omissions. Fortunately, after the gryphons, even the dyheli and Nyara didn't seem to cause too much consternation. Rris was simply assumed to be a very large dog, and neither he nor Elspeth saw any reason to enlighten anyone on that score - although his occasionally acidic comments had her choking down laughter she would have been hard put to explain if anyone had noticed.
By the time everyone had been found and calmed, and all misunderstandings sorted out, it was well into night.
Elspeth was tired, hungry, and in no mood to deal with anything other than a meal and a warm bed.
'But like it or not,' she said to Darkwind - in Tayledras, so that no one would overhear and be offended - 'I'm back at home, which means work, lots of it, starting this very moment. You don't have to sit through this if you don't want to, but I have to have a meeting with these Heralds. If they didn't get the message about the gryphons, there are probably a hundred equally important messages we haven't gotten.'
'I came to help,' Darkwind said softly, the lines of worry in his face softened by the light from the candle- lamps. 'If you do not object to my presence.'
Object? 'Not likely,' she said with gratitude. 'You probably won't understand half of what they say, but you should get the sense of it all if you link with my mind.'
Link with my mind - I never thought I would ever say that to anyone, I never thought I would be willing to. She smiled at him, a little shyly. She was so used to linking with him now that it never even caused her a moment of uneasiness; she did it as easily as she opened her thoughts to Gwena.
He smiled, and touched her hand lightly. She gave him a slow wink, then paused for a half breath to settle her thoughts. After speaking only Tayledras for so long, it seemed odd to speak her own tongue again; the words felt strange in her mouth.
Darkwind waited as she attempted to assume an air of authority. At her nod, he followed, as she went right to the corner to interrupt the low-voiced conversation all three Heralds were having with Lord Jehan.
The Heralds started and looked guilty as she cleared her throat. She was struck, at that moment, by how plain and severe their Whites looked, and spared a flicker of thought to wonder if she and Skif looked as outlandish and exotic to them as they looked plain to her.
Although the three Heralds seemed embarrassed - which meant that they had probably been discussing her - Sir Jehan, evidently, was just as blunt and forthright as any of his line, and turned to her immediately.
He was a brown and blocky man; brown eyes, hair, and beard, with a square face and a square build, all of it muscle. He looked nothing like Vanyel. She remembered something her mother had said once, though: 'The Ashkevron look usually breeds true, and when it doesn't, the poor child generally runs off to Haven!'
'Cavil was just saying that no one told him that anyone was coming except you and the other Herald,' he said, with a hearty chuckle. 'He keeps insisting that I ought to complain to someone. Can't understand why. I know how it is. You tell someone, 'I'm coming and bringing an entourage of a hundred,' he tells the next fellow, 'Jehan's bringing an escort,' it keeps getting pared down until your host thinks you're only bringin' a couple of servants, and when you show up with your hundred, there's no place to put 'em all.' He shrugged. 'It happens. Happens all the time, and no one to blame for it,'
She sighed with relief. There was one good thing about dealing with people like Jehan; once they calmed down, they were usually able to take anything in stride, from gryphons in their chapels to Gates in their doorways.
'Thank you for being so understanding,' she said. 'Could I steal Cavil and the others from you for a little? There's a great deal I have to catch up on.'
'Oh, no fear, no fear,' Jehan replied affably. 'I have to go round up the aunties again and let 'em know they aren't goin' to be eaten in their beds.' He grinned hugely, showing very white teeth in a very dark beard, then added. 'I never believed 'em when they all said you were dead, Lady. Kept telling 'em they were actin' like a bunch of silly hens, flutterin' around over nothing.'
And with that odd comment, he sketched a bow and took his leave.
Elspeth turned to Herald Cavil, who looked profoundly embarrassed. He was an older man, thin and harried- looking, with brown hair going gray at the temples. She had a feeling that after today, there would be a lot more gray there. 'Just what in Havens was that all about?' she demanded. 'About my being dead, I mean.'
He flushed; his cheeks turned a brilliant crimson. 'Some of what we need to brief you on, my lady,' he said, quickly, while the other two Heralds nodded. 'There have been rumors over the last several months that you were dead and the Council was trying to conceal that fact. Nothing the Queen or Circle could say or do seemed to calm the alarm. We need to proceed back to Haven at all speed, and as openly as possible - '
'We aren't going to be able to proceed quietly with this menagerie!' she pointed out, interrupting him. 'But apparently, that's going to be all to the good, from what you're saying. The more people that see me, the better, right?' She shook her head for a moment, and caught Darkwind's eye. He was rather amused by something, although she couldn't imagine what. Perhaps it was the notion of trying to conceal the gryphons.
As what? Statuary?
