The White Gryphon

“Oddly enough, this is not a surprise,” Amberdrake said, startling him a little. The kestra’chern smiled at Skan’s reaction. “You are remembering who you are, after being made into someone else by the needs of others. Others may not see it, but a close friend or a kestra’chern can. I am a kestra’chern. Accurate perception is part of the job.”

“So it is.” Skan bowed slightly in his direction. “Well, I told them what the situation was here—that we had an enemy who was more interested in taking us out than confronting us. I told them that there was no point in arguing about whether or not we were going to do something about him, because we couldn’t afford not to.”

‘True enough. We discussed that to death last night.” Amberdrake sighed, and leaned his head back against the stone of the wall. “Who’s coming, then?”

“No mages,” Skan said quickly. “Judeth wanted Vikteren there; he didn’t want to go because we’re still getting mage-storms and you never know what they’re going to kick up. I thought about it, and agreed with him— more because these people don’t want mages around than because I think he’s right about being indispensable.”

“There is Snowstar, after all,” Amberdrake pointed out with a smile. “Vikteren would be very useful, if we could just keep the fact that he’s a mage a secret.”

“Oh, yes, we all know Snowstar is more powerful than he is, and there are half a dozen others as good as he is. Still.” Skan clicked his beak a little. “On more reflection, I would still want him in place in White Gryphon. He does have a knack for handling situations no one else has ever seen or heard of before. So he stays. The main thing I told them, though, was that I had to get to the heart of this mess, or I might not have a settlement to come back to—” he snapped his beak, “—or else, the Black Gryphon Skandranon might come back to a blackened city. That would be bad. So all I wanted on this job were experienced Silvers with good sense and good judgment—which ought to let out Aubri, but I’m sentimental,” he added with a gape-grin.

“I hope you haven’t emptied White Gryphon of every competent Silver there,” Amberdrake protested. “We can’t bring an army in here, either!”

Skan shook his head. “Only asked for a couple of them who are as long in talon or tooth as we are—even if I haven’t got any teeth—and a couple of youngsters who never saw fighting against Ma’ar but proved themselves since. Judeth’s entire contingent won’t number more than ten. Enough to be useful, not so many as to be a burden or get in the way. If we have to cut our way out and run, we’d better not have too many people to keep track of.”

Amberdrake nodded agreement. “I suppose that’s all I needed to hear, then, if that’s all you said and did.” He squinted tiredly against the sunlight.

Skan chuckled. No point in telling Amberdrake about the “no questioning allowed, this is orders,” attitude he’d taken with the folks back home. What would the point be, after all? Amberdrake would only worry about his “image,” and he frankly didn’t care about his “image” at the moment.

And no point in telling him about Kechara, either, he thought with a pang.

The little misborn had been unhappy that her “Papa Skan” had been away so long, and even more unhappy when she sensed the worry in the others as Skan issued his orders. He had spent quite a bit of time Mindspeaking only to her before he went to sleep.

I tried to tell her that everything was fine. I tried to reassure her. He thought he’d been very convincing, but then again, it wasn’t too hard to convince Kechara of much of anything. She believed him because she was Kechara, and she believed in everyone and everything.

He’d told her how proud he was of her, praised her for her hard work in watching all of them from such a great distance. Judeth had told him about that—how Kechara had decided all on her own to keep a watchful eye on all of them, touching their surface thoughts several times a day without them ever being aware of it. He was only grateful that purest chance had caused her to pick times when none of them had been worried about their situation.

Then she had to ask me when Father Urtho was coming back, and if he was with me here. That had given him a serious wrench, although he’d managed to cover it without her noticing.

So far as Kechara knew, her “Father” was still alive, somewhere, doing something vague but important. No one had ever tried to tell her anything to the contrary. The deception made her happy, after all—and in a sense, that was probably just what Urtho, or Urtho’s spirit, was doing.

Besides, no one was entirely sure she understood what death meant—and if she didn’t know, no one wanted to be the one to tell her.

I had to tell her he wasn’t with me, and that I didn’t know when he’d be back. Sketi, I’m not altogether certain that I’m going to be back. How could I tell her that?

He had tried to prepare her—if anyone could prepare simple little Kechara for such a terrible revelation—that sometimes people went away and didn’t come back again. He’d meant Urtho, but—well—he could only hope and pray that it wasn’t going to apply to him. . . .