Page 70 of Gryphon in Light

“Change-creatures?” Silverfox ventured.

“If they are, they’re not like anything I’ve seen before. Or anything I’ve studied.” He glared at the paper, and at this point, the lines chose to wiggle off the page and into the unknown.

“I don’t like it,” Firesong repeated, staring at the page accusingly.

Silverfox knew better than to offer any platitudes like “Maybe they were just curious” or “They probably aren’t going to bother us.” “You think this is what Hallock and Jak sensed?” he asked instead.

“Maybe. Possibly. I don’t know!” Firesong rubbed his scars fretfully. “I’m glad we’ve got Icestorm, Longsight, and Sharpsight and their owls, though. I’m going to let them know what my scrying uncovered.”

He closed his eyes to Mindspeak, and opened them after a little. “They’re alerted. Longsight says Feeoor is uneasy too. He’s the owl most sensitive to magic, so I’m not wrong, there is something out there.”

“I never suggested there wasn’t,” Silverfox reminded him gently. “If anyone would know, you would. But you can’t do anything now; if you do anything besides this sort of passive scrying, you will alert anything sensitive that you’re looking. Our watchers are all experienced and warned. And we do have a Companion and a Firecat with us.”

:I am taking night watch, since Jak took day,: Serenshey said, out of nowhere, making both of them jump. :There is something. Magic-not-magic. Do you want me to . . . :

:No!: they both Mindsent at the same time—then looked at each other and smiled wryly.

:No,: Firesong repeated alone. :There’s nothing really to ask Her or Him about, not yet. If we aren’t in immediate danger, there is no reason to call on either of them for favors we might need later.:

:Well,: Jak chimed in, :that’s probably wise. Especially since the gods themselves are worried about this place we’re going to. All I can tell you is what Serenshey did—that there is something out there, and it has powers that neither of us can identify. And I can add one more thing. It’s not troubling the wildlife. I cast my senses in the wake of those things, and there isn’t even a ruffled bird.:

“Nothing to be concluded from that,” Firesong pointed out. “When predators aren’t hunting, wild creatures often ignore them.”

“But it seems interested in us,” Silverfox reminded him.

Firesong took several deep breaths, then held his left hand up, palm up, and made several circling motions in his palm. Light flared briefly, and Firesong opened his eyes again. “I took a chance and strengthened the wards and shields,” he explained, and glanced back down at the paper pinned to his scrying board.

The flock of little lines did not reappear.

“Time for sleep,” Silverfox urged. “Icestorm is a strong mage, even if he isn’t an Adept, Serenshey is a Firecat, and an avatar of Vkandis, and you just strengthened our defenses. Short of staying up all night and fretting, there is nothing you can do.”

“I hate this rain,” Firesong said, and Silverfox understood everything that he meant by those four words. He hated the rain because it made him ache. He hated it because it impeded their travel. He hated it because it made it impossible to count on the gryphons as reliable “eyes in the sky.”

And he hated it because, in general, Firesong hated rain as much as Aya hated it, which was quite a bit. Firebirds loathed rain; instead of bathing like other birds, they cleaned themselves with fire. Aya was touchy and grumpy and his mood carried over to his bondmate. And it looked like there was nothing but rain in their immediate future.

Aya startled them both by suddenly squeezing in the window, hop-flounced across the bed and cushions to Firesong, and planted himself on Firesong’s chest, shoving his head under Firesong’s right ear and clinging to him with his claws. As Firesong managed to smile a little and began gently scratching the firebird’s neck, Aya emitted a little crooning sound.

“Aya evidently agrees with you,” Silverfox replied, as a gentle warmth spread from the bird all through the compartment, driving the dampness out. “So there it is, sheyna,” Silverfox told him, in a slightly stern tone of voice. “We have competent scouts, and kyree, and dyheli, who as you know are never exactly asleep, and a Firecat watching. I think you can afford to sleep.”

“Very well,” Firefox conceded, scooting round so he could lie with his head in Silverfox’s lap, the firebird now flattened against his chest and still crooning. “Tell me a story?”

Silverfox smiled down at his love’s closed eyes. “Once there was a young kestra’chern, and his name was Amberdrake . . .”

“It’s as if the rain is just sitting in one place, not moving,” Genni said mournfully, as she peeked out the window in their shared bunk into the dim gray light of dawn. “It’s still coming down at the same rate it was yesterday. Shouldn’t it have slowed down or stopped by now?”

Shoved up against the outside wall of their barge were the kyree, all of them curled up like snails, as far from the edge of the canvas as possible. Hallock could see them from the window.

Sharing the bunk under theirs were four hertasi. Hallock envied them their flexibility and their seeming imperviousness to damp. Right now they were all scurrying around, getting things ready to feed everyone breakfast. When he’d checked on them before climbing up into the top bunk with Genni, they’d all been curled up together like puppies, wrapped around a couple of rocks that Redlance had turned into bedwarmers, and so soundly asleep nothing had awakened them..

The rocks had been a stroke of sheer genius. It wasn’t so cold that they needed the entire barges warmed, but the damp had gotten into everything, and climbing into a cold, damp bed was quite unpleasant. Everyone could have one or more of those rocks, actually, but only the humans, the hertasi, and the tervardi seemed to need them. Jak, the kyree, and the dyheli all declared that they were fine, even with the nonstop rain.

Of course, they’re all still young, he reminded himself. And I don’t think any of them have any real injuries that hurt when the weather turns. Aside from that gut wound, Hallock had also broken a wrist and an ankle in the past, as well as dislocating a knee and a shoulder. The cold and damp reminded him forcefully of those injuries.

“That’s exactly what Firesong says is happening,” he told her. “It can’t just linger forever, though; eventually it’s going to thin out and stop, because the clouds are going to run out of water.” I think. I mean, that makes sense, doesn’t it? Firesong hadn’t said anything about it, but surely it would only take a few more days to get to the coast. Surely. Even at the slow pace they were going, relative to gryphon flight.

The hertasi were well on the way to getting everyone fed; outside, under the shelter of the canvas, they pulled the cook pots out of the coals, built the fire back up, and started warming water for washing and tea. The dyheli were moving too, getting to their feet and heading either for the woods to empty themselves, or for the fodder piles. Hallock couldn’t see Jak, but he assumed that the Companion was doing the same.

:I am not. I took the time to drag some fodder to where I intended to bed down last night. I am literally having breakfast in bed, and not in the rain.: