Page 31 of Gryphon in Light

When it all snapped into place, he was astonished at what he Saw. Inside him, even in that single foot, power roiled chaotically. He had it under control, but barely. Still, barely was good enough for now.

He Saw thousands of hair-like strands of magic reaching out of him, questing, he assumed for more power. But there were no sources of magic in this room, and they pulsed and sought without connecting with anything.

But even as he noted these things, he also noted a slight ebb in the power within him, one that wasn’t transitory. So I am using magic to use mage-sight, and that is at a cost of power, and while I am still and quiet, there are no ways to replace the power I am expending, so I’m not dumping as much in light. Whatever it is that I am using to seek for power doesn’t seem to have much range past a couple of arm-lengths. At least . . . I think . . . not while I am resting, he amended. Because he really didn’t want to test that theory right now.

Finally, he opened his eyes again and raised his head. Firesong watched him intently.

“I don’t hurt,” he said. “But that’s because I’ve turned on something—one of those humors that Nightwind talked to Ayshen about? I don’t know. But it’s like I’ve been given a painkilling medicine, except that instead of making my mind foggy, it’s got the potential to take away all my inhibitions and make me euphoric. Which is pleasant to experience, but not good for thinking. And very much sketi when it comes to acting on impulse.” He sighed, but didn’t add that it felt very strange and obscurely wrong not to just follow his instincts as he always had.

Firesong nodded. “Anything else?”

“When you use mage-sight, do you see millions of tiny, long hair-like things coming out of me and reaching for more magic energy?” he asked instead.

“Interesting. No. But that’s probably because I haven’t Looked at you in the right way.” The Adept narrowed his eyes and stared at Kel in a way that, as a predator recognizing a predatory gaze, made Kelvren feel acutely uncomfortable.

So Kel looked away. No shame in breaking gaze first, he reasoned. And Firesong didn’t need Kel to be looking at him in order for him to analyze what he was Seeing.

“Well, this is interesting,” Firesong said after a moment. “We certainly have . . . altered things about you. The magic-collecting function of your feathers has taken on a kind of life of its own.”

“Because of course it has.” Kel sighed. “I suspect it thinks for itself too, at least in the same way that plants ‘think’ to seek the sun.”

“That’s not a bad analogy,” Firesong admitted. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I am tempted to see if we can get some control over this new development, but I am tired and Silverfox will give me that look if I return to our ekele looking like I have been Doing Things.”

Ayshen nodded approval at that. It was the first time the hertasi had moved since he had sat down on a cushion after their arrival.

“It’s late and you should go anyway,” Kel pointed out. “I don’t want Silverfox to give me that look. Combined with all this magic, I might burst into flames.”

Ayshen cast Firesong a sharp look, but Firesong just shook his head slightly. “It’s all right to joke about it. I don’t believe you are in danger of doing that as long as you are not moving too much.”

“That’s comforting,” Kel said dryly, then checked himself again. “Not that it’s your fault,” he half-apologized.

“I will be honest with you, Kel. If you and I can unravel how all this works, we may be able to speed up our restoration of the ley-lines.” Firesong stood up, his eyes glittering a little—in anticipation, Kel suspected, of a juicy puzzle to solve. Well, he’d probably be feeling the same thing if the puzzle wasn’t him. “But mostly . . . mostly I want my friend whole again, and very much not in danger of bursting into flames or draining the Heartstone then bursting into flames.” He looked as if he was about to say more, but stopped himself.

And Kel . . . thought.

“I am never going to be the same again, am I.” He made a statement of it, rather than a question.

“No.” Firesong cut straight to the truth without beating around the bush.

“As long . . . as long as life is good.” He thought some more. “You can’t stop change. You can’t stop the years passing, or things from happening to you. So no matter what, if this hadn’t happened to me, my life still would not be the same as it was yesterday, or the day before that.” He paused, and Firesong waited. “It is a hard thing to accept, though. I will probably whine.”

“As if I didn’t hear whining from every resident of this Vale,” Ayshen said scornfully. “Even hertasi! Everyone whines, everyone complains, and even if whining doesn’t change anything, letting the frustration out doesn’t hurt. And at least you’re not whining inside my head like Tyrsell does.”

That last startled a laugh out of him, and Firesong chuckled.

“On that note, I will take my leave. I will see you after you have eaten in the morning, and we can begin our explorations,” Firesong said, touching his mask to make sure it was still in place. “Peaceful dreams, my friend.”

“I’d say the same to you, but I don’t think Silverfox is going to let you go to sleep. At least not immediately,” Kel teased.

Firesong just tossed his hair and strolled gracefully out of the door, letting the flap down behind him.

But now Kel wondered: how much of that grace and apparent leisure was born out of moving carefully to avoid pain?

Before he could dwell on that thought for too long, Ayshen stood up, catching his attention. “In case one of us isn’t here, look. Firewood there. This cabinet hides a gravity-flow supply of water from a reservoir above the roof of the tent. One of us refills it once a day. If you want a water-bath—”

“I’d rather have a nice grooming,” Kel interjected. “It takes forever to dry.”

“Well, then, here’s your drinking water. There’s a sand-pit outside the back door for—you know. We’ll be bringing your food and drink out here and taking the remains away immediately. Otherwise this very nice tent will be ankle-deep in insects and rodents, and while I am sure you can snack on the rodents, the insects—”