Storm Breaking

'What was wrong with those people?' he asked Lyam in amazement, as the members of their own group broke up and went off on their interrupted studies. 'Where did they get those ideas?'

The young hertasi shrugged, his tail beating softly against the floor where they both sat, organizing their notes and putting up their writing supplies. 'They think we wallow in luxury here, that we spend all our time in idle pursuits and speculations that have no bearing on work or reality. They half don't believe in the Storms; they think we've got a fabulous life here and we're prolonging our stay here to continue to enjoy this glorious place and our freedom from work and responsibility.'

Karal glanced around at their 'luxurious surroundings,' taking in the elegant appointments. Well, the inlaid stone floors were certainly beautiful, and there wasn't a ceiling like this one in all of Karse and Valdemar combined. But in between—

True, the Shin'a'in pallets were colorful, and comfortable, but they weren't the equivalent of anything in the guest quarters at the Palace at Haven. And as for the rest, he didn't think that a single one of those Councillors had ever eaten, slept, or lived like this, and he didn't think any of them would ever want to. It wasn't as bad as the poorest Karsite inn workers endured, and in some ways it was a little more comfortable than the conditions of Vkandis' novices, but those highborn Councillors would probably think they'd been exiled to hard living at the end of the world.

And what they'd make of butter-tea, I don't know. They might consider it a form of penance.

'I don't know, Lyam,' he said, finally. 'Is this some sort of delusionary illness they're under?'

The lizard did not have many facial expressions, but he could and did cock up a brow ridge. 'Actually, it's distance. A fair number of our people back in White Gryphon assumed that because we had been given k'Sheyna Vale that we must be living in the midst of incredible luxury. Anything that's far off must be better than anything at home, you see.' He snorted. 'Actually, if you want luxury I'd recommend the courts of the Black Kings. I've been there, so I know. Silk sheets, private gardens, food worth dying for—now that is what I would call luxury!' He smacked his lips, or what passed for lips.

Karal sighed and shook his head, and Lyam patted his back. 'Cheer up! The ones who think we're shirking are all idiots, and Firesong is going to get them to go away. If that Queen of theirs doesn't find them something harmless to do to keep them occupied, that is. I know his kind. He'll keep chipping at them until they quit.'

Karal chuckled at Lyam's all too accurate assessment. 'He can be diplomatic when he wants to be,' he felt impelled to point out.

'Of course he can, but diplomacy is for when you've got time, and that's the one thing we're short of.' Lyam shook his head as his expression turned grave. 'Karal, I'm going to get serious for a moment; I want you to tell me something, and be honest. You've worked with these people—Firesong, An'desha, Sejanes, and all—for a long time. Can they do this? Can they really find an answer to the last Storm? Or should I look for a deep, dark den to hide in and hope it doesn't get melted shut behind me?'

Karal closed his eyes for a moment, taken by surprise by the sudden question. Perhaps that was why Lyam had asked it, so that he wouldn't have a chance to prevaricate.

'If anyone can, they can,' he said at last. 'An'desha holds the actual memories of Urtho's enemy Ma'ar, who was the second-most-powerful mage of the time of the Cataclysm. I just don't know if it's possible for mortal creatures to save this situation.'

Lyam sighed. 'I was afraid you were going to say that.' He slumped abruptly, and looked up at Karal with an unreadable expression. 'Let's talk about our girls,' he suggested. 'You and I can't do a blazing thing to help them, so let's talk about our girls, eh?' In a mercurial change of mood, he grinned, showing a fine set of pointed teeth. 'Nothing like girls to get your mind off your troubles.'

'Or give you a different set of troubles to think about!' Karal laughed, only too happy to oblige.

Tarrn found them both commiserating over the way that females had to approach any difficulty sideways, like a crab, instead of meeting it head-on, a trait it seemed both hertasi and human females shared. He stood within earshot for some time, simply listening, with his pointed ears pricked sharply upward, evidently waiting for a natural break in the conversation before interrupting.

:Lyam, have you any notion where the Shin'a'in stored the gray bag of books we brought with us?: he asked. :I find I need a reference.:

'It's easier for me to find it than tell you where it is,' the hertasi said, leaping to his feet. 'Stay right here; I'll bring the whole bag.'

He scampered down the stairs to the workroom, and Tarrn turned his attention to Karal. :You and my apprentice seem to be getting on well,: he observed mildly.

'We have a great deal in common, sir,' Karal replied politely.' As you probably noticed.'

Tarrn's mouth dropped open in a lupine grin. :Young women, for one thing. Alas, I fear I could never give you reasonable advice on that subject; my kind are neuters, but by birth rather than by oath, as our Shin'a'in friends are.: