Текст книги " The White Gryphon"
Автор книги: Mercedes Lackey
Соавторы: Ларри Диксон
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It almost seemed as if the easier life became, the more troublepeople caused! In the beginning, when White Gryphon was nothing more than a collection of tents perched on the terraces, people just never seemed to have the energy or time to quarrel with one another.
Maybe that's it. Maybe the problems are coming because people have too much spare time?
Surely that was too easy an answer....
And it wasn't true for everyone, either.
Maybe it was just the curse of civilization. I know that Urtho's army had all the troubles that plague any big gathering of people. It stands to reason that once people aren't completely absorbed in the business of trying to get the basic necessities, they'll go back to their old ways. Look at that Hadanelith creature, for instance! I'll bet ten years ago he was playing those same games down among theperchi; I' ll bet the only reason he didn't get caught then was because his clients just didn't come back to him for more, rather than complaining about him. Or else– his clients just didn't come back from the battlefield.
Or maybe Hadanelith hadn't been old enough, ten years ago, to ply any kind of trade; Amberdrake hadn't mentioned his age. That could be why he had been able to fake being trained—if he had lied about his training he could just as easily have lied about his age and experience. Most of the kestra'chern attached to Urtho's armies had notwound up with the Kaled'a'in Clan k'Leshya; instead they had gone through the Gate that had taken the noncombatants from the purely human forces. That only made sense, of course; why should they have gone where the skills they had trained for would not be needed? The Kaled'a'in Clan k'Leshya had chosen to go with the gryphons and the other nonhumans because of their own special relationship with Urtho's magically-created creatures—but the other Kaled'a'in Clans had not gone to the same refuge for purely pragmatic reasons. It was best not to put all the refugees in one place. If the Kaled'a'in were to survive as a people or even as a vestige of a people, it was best that the Clans split up, to distribute them over too large an area to wipe out. That Amberdrake was here was partly the result of his own friendship with Skan, and partly the fact that he had joined k'Leshya himself; besides him, there were only the k'Leshya kestra'chern and perhaps a handful of others.
So when there was leisure again, and people began to look for some of the amenities of the old days, there were some things—like trained kestra'chern, for instance—that were in short supply.
Which means that the more subtle unethical people will have the opportunity to revert to type, an opportunity that hasn't been there until now. That makes sense. Probably too much sense, actually. Urtho might have been the most principled creature in the known lands, but there were not too many like him, in his army or out of it. I suppose, given how many people were pouring through whatever Gate was nearest there at the end, that we shouldn't have expected that everyone with us was of an angelic nature. We shouldn't have expected anything. We were just glad to be alive at the time. And later—everyone was too busy to get into trouble, even the potential workers of trouble.
That only depressed him more. Perhaps he was overly idealistic, but he had really hoped that they had left things and people like Hadanelith behind them. I suppose there is going to be crime now, theft and assault, fraud and chicanery, who knows what else.He sighed. More work for the Silvers; I'd thought Judeth was just creating make-work for them, but maybe she had more vision than me.
Or maybe she had just had less blind optimism.
Or maybe she is just smarter than the White Fool.
Well, whatever the reason, General Judeth had done her work well. The Silver Gryphons, with their silver badges and ornamented bracers to show their station to even the most drunken of viewers, were as well-trained as they were well-equipped. Fortunately for Skan's peace of mind, the stylized silver-wire badges they wore, created by a displaced silversmith who was tired of never being able to make jewelry anymore, bore no resemblance to Skandranon, White orBlack. After all, there was only so much adoration a sane mind could accept. The former soldiers had applied their military training to other matters under Judeth's supervision, and at the time Skan had only felt relief that she was giving them something to make them feel useful.
I thought that gradually we'd be able to phase all those old warhorses out, that once we knew we weren't going to need protection against whatever is out there in the wilderness, they'd become mostly decorative, rescuing children from trees and the like. Silly me. So now we have police; and it looks as if we are going to need them.
No wonder that Judeth had insisted that the Silvers always travel in pairs, with one of the pair being a Mindspeaker—and no wonder she had politely requisitioned Kechara's talents and service. Skan hadn't thought much about that, either, except to be glad that Judeth was giving poor little Kechara something to do to make herfeel useful. He'd been too grateful to care, since that got her out from under Zhaneel's feet most of the day. The eternal child, she'd been fine until Zhaneel gave birth to the little ones—and the sheer work caused by the presence of three children in the lair, one of them half the size of an adult, was just a bit much for Zhaneel.
Even the addition to the household of another hertasi, a young lizard named Cafri, who was Kechara's best friend, playmate, and caretaker all rolled into one, had not helped until Judeth had come to Skan with her carefully-phrased request. Now Kechara went up to a special room in the Silvers' headquarters in early morning and did not return until after dark—not that Judeth was abusing her or overworking her. The "special room" was very special; it had a huge open high-silled window, a fabulous balcony, was cooled by the breezes in summer and warmed carefully in winter. It was also crammed full of all the toys the grandmothers could make. There were playmates, too. The mated gryphons among the Silvers brought their own offspring to play there as well. It was just that Kechara of all the "children" would be asked from time to time to Mindspeak a message to someone. She would stop whatever she was doing, happily oblige, then get back to her latest game.
Mindspeech seemed to take no effort whatsoever on her part which, in itself, was rather remarkable. She often forget to say things with words, in fact, projecting her thought or feeling directly into the mind of whoever she was "talking" to, particularly when she was impatient. Acting as message-relay for the Silvers did not bother her in the least—in fact, she was rather proud of herself, insofar as Skan could tell, because shehad a job, and none of her playmates did.
:Papa Skan?:said that cheerful little voice in his head, suddenly, and he wondered with startlement if she had somehow picked up his thoughts about her and assumed he was trying to talk to her. :Papa Skan, Unca Aubri says you need to know something.:
He sighed with mingled relief and resignation. Relief, because he didn't want to have to explain what he had been thinking to Kechara, and resignation because Aubri had been assigned to the unpleasant task of ejecting Hadanelith from White Gryphon. Something must have gone wrong....
:What does Uncle Aubri want, sweetling?:he asked carefully, keeping his own feelings out of what he sent. She was quicker to pick up on emotion than thoughts.
Her reply was prompt and clear. :Unca Aubri says to tell you he's up on the cliff and that there's a ship that isn't ours, and it's coming in to the docks and he wants you to come where he is right away please.:
His head snapped up. A ship? A strange ship? Friend or foe? :Tell him I'm coming, sweet,:he replied quickly. :Can you please tell Uncle Snowstar and Uncle Tamsin what you just told me? And ask Cafri to run and tell Judeth the same thing?:
:Yes, Papa Skan,:she said with a giggle, largely because she really liked to Mindspeak with "Uncle" Tamsin. She told Skan it was because "he has a furry mind, and it tickles," whatever that meant. :There, Cafri is gone, I'll talk to Uncle Snowstar now.:
Her "presence," as strong as if she had been in the same room with him, vanished from his mind. He leaped to his feet and called to Zhaneel, who came quickly out of the rear of the lair.
"Aubri's seen a strange ship coming in to the docks," he told her hastily, and her golden eyes widened as the hackles on the back of her neck stood up a little.
"Who?" she asked.
He shook his head. "We don't know. I've had the Council summoned; we'll have to go down and meet it, whoever it is. I don't know how long I'll be."
She nodded, and shooed the twin gryphlets into the nursery—which just happened to be the most defensible room in the lair. Sheknew; she was a child of the Mage Wars, after all. They dared not assume this was a friend, or even a neutral party. They mustassume the worst. "Stay safe," was all she said, over her shoulder, her eyes wide with worry that she would not voice. "I love you, Skandranon Rashkae."
"I love you, Brighteyes," was all he couldsay—then he was off, out the door of the lair and onto the landing porch, using the low wall to leap from. A wingbeat later, and the White Gryphon was clawing his way against the wind to the top of the cliff, where Aubri was waiting.
Amberdrake shaded his eyes and stared at the bobbing sail just beyond the mouth of the bay, even though he knew he would not be able to see anything. Even if he had not been half-blinded by the sunlight on the water, the ship was too far away to make out any kind of detail.
That, however, was not true of the gryphons, whose eyes were infinitely better than the humans'. Aubri roused all his brown feathers, then widened his eyes rather than narrowing them as a human would; his pupils flared open, then constricted to mere pinpoints, then flared again with surprise.
