Page 53 of Gryphon in Light

Well, the analogy failed at that point.

But without the Heartstone, the channels simply wouldn’t materialize.

He’d need Firesong’s help for that, though. Most of his own manipulation of magic was strictly on the level of instinct. The light spell was one of the few he actually knew as a spell. That, and healing.

“Well?” Firesong asked, as Jefti’s handling of his feather grew more confident, and his touch deft and delicate. “Did you learn anything?”

“I believe I need that trinket of yours in place first, and to ‘grow’ the channels from it, rather than establishing the channels first,” he murmured, feeling free to now simply enjoy the ministrations of his trondi’irn and who was clearly going to be her apprentice. “Because if I try it your way, the channels are going to fill up, hit the end where I haven’t done anything yet, and possibly bad things will happen.” He clicked his beak a little. “Or not. I’m not sure. I’m not the mage that you and Treyvan are. But your way won’t work. I need the Heartstone. I need to make the tracks for the power coming into it, then when everything is in place, I can open the connection between the Heartstone and the virtutem. Once I do that, you might have to teach me to turn the light spell into something else. Or maybe once the power has somewhere to go, I won’t need to do anything. The reason neither of us have been able to figure out a way to connect the Heartstone and the virtutem is because we’ve been expecting the indusvenarum to do the work, and that’s not what it was designed for. We need to build something entirely new that the system won’t reject defensively from overpressure.”

“Huh!” Firesong exclaimed. Then came the silence, broken only by the occasional murmured instruction from Nightwind, that told him Firesong was using his own mage-sight to examine what was going on in Kel’s body.

“I think you’re right,” Firesong said finally. “I think this explains a lot!” he added with more confidence. “Well, my work for the day will be to go see Silversnow and get my little Heartstone mounted in something. Would you prefer a headpiece, breastplate, or a backplate between your wings?”

“Breastplate,” Kel replied instantly. “A backplate would be irritating. A headpiece would be ridiculous and heavy. And how could I wear a teleson and a headpiece? I’d look absurd”

“Well, if I had been uncertain before that you are on the mend, the re-emergence of your vanity would tell me that my uncertainty was unfounded.” Firesong laughed, and got up from his seat. “I’ll just leave you to Nightwind’s tender mercies.”

“Yes, please, go away,” said Kel, closing his eyes again. “This is the first time since Deedun I have actually enjoyed myself.”

Firesong chortled, and Kel heard his footsteps leaving.

“Please continue, Nightwind,” he murmured, relaxing into the now quite tender ministrations. “I’ll give you and Jefti a hundred years to stop doing that. Take more time if you need it.”

Silverfox was surprised to see Nightwind, Jefti in tow, turn up at his office doorway just before the noon meal. The boy had had someone paint his face in engaging imitations of facial tattoos, and the result was that the light and dark patches of his skin were no longer startling. The difference between the tones had been harnessed by the stark black outlines, and what had been disfigurement (at least in some people’s eyes) had become the basis for personal art.

“Good afternoon, Silverfox,” said Nightwind, one hand placed on Jefti’s shoulder in a most proprietary manner.

Well, I know how the wind blows there. Treyvan was right. The lad has the talent, or Nightwind would not be here to tell me that she was claiming him as her apprentice, and on the brink of our expedition, no less.

He gestured to the padded bench, and they both took seats.

He waited while they settled, enjoying the soft chattering of the messenger birds—because they weren’t always chattering peacefully, and he much preferred the chattering to the high-pitched shrieking and aggressive chirps that felt as if someone had driven a knitting needle into each ear.

“I see you have an apprentice,” Silverfox responded with a gentle smile, once they looked comfortable. “Welcome to k’Valdemar as an inhabitant, Jefti. As a trondi’irn apprentice, you are now one of us, and by virtue of that, so is your mother, even if she had not proven that she has skills to contribute. If she wishes to stay, she is welcome on your behalf alone. If she wishes to make herself useful among us, as I am assured she certainly will, she will be even more welcome.”

Nightwind smiled as Jefti’s eyes lit up. “You always know the right things to say, Silverfox,” she replied. “You know, of course, that he wants to come with me.”

“I would have been surprised if he had not.” Silverfox was not lying. Firstly, the bond between the boy and Kel was evident to anyone with eyes. Secondly, the boy was just about at that age when a boy craves change and adventure, and what could be more adventurous than this? “And how does Ammari feel about this?”

Nightwind smiled more deeply. “Before this morning, I think that she would have been more pained about the idea than she is now. As soon as the hertasi Jylan recognized that Jefti had the aptitude to become my apprentice, she must have told the entire hertasi clan. As Ammari finished breakfast, Yallist descended upon her and whisked her off to the sewing and design workshop—wherever that is. From there she was taken to Autumnleaf, the dyer. And by the time we finished with Kel, she was returned to us full of all the wonderful things she was going to do, starting this afternoon.”

Bless them. What would we do without the hertasi?

“Ma’s happy to stay,” Jefti said, and there was absolutely a touch of relief in those words. “Real happy. I ain’t seen her this happy in don’t know when.”

Well, and Autumnleaf is a handsome fellow. He is about her age, and without a permanent partner. That also might have played a part. The hertasi are such matchmakers . . .

At least this time the matchmaking would work in everyone’s favor. Jefti knew he no longer had to look after his mother. Ammari knew that Jefti was an apprentice now, and apprentices had duties to perform and jobs to do, which she could not be involved in. That would have been true at Deedun, if she could have found someone to take Jefti without a fee. But here was someone offering to take Jefti not only without a fee, but in a highly valued profession. So Jefti could turn his eyes away toward the horizon without guilt. And Ammari . . . could, perhaps, make some tentative steps toward finding another partner without worrying about what Jefti thought.

“Well, then,” Firesong said. “The hertasi have probably already picked out a spot for a home for her and have begun building it. By this time they know all her preferences. I would not be in the least surprised to see her moved from my guest rooms to her very own place before we leave, if her needs are simple.” He said all this for Jefti’s ears; Nightwind already knew how hertasi operated.

Jefti’s expression changed after a moment. His jaw dropped. “Wait—” he said. “Y’mean she’s gonna get her own house?”

“Of course. She won’t want to stay here; my guest rooms are good for guesting, but not for actually living in. At least, not for very long. Of course, she is welcome to continue to stay here until her own home is ready.” He contemplated that for a moment. “I’d like that, actually. It would be good to have someone staying here when we are gone.”

Perhaps the hertasi could add a wing onto our home for her.

“But Jefti,” he continued, “I want you to understand, this expedition is going to be dangerous. Nightwind has to come with us—she’s Kel’s trondi’irn. You don’t have to. Nightwind will surely refer you to other trondi’irn if you want to stay.” He put as much gravity into his tone as he could, so the boy understood this was a serious matter.