The Sheening Of The Blades (Book 1) (44 page)

As if on cue, Skippy abruptly fell over on his side, startling them all, and rolled over on his back with all four legs in the air.  His head lolled beseechingly towards them.  The Northerners gaped.

“He wants his belly scratched,” Flyr translated fondly, but the clarification didn’t bring a rush of volunteers.  He bent down between those mortally huge talons and lethal paws and scratched away all by his lonesome.

“
Flyr,” a straw-bestooned Cyrrhidean hailed from outside, “Kindri sends her apologies to the Northerners, but she’s been called to the Palace.  She requests an escort for their return.”

“
Of course,” the Topaz Chief answered, looking up from the gargantuan lion underbelly.  The Eyries wound back to almost face the Palace here, and they could all see the placid Princess gliding slowly back across the bridge.  Flyr’s happy countenance fell several degrees. 

Rodge, sometimes perceptive and
hardly ever burdened with discretion, asked, “What’s with her, anyway?”

Absently
and unabashed, Flyr said, “Leafed out on
dasht.
” 

They all shared quick, clueless looks.

“Dashed?” Loren repeated carefully.

“
Mm.  They say she’s the biggest user in the Palace.”

A drug? Ari wondered, just as Cerise said acerbically,
“She’s the heiress to the Realm.  Surely she wouldn’t purposefully compromise her ability to do her job.”

Flyr shook himself out of his despondency, shooting Cerise his old, sly smile. 
“In Cyrrh, women do not inherit.  Or rule.  She doesn’t have a job.”  Cerise, equanimity restored in the face of a nice, normal impropriety, drew herself up, blue eyes blazing.  Before she could begin a discourse, however, he added, “Besides, she’s better on
dasht
, believe me.  She’s mean as a black, that one.”

This was distracting
enough to give her pause and inexplicable enough that Rodge demanded, “A black what?” defiantly shaking his black hair off his forehead.  It was hard to picture the Skyprincess expending enough energy to be a mean anything.

He glanced around at their expressions, his contagious grin warming his brown face. 
“I guess you
wouldn’t
be familiar with that expression.  A black gryphon.  They’re the fastest, smartest, most agile gryphons there are—by far the best fighters.  But almost completely untamable.  You can’t ride them, so they’re only good for breeding stock.  We could really use some black blood now,” he said wryly, looking around the eyrie.  “But we can’t even bejewel gryphonets anymore, let alone a black.”

“
Bejewel?” Rodge and Loren both asked.  They were all starting to feel like deaf men at a symphony.

“
Mm.  That’s the act of enticing gryphons so they can be snared and domesticated.  It’s usually pretty easy with the young, when their instinct to collect shiny things still overpowers their wariness, but we haven’t even been able to get close to them recently.”

“
Perhaps you should leave wild animals wild, instead of imprisoning them for life, chaining them into dark, airless caves, and forcing them to do your bidding for your own pleasure,”  Cerise, original commentary repressed, said frostily.

He may have been unusually extroverted, but Flyr had his Realm
’s mild-mannered temperament.  They seemed to like their women snippy, for all the admiration Cerise’s barbed comments appeared to arouse.  “Indeed.  There are few things more moving than to see a gryphon in the wild.”  He sighed heavily.  “But, we need them to fight the dragons…it is our only defense against those monsters.  And if the Sheel rises…”  The mood darkened like a rain cloud passing in front of the sun, Flyr’s artless face flashing an uneasy warning. He looked around ruefully.  “Skippy’s almost seventy—getting to be an old man.  They can live longer, of course, but not as effective fighters.  Now, when we may need him most, it’s time for him to retire.”

It seemed incongruous.  This breathtaking, beautiful world of art and air and light and magic, to be affected by the same dark, grim foreboding they
’d seen in the other, normal world.  It was like tears in fine silk.

“
Perhaps your system might work better if people were in a little better control of themselves,” Cerise observed.  The boys threw her aggravated looks.  It was beginning to dawn on them that amongst all the peoples they had met in their travels…only Northerners were deliberately rude.

“
The Forces are forbidden to use
dasht
,” Flyr said tolerantly, immediately catching her implication.  “In fact, the Forces that we do have are in excellent form.  The current Lord Regent is probably the finest in Cyrrhidean history—he was the first person in generations to bring in a black, though it couldn’t be kept.  To make Taloner, you’ve got to bejewel two gryphons or five gryphonets, and the Lord Regent, as head of all the Forces, has to fulfill the requirements for each branch.  The Silk Circle voted unanimously to grant Traive his Taloner status with just that single black.”  Flyr chuckled, obviously proud.  “It was quite a catch.”

The Northerners looked at each other.  Even Cerise had forgotten her ire. 

“Traive?” Loren said uncertainly.  “The same one that came in with us?”

“
The very one,” Flyr said, standing and brushing his knees off.  Something that sounded very much like a magnified purr came from the limp leviathan at his feet.  “Youngest Lord Regent in history…”

Cerise
’s face slowly suffused with anger.  In the political web of the world of the North, identities were kept secret only to manipulate others, for leverage, for power, for making others look like fools.

“
I thought you couldn’t get close to blacks anymore,” she snapped, voice more scathing than the boys had heard in weeks.

Flyr shrugged. 
“Like I said, he couldn’t be kept, even for breeding.  Gryphons aren’t any use if they can’t be gentled, trained, or at least jessed.  This black Traive brought in was vicious; killed a Taloner, mauled two others, and chewed through two sets of chains.”  He was already turning away, so he missed a suddenly nervous Rodge wiping sweat off his brow.  They followed him with a new-found respect, and one of them quite hostile, through the rest of the tour.  It was much harder to picture these creatures as friendly, faintly loony, oversized pets than it was to keep in mind the thought of being rent by those steel-tipped talons, torn to bits by the sharp, hooked beaks, bludgeoned to death by wings the size of a warsloop…

CHAPTER 20

It was
with both relief and regret that they were escorted finally back to the breakfast room, where a lunch of tiny sandwiches and absolutely perfect pickles waited.  Loren was stuffing several of these into his mouth when the Skyprincess drifted vaguely in.  He paused, cheeks bulging, so rapt he forgot to be embarrassed.

As p
rofoundly uninterested in Northern gluttons as she was everything else, Kindri said with no particular regret, “Forgive my departure earlier.  I was called away to greet some of the Circle members.  We shall begin shortly.”

“
I demand to attend,” Cerise said severely.  “I am the official representative of her   Imperial Majesty, Queen Sable, and I am here both to verbalize her wishes and to gather information of importance to our Realm.”

In perfect mimicry, Rodge said,
“I also demand to attend.  I represent nobody and nothing and am outranked by everybody.”

Cerise shot him a venomous look and Ari wouldn
’t have been surprised to see Rodge go suddenly flying over the railing into Cyrrhidean airspace.  He shared an appalled look with Loren—how had they gotten hooked up with these people?

“
All right,” Kindri said listlessly.  “You can all come.”  Everyone turned to look at her, the flash of triumph on Cerise’s face fading beneath a film of disgust.  This was no way to run a Realm, and even the boys knew it…though they weren’t exactly sure what a Circle of Silk was.  Maybe it was just bolts of cloth and a little light entertainment.

“
We’ll have to go now,” she added, without a trace of urgency.  They rose uncertainly to their feet, Loren frantically trying to get control of his oral protrusion of pickles, and followed the slim, swaying figure out into the passageway.  One brilliant tapestry after another slid by them in the long hallways, gorgeous vases loaded with flowers interspersed here and there, and the endless series of mirrors flashing and glowing with reflected light.  Ari was just beginning to wonder if her Highness was conscious enough to know where she was going, when they turned into a wide hallway that he was pretty sure he recognized from last night.  In a few steps they were at the little antechamber and his suspicions were confirmed at the sight of the guards.  Guards in brilliant, costly silk tended to wedge into a Northern memory.

They walked between the
m and into the blinding magnificence of the Throne Room of Cyrrh.  Opening directly out onto the valley of the Heart of the Falls and lit by bright afternoon sun, it was by far the most expansive, grandest chamber they’d ever seen.  At the back, an immense throne that looked hewn of solid gold sat on a dais worked whimsically into a gryphon’s nest.  Both were strewn delicately and gorgeously with emeralds, aquamarines, and bright turquoise, the Realm’s colors.  Silk hangings covered in breathtaking airborne gryphons and dragons hung in vibrant swathes of color over every inch of rock wall, and there were more gold candlesticks and beautiful treasures of art and furnishing than Ari had seen in the entire Northern Palace.  Slim, soothing waterfalls fell in twin flows down the high wall to either side of the Throne and bright birds and dragonflies swooped and darted through the chamber like it was just a particularly showy extension of the jungle. 

Kindri took them without pause to the center front of th
is opulent paradise, where a raised area was covered thickly with silk mats and pillows in deep evergreen and pale blue, gold embroidery blinding when the full light of the sun caught it.  There were already several men seated there, and the Northerners’ desire to look around at the room was replaced by a sudden hesitance to barge into…whatever this was.

Then Ari saw Kai and his face lightened in greeting.  The Dra looked back at him in acknowledgment, taciturn as ever.  He was in new black leathers, but they covered the same lean muscles, the same taut, dangerous man, as ever.  Ari understood
him a little better now.  The ever-present vigilance, the aura of lethal energy, the hunter’s alertness that stood out like a beacon in Archemounte…it all
belonged
in Cyrrh, like a gemstone come home to rest in its setting.

Ari wished he had the gumption to stand with him instead of
sinking so affectedly into the mounds of pillows, silk pajamas billowing effeminately up around him.  But he felt conspicuous enough with all the quiet-faced officials looking at them.

T
hen Lord Khrieg, Skylord of Cyrrh, walked into the room, and all attention turned to him.  That impression of heaviness that Ari’d noticed at the Kingsmeet was apparently the Skylord at his best.  Here he seemed so bowed down and sorrowful in comparison that it was a surprise to see him make it all the way across that vast floor.  He settled at last into the high pile of ornately embroidered pillows obviously reserved for him, and only then did Ari notice the rest of the men with him.  One of them was Traive, who gave Ari a flicker of a wink as he sank athletically down at his lord’s right.

Master Melkin, in smoky black silk that didn
’t look ridiculous at all, had come in behind the royal entourage and sat down with great force nearby.  He shot them one dour, irked look that said plainly their existence was a great trial to him, and proceeded to ignore them for the rest of the meeting.  Dra Kai lowered himself next to him like a crossbow being drawn.

“
Let me welcome our dear guests,” Khrieg began lugubriously in that same silvery tenor Ari remembered from the Kingsmeet.  “It has been many generations since this city has seen Imperial visitors, and we extend you a heartfelt welcome.  If there is any way we might make you more comfortable, you must let us know.”

The Northerners were saved from having to reply by Melkin
, who said with his typical social dexterity, “We don’t have time for this, Lord Khrieg.  The world’s changing, and if we don’t figure out how and why, we’re going to be left off the last cart to the fair.”  His sole concession to the formality of the royal presence seemed to be his tone of voice, which was incongruously neutral as it blasted out this observation.

His sparking energy set off the room exactly as it had a somnolent classroom of natural sciences students.  No one EVER dozed in Master Melkin
’s class.  Around the circle, men looked up, fixing on Melkin’s face—all except the Skylord, inured by several thicknesses of profound despondency.  “I know your urgency, Wolfmaster,” he said sadly, “but be aware your quest may well be in vain.  Were we to know exactly what was occurring in the minds and hands of the Enemy, we still could not stop it.  Our forces are depleted, our bodies few and our minds unknowing of the paths of the past…”

Melkin
’s eyes snapped in annoyance.  While he was trying to chew some words into coherency, Kai said smoothly, “I have news from the Kingsmeet.”

Khrieg lifted his head with a weary sort of interest. 
“Yes, by all means, let us hear what our Brothers have been doing.  For this you have come many leagues without rest, risking your life, in fair loyalty to your companions and duty to your quest.”  The other Cyrrhideans nodded their heads gravely.  Rodge slid Ari a ‘you’ve gotta be kidding me’ look.

In sharp contrast to the flowery pronouncements worthy of Chronicles and scribes, the Dra
now proceeded to put out information with refreshing brevity.

“
Queen Sable is traveling to the Ramparts, a guest of the Rach, in order to strengthen interrealm relations and to learn of the Enemy.”  Ari had forgotten the strength in that deep, rich voice.  It had its own kind of revitalizing energy, so different from Melkin’s fiery bombast.  However, was it
really
wise that everyone knew what the Northern Queen was up to?  It somehow didn’t seem very security-conscious. 

He needn
’t have worried.  Lord Khrieg nodded comfortably and said, “Yes, the Foxlord had alerted us.”  He indicated a small man sitting nearby with grey in his thin brown hair and the unnoticeable air of a commoner.  Ari looked him over doubtfully, until he saw the two short-tailed honors of shimmery dove grey above each elbow, so thick with embroidery they stuck almost straight out.

“
As agreed, Kane and Kyr are both readying their forces.  Jarl Banion, by his King’s request, is staying to order his Chevrons.  He hoped to be at Jagstag within a few weeks,” Kai continued, and Melkin frowned mightily.  Whether this was because he wanted Banion sooner or because he still felt this counted as a poor use of time, it was hard to tell.

“
Lastly…” Kai paused infinitesimally, “Perraneus disappeared from Crossing shortly after his presentation.  What was left of him at the end of his trail was no more than a spray of blood.”

The room went as silent as a yawning chamber full of swooping bird and animal life and running water could.  Everyone stared at Kai, the Cyrrhideans in their oddly undemonstrative way, the Northerners with a bit more expression.  Even Melkin
’s ferocity gave way a little with surprise.

Lord Khrieg shrugged. 
“Anyone who knows Kane knew Perraneus signed his death warrant the moment he mentioned the death of the gods.  It is foolish to take such a stance, as I told my Brother, but Merranics have a different relationship with Vangoth than we do with Laschald.”