"They're black," Aubri announced, his voice startled and his beak gaping open, as he peered across the waves at the oncoming ship. "The humans in that ship, Skan, Drake, they're black"
"They're what?" Skan craned his neck as far as it would go and widened his eyes as well. His pupils flared to fill his eyes. "By—Drake, Aubri's right. These humans have blackskin! Not brown, not painted, not sunburned—they're really, really black!"
Black? But—Amberdrake blinked because he, and perhaps he alone of all of the Council, knew what that meant, and recognized who these people must be.
"They must be—but we aren't that far south—" He was babbling, he knew; speaking aloud what was running through his head, without thinking. He scolded himself. That would be a horrible habit for a kestra'chern to get into!
'They must be what, Amberdrake?" The Kaled'a'in Adept, Snowstar, stared at him out of silver-blue eyes in a gold-complected face, his expression one of impatience. He tossed his braided silver hair over his shoulder and stared hard at his fellow Kaled'a'in. "What are you babbling about?"
"They must be Haighlei," he replied vaguely, now concentrating on his effort to try to make out some details of the ship, at least, something that might confirm or negate his guess.
"They must be highly what?" Snowstar asked sharply, perplexed and still annoyed.
"Not highly," Amberdrake repeated, rather stupidly, shading his eyes against the glare of the westering sun on the water. " Haighlei. From the Haighlei Emperors. You know, the Black Kings. They're called that because they areblack. They're the only black-skinned people that I know of, but how on earth they came here, I haven't a clue."
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Snowstar's mouth form into a silent "o," and the Adept also turned his attention to the boat that was tacking into the bay.
"Aren't we more than a bit north and west for them?" General Judeth asked, her voice troubled. She was right to be troubled; the Haighlei Empire was vast and powerful, even by the standards Ma'ar had set, and they were as mysterious as they were powerful. She shaded her sharp, dark-gray eyes with one hand, her strong chin firming as she clenched her jaw.
Amberdrake gave up trying to make out any details for the moment, and shrugged. "I don't know," he admitted. "I don't know of anyone from our lands who had even the vaguest idea how large their Six Nations are. For all Iknow, they could run from this Sea to the Salten Sea in the East!"
The only person he had ever met who knew anything about the Haighlei Emperors was his old teacher, the incomparable kestra'chern Silver Veil. At the start of the war with Ma'ar—had that really been twenty years ago?—she had been heading south, toward a promised position in the court of one of the Kings. She would be perhaps fifty now; no great age for a kestra'chern of her lineage and training—and she was one of those women who would never look anything other than agelessly elegant. Had she gotten that position? Was she prospering? He hadn't found out; the wars had eaten up all his time and energy, leaving none to spare for trying to trace his mentor's whereabouts.
He turned his attention back to the ship. The ship had entered the bay, now, and it was finally possible to make out the details of its fittings and crew. The White Gryphon "fishing fleet" was made up of fairly crude vessels fitted with oars and a single, basic sail—large enough for four men at the most. This was a real ship, clearly able to carry several dozen people, and Amberdrake didn't know enough about ships to know if it was of a type any of their few folk familiar with such things should recognize or not. It was quite elaborate, that much he knew on sight; it had three masts and several sails striped in red and white, and there were people swarming all over it. The hull was painted in blue and red, with a pair of eyes on the front; the sails were augmented by a network of lines and rope-ladders. There was a raised, houselike section in the middle of the boat that had a door and several windows in it. The men actually doing all the work were dressed simply, in white breeches, many with colored cloths wrapped around their heads and colored sashes around their waists, but there were three people in much more elaborate clothing standing in front of the door in that houselike section, peering at the people waiting on the dock. Rich hues of red, orange, and the gold of ripe grain, ornamented with winking glints of metal and the sharper gleams of gems marked the costumes of these three notables. The cut of their clothing was entirely unfamiliar to Amberdrake.
It did not comfort Amberdrake in the least to see, as the boat drew nearer, that every man in the crew had enormous knives stuck through their sashes, and that there were racks of spears visible behind the elaborately-garbed men watching them.
They're tall. They arevery tall. The ship was finally close enough for Amberdrake to make some kind of guess as to the general appearance of these people. The thing that struck him first was their height. The shortest of them would probably top the tallest Kaled'a'in by at least a head. Their features were handsome enough, finely sculptured, although they were not as hawklike as the Kaled'a'in. Amberdrake was amazed by the garments the three—officials?—were wearing; although the material was very light by the way it fluttered, it was woven with incredibly detailed geometric patterns in bright yellows, reds, and oranges. The robes fastened high up on the side of the neck, with the openings running down the left of the front rather than the middle. The robes boasted high, stiff collars that matched the cylindrical hats each of them wore. Heavy, jeweled neckpieces lay on their breasts and shoulders, and heavy, matching brooches centered their odd hats.
Although their hair was as tightly-curled as a sheep's fleece, it was so black that it swallowed up all the light. The sailors wore theirs at every length, although perhaps "length" was the wrong term to use for hair that stood out rather than draping down the owner's back. Some of them had cropped their hair so close to the skull that there was nothing there but a short frizz; others had clearly not cut their hair for months, even years. It stood out away from their heads as if lightning had just struck them. But the three men waiting with folded hands wore their hair as short as they could and still be said to havehair. The hats fit too closely to allow for any amount of hair.
They were all, without a doubt, beautiful to behold. Unfortunately they did not look pleased, if Amberdrake was any judge of expressions.
They did not bring the boat to the dock; instead, they anchored out in the bay, with a sophisticated set of tensioned fore– and aft-anchors that held them steady against the waves.
And there they waited. The sailors formed up in loose ranks on the deck of the ship and remained there, unmoving.
No one spoke a word; the ship hung at anchor, with the only sound being the steady pounding of the surf on the rocks.
"It appears that they expect us to come to them," Judeth observed, in her usual dry manner.
Of course they do. We're the interlopers, the barbarians.Amberdrake would have called for a boat to take him and the rest of the Council to the strangers if there had been any—but there weren't. Every vessel they owned was out fishing or dropping nets.
"They aren't stupid," Skan rumbled. "They can see we don't have the means to come to them. Besides, if they came this far, they can go a few more feet."
And be damned annoyed when they do,Amberdrake thought silently, but he held his peace. There wasn't any way they couldgo out to the waiting vessel, except by flying, and he was not about to suggest that Skan go out there by himself. There was no point in wrapping a potential hostage up like a gift and presenting him to a possible enemy.
The tense moments passed, marked by the waves breaking against the rocks, as the Haighlei stared and the Kaled'a'in stared back, each of them waiting for the other to make the next move. But as it became clear that there were no other vessels available, not even a tiny coracle, the Haighlei leaders turned to the sailors, gesturing as they ordered their men to bring up the anchors and move in to the docks.
To make up for the loss of face, the Haighlei brought their ship in with a smooth expertise that Amberdrake watched with envy. There were no wasted motions, and nothing tentative about the way the captain and pilot maneuvered the ship. Even though the dock was completely unfamiliar to them, they had their vessel moored and comfortably snugged in to the wooden piers in a fraction of the time it took their own people to do the same with a much smaller boat.
"They're good," Judeth muttered, with grudging admiration. "They're damned good. I'll have to remember to dredge some sandbars to hang them up on if they turn hostile and bring friends. It would cut back the effectiveness of the drag-fishing nets, but we could work around that. If there are hostilities, the gryphons and kyree wouldn't be free to pull nets in, anyway."
Amberdrake nodded, impressed all the more by the fact that Judeth's mind never seemed to stop examining resource management and strategy, even while watching the ship draw in.
Within a few moments, the Haighlei sailors had run a gangplank down to the dock, and were unrolling a strip of heavy woven material patterned in bright reds and browns to cover it. Then they scrambled back aboard their ship, and formed a line of alert bodies along the railing—all this without another issued order.
Only then did the three envoys—if that was what they really were—deign to descend to the dock. And there, standing on the strip of material, they waited, hands tucked into the sleeves of their elaborate, fluttering robes.
Amberdrake started to step forward, hesitated, and caught both Judeth and Skandranon's eyes. Judeth nodded, slightly, and Skan made an abrupt motion with his beak. Amberdrake assumed the leadership position of the group, and the others followed.
He was the only one of the lot properly garbed to meet these people; Snowstar was wearing simple Kaled'a'in breeches and a wrapped coat, both old and worn. Judeth, though her pepper-and-salt hair might have given her the authority of age, wore one of her old black uniforms with the insignia removed and only the silver gryphon badge on the breast. Bearlike, red-haired Tamsin, who shared the Healers' Council seat with his love, Lady Cinnabar, was as shabbily dressed as Snowstar. Only Amberdrake kept up some pretense of elegance these days; somehow it didn't feel right for a Council member to show up in public dressed as if he had just been weeding his garden (as Snowstar had been) or scrubbing medical equipment (which was where Tamsin had been). As the best-dressed Council member, perhaps it was wisest for him to pretend to the position of leader.
He stopped, within easy conversational distance, but no closer. The stern, forbidding expressions on the faces of the envoys did not encourage hearty greetings.
"Welcome to White Gryphon," he said, slowly and carefully—and hoping frantically that these people mightbe able to speak his tongue! "We are the Ruling Council of the city. I am Amberdrake." He introduced the rest of his colleagues as the Haighlei stood there impassively, giving no indication of whether they understood him or not. "May we ask what brings you to our settlement?" he finished, a little desperately.
The man in the middle removed his hands from his sleeves, and cleared his throat. "You trespass upon the lands of King Shalaman, and violate the sanctity of Haighlei territory," he said, coldly, clearly, and in a precise but dated form of their own tongue. "You will leave, or you will be removed."
Amberdrake stood there, stunned. A hundred things ran through his mind. Should I apologize? Should I beg for mercy? Should I explain how we came here? What should I say?
Judeth stepped forward and folded her arms over her chest, matching the envoys stare for stare. "We will stay," she stated, baldly, her eyes meeting theirs without blinking. "There were no territory markers here when we arrived, and there are no signs of habitation for two days' flightin any direction. We can withstand any force your King may bring against us. We have been settled here almost ten years, and we are staying."
Amberdrake nearly bit his tongue off, suppressing a yelp of dismay. What is she doing? Who does she think these people are? What—
"Drake," Skan said—as softly as a gryphon could—in Kaled'a'in, "Judeth's calling their bluff. They can't force us out, not now, not without bringing a lot of troops up here, way off from their own nearest city, and not without a big expense. They weren't using this land for anything. And Judeth knows we have to look as if we're operating from a position of strength or they won't take us seriously."
Judeth, who understood Kaled'a'in quite as well as any gryphon, nodded ever so slightly.
The impassive masks of the envoys cracked the tiniest fraction with shock, as if they had no idea that someone might actually challengethem. "You will leave," the middle envoy began again, as if by repetition he could make his point.
"I said, we will not," Judeth replied, this time with more force. She smiled, slightly, as the wind stirred her short curls. "We are, however, willing to make alliance with King Shalaman in return for the use of this land." The envoys did not actually faint with indignation at Judeth's bold statement, but they were certainly shocked. They were shocked enough to turn away and confer together in buzzing whispers, all the while casting dubious glances over their shoulder at the Council members.
"I hope you know what you're doing, Judeth," Amberdrake muttered, watching the three envoys—though what he would do if they announced that they were leaving then and there, he had no idea.
"I had my hand in some of Urtho's diplomatic doings," Judeth said with equanimity. "Not a lot—but I know a bluff when I see one. Skandranon is right. These people can't possibly have any way of dislodging us without a lot of trouble. If we take a strong stand now, they're more likely to give us some respect. It'll suit them better and save face all around if they decide to make an alliance with us and pretend it was all their own idea."
Before Amberdrake could reply, the middle envoy turned abruptly and centered his gaze on Judeth. "Flight, you said," he said to her, frowning. "Two days' flight." Although it was not phrased as a question, it clearly was one. Skan read it that way, too, and stepped forward himself. The envoy had ignored his presence and that of Aubri up until this moment—a rather difficult proposition, considering that he was the size of a small horse. "Indeed," Skandranon told the man in his deepest and most impressive voice, fanning his wings for emphasis. "We gryphons, who are also citizens of this settlement, made flights in all directions before we settled here." He tilted his head toward the man, whose mouth had actually dropped open in shock on hearing the "beast" speak. Skandranon looked up, with his head lowered at just the right angle to make his brows and eyes appear even more raptorial than usual. "You might be amazed at the things we do."
The envoy closed his mouth quickly, as if he had just swallowed a bug; the other two were looking a bit ill, with a grayish tone to their skin beneath the natural deep black color. The middle man looked at his two colleagues, who simply blinked at him uneasily. He turned back toward Amberdrake.
"We will confer," he said shortly, and without another word, he marched back up the gangplank, followed by his fellows.
Two sailors sprang down onto the docks and quickly rolled up the strip of carpet, taking it back aboard the ship. They did not retract the gangplank, however, which might be a sign that the envoys were not done with White Gryphon yet.
Amberdrake could only hope.
"Now what?" he asked Skan and Judeth. Judeth shrugged.
Skan actually chuckled. "I think that is obvious," he replied. "Now we wait. And of course—we eat. Is anyone besides me hungry? I think that if Aubri and I bite through a few leg-sized bones while we're in eyesight of these diplomats, they might just reconsider any conflicts and be friendly."
Judeth, at least, made one concession, a concession that really didn't do much to mitigate Amberdrake's anxiety; she suggested that the rest of the Council members drift off one at a time and return wearing clothing a little more appropriate to the situation. "Except Drake, of course," she added, with an enigmatic half-smile. "He is never underdressed."
Amberdrake wasn't certain whether to take that as a compliment or the opposite.
She also suggested that Tamsin send Lady Cinnabar in his stead, a suggestion that everyone else seconded.
Tamsin was hardly offended. "I was going to suggest that myself," he said, with obvious relief. "Cinnabar has a lot more experience at this sort of situation than I do!" He thought for a moment, then added, "I'll Mindspeak Kechara while I'm on my way up; I've got some ideas that may speed things up a bit."
He sprinted for the path to the top of the cliff; Amberdrake did not envy him the climb that was ahead of him. But when Lady Cinnabar appeared, long before even their most athletic youngster could have made it up the winding path, it was obvious that at least one of Tamsin's ideas had been to have Kechara send her down directly.
She was wearing one of her seldom-used court gowns, a lush creation of silver brocade and emerald silk that went well with her pale blonde hair, making her a fit match for Amberdrake's beaded and embroidered, bronze-and-brown finery. And with her were two hertasiladen with "proper" clothing for Judeth and Snowstar, at least by Amberdrake's standards of the clothing appropriate to diplomatic receptions. Judeth sighed when she saw the particular uniform that her hertasihad brought, but she made no other complaint. Both of them headed for one of the nearby boathouses to change, while the two gryphons, Amberdrake, and Lady Cinnabar waited, keeping their vigil.
It would not be too much longer before the fishing "fleet" came in, and what they were going to make of this imposing vessel, Amberdrake had no notion. He had confidence in the basic good sense of everyone out on the water, though; the sea was a harsh teacher, and those who were not possessed of good sense had not survived the first two years of experimenting with boats and fishing.
"I met Tamsin on the way down, and he told me everything you know so far," Cinnabar said, as she examined the Haighlei ship without appearing to pay any attention to it at all. "I don't entirely agree with Judeth's approach, Amberdrake. I'm not sure it was necessary to be quite so blunt with these people."
Amberdrake shrugged. "I feel the same way," he agreed. "But she'd already gotten the bit between her teeth and was galloping away before I could stop her. The little that I know about the Haighlei is that they are extremely formal, that their culture is very complicated. I'm afraid we shocked them, and I only hope we didn't utterly revolt them."
Cinnabar pursed her thin lips, but made no other change in her expression. "That could work to our advantage," she told him. "If we follow up on the shock in the right way, that is. Now that we have shocked them with our barbaric directness—which could be a sign of power, and they can't know one way or another yet—we need to prove we can play the diplomatic game as well. We can't simply let them dismiss us as beneath them; we have to complicate the issue for them."
Amberdrake nodded, relieved to have someone on his side in this. "We also can't afford to have them out there, waiting, watching for us to make a fatal mistake," he agreed, "And if we shock and frighten them too much, that's exactly how they may decide to treat us." Then he smiled weakly. "Although on the surface of things, it does look as if it would be very difficult for them to insert a spy among us without a boatload of makeup."
