Page 69 of Gryphon in Light

“But this is the Pelagirs,” pointed out Nightwind. “Nothing is normal here. We should be on the alert precisely because nothing was normal to begin with, and then we had the Mage Storms and Change-Circles on top of that.” She made a rueful little sound. “We should probably be grateful that trouble has taken so long to find us.”

“If it is trouble,” Silverfox cautioned. “We don’t know that yet.”

“But it’s wiser to assume it is,” Hallock countered. “I’m your military advisor and that’s what I’m advising.”

Uglik was sharpening his axe. It was just a hand-axe and mostly he used it for clearing brush, but he sharpened it at every opportunity. Kel thought he looked a bit sinister, in his leather and armor, half in shadow, and the shing-shing of the whetstone on the blade only added to that.

And I bet he knows that, and he does it on purpose.

“We did not see anything,” Uglik said. “But that does not mean there was nothing there. If this is something clever, and not stupid like boar, or quick to anger like bear, it will stay out of sight while it studies us and decides what to do about us.”

“And what if it’s people?” asked Longsight, who was sharpening arrow heads—not nearly as noisy a task as sharpening an axe.

“People mostly stupid like boar or quick to anger like bear,” said Rina sardonically.

“Impossible for a human to be that stealthy,” Swiftfoot stated flatly. “And if a human was using a spell to disguise their appearance, Firesong would have detected that, without a shadow of a doubt.”

“Well . . . probably,” Firesong replied. But to Kel’s eyes he didn’t look that confident. In fact, from the expression on his face, he had already decided that he had better make a special effort at scrying the area before he went to sleep.

And of course, that was the moment when something out there decided to startle them all with one of the most uncanny cries that Kel had ever heard. It sounded like a cross between a woman having her throat cut and a wildcat snarl.

Everyone jumped. And the Hawkbrothers, except for Silverfox and Firesong, all started to laugh, followed immediately by the Ghost Cats. Hallock, Genni, and Jefti were frozen and pale, when Uglik boomed, “Foxy making cubs. Ho ho ho!”

“What?” spluttered Hallock.

“Fox sex is very noisy,” explained Redlance.

:Foxes have no decency,: grumbled Rruuss the kyree in their heads. :Exhibitionists, every one of them!:

That was enough to make even Hallock laugh, though Genni blushed, and Jefti looked puzzled.

“Well, if foxes are having sex close enough to us for us to hear them, I think we don’t need to mount an extra guard tonight,” Redlance pointed out.

By this time the food was making Kel sleepy. Since he was already comfortable and not in anyone’s way, he decided he might as well just go to sleep where he was.

He missed his cushions, though.

And aside from being awakened twice more by amorous foxes, that was his last coherent thought for the night.

The rear of the last barge had been reserved for Silverfox and Firesong. It had many advantages: overhead storage in nets strung across the ceiling, a platform stretching across the breadth of the barge that lifted up for more storage, and a rear door in case they had to get out in a hurry. Silverfox had done his best to make sure that the area was basically one large, cozy nest of mattress and pillows, and had hidden the nets behind a drape of cloth. The space even had a door made of slats to give them some privacy, and Aya, Firesong’s firebird, and Hesheth, Silverfox’s lammergeier, were perched on the railing right outside their window. In fact, they could, and frequently did, poke their heads in through the window when it was open, just to be sure everything was all right.

And right now they were doing just that; Aya’s feathers glowed enough that they didn’t need any other light. Firesong sat cross-legged in the middle of the bed; Silverfox had bound his hair up and squeezed into as small a space as he could beside the window, giving Hesheth head and neck scratches. The lammergeier’s eyes were closed in sheer bliss.

Firesong stared down, not at the usual scrying globe, nor a scrying plate, but a device of his own making, a board on which he could pin a blank piece of reed-paper. On it he had sketched—a drawing scarcely the size of a fingernail—the clearing, the barges, and even the canvas shelters. Now he stared at it, and slowly, as if being drawn by an invisible hand, other things began to appear on it.

He had taken off his mask completely and frowned fiercely at the paper in concentration. Ridiculously tiny writing appeared with each thing that the invisible hand drew. Silverfox, whose talents included being able to read things upside down, paid careful attention to that writing.

So far, there was nothing to be concerned about. Any animal that could potentially harm a member of the expedition had been noted, and Silverfox knew for a fact that the kyree scent would keep them away. The kyree had told Silverfox that they smelled enough like a wolf pack for potential predators to avoid them. There was a stream he already knew about, since they’d gotten the evening’s water from it. There were a few game trails. But then—at almost the edge of Firesong’s magical “reach,” there was something else.

A series of blurred, short lines.

Firesong’s frown grew fiercer.

“What is that?” Silverfox ventured.

“I don’t know,” Firesong growled. “And that’s what bothers me. There’s something there. Several somethings. Look, they’re moving—” He pointed at his map, and sure enough, the little lines began moving across the page—not moving away from the caravan, but not moving toward it either. More little lines wiggled onto the page from the edge, joining the rest. “I don’t like it. They have something to do with magic, and I can’t tell what.”

The lines flowed across the page, circling the camp, but at a distance. Whatever they were, it appeared they were well aware of the camp.