The Shadow's heir

throats, but I have the welfare of an entire Kingdom to think about.”

Saeddryn choked on her rage. Beside her, Aenae started up angrily but shrank back when Skandar hissed at him.

“Listen,” said Arenadd. “I know the Amoranis are different, but they’re a fellow nation, and in many ways, they’re more powerful than we are. The stronger our alliance with them, the stronger we are. And if the South ever does invade again, we can call on them to help us.”

“Are ye suggestin’ we should let other people fight our battles for us? Foreigners? Cursed sun worshippers?”

“Saeddryn, the Southerners outnumber us a hundred to one,” said Arenadd.

“All the more reason to attack now, before they can organise themselves against us!” said Saeddryn. “Don’t ye see, Sire?”

“Saeddryn, we can’t keep doing this!” said Arenadd. “Don’t you understand? We cannot keep trying to live in the past. Our people can do more than squabble among themselves and make war on their neighbours-look at how much they’ve done already.”

“We must destroy the South, Sire,” Saeddryn said softly. “In the name of the Night God.”

Arenadd thought of the Night God’s silver moon-eye. “The Emperor of Amoran is sending his best ambassador,” he said. “When he arrives, I’ll see to it that he speaks with all of you. Until then, I don’t want to hear another word about this from any of you. And that includes you, Saeddryn.”

She looked him in the eye. “Our ancestors would be ashamed of ye, Sire.”

The others there breathed in sharply. Several of the griffins stirred, bracing themselves for a fight.

“Our ancestors lived in a different time,” Arenadd said evenly. “This is our time, not theirs. And unless we change as the world does, we’ll perish.”

That said, he stepped down from the platform and strode out of the council chamber.

Skandar stood up, towering over the entire council, griffins included. “You do as human say,” he threatened. “He know what do. Not you.”

Iorwerth bowed his head. “Mighty Skandar, do you believe we should go to war?”

Skandar clicked his beak dismissively. “This my home nest now. Enemy come here, I kill them. Why leave? Have enough here; territory big enough now. You do as human say, or I drive you away.”

His piece said, the dark griffin stepped off the platform and loped away after his retreating partner.

Up in his own room, Arenadd sat down at the desk and began to sort through a heap of paperwork. These days, it seemed everything was about pieces of paper. And arguing. Gods, how had it come to this?

The Night God gives me immortality, he thought. And here I am, spending it doing this all gods-damned day.

“Well, what’s the alternative?” he muttered aloud. “You’re a warrior who’s lost his taste for fighting. Maybe you don’t have any grey in your beard, but you’re ageing on the inside.”

A sudden, intense feeling of loneliness came over him. He put down his pen and buried his face in his hands. Gods help me, what am I supposed to do? Everything used to be so simple. What happened to me?

But things had been simple then because he had known what he had to do. The Night God had ordered him to use his powers to destroy the Southerners and free the North for her people to own once again. She had promised him power and riches in return, and he had them now. But without Skade. . without his Skade, none of it could make him happy.

Attacking the South won’t bring Skade back, and it won’t make me happy. And my people don’t need war.

But the Night God had commanded him to, and if he defied her, even now. .

He shuddered. What do I do? What? I know what I must do, but I don’t want to do it.

For some reason, he had imagined that finding out his old name would answer the questions that had been spiralling endlessly in his head for the past few years. But now he had the knowledge, nothing felt any simpler.

“Arren Cardockson,” he repeated to himself.

The name stirred nothing inside him. It could have been anybody’s name. It certainly wasn’t his. Not now. No, whoever Arren Cardockson had been, he was gone now. His short life had ended a long time ago, and perhaps his soul was at rest now.

“For your sake, I hope it is, Arren,” he said. “And I hope you never did find out who would use your body after you died. No matter what you did in life, you didn’t deserve that.”

His misery and anxiety were making him feel sick. He wanted to scream.

Instead, he breathed out slowly and picked up his pen again. Control yourself. You have work to do.

Laela returned to her room after dinner, tired but happy. She had spent the entire morning in the library with Yorath, learning more runes. She could draw all of them by now, and once she’d practised the last of them and could write them down in their proper order, she could begin learning a few simple words.

After the lesson, Yorath had surprised her by offering to show her around the Eyrie. She’d accepted, and after they’d had lunch together, he took her through the five towers-showing her the armoury, the treasury, the kitchens, and the Hatchery, where unpartnered griffins lived and bred. They couldn’t actually enter the Hatchery since unpartnered humans weren’t welcome inside it unless they worked there, but Yorath showed her to a window, where she could look through and see the huge space, teeming with griffins, fighting, eating, or sleeping.

“’Course griffins weren’t really meant to live this close together, but they manage,” said Yorath. “Takes humans t’keep ’em peaceful-like. If a griffin kills a human, he’s likely t’be brought up on murder charges. Same goes if a human kills a griffin. It’s different if a human attacks a griffiner, mind. Then the griffin’s within his rights t’kill the bastard. Ye don’t have much t’fear if yer a griffiner. Probably why everyone wants t’be one.” He grinned.

“I’d be damned scared having one of them things followin’ me around,” said Laela.

“Oh, me, too,” said Yorath. “Wouldn’t happen, though. Griffins, they’re picky. They only choose the best humans.”

“Still,” Laela said wistfully. “Flyin’ would be somethin’ else.”

“Oh, yeah, wouldn’t it just,” said Yorath. He sighed. “I used t’dream of flyin’ a griffin, when I was a lad.” He tugged at her elbow. “C’mon, anyway-there’s one last thing t’show ye. I saved the best part till last.”

They returned to the largest tower in the Eyrie, which Yorath had said was called the Council Tower.

“An’ this is why they call it that,” he said, pushing open a huge pair of doors.

Laela stepped through them and into the biggest chamber she had seen so far.

It must have taken up more than one entire level of the tower, and had the same rounded shape. High above, the ceiling was an enormous dome, painted with a mural of griffins flying in a dark, star-studded sky dominated by the phases of the moon in a ring.

The only furniture in the room was in the middle of the floor, where a ring of huge benches surrounded a platform shaped like a full moon. Above, ringing the inside of the chamber, were an enormous series of ledges, obviously designed for people and griffins to sit on. In fact, when Laela squinted, she could see a solitary old woman asleep up there.

“Probably didn’t realise the meeting was over,” said Yorath, behind her. “What d’ye reckon?”

Laela walked slowly toward the middle of the chamber, almost speechless at the sheer size and magnificence of it. “What is this?” she managed.

“The council chamber, of course,” said Yorath. “This is where all the highest officials meet an’ talk with the King. They met here just today. Everyone was here-very important things going on just now.”

Laela stepped onto the platform, noticing the deep cuts in the wood. “Is this where the King stands?”

Yorath nodded. “The Mighty Skandar, too.” He knelt and ran his fingers over a row of marks at the edge of the platform. “Ye can see where his talons’ve been. Griffins have got a bad habit of tearin’ things up like this. They do it when they’re angry or upset about somethin’.”

Laela examined the cuts. “Dear gods, the strength that beast has got. I saw him once up close, an’ I never