“When time permits, I
“And she will hold you to that.” The lionbird chuckled and clasped his taloned hands together. “Now, I regret to say, I must depart. There are some other tasks I must perform before I transport myself back to Penacles.” The distinctive human/avian eyes widened. “Aaah! What a fool I am! Before I forget again, will the eternal be coming to the gathering? I know he joined you on your trek to Talak, Cabe. Will he also do so when you bring to us the Gold Dragon’s heir?”
Thinking back, the sorcerer could not recall whether or not he had ever discussed Penacles in particular with Darkhorse. They had mostly talked about the mountain kingdom. Still, Darkhorse was always more welcome in the court of Toos the Regent than he was in that of Melicard. Cabe saw no reason why the shadow steed would not make the journey. “I would think that he would be there, but no promise was made.”
The Gryphon laughed at that. “Then I shall warn Toos to be ready for him! The shadowy one, for all he is known in Penacles, still makes most of us jump! If he could only be taught to appear in a less dramatic fashion than is his wont, things would be so much quieter.”
“If I see him, I’ll be certain to pass on that suggestion.” Having seen the reaction of the Talakian guests to Darkhorse, even after Melicard’s warnings, Cabe had no desire to witness a repetition.
“Good! Then if the two of you might be willing to lead me to the edge of the barrier spells . . .”
“I could simply transport us there,” reminded the warlock.
“I think that I can spare the two of you the extra few minutes . . . unless you fear my close proximity to your lady?”
“Not as much as you should fear the claws of
“Yes, there is that.”
“We would be delighted to walk with you, Gryphon.” The scarlet-tressed sorceress took hold of the lionbird’s arm.
With Cabe leading, they departed Aurim’s chambers. More at ease, the trio’s conversation turned to more pleasant things, such as the activities of the Gryphon’s second child or the school of magic. Cabe had hopes for the future of the school; while its initial students seemed destined to be minor spellcasters at best, the openness in which the school operated was making the people of Penacles more comfortable with the concept. None who showed any promise was refused a testing, and none who took the test could claim that they had not been treated fairly, whatever their place in society. That was another reason both Bedlams desired the chance to return more often to the City of Knowledge. It behooved them to do whatever was in their power to keep the school a place that folk everywhere would admire, not fear. It was not merely for their own sake; it was for the sake of their children and other mages to come.
The Gryphon was describing the practice sessions of a student whose impatience rivaled that of Aurim when the young warlock himself appeared in the hall. With him was Ursa, who seemed to be supporting the Bedlams’ son.
The brief interlude of peace was immediately shattered as parental concern seized control. Stepping toward his son, Cabe asked, “Aurim, are you well?”
The younger Bedlam glanced up. Embarrassment colored his cheeks. “I slipped and struck my head, Father. It’s nothing, really.”
“Merely a large lump and a maddening headache,” Ursa added with a wry smile. “I still don’t know how he did it.”
“I wish
“Where did it happen?” Perhaps it was because of the discovery that they had made in Aurim’s room, a discovery that Cabe was still debating about mentioning to his son, but the warlock needed to know.
“At the beginning of the maze. It was such a good day that I’d been practicing in there instead of here. I supposed I was still thinking about the spellcasting and just misstepped.” The young warlock shook his head. “Everything pounds now!”
Cabe was disappointed. For reasons that were not yet clear even to him, he had almost expected that his son’s accident had taken place in or around the stables.
“Then, there’s no sense in you standing here,” admonished Gwendolyn. “Ursa, if you would see him to his room, I will be back in a few minutes.”
“Certainly, my lady. I will stay with him until you return.”
Aurim did not like being treated so. “All I need to do is lie down, Mother. There’s no reason to worry.”
“I will be the judge of that. If you please, Ursa?”
The beauteous drake led the feebly protesting Aurim away, his mother’s gaze remaining on the pair until they were well on their way.
“A fine boy,” remarked the Gryphon, but his tone hinted that his thoughts were, in part, on another boy long dead.
“But very stubborn,” insisted the Lady Bedlam.
“I, for one, am not surprised.”
She took the comment for the compliment it was supposed to be. As they moved on, the enchantress added, “It is not the
“Not by far. Will you be bringing Aurim and Valea to Penacles when you make your extended visit?”
Cabe’s wife considered that. “It might be a good idea. With Kyl, Grath, and Ursa gone, the Manor will certainly seem empty for the two of them.”
“The Manor will seem empty to you, too, won’t it? After all, many of those who live here will be leaving with them, won’t they?”
“Many of the drakes will be leaving, and some of the humans, too, but some of those are returning to the domain of the Green Dragon, who originally brought them to the Manor. Actually, anyone, either human or drake, who desires to remain behind is welcome to do so. I have hopes that most will.”
They had reached the staircase. The Gryphon glanced at Cabe, who had been silent for the past several moments. The warlock had been listening, but he had also been brooding over his earlier notion concerning the stables. He could not say why; after all, the Gryphon’s search had yielded nothing, and if there was anyone other than Darkhorse whose power Cabe respected, it was the lionbird.
“I hope you and your entire family will dare to take some time to visit us after Kyl is ensconced on the throne of the Dragon Emperor, Cabe. Things should be much more peaceful by that time, and I think that Troia may not desire to travel much out of the city. Not, at least, for several months.” There was a twinkle in the lionbird’s arresting eyes as he saw comprehension slowly creep into his hosts’ countenances. “I would say that Troia will be showing very soon.”
“Another child? How wonderful!” The sorceress hugged the Gryphon.
Cabe, forgetting all else, reached forward and shook his old comrade’s hand again. “Was that the true reason you came?”
“Oh, the others were good, too, but I decided to save the best news for last.” The Gryphon tilted his head a bit. “I would be happy with a female this time, but another male would be loved just as much!”
“I’m amazed that you kept the truth hidden from us so long.”
“I wanted to tell you when I first arrived, but I had sworn that I would save this news for last, it being the best possible news there could be!” He laughed. “I tell you, there is no reason that Toos could give me now that would make me take the throne back from him! I intend to enjoy the coming peace by watching all my children grow up while Troia and I make up for all the time the war kept us from truly enjoying one another.”
“We shall have to visit you the moment after Kyl has ascended to the throne, no later than that!” exclaimed the Lady Bedlam. She and Cabe both knew what children meant to the Gryphon and Troia. For all his warlike past, the lionbird adored the young, but that fact had not been noticed until he had met his mate.
“Kyl . . .” The Gryphon squawked and shook his head. “I am more than happy to be free of the curses of monarchy, but if that’s what he desires, may he rule long as long as he rules fair. I wish him the best of luck, of course.” He shrugged, and when he spoke again, some of the joy created by the announcement of his forthcoming child gave way to consideration of another child’s impending future. “But I hope that he may
