Storm Warning

of corridors confessed as they walked that he often played with the young gryphons. Karal had to shake his head at that; how in Vkandis' name had his parents been persuaded to allow him to play with meat-eating raptors that could easily bite his hand off? That said a lot for the ability of Treyvan and Hydona to convince Valdemarans that they were as friendly as they claimed.

The chamber was at the end of a long corridor that looked vaguely familiar to Karal. It looked as if it had been originally intended for some other use than as guest quarters, with its huge double doors of carved wood. Had it been a lesser Audience Chamber, perhaps? Tentatively, he tapped on the door and was a little surprised when Ulrich himself answered it.

'Karal?' the Priest said, when he recognized who was there. He held the door as if he was thinking about shutting it again, a frown just beginning to crease his brow. 'Didn't I tell you—'

'You don't have anyone here to take notes for you all, do you?' Karal interrupted, before Ulrich could chide him. 'You don't have anyone here to fetch things for you; you'll have to call for a page and wait until one comes. You don't have anyone to run out and have meals and drink sent up. I can do all of that, and you already know that I won't get in the way.' He swallowed a bit, and let a little pleading creep into his voice. 'Please sir, I want to help. I want to help you. It's not a duty, it's a pleasure.'

Ulrich's frown faded when he heard Karal's intentions. 'I didn't—think you'd care to be here,' he replied, with a hesitancy he had never shown before. 'You've been working hard, and I thought I'd been exploiting your good nature. I was afraid we'd overwork you—'

Karal coughed as his cheeks heated. 'Master, one of my duties is to make certain that you don't overwork.' He lowered his voice to a near-whisper. 'You aren't exploiting my good nature, sir. I am proud to serve and honor you as I would serve and honor my own father.'

Ulrich bowed his head, and he blinked rapidly for a moment. 'Karal, you are a remarkable young man. I am proud to be here to help you when I can. Thank you. We can certainly use your services.'

Karal slipped inside the door as Ulrich held it open just enough for him to get inside. There was no furniture, just the bare wooden floor and huge pillows and featherbeds; logical, actually, since this place was meant for the comfort of gryphons, not humans. Firesong was holding forth and did not even notice as Karal took a place on the edge of the gathering, got out his pens and paper, and began taking notes in the middle of Firesong's current sentence.

'—if all of you are really set on it, I can't see how it's going to hurt anything,' the Healing Adept was saying, his voice full of contemptuous amusement. 'But I repeat, I don't think that these— craftsmen of yours, these engineers, as you call them—are going to accomplish anything at all useful. Magic simply does not work the way they are used to thinking. Magic is a thing of intuition, of art; you can't dissect it, set down logic, make it march in step.'

'But haven't you been teaching me the laws of magic?' An'desha objected stubbornly. Karal's eyebrows arched in surprise, though he kept quiet, true to his promise. Was An'desha actually disagreeing with Firesong? If so, it must be for the very first time!

'Yes, but—' Firesong floundered for a moment, then regained his poise. 'But the 'laws' of magic are simply guidelines! Haven't Elspeth and Darkwind accomplished things the mages of k'Sheyna thought could not be done, simply because Elspeth was not aware that common thought was that they were impossible? That is because magic simply is not logical. It doesn't always answer the way you think it will. You can't call it to the glove like an imprinted falcon!'

'But you won't object if I assist the engineers?' An'desha persisted. 'So long as I don't use time and energy we need to put into shields?'

He's opposing Firesong! Has the moon started rising in the west!

Firesong flung up his hands in defeat. 'How can I object to what you do with your free time?' he asked sourly. 'If you want to waste it, go right ahead. I simply don't see where you are going to accomplish anything concrete.'

'Well, now that we have that out of the way, shall we get down to the business at hand?' Darkwind asked dryly.

Firesong shrugged and sat down again, settling into a more comfortable position against one of the huge pillows, a bolster of a green so dark it approached black. Karal noted with amusement that he had chosen the only pillow in the room that harmonized with his brilliant emerald costume.

'I asked Rris if there was any oral kyree tradition about the mage-storms that followed the Cataclysm,' Darkwind told them all. 'So here he is, and he's going to recite it to you.'

Rris rose from his place at Darkwind's side where he had been lying like an obedient dog, stepped forward into the center of the room, bowed his furry gray head once to all of them, and sat down on his haunches with immense dignity. :I trust you will not object if I tell it in the traditional manner!:

'Go right ahead,' Firesong said. 'You might forget something if you break from tradition, else.'

Rris nodded. :Hear you all, from the times of the Change, from the times of the Falling of the Sky