personally.' Skif's eyes were thoughtful, but he didn't say anything. Elspeth stifled a yawn at that moment, and looked apologetic.
'It isn't the stories, or the company, Master Quenten,' she said ruefully.' It's the long ride and the wonderful meal. We started before dawn, and we got here just before sunset. That's a long day in the saddle; Skif's used to it, but I'm a lot softer, I'm afraid.'
'Well, I can't blame you for that,' Quenten chuckled. 'The truth is, I'm not up to a day in the saddle myself, anymore. Why don't you find that bed I showed you? I was thinking of calling it a night, myself.'
'Thanks,' she said, and finished the last of the wine in her glass, then pushed herself away from the table. She gave Skif an opaque look but didn't say anything.
'Good night, then,' Quenten supplied. 'I'll see you off in the morning, unless you want to stay longer.'
'No, we're going to have to cover a lot of ground and we're short on time,' she replied absently, then smiled. 'But thank you for the offer.
Good night.' ~ Skif looked after her for a moment after the door had closed, then turned to Quenten. 'There's something- else you didn't want her to hear,' he said, 'About those blood-path mages. What is it?' A little startled by Skif's directness, Quenten came straight to the point. 'It's about the ones who are looking for an 'apprentice'-or at least they call it that-who is untrained but powerful. The ones looking for someone who is totally naive about magic. Like your young friend there.
Skif nodded, his eyes hardening. 'Go on.'
'What they're looking for is the exact opposite of someone like themselves.
They have two ways of operating, and both involve subversion.' He paused to gather his thoughts. 'The first is to corrupt the innocent.'
'Not possible,' Skif interjected. 'Trust me on that one. If you've ever heard that Heralds are incorruptible, believe it.' Well, anyone who rides around on a Guardian Spirit probably is, no matter what people say about everyone having a price. I suppose Heralds do, too, but it's not the kind of Price a blood-path mage could meet. 'Well, the other is destruction. Luring the innocent into a place of power, then breaking him. Or her.' Quenten gave Skif a sharp look. 'And don't tell me that you can't be broken. Anyone can be broken. And a blood-path mage has all the knowledge,, patience, and means to do so. Their places of power are usually so well guarded that it would take a small army to get in, usually at a terrible cost, and by the time they do, it's usually too late.
That's if you can find the place because besides being protected, it will also be well-hidden.' Skif had the grace to blanch a little. 'Nice little kingdom you have here.'
'Oh, there aren't ever a lot of that kind, but they do exist,' Quenten replied. 'And that's why I'm warning you. You don't have the ability to see the kind of potential she carries-but I do, and so will anyone else of my rank who happens to see her. That's Master and above. And there are not only blood-path Masters, there are Adepts, trust me on that. One of those would be able to persuade you that he was your long-lost best friend if you weren't completely on the alert for someone like that. In fact, the truth is that unless you've got introductions like I'm going to give you, I would be very wary of anyone who seems friendly. The friendlier they are, the warier I'd be. There isn't a mage out here who has to go looking for pupils-they come to him. It's a matter of the way things work; power calls to power. So if someone is out looking, it usually isn't for anyone's purposes but his own. The only people as a group that you can trust without hesitation are the Shin'a'in and whoever they vouch for. Anyone else is suspect.' Skif's eyes narrowed. 'And you say she looks-attractive?' Quenten nodded soberly. 'I hate to send you to bed with a thought guaranteed to create nightmares, but-yes. More than attractive. To put it bluntly, my friend, you are riding out into wolf territory with a young and tender lamb at your side. And the wolves can look convincingly like sheep.' Skif licked his lips, and the look in his eyes convinced Quenten that he hadn't been wrong. This man was very dangerous, if he chose to be.
And he had just chosen to be.
Quenten could only hope the man was dangerous enough.
*Chapter Ten DARKWIND
Vree dove down out of the sky with no warning whatsoever, coming straight out of the sun so that Darkwind didn't spot him until the last possible second, seeing only the flash of shadow crossing the ground.
'Treyvan! Look out!' he shouted, interrupting whatever it was Hydona was about to say.
Treyvan ducked and flattened his crest, and Vree skimmed right over his head, his outstretched claws just missing the quill he'd been aiming for.
Then, without faltering in the slightest, he altered his course with a single wingbeat, and shot back up toward the clouds, vanishing to the apparent size of a sparrow in a heartbeat.
That was the single bad habit Darkwind had never been able to break him of. The gyre was endlessly fascinated by Treyvan's crest feathers, and kept trying to snatch them whenever the gryphon wasn't careful about watching for him.
