some of the locks of his hair, to the details of the subtle herringbone, which was not a single color, but two, very near, making a subtle difference that accounted for the shimmering of a fabric that was matte, and not shiny. But inside, inside himself he now was acutely aware of how some of that power he had tingling at the ends of his talons had moved to his eyes, creating, he somehow understood, a kind of lensing effect, with spectacular results. What if he could hear like—

Now the power moved to his ears, and he winced involuntarily at the result. No, I don’t like that! And after a moment of internal struggle and a blip of panic, it all slowly subsided, slowly bent to his will, and the power moved away, leaving him with his normal—albeit acute by human standards—hearing.

I could bear to see less, too, he decided after a moment, as colors that had been muted in the shaded lights of this room of the ekele became saturated, and the heat-color coming from both Ayshen and Firesong became so bright that he would have thought it was the Adept and hertasi who were a danger to the Vale, not him.

He blinked, slowly, and with each blink, the power receded until his vision was normal again.

“Now imagine what could have happened if we were out in wilderness, something startled you, and your vision did what it just did,” Firesong pointed out. “Suddenly and without warning, as it did just now.” Ayshen said nothing, just listened, focusing on each of them as they spoke in turn.

Kel never had any notion that thinking could be so much work . . . but there it was. This was hard. Having to think about what he was doing inside while talking about what-might-be and analyzing what he said before he said it.

“It would have been a distraction,” he agreed. “I could overreact, as if it was an enemy doing this, and not me doing it to myself. I think I am beginning to hate you less.”

“And you love me still,” teased Firesong.

“Yes, damn you,” he growled. Then shook his head so that his ear-tufts rattled. “So, what you are saying is that instead of a handful of us making all speed to Lake Evendim, we should mount what you call an expedition and travel slowly. So if things get out of hand, the situation will be more controlled.”

“Hopefully,” Firesong amended. “But yes. That is exactly what I mean.”

So there it was. A lightning-fast trip was not at all what Firesong intended, and Kel knew by now that once Firesong had made up his mind about something, there was no changing it. When he had said “expedition,” that had been exactly what he meant.

Kel could just picture it now. A veritable parade. A full-scale expedition, with many creatures, and probably Tayledras floating barges, and a very great deal of organizing to do. K’Valdemar didn’t have enough barges to spare, so other Vales would have to be asked, and then the barges would be sent through a Gate when the Vale didn’t have anything better to do, and then the barges would have to be stocked with supplies.

We certainly are not going to be moving quietly or discreetly.

And just who was going to be along was yet another question. Kel had originally assumed it would be him, Ayshen, Nightwind . . . oh, Firesong would have to go, of course, if he was going to be training Kel on the way.

But now he realized that he wasn’t the only one who needed tending. Firesong was as much in need of a trondi’irn as Kel was, and Silverfox would have to come as well . . . and a couple of dyheli for them to ride.

But once you started down that road, as Firesong said, you might as well just take your time and proceed deliberately, so their hertasi would have to come too, and . . . as Kel added up all the people who would need to come, although he had wanted to tell Firesong he could give over his luxuries and just go, it became very apparent that . . . well, that just wouldn’t work.

But Firesong was a clever bastard. He must have known that Kel would rage again if he was told this would be more than a couple of comrades flying off to explore. So he had said nothing and allowed Kel to figure it out for himself.

“Hopefully,” he echoed. “What else is it you intend for me to learn, now that the lessons have begun?”

The Adept’s eyelids drooped a little in approval. “Well, this is going to be all new ground for both of us,” he admitted. “Much as it pains me to say this, I don’t know everything!”

Kel threw his head up and dropped his jaw, as if in shock. “No!” he gasped. “It cannot be!”

Firesong threw a cushion at him. Kelvren batted it out of the air with a flick of a wing.

Was it only days ago that I couldn’t move that wing without wishing to die?

“This is going to be an exercise in patience for both of us, Kel,” Firesong admitted. “Because the only way I can think to begin this is to observe you, and when you begin to move magic energies instinctively, remind you to look at what you are doing. The more you do that, I think, the better you will become at directing it, until you establish something like ley-lines within yourself, which will enable us to use your magic to create and empower a very small Heartstone. There are debates about what it should be made of; it is going to have to be very tough, but small. I favor an iron pyrite crystal myself, and I suspect the others will come to the same conclusion.” The glitter in Firesong’s eyes said, without words, Because that’s what I’m using whether they like it or not.