Page 39 of Gryphon in Light

“Oh! Everyone is so polite,” Genni commented, then in a lower register, added, “They’re dying to talk about us,” Genni whispered. “Let’s take this to the tent.”

So they left, and as soon as they got past the flaps of the mess tent, the hum of conversation tripled in volume. Hallock heard a strangled sound and glanced at Genni to see that she was stifling laughter.

That’s my lady. His heart lifted, and with that came the certainty that she was going to fit in just fine. Maybe she’d never been in a Guard camp before, but she was going to fit in just fine.

They sat side by side on the cot to eat, with Hallock using the fork from his mess kit and Genni using the spoon. “I have a kit of my own somewhere in there,” Genni said after the first few hungry bites, pointing with her chin at the three packs in the corner of the sleeping area. “We should return this to the cooks clean.”

“Aye,” Hallock replied. “It might cheer them up, after a . . . Stew Day.” He grinned, mouth full, just marveling in the fact that she was here, and real. And she was no gauzy hallucination, no—Genni was properly dressed for travel. None of her filmy scarves or flowing skirts for sensible Genni, not when such garments would have been a handicap. She had known to dress for hard travel, and for working, and he had no doubt that the clothing she’d packed was of the same nature. She was in her working clothes, and only one green apron short of her usual Hand garments. Curly brown hair escaping from the loose knot at the back of her neck, sensible long-sleeved brown linen tunic and equally sensible black canvas trews, sturdy, scuffed boots meant for long walking.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” he finally said, warmly.

“You’ve said that at least two dozen times,” she teased, brown eyes dancing with amusement. Then she sobered. “And if I’d known—”

“That doesn’t matter,” he told her. “It all came out right in the end, thanks to the Healers and Kelvren. And that is as good a place to start as any.”

He told her everything that had happened after Kel had healed him, been healed himself, and shot out of the camp like a young sun to stop the fighting without the further loss of a single life. She listened intently, hands still, eyes on his. She’d probably heard some of this, back at Haven, but not the whole. She certainly would not have heard about how brave and how self-sacrificing Kelvren had been. Treyvan or Hydona would have told her, but she’d never been anywhere near the gryphonic ambassadors before he’d left, and it wasn’t likely she’d have gone to them to find out about him. Genni’s expressions changed rapidly on her face, from wonder to awe, abruptly to anger at how Kel had been treated after he’d Healed Hallock, to awe again as Hallock described to the best of his ability the sight of Kelvren rising into the sky like a beacon.

“So . . . of course some damn fools have to make political garbage out of an act of pure selflessness and bravery,” he ended in tones of disgust, as she made vague, sympathetic noises. “Instead of talking about Kel like the hero he is, the captain tells me that poison tongues are nattering that he’s some sort of monster in the service of the Hawkbrothers, looming for some sinister takeover of the Crown or some such horseshite. I mean, he should by all rights get a medal from the Queen, and a parade through the streets of Haven! Instead, there’s nonsense about how he’s a danger, and that the Queen intends to use him to terrorize her own people. Can you believe it?” He didn’t bother to hide his anger and indignation. “Captain says that the boffins in Haven and among the Hawkbrothers have decided he needs to get right away from Valdemar for a while, and that includes k’Valdemar Vale. So they’re putting together an exploration trip to the north and west part of Lake Evendim. The part that’s not in Valdemar, and is still Pelagirs,” he added for clarity.

She scrunched up her face. “Why?” she asked. “I mean, why, leaving aside the fact that it’s not in Valdemar.”

He scratched his head. “I don’t rightly know,” he admitted. “Something magical, like as not. But the thing is, the Crown and the Hawkbrothers both want some Valdemarans along, and Kel asked specifically for me, because we know and trust each other, I reckon.” He shrugged slightly. “Lots of times, Kel doesn’t think with his head, he thinks with his heart. Of course, I have to be grateful for that, since it meant he practically killed himself to Heal me.” He paused to let her think about all of that for a moment or two. “It’s the Pelagirs, and I have no notion of what they think they’re going to do out there. So if we volunteer for it, that’s going right into lands full of danger and uncanny things. And the captain says he can use the both of us right here . . .”

“But?” she prompted, when he trailed off.

He laughed awkwardly. “Well, this promotion feels like boots that are too tight, and that’s the honest truth. Now, maybe time’d stretch the boots, but right now, it’s damned uncomfortable. And I feel like I owe Kel just about everything. And . . .” He sighed. “I wouldn’t say this to anybody but you, Gen, but I’m tired of the killing. And I’m tired of it being the Guard against our own people, even if those people are full of crap and ought to be behind bars. It doesn’t feel right, and Kel said the same thing, and that’s why he did what he did. Still. It’s the complete unknown against things we know, y’see. It’s jumping off a ledge and not knowing if the ground is an armlength down there or it’s a cliff. And it’s taking you with me. Unless,” he added hastily, “you’d rather stay here, while I go.”

