The White Gryphon

“No—yes!” she said, and her eyes flew open. “There is a sentry, calling the hour, within hearing distance of the room!”

He leaped to his feet, every nerve alive with excitement, his heart racing again. There was only one place where one could hear the hours called as sentries made their rounds, and that was near the outer walls of the huge complex. And because most people did not care to have their sleep disturbed, there was only one building near enough to the walls to hear that—

“He’s in the Hall of Fragrant Joy!” Amberdrake said, fiercely. “He has to be!” He thought quickly. “Zhaneel, try to get the priests to let you in to the others. I’ll go after him now, while we still have a chance of getting to him before they really hurt him.”

“You?” she said incredulously. “You? You are not a fighter! How could you—”

I will not think about this, or I will not have the courage.

“Zhaneel, it is a moonless night and you know you don’t fly well at night! Skan has enhanced night-vision, but you don’t, and if you can’t see to fly, you’d have to walk. That puts you on the ground, where you are terribly vulnerable, and that’s in the open. Inside—well, I may not be a fighter, but the hallways in that old section of the Palace are narrow, and you would hardly be able to move, much less fight!” He took her head between his hands and looked deeply into her eyes. “And I do not intend to fight! I intend to slip in, find him, turn him loose, and get out of there! If I go now, I can probably manage so that no one notices me. You couldn’t be inconspicuous no matter how hard you try.”

She made a growling sound but nodded in agreement.

“Go get the others; badger the priests until they let you in,” he urged. “Send them after me. Now, I’ve got to go!”

He was already wearing the best possible clothing for night prowling; his guise of Hawkwind, black-on- black.

She clicked her beak in anxiety for a moment, then appeared to make up her mind, and rushed out the door.

He didn’t bother with the door; perhaps he wasn’t a fighter, but he hadn’t been spending all these years helping to build White Gryphon without learning some rather odd skills for a kestra’chern.

I will not think about this, only do it.

He had a balcony, and it was a lot faster to get to the ground by sliding down the spiral support poles.

And what was more—if their enemies were watching the door, they’d never see him leave.

He went over the balcony railing and hung by his fingertips for a moment, as he felt for the support pole with his feet. In a moment, he had it; he wrapped his legs around it and let go of the railing, sliding down the pole like a naughty boy fleeing confinement to his room.

Except that, unlike the boy, he had no sense of exhilaration. His muscles all shivered, and his heart beat double-time with fear and tension. He was only too aware that he was one man, alone, and that this course was madness.

A moment later, he was crouched in the shadow of the bushes at the foot of the pole, listening for the sounds of anyone else out in the garden. I suppose I could have dropped straight down; one story isn’t too far to fall. Yes, but if I’d broken an ankle, I wouldn’t be able to do Skan much good now, would I?

He felt the stir of the night breeze against his skin with unnatural clarity. As far as he could tell, there wasn’t anyone nearby on the grounds. That was the way it should be; everyone of any consequence was in the various cleansing ceremonies, and the only people who were excused from the ceremonies were the sick, the injured, the mad (like Amberdrake), and those whose duties forced them to work, like the guards and some of the servants, and probably less than a third of those. This was the quietest the Palace had ever been. Lights were going out in every direction he looked, as servants went from room to deserted room, extinguishing them, in preparation for the Ceremony.

In this case, the best way to be inconspicuous—if a man with a face as pale as his ever would be inconspicuous here—would be to act as if he was going somewhere on orders. So once he made certain there was no one in the immediate area watching him, he stood up, straightened his tunic, and set off for the Hall of Fragrant Joy at a fast walk.

He felt as if there were hundreds of eyes on him, and the skin of his back prickled, as if anticipating an arrow. He wanted to run, but that was hardly the way to remain inconspicuous. No one ran, here. It simply wasn’t done.

He couldn’t have run in any case; the path was visible only because it was white gravel in the midst of dark green grass. If he tried to run, he’d probably fall and break his neck.