Page 57 of Gryphon in Light

Stormtree shot him a withering look. Firesong ignored it.

But Firesong wasn’t done. “We can also deduce that the changes created during the Cataclysm have persisted into our time—certainly we Tayledras are still cleaning up after them—and now that the Storms have echoed back, they are interacting with things we have not Cleansed, and that is having some dire effects here, above, and below.” He shook his head. “Master Levy and I didn’t make any calculations based on that, because it never occurred to us to do so. To be blunt, we hoped we would all be lucky, because we could only thwart one of the two destructive centers. Then we found ourselves—those of us who survived—just happy to exist. Fixing the second problem was deprioritized, against my opinion.”

While Firesong was talking, Kel was getting his thoughts in order, and it occurred to him that no one had said anything about him except that he was leading this expedition, and Firesong’s name was also mentioned by the gods. So—hopefully!—he wasn’t going to turn out to be the Chosen One.

Not that I don’t want to be a hero! But I don’t want to be a dead hero! And those who are Chosen Ones generally end up heroically dead! And Firesong, he’ll be all right. He survives everything, then gets to explain it for years afterward.

But at this point, people’s wits had returned to them, and the Elders had started talking among themselves, roping Firesong into the practical conversation and gradually drawing other mages in. Vindaria glanced over at Kel, who shrugged. “They’ll probably be here for candlemarks,” he opined. “And none of it will really make any difference to what we do. So let’s go talk to Silverfox and Ayshen.”

“Why?” the gryphon asked him. “Are they priests?”

“They’re more important than that,” he said, feeling a touch of his sense of humor sneaking back. “They’re organizing the expedition.”

The Vale was stirred up like a kicked beehive, and Silverfox saw no reason to add to the milling about by leaving his office. Apparently Ayshen felt the same, since the little hertasi came trotting up the stairs, Jylan in tow, shortly after Firesong informed him via Mindspeech who the new gryphons were, where they had come from, and what had brought them here. The three of them moved out of the office to the second set of guest rooms, which had a good view of the path the procession would take to the Council Chamber.

“Well,” said Ayshen, as they came into sight. “They’re certainly big, aren’t they? The histories didn’t mention how big the Heavy Wing gryphons were.”

From here, roughly three stories above the path, they had an excellent view, as nearly every other creature in the Vale crowded onto the verges to see the emissaries from Iftel. Even some of the messenger birds thronged the trees, and of course, the bondbirds were in the branches as close to their Hawkbrothers as possible. Most perched, but a hooligan of crows were playing “snatch the tailfeather” in the air above the path.

Silverfox raised an eyebrow, but Ayshen was not wrong. The Wingleader and Kel paced side by side in the front of the procession, followed by the rest, and trailed by Firesong. It was easy to see from here that the newcomers were just about twice as broad as Kel, and about half again as long. The Iftel gryphons dwarfed Kel, and Kel was not small. “Yes,” he replied. “But I don’t think size can compete with a glowing gryphon.” And it was true, the eye tended to be drawn in by the radiant Kelvren, rather than to the somber black-on-charcoal Iftel gryphons.

:I am dyheli Ransem,: spoke a voice into Silverfox’s head, stilted with formality. :I will be your eyes and ears.: By that, Silverfox knew that Tyrsell had assigned one of his herd to broadcast the proceedings to all the Vale. Ransem would not be doing anything except that for as long as the public parts lasted.

But of all the things that Silverfox had been anticipating, the appearance in Iftel of the Star-Eyed and Sunlord was not one of them.

In fact, the revelations at the Council Chamber left all three of them more than a little dazed when Ransem ceased broadcasting, and they stared at each other in silence, all three minds trying—and failing—to calculate all the implications.

“You’re certain this isn’t a trick?” little Jylan said at last, breaking the silence. “Maybe someone in Iftel . . .”

Her voice trailed off in uncertainty. “Not possible,” Ayshen said authoritatively. “The Sunlord is more active in Iftel than the Star-Eyed is here. Anyone who attempted to impersonate him in His Own House would almost certainly end up a pile of ashes on the floor.”

“But what if these new gryphons tried to trick us with an illusion of something that never happened?” Jylan persisted, her claws clasped together tightly.

“The Council Chamber has its own colony of vrondi that practically live there,” Silverfox pointed out. “Untruths and half-truths are known immediately.”

“But the gods haven’t spoken to us in—” Jylan waved her stubby hands around in circles.

“It wasn’t that long ago that Vykaendys spoke to the people of Iftel, telling them it was time to break their border,” Ayshen pointed out. “And before that, Vkandis chose Solaris to be the Son of the Sun. It seems we have moved into strange times.”

Jylan clasped both hands over her snout in patent distress. “I don’t want to live in strange times!” she wailed. “I liked things the way they were!”

Silverfox immediately moved to comfort her, but he didn’t blame her in the least. Truth to tell, he was as unsettled as she was. I thought we had carved out a good space for the two of us. I thought Firesong’s days of adventuring were over. He deserves peace and quiet! He shouldn’t be forced to drag himself all over the wilderness again!

But he had to admit to himself that it appeared that Firesong didn’t particularly want peace and quiet. Look at the way he assumed that he’d be going with Kel on the proposed expedition. And not once had he indicated to Silverfox that he was anything but pleased about the prospect—once his lover had assured him of his comfort out there, that is.

Now had come this complication. And from the comments Firesong was Mindspeaking to him, in the middle of all the babble among the Elders, this hadn’t deterred him in the least. If anything, it had increased his enthusiasm.

I know Kelvren is obsessed with Skandranon, and would do practically anything, however risky, to make himself into a hero like his idol—but I didn’t think he’d infected Firesong with his obsession.

“What are we going to do?” Ayshen demanded, as if Silverfox had any say in this—as if Silverfox could march down there right now and countermand the will of the gods themselves.

No, he corrected himself. It’s not the will of the gods. It’s the request of the gods.

Somehow, this didn’t make it any less frightening.

Get a grip, my lad, he told himself. This doesn’t change anything. Except that we now know in advance we are marching into a situation stranger and more perilous than we had imagined. That’s not such a bad thing. We’re forewarned.

“Obviously, this has set the time-candles burning,” he said aloud. “We need to adjust for six more gryphons, and get the rest of the provisioning and packing done quickly. Jylan, see about getting telesons for the newcomers, two apiece, three if possible. Ayshen or I will assign you to the next task once you have those.”