The Shadow's heir

want t’do it again.”

“Ugh, me neither,” said Yorath. “He’s an unpredictable creature, that Skandar. He wasn’t brought up in a city, see. Word is he was born wild-an’ ye can’t change a wild griffin for love nor money. My father says that in the war, he’d tear a man’s head clean off in one go. An’ what he did when the griffiners attacked at Fruitsheart. .”

“He’s got magic, ain’t he?” said Laela. “Griffins’ve got magic.”

“So they do,” said Yorath. “I’ve even seen one use it a few times. They don’t do it often, mind. But when they do. .”

“What do they use it for, anyway?” said Laela.

“All kinds of stuff. Every griffin’s got a different power, see?”

“Really?” Laela had never heard that before.

“Oh, yeah. Some are more powerful’n others. Skandar, now. . his magic won the war, really.”

Laela shivered in pleasant anticipation. “What’s his power?”

Yorath looked solemn. “The power of death. The power of shadows. They say the Night God gave it to him, and to the King as well. Lord Iorwerth-he’s the commander of the army-he told me he saw it used in battle. Skandar an’ the King can both disappear-turn ’emselves into shadows. That’s why they call the King the Shadow That Walks. An’ the Mighty Skandar, well. . Iorwerth told me that in Fruitsheart, when the griffiners came, the Mighty Skandar breathed black magic at them. An’ everyone that magic touched-even the biggest of the griffins-died.”

Laela felt cold inside. “Oh, Gryphus. .”

Instantly, Yorath’s friendly face darkened. “Gryphus!” he said. “Ye don’t worship him, Laela. Ye don’t, do ye?”

“What?” Laela started. “Gryphus? No. . I don’t think so, not really.”

“Good.” Yorath’s mouth twisted with hate. “Nobody can worship Gryphus here, on pain of death. The Day God. .” He spat. “A demon, he is. Only filthy Southerners worship him. The light an’ the day. . it’s disgustin’. Who’d want to worship the sun, anyway? It’s a ball of flames-it can’t do anythin’ except burn. There’s no beauty in it, an’ no subtlety, either.”

Laela stared at him. “Ye gods, Yorath, calm down. I never said nothin’ about worshippin’ Gryphus.”

“Sorry.” Yorath looked embarrassed. “It’s just. . well, the Day God’s our enemy. He’s the one sent his people here in the first place, an’ they oppressed us in his name. An’ I just hate the idea that ye’d ever worship him, Laela. I like ye, see?”

Laela looked at his earnest face and felt inexplicably sad. Her father had always taught her that Gryphus was her protector-the guardian of the South and its people, the giver of life. But the Night God-Scathach, Southerners called her-was different. A god of lies and deceit, a god of darkness, a god of death, worshipped by barbaric Northerners, who slaughtered men on her altar.

And yet. .

“I prayed to Gryphus once,” she said softly. “I’ll admit that.”

Yorath scowled. “An’ what did ye ask him for?”

“I asked him to make my father well again.”

“An’ did yer father get well?”

“He died,” said Laela.

Yorath moved closer and touched her shoulder. “I’m sorry about that, Laela.”

“He was real sick,” Laela admitted. “It was probably just his time.”

“Then the Night God answered yer prayer,” said Yorath. “She comes in the night, when a man is deathly sick and suffering, an’ she takes away his life an’ lets him sleep forever. Life is suffering, but the Night God gives us rest.”

Laela nodded. “I like that.”

Yorath smiled. “I’m sorry I got angry. Ye’ll come t’know the Night God better once ye start learnin’ from the priesthood. They’ll teach ye about her. She protects her people. That’s why she sent the King-to be her warrior an’ fight for us.”

Laela thought of Arenadd, the night he had rescued her. “I know.”

Yorath looked at the floor. “Ye know. . ye’re beautiful, for a-”

“-Half-breed?” said Laela.

Yorath reddened. “That’s not what I meant.”

Laela grinned at him. “An’ you’re not bad-lookin’ for a blackrobe.”

For an instant, Yorath stared at her as if she had slapped him. Then, suddenly, he laughed. His laugh was a warm and genuine thing, and wonderfully spontaneous. “I wouldn’t use that word in front of anyone else if I were ye. It’s a quick way to get yerself in a fight. Anyway, I ain’t a blackrobe.”

“I know,” said Laela. “Yer wearin’ a tunic.”

“That, an’ I was born free,” said Yorath. “An’ so was my dad. He was a peasant boy around the time the war started. He went t’join the rebels with a runaway slave. Good ole Garnoc. . they’re best friends now. Ye don’t call him a blackrobe to his face, though. Not unless ye want yer teeth broken.”

“I’ll remember it, then,” said Laela, but she wasn’t really thinking about that. She was watching Yorath. She did like him, she thought. And he. . “Do yeh really think I’m. . well, good-lookin’?” she asked shyly.

“’Course I do,” said Yorath. “The King’s lucky to have ye.”

“Oh.” Laela deflated somewhat. Of course, he must think she was the King’s property. He’d never dream of. . well. .

Yorath suddenly looked embarrassed. “It’s gettin’ late, an’ I’d better get home. Can ye find yer way back to yer quarters from here?”

“Yeah, I know where it is,” said Laela. “Thanks for showin’ me around.”

“It was my pleasure,” said Yorath. “Here, let me walk ye back.”

He accompanied her back to her room despite her few token protests and inclined his head toward her when they arrived at the door.

“I’ll leave ye here, then, an’ see ye tomorrow.”

Laela smiled at him. “I’ll be sure to practise them runes.”

“Yeah.” He moved close to her. “Listen, I don’t want t’sound nosy or anythin’, but I was wonderin’. .”

“Yeah?”

“How long are ye plannin’ to stay here?” said Yorath.

Laela stared at him. “I dunno. I got a good place here. . I wasn’t thinkin’ of leavin’-why?”

He looked uncomfortable. “It’s not my place to ask ye; I just was wonderin’. If ye’re stayin’ with the King an’ all. .”

“He let me stay here for nothin’,” said Laela. “I owe him that, don’t I? He’s not askin’ anythin’ of me.”

“I know,” Yorath said hastily. “But listen-how are ye feelin’? Are ye. . well?”

“’Course I am,” said Laela. “What sort of question’s that?”

Yorath looked even more uncomfortable. “Just. . if ye start feelin’ sick or somethin’, then tell someone.”

“I will,” said Laela, by now thoroughly lost. “Why-there ain’t some sickness goin’ around here, is there?”

Yorath hesitated, and muttered a Northern curse under his breath. “Damn this-ye’ve got the right to know.” He glanced over his shoulder, and then hustled Laela into her room and closed the door behind them. “Listen,” he said urgently. “If anyone asks, I didn’t tell ye this, understand?”

“Lips are sealed,” said Laela. “What’s this all about?”

“The King’s had mistresses before ye,” Yorath said. “Ye’re the first in a while, though.”

Laela shifted. “Ah. . I see. .”

“Do ye know what happened to the others?” said Yorath. “The ones before ye?”

“No,” said Laela.

“They died,” said Yorath. “All of ’em.”

Laela gaped at him. “What? All of them?”

“At least four of the poor things, from what I heard,” said Yorath. “They were fine when they came here, but none of ’em survived. Some lasted longer’n others, but in the end. .”

An image flashed into Laela’s mind-Saeddryn, narrow-eyed and contemptuous . . if I were ye, I wouldn’t stay long. Ye may think ye’re different, but trust me-he’ll be the death of ye. Maybe not soon, but one