“Of course we’re going,” Genni said firmly. “If they’ll have us both, that is. It’s their expedition, and they have the right to pick who they take. I nearly lost you and never knew it, and never would have known it until it was too late. I don’t want to be parted from you again. But if they won’t have me, and you still want to go, then go, because I can see you’re unhappy here and I won’t stand in your way. I’ll wait here and serve. But,” she added, “I’ll tell your captain I’m keeping your tent.”

He had to laugh at that, and so did she, and for some reason neither of them could stop laughing until they were gasping for air. Maybe it was the relief at unburdening to each other. Maybe it was the relief at being together at last. Maybe it was laughing at the unknown they were about to hurl themselves into.

But all that really mattered for the moment was that they were of one mind, and they laughed themselves into each other’s arms.

Kelvren’s “tent” was assembled for him with a good view over a pleasant meadow—no doubt patrolled by hertasi cadres in the woods—which was split by a bushy erosion cut that fed a thickly tangled pond some twenty feet below. On either side of the cut, the actual pieces of the expedition were being put together right outside Kel’s domed eyrie. Kelvren’s sleep had been sound thanks to jugs of “specialty brew,” so it had taken a lot to wake him. Chatter, clicks, calls, whistles, and shouts increased with the amount of sunlight, and he’d found the adoring Jylan and her cart just inside the privacy fly as he farted himself awake. He was barely into basic conversation and the first pounds of breakfast when he heard increasing volumes of hoofbeats and voices, and crushing branches.

“I still say we should just use horses,” said someone whose voice he did not recognize.

:Horses are nervous, horses are prey, and horses are not weapons,: retorted what could only be a dyheli, though again, he didn’t recognize the Mind-voice. :We are not nervous, we are not prey, and anything that seeks to prey on us will come to a pointed end.:

“Sure, but we could eat a horse,” someone else retorted, and the shouts and sounds of a scuffle started. At that, Kelvren left his breakfast and paced toward the entry, shoving it open with his beak.

There was a burst of activity outside. A sizable floating barge, guideroped by four Hawkbrothers, was towed by a single dyheli stag to a mooring in the meadow surrounded by building materials. The nearly comically undersized prime mover was a youngish dyheli, by the lack of rings on his horns, and judging by the coating of caked mud—not one to give up easily when there was worth to be proven. Just about the age when young male dyheli showed both restlessness and aggression, they were often asked to leave the main herd and join a bachelor herd for a few years. This barge had until moments ago apparently been towed by the same dyheli who was now whirling around chasing a Hawkbrother. The targeted Hawkbrother climbed their guiderope as quickly as they could, only to be thwarted by leaping dyheli headbutts until a truce was signaled.

As soon as Kelvren shoved his beak outside, everyone nearby turned his way, and chirps, hoots, and squawks sounded off from the rows of bondbirds atop the shelters. Kel still wasn’t used to people shielding their eyes from him. Hawkbrothers in labor clothes were gathered under a score of weatherproofed tension structures, around trestle tables with scrolls and plans laid out upon them; another dome held banks of measuring tools, black wax crayons, and marked cords. Each table had its own hertasi, too, going down checklists. Non-Tayledras timberfolk and apparently fearless workers, probably from Kelmskeep, inspected saws and planes.

“Oh, pardon, Kelvren. Ayshen decided that since this is your expedition, and Firesong’s, we might as well do the assembly where you can run your eye over everything,” the young man, who Kel finally remembered was called Swiftbow, called aloud, and motioned him over.

Very diplomatic, Swiftbow, he thought, now a little irritated. Who is here to keep an eye on whom? Not everyone was Firesong, and not everyone who knew Firesong trusted Firesong, so they might be here as much to monitor the Adept as anything. A restless Healer makes a malady to cure, the saying went. Maybe they weren’t here just to build things . . . here next to Kelvren. I’m sure “they” have other reasons for this . . .

But on the other hand, Firesong was spending the greater part of his day here—sometimes in actual magic lessons, the kinds that humans, who didn’t have the same instincts for handling magic energies that gryphons had, got. Sometimes just watching Kel. Sometimes both of them sharing that book about gryphon physiology and trying to work out how that applied to Kel.

So the bright gryphon paced down the shelter’s ramp and moved closer to where the crew was maneuvering the barge. The not-actually-insulted dyheli bounded over the hertasi-trails toward Swiftbow, and shook himself off.

“Am I to understand that dyheli are coming along with us?” Kelvren asked, curious now. He said directly to the active dyheli, “Are you actually going to humiliate yourselves by putting yourselves in harness?”

The young stag threw up his head and snorted in the way that dyheli did when they laughed. :Tyrsell volunteered the bachelor herd, but we don’t mind. It’s a chance to see new places, perhaps find territory for new herds of our own. And—: the stag swiveled his head quickly around, as if looking for something, :—and get out of Tyrsell’s orbit for a while.:

That surprised a laugh out of Kelvren, and the Hawkbrothers all chuckled. “We won’t tell him you said that,” Swiftbow said, as the mooring team cinched up the ground rings, anchoring the barge.