Page 29 of Gryphon in Light

That amused Kel. He probably already has the one he wants in his magpie-stash. But he won’t know where it is, so he’s waiting until Silverfox unearths it for him. Ha!

There was something comforting in knowing that Firesong had his flaws, and one of them was that he drifted through life scattering his belongings as if there was always a hertasi following along behind him, picking up after him. Of course . . . there always was, actually.

“So . . . I have to learn about how the power works in me now by observing it when something instinctive happens . . . and I have to be mindful of my reactions, because I can’t count on instinct being right, now.” He nodded and so did Firesong. “And if we set out to make the best possible time, there would be no time to do that. And given the amount of power siphoning into the Lake, that . . . would be a very bad idea.”

“That’s an understatement,” Firesong agreed.

“So if we are going to have to not make best pace, it’s your idea that we should travel so you have all the comforts of home.” He couldn’t resist that little jab.

Firesong only laughed, but it was a laugh tinged with sadness. “They aren’t so much ‘comforts’ as necessities,” he corrected.

Kel was about to fence back, when he realized that all this time, he’d assumed Firesong was in the same robust state of health as—as—well, as he had been before he’d joined the defense at Deedun.

Humans usually complain a lot about pain and discomfort. But maybe Firesong doesn’t do that. Maybe he hides his problems . . . afraid others would think less of him? No, that can’t be right. Wait . . .

Once again, memory came to his rescue, with a recollection of an exchange he’d overheard between Darian and Firesong. “Keisha is going to remove the skin of your back with her tongue when she finds out you’ve been hiding that from her,” Darian had said. What “that” was wasn’t apparent to Kel, and he still didn’t know exactly what it was now. But Firesong’s next words had at least narrowed things down.

“It’s something time either will or will not mend,” Firesong said. “If it does, good. If it does not, I will add it to everything else that creaks and hurts.”

Creaks and hurts . . . I never even thought what that implied, then. Not once. Why didn’t I think? I just assumed he had jammed a finger and generally had a headache from power manipulation. But, no, no, that was a very wrong assumption. What I overheard actually means Firesong is always in pain, and never shows it.

The memory carried on. “Yes, but—”

“There are no ‘buts.’ What can’t be cured must be endured, and it’s not as if any of us are immortal. Why should I make everyone around me irritated by constantly going on about my ills? The only time it’s relevant is when it’s something I physically cannot do anymore. Then I’ll say something. This? This is a slip of a tattooing needle. A little nothing.”

Kel hadn’t heard the end of that conversation, but he knew at the time he had just glossed over it and taken it literally. He even remembered thinking, Why would he want tattoos? Well, they don’t have handsome feathers to decorate, so I suppose they must do what they can.

“So . . . how many will we have on this journey?” he asked instead. He tried to keep himself from sounding . . . judgmental. It did help that he was spending a considerable amount of his attention on modulating his emotional reactions so as not to disturb things inside himself more than they already were.

As a result, his tone was flat, but either Firesong realized what he was doing, or didn’t care. “I don’t know yet. You, me, Nightwind, Ayshen, Silverfox, Snowfire, some fighters certainly. Ayshen will want other hertasi.” He rubbed his thumb and middle finger across his closed eyes, ending in pinching the bridge of his nose between them. “After that . . . I don’t know.”

“Hurrr. I don’t organize things. Things are organized around me.”

“Kelvren holds still and the world revolves around him,” Firesong teased, dropping his hand into his lap.

“Only when I am dizzy,” Kel retorted, and looked over at the silent hertasi.

Ayshen snorted. “Of course I am organizing this!” he said. “As if I would let anyone else! I have some ideas. I think we should have some Valdemarans. Pity Shandi can’t be spared, a Herald would be useful—”

“Not useful enough that we have any right to pull such an invaluable resource away from Valdemar at the time the country needs its Heralds the most,” Firesong chided gently.

Ayshen looked unconvinced, but Kel nodded. “I feel bad taking Nightwind. Snowfire will come if Nightwind comes, and if it weren’t that Keisha is here . . . but I need Nightwind.”

“And not taking Keisha is why we are going to remind Darian that we know he needs to stay.” Firesong blinked slowly. “See how taking time to consider everything can be beneficial?”

Kel reached for a beaker of honeywater. “I will admit this if you refrain from telling me I told you so.”

Firesong just took a long drink from his glass.

“You just let me do this,” Ayshen said, his tail moving back and forth on the wooden floor behind him, a sure sign that his mind was already spinning webs. “I have some ideas.”

“And we look forward to seeing them executed. Meanwhile, what about the project I set you all on this morning?” Firesong prompted.

“Oh, that,” Ayshen said, a little dismissively. “Already done.”

“Ah, good. Come along, Kel, if you can move after all that food.” Firesong stood up, went to the wall, and took one of his more “ordinary” masks down, slipping it over his head.

Curiosity now warring with sleepiness, Kel got to his feet and—carefully and gingerly—followed Firesong out into the Vale, taking great care to keep his emotions on an even keel, and to stay in the middle of the path.