Winds of Change (65 page)

Darkwind had the vague feeling that he should have been outraged by this. He wasn’t, but he knew plenty in the Clan who would be. Treyvan, on the other hand, did not look in the least contrite.

“But now, we need magesss, ssswift-trrraveling magesss. Immediately.” He turned his attention to Firesong, who nodded, then back to Darkwind. “With yourrr perrrmisssion, I shall ussse the lessser Gate in the rrruinsss and the powerrr of the node to meet
their
Gate, and brrring them herrre in time to help. But for that help, we wisssh the Vale. Intact.”

“I can’t promise - ” Darkwind began helplessly. Firesong interrupted him.

“Is there any reason why k’Sheyna
can’t
give them the Vale?” he asked. “Any reason at all?”

The only reason Darkwind could think of was, “because we’ve never done it before,” and that did not seem particularly adequate. Nor did he feel that this would be a true breach of Tayledras territoriality. After all, these people -
beings - were
Tayledras. Sort of.

“Not that I can think of,” he admitted. He licked his lips I thoughtfully. “All we know of the Spirit Clan is out of legend - and by knowing you two,” he told the gryphons.

“Leaving a Vale intact - that halves what little power we still possess. And it leaves you with a stronghold. What will we be leaving it to?”

“A Clan like any otherrr,” Hydona replied carefully. “A Clan with perrrhapsss only one thing you do not have, and that isss the trrrained
kessstra‘cherrrn
crraft. But you have bondbirrrdsss that we do not. We have ourrr lazy folk, ourrr ssstupid folk, ourrr occasssional trrroublemakerrr. I think that no one lazy, at leassst, is likely to make the jourrmey - the ssstupid would likely not surrrvive it - and the trrou-blemakerrr - ” she bobbed her head in a gryphonic shrug. “Therrre will alwaysss be thossse. The humanssss, at leassst,
are
Clansssfolk. We will take any oathssss you rrrrequirrre, and willingly, to have the Vale.”

“I say that this is aid we dare not reject,” Wintermoon said firmly, surprising his brother. “Whatever the cost, ridding us of Falconsbane is worth it.”

“Darkwind, I think that anything you, your brother, and I together supported, the Elders would agree to,” Firesong told him. “But let’s take the advice of the Black Gryphon - that it is easier to beg pardon than gain permission - and go with Treyvan to bring his people through tonight.”

Darkwind wavered for a moment, doubtfully. He would be helping to bring an army into the ragged remains of his own people. Would he destroy them? Or would he save them?

He looked into Treyvan’s soft-edged raptor eyes, and saw there the friend, the surrogate parent, the ever-present, gentle guide.

The one who had put up with having his feathers pulled by a rambunctious small boy - and his crest snatched by a wayward bondbird.

He smiled, and nodded firmly. “Let’s do it.”

The Vale was full of sunlight and gryphons. Elspeth had never seen anything like it, and the sight took her breath away. Everywhere she looked, there was a gryphon - bathing in a pool, lying along a massive branch or the roof of an
ekele,
sunbathing on the cliffs around the Vale. Gryphons with colors and markings like peregrines or forestgyres, cooperihawks or goshawks. Gryphons in solid colors of gray, gold, rusty-red. Gryphons with accipitor builds, and gryphons as slim as the lightest of falcons. The only markings they all had in common were patently artificial; the final arm’s length or so of their first six primaries on each wing were white for four hand-spans, then red for another four hand-spans to the tips. Every time a gryphon moved a wing, the flash of red and white caught the eye like a flash of bright light.

And they had arrived hungry. Fortunately, Treyvan and Hydona had explained to all their fellow flyers just what the bondbirds were and that they were
not
to be eaten. Otherwise there might have been true havoc by now, and a number of damaged Hawkbrothers
and
gryphons. The poor little
hertasi
had worked themselves to exhaustion, finding enough to feed all of them, and probably enjoyed every moment of their work. Hydona had promised that after this, they would hunt their own food.

She thought she had never seen
anything
to match this, not even when the full complement of Heralds and Companions turned out for her mother’s wedding. She would much rather look at the gryphons disporting themselves than at the chaos of arguing Clansmen. She would much rather be doing something about Falconsbane or the Heartstone than either. . . .

She shifted impatiently, and tried to concentrate on the meeting below her. The Council Oak clearing was full and overflowing with every Tayledras who could walk, and all of the newcomers - plus Skif and Nyara, up at the front, but she could scarcely see them past the press of bodies. The people who came with the gryphons had been less of a shock than the gryphons themselves; so much like both the Tayledras and the Shin’a’in that she couldn’t tell any differences, except in speech and a certain uniformity of dress. They had arrived through the Gate bringing with them curious land-boats; like shallow-draft barges, but with pointed prows and places for rudders. These barges were roofed over and equipped with shutters, fitted up inside for sleeping and storage. Luggage, boxes, and bales of goods were piled upon the roofs and lashed down, and they floated above the ground at about knee-height.

Elspeth had thought her eyes were going to pop out of her head when
those
came through the Veil. She was secretly relieved to find that the Tayledras were equally astonished by the “floating barges;” it made her feel less like a country cousin. Forsaking his place with the Elders, Iceshadow had latched onto one of the mage-pilots of the peculiar constructions, and both of them were whispering to each other even now, ignoring the arguments. She had the feeling that they were planning to spend those waking moments not devoted to moving the proto-Gate to explanations of how the barges were enchanted and worked, and how Heartstones were created and functioned.

The full Clan immediately went into session on demand of a minority of Tayledras who were outraged over this violation of their territory. Wintermoon turned out, surprisingly enough, to be the steadiest voice of reason, reminding the contenders, over and over, that these “Outlanders”
were
Tayledras - or rather, the Hawkbrothers were Kaled’a’in, and that the coming of those of their own blood could hardly be counted as invasion. Elspeth wished that she could have left him to this thankless task, but she was a member of the Clan, and she had to be there, like every other member of the Clan.

There are several other things my time could be spent more profitably on.
Wintermoon could probably wear them down into consent within a day or two, with sheer persistence, with or without her help.
I
wish they‘d simply give up and let the rest of us deal with them later, after things have been settled. Dear gods, this is like having an argument over precedence on the eve of a battle!

She had been here since sunrise, perched on a shoulder-high tree branch at the back of the mob, and she hadn’t heard any variation in the arguments. She stifled a yawn and looked down, catching the amused eyes of Firesong and his new friend, and the shrug of the former.

Firesong was particularly taken by a young man who was supposed to be a
kestra’chern,
whatever that was, and who had offered to teach him some of the craft when there was time. “I think you would have a talent for it,” Silverfox had said, with a hint of some kind of innuendo that
she
couldn’t read. “You are a Healing Adept, after all - it would be a useful skill to have.”

Well, that meant that Firesong was not going to be thinking about Darkwind. Not with the lithe and graceful Silverfox, he of the knowing blue eyes and ankle-length ebony hair, giving silent invitations Firesong seemed to find irresistible. And that was just fine with her.

That left one less thing for both Darkwind and herself to worry about, and they certainly had enough on their hands right now. Even without the contention within the Clan.

A stir of activity near the Elders’ seats caught her eye; she was too far away to see what was going on, but there was certainly
something
happening besides the dreary old arguments.

She sent a silent inquiry to Gwena, who was somewhere on the edge of the clearing, but her Companion sent back a wordless negative. Gwena couldn’t see anything either.

She narrowed her eyes and peered carefully through the screening of branches and bodies. There was someone coming into the Council Oak clearing from outside - No,
lots
of someones!

She craned her neck to see, bracing her hands against the branch, and jumped when someone grabbed her wrist. She looked down to find Darkwind tugging her, indicating she should jump down into his arms. “They are calling for us,” he said. “The Shin’a’in have arrived.”

The Shin’a’in? What did
they
have to do with this mess?

But she obeyed; she jumped and he caught her waist, easing her to the ground with that carefully controlled strength that she never noticed until he did something like this. Together they wound their way through the crowd to the front, where the Elders sat.

As they broke through the final group of Tayledras screening her from the Elders’ circle, she stifled a start of surprise. There was old Kra’heera - but with him were six other Shin’a’in - Shin’a’in of a kind she had seen only twice before. Shin’a’in of the kind called “Swordsworn.”

They crowded in behind Kra’heera, black-clad, some veiled, some not, leading night-black horses. And the veiled ones seemed to shimmer with power, as if they were not quite of this world.

:So we are not,:
said a voice in her head, and she stifled another start. One set of ice-blue eyes over a black veil caught her attention; one of those eyes winked, slowly, and deliberately.
:Be at peace, little sister-in-power, student of my student.:

“Of course we have known of the coming of the Kaled’a’in,” Kra’heera was saying impatiently. The faces of the Elders remained inscrutable, but there was no doubting the surprise and consternation in the expressions of those who had been arguing against permitting the Kaled’a’in to remain.
“‘She
told us they were coming, and bid us find a place for them on the Plains, if they could not find one here, or chose not to dwell here. We did not expect them to come so soon, or we would have told you long before they arrived.” He turned to fix one of the Kaled’a’in spokesmen with an acidic glare. “You were not
supposed
to arrive until midsummer!”

The Kaled’a’in shrugged. “So it goes.”

“She
told you?” one of the most ardent opponents said to Kra’heera, feebly.

“We are here to stand as proof of Her word,” one of the veiled ones said, in a strange voice that sounded as if it was coming from the bottom of a well. “Although we are not wont to appear to any save our own. She sent us to prove to you doubters that She approves. Unless you choose to doubt us as well.”

The Tayledras in question paled, and shook his head. Kra’heera snorted, and turned back to the Council. “We have been doing what we can, within the limits of Her decree and our own resources, to give you help with your troubles,” he told them, sharply. “So, I think it little enough to grant
our brothers
their request, given that they will help us all
deal
with this Great Beast, our enemy! And so, too, does
She
think!”

Skif, who was standing near Starblade with Nyara at his hand, blinked, as if he had suddenly realized something. “Now I know where I saw you!” he said to one of the black-clad Shin’a’in. “Not just at the ruins - you were out in the forest, when we were hunting for Nyara!”

The Shin’a’in shrugged. “Some of us,” she said. “Two or three. Keeping an eye on our younger sister, as
She
asked us to, so that we could vouch for her to you as well. The rest - ” she chuckled. “The rest of us have been sending the Falconsbane little trinkets, and harassing his borders, to keep his mind puzzling over things with no meaning, and to distract him from
your
doings as much as we could.”

:It is no coincidence that we are black riders upon black horses, little sister,:
said the voice in her head again.
:The Falconsbane knows of your enemy to the north and east
-
knows that you and yours are white riders. We simply counterfeited something he would expect if that enemy of yours were courting or challenging him; gave him something to think upon, a dangling carrot, as it were, with as many misdirections as we could manage.:

Elspeth stuffed her hand in her mouth to keep from giggling with a kind of giddy relief. The
Shin‘a‘in
had been teasing and tormenting Falconsbane. No wonder they’d been able to do as much as they had been! No wonder it seemed as if Falconsbane’s attention was divided! She wondered why they’d been doing this, but whys didn’t really matter at the moment, only that they had.

She turned her attention back to the Council meeting, but after that, there was very little debate - and a great deal of constructive planning.

The plan was set; they were about to put it into motion. While most of the gryphons frolicked in the Vale, and bar-barically beautiful Kaled’a’in occupied the attentions of most of k’Sheyna, the Council of Elders had already listened to and given consent to what the little “war council” had put together. Surely Selenay would have had a fit if she’d known what her daughter’s part in this was to be. Thank all the gods that Gwena had decided to keep discreetly silent on the subject, telling Rolan only that Elspeth’s studies “continued.”