them.
Nyara twisted on the sleeping mat in her little cave, a ball of misery and confusion. When Darkwind came to the hertasi with his story of attack on the gryphons, she had been as confused and alarmed as any of them. But now she'd had some time to think about what he had said-and to think back to that last confrontation with her father.
Mornelithe Falconsbane had always hated gryphons, just as a general rule, although she was not aware that he had ever had contact with the species. Not directly, at least. But he had been very interested in Treyvan and Hydona, to the extent of pulling every detail she knew about them out of her. She had the horrible feeling, fast growing into certainty, that he and no other was behind this attack.
And yet a direct attack was so unlike him. Mornelithe never did anything directly; he always layered everything he did in secrecy, weaving plots and counterplots into a net not even a spider could untangle. Why would he send someone to shoot at them? And why would he send someone armed with the crudest of amulets, a protection that was bound to fail? It made no sense at all...The hertasi Healer passed the mouth of her cave. Gesta paused a moment, peering shortsightedly into the doorway. 'Nyara?' she said, softly. 'Are you there? Are you awake?' Nyara blinked in surprise. 'Yes,' she responded. 'Yes... I could not get to sleep. Is there something you need from me?' Gesta coughed politely. 'A favor, perhaps. The winged ones are better. but they need a full night's sleep. Yet they are fearful to sleep. fearing another hunter, this time in the dark. You, I think, can see well in the dark, no?'
'Yes, I can.' Nyara responded, and in spite of her worries, a pleased little smile curled the corners of her mouth. they trust me-or Gesta does, anyway-and they're willing to give me something to do. 'I think I see where you're tending. You want me to guard them, do you not? So that the winged ones may have some sleep.'
'Yes,' Gesta breathed. in what sounded like relief. 'You need not defend them; you need only stand watch and pledge to rouse them if danger comes. You can do that, I think, without harm to yourself. And they asked after you, saying you were a friend. We would. but-' The thin little figure silhouetted against the twilight sky shrugged, and leaned against its walking stick.
'But you do not see or move well by darkness. I know,' Nyara responded.' I should be happy to attend them.' She uncoiled from her mat and glided silently out to the hertasi, who blinked at her sudden appearance.
'Do you go across the swamp?' Gesta asked, taking an involuntary step backward and looking up at her. Nyara realized then that this was the first time the hertasi Healer had seen her on her feet. Her slight build might have deceived the little lizard into thinking she was shorter than she actually was. In reality, she was perhaps a thumb-length shorter than Darkwind, but certainly no more than that.
'No,' she replied, wrinkling her nose in distaste at the thought of slogging through all that mud and water-and in the dark, no less. 'No-if I go around about the edge, I shall find the ruins, no?'
'It will be longer that way,' Gesta warned.
'But swifter if I need not feel my way through water in the dark,' Nyara chuckled. 'I go, good Healer. Thank you for giving me the task.' She slipped down to the path that led to the edge of the marsh before the hertasi could reply. And once out of sight of the hertasi village, she slipped into the easy run she had been bred and altered for, a ground-devouring lope that would have surprised anyone except those who were familiar with the Plains grass-cats on which she had been modeled.
While she ran, she had a chance to think; it was odd, but running always freed her thoughts, as if putting her body to work could make her mind work as well.
She thought mostly upon the notion that her father might have been involved in this attack upon the gryphons. If he was, what was she to do about it?
Treyvan and Hydona are my friends, she thought, unhappily. they are, perhaps, the only true friends I have ever had. And Darkwind-oh, I wish that Father had not ordered me to seduce him! He makes my blood hot, my skin tingle. Never have I desired anyone as I desire him-not even Father.
Father I hate and need-Darkwind I only need-The very thought of Darkwind, of his strong, gentle hands, of his melancholy eyes, of his graceful body, made her both want to melt into his arms, and to pounce on him and wrestle him to the ground, preparatory to another kind of wrestling altogether.
But Mornelithe has ordered me to take him-and therefore-I will not. She set her chin stubbornly, tucked her head down, and picked up her pace a bit.
But what if Mornelithe were behind this; what then?
I think it may depend upon if he sends more creatures against them tonight.
Or if he has left a taint of himself that I can read. If I find nothing, I shall be silent. But if I find traces-then if I can-I must speak.
The decision seemed easy until she realized that she had actually made it. The realization took her by surprise. why have I thought that? What are they to me, besides creatures who have been friendly-kindly No one had ever been friendly or kindly to her, not since Mornelithe had eviscerated her nurses, and given her sibs and playmates, failures by his reckoning, to his underlings to use as they would.
