Winds Of Fury

Falconsbane smiled.

And took his time.

Shilling rain poured from a leaden sky, a continuous sheet of gray from horizon to horizon. Elspeth silently thanked the far-away hertasi for the waterproof coats they had made, and tied her hood a little tighter. They rode right into the teeth of the wind; there was little in the way of lightning and thunder, but the wind and sheeting rain more than made up for that lack. The poor gryphons, shrouded in improvised raincapes made from old tents, would have been soaked to the skin if they had not been able to shield themselves from the worst of it with a bit of magic. The rest of them, however, chose to deal with the elements rather than advertise their presence on the road any further. Admittedly, that was less of a hardship for the Tayledras, Elspeth, Skif, and Nyara, with their coats supplied by the clever fingers of the hertasi. She felt very sorry for Cavil, Shion, and Lisha, whose standard-issue raincloaks were nowhere near as waterproof as hertasi-made garments.

Still, rain found its way in through every opening, sending unexpected trickles of chill down arms and backs, and exposed legs and faces got the full brunt of the weather. 'I may have been more miserable a time or two in my life, but if so, I don't remember it,' Skif said to Elspeth.

Nyara grimaced, showing sharp teeth, and nodded agreement. 'I do not care to think of spending weeks riding through this,' she said. 'It must be bad for the hooved ones, yes? And does not cold and wet like this make people ill?'

On the other side of her, Cavil leaned over the neck of his Companion to add his own commentary.

'Now you see what we've been dealing with, off and on, for the past six months or so!' he shouted over the drumming rain, sniffing and rubbing his nose. 'The - ah - lady is right; every village is suffering colds or fevers. I hope that we manage to ride out of the storm soon, but I am not going to wager on it. You can't predict anything anymore!'

Elspeth glanced back at Firesong, who was huddled in his waterproof cape, his firebird inside his hood, just as Vree was inside Darkwind's :Isn't there anything you can do about this?: she asked him :Can't you send the rain away, or something? I thought about doing it, but since I've never done it before, I'm afraid to try.:

:Rightly,: he replied :Weather-work done on mage-disturbance storms after the fact is a touchy business. For that matter, weather-work is always a touchy business. I do not know enough about this land, the countryside hereabouts, to make an informed decision. You do not yet have the skill. We do not know what is safe to do with this storm. Anything either of us do to change the weather-patterns could only mean making a worse disaster than this. Ask your friend if this is going to cause severe enough crop damage to cause shortages later.:

'Is this bad enough to cause measurable crop damage?' she shouted back to Cavil. He squinted up at the sky for a moment, as if taking its measure, then shook his head. 'It won't ruin the grazing, and the hay isn't ripening yet,' he replied. 'Most people around here are raising beef cattle, milch cows, and sheep, not crops. If this were farther south - ' He shook his head. 'We've been lucky; storms have been violent, but they haven't caused any major crop damage yet.'

Yet. The word hung in the air, as ominous as the lowering clouds.

:Then we do nothing,: Firesong said firmly :There is no point in meddling and making a bad situation worse! We can endure some rough weather; the worst we will suffer is a wetting and a chill. When I have an opportunity to meet with those who have records of normal weather patterns, then I will help reestablish those patterns.:He sighed :I fear I was only too prophetic when I said there was a great deal of work ahead of me.:

Elspeth shrugged and grimaced slightly, but she could certainly see his point. There was only one benefit the foul weather was bestowing. Cavil could not insist on leaving the gryphons or the Tayledras behind on the excuse that they couldn't keep up with the Companions. He'd said something of the sort just before they left the Ashkevron manor, but his own Companion had told him tartly that no one was going to go racing to Haven in a downpour. In weather like this, even the Companions could not make very good time.

Darkwind and Nyara rode on horses borrowed from Lord Ashkevron, at that worthy's insistence. Those horses were what the Lord had referred to as 'mudders;' sturdy beasts that could keep up a good pace all day through the worst weather. They were fairly ugly beasts; jug-headed, big-boned, as muscular as oxen, with rough, hairy hides that never could be curried into a shine. But those heavy bones and dense muscles pulled them right through the mire, and their dun-brown coats didn't show mud as badly as Firesong's white dyheli or the Companions - all of which were smeared and splattered up to their bellies.

Well, we hardly make a good show, but that's not such a bad thing, she reflected, shoving a strand of wet hair back under the hood of her cloak. No one even thinks twice about making a State Visit out of us when they see us...

In fact, the three times they had stopped overnight so far, their hosts had been so concerned by their appearance that they had simply hurried them into warm beds, and had meals sent up to their rooms. They had been able to avoid State nonsense altogether.

Elspeth had just discovered something about herself, something she had learned after a mere twelve candlemarks in Cavil, Shion, and Lisha's presence. Her tolerance for courtly politics had deteriorated to the point of nonexistence after her stay with k'Sheyna. She just didn't want to hear about it. No gossip, no suppositions, none of it.