solid colors of gray, gold, rusty-red.
Gryphons with accipitor builds, and gryphons as slim as the lightest of falcons. The only markings they all had in common were patently artificial; the final arm's length or so of their first six primaries on each wing were white for four hand-spans, then red for another four handspans to the tips. Every time a gryphon moved a wing, the flash of red and white caught the eye like a flash of bright light.
And they had arrived hungry. Fortunately, Treyvan and Hydona had explained to all their fellow flyers just what the bondbirds were and that they were not to be eaten. Otherwise there might have been true havoc by now, and a number of damaged Hawkbrothers and gryphons. The poor little hertasi had worked themselves to exhaustion, finding enough to feed all of them, and probably enjoyed every moment of their work.
Hydona had promised that after this, they would hunt their own food.
She thought she had never seen anything to match this, not even when the full complement of Heralds and Companions turned out for her mother's wedding. She would much rather look at the gryphons disporting themselves than at the chaos of arguing Clansmen. She would much rather be doing something about Falconsbane or the Heartstone than either... She shifted impatiently, and tried to concentrate on the meeting below her. The Council Oak clearing was full and overflowing with every Tayledras who could walk, and all of the newcomers-plus Skif and Nyara, up at the front, but she could scarcely see them past the press of bodies.
The people who came with the gryphons had been less of a shock than the gryphons themselves; so much like both the Tayledras and the Shin'a'in that she couldn't tell any differences, except in speech and a certain uniformity of dress. They had arrived through the Gate bringing with them curious land-boats; like shallow-draft barges, but with pointed prows and places for rudders. These barges were roofed over and equipped with shutters, fitted up inside for sleeping and storage. Luggage, boxes, and bales of goods were piled upon the roofs and lashed down, and they floated above the ground at about knee-height.
Elspeth had thought her eyes were going to pop out of her head when those came through the Veil. She was secretly relieved to find that the Tayledras were equally astonished by the 'floating barges;' it made her feel less like a country cousin. Forsaking his place with the Elders, Iceshadow had latched onto one of the mage-pilots of the peculiar constructions, and both of them were whispering to each other even now, ignoring the arguments. She had the feeling that they were planning to spend those waking moments not devoted to moving the proto-Gate to explanations of how the barges were enchanted and worked, and how Heartstones were created and functioned.
The full Clan immediately went into session on demand of a minority of Tayledras who were outraged over this violation of their territory.
Wintermoon turned out, surprisingly enough, to be the steadiest voice of reason, reminding the contenders, over and over, that these 'Outlanders' were Tayledras-or rather, the Hawkbrothers were Kaled'a'in, and that the coming of those of their own blood could hardly be counted as invasion. Elspeth wished that she could have left him to this thankless task, but she was a member of the Clan, and she had to be there, like every other member of the Clan.
There are several other things my time could be spent more profitably on.
Wintermoon could probably wear them down into consent within a day or two, with sheer persistence, with or without her help. I wish they'd simply give up and let the rest of us deal with them later, after things have been settled. Dear gods, this is like having an argument over precedence on the eve of a battle!
She had been here since sunrise, perched on a shoulder-high tree branch at the back of the mob, and she hadn't heard any variation in the arguments. She stifled a yawn and looked down, catching the amused eyes of Firesong and his new friend, and the shrug of the former.
Firesong was particularly taken by a young man who was supposed to be a kestrachern, whatever that was, and who had offered to teach him some of the craft when there was time. 'I think you would have a talent for it,' Silverfox had said, with a hint of some kind of innuendo that she couldn't read. 'You are a Healing Adept, after all-it would be a useful skill to have.' Well, that meant that Firesong was not going to be thinking about Darkwind. Not with the lithe and graceful Silverfox, he of the knowing blue eyes and ankle-length ebony hair, giving silent invitations Firesong seemed to find irresistible. And that was just fine with her.
That left one less thing for both Darkwind and herself to worry about, and they certainly had enough on their hands right now. Even without the contention within the Clan.
A stir of activity near the Elders' seats caught her eye; she was too far away to see what was going on, but there was certainly something happening besides the dreary old arguments.
She sent a silent inquiry to Gwena, who was somewhere on the edge of the clearing, but her Companion sent back a wordless negative. Gwena couldn't see anything either.
She narrowed her eyes and peered carefully through the screening of branches and bodies. There was someone coming into the Council Oak clearing from outside-No, lots of someones!
She craned her neck to see, bracing her hands against the branch, and jumped when someone grabbed her wrist. She looked down to find Darkwind tugging her, indicating she should jump down into his arms.
'They are calling for us,' he said. 'The Shin'a'in have arrived.' The Shin'a'in? What did they have to do with this mess?
But she obeyed; she jumped and he caught her waist, easing her to the ground with that carefully controlled strength that she never noticed until he did something like this. Together they wound their way through the crowd to the front, where the Elders sat.
As they broke through the final group of Tayledras screening her from the Elders' circle, she stifled a start of surprise. There was old Kra'heera-but with him were six other Shin'a'in-Shin'a'in of a kind she had seen only twice before. Shin'a'in of the kind called 'Swordsworn.'
They crowded in behind Kra'heera, black-clad, some veiled, some not, leading night-black horses. And the veiled ones seemed to shimmer with power, as if they were not quite of this world.
'So we are not,' said a voice in her head, and she stifled another start.
One set of ice-blue eyes over a black veil caught her attention; one of those eyes winked, slowly, and deliberately. 'Be at peace, little sister-in-power, student of my student.'
'Of course we have known of the coming of the Kaleid'a'in,' Kra'heera was saying impatiently. The faces of the Elders remained inscrutable, but there was no doubting the surprise and consternation in the expressions of those who had been arguing against permitting the Kaled'a'in to remain. 'She told us they were coming, and bid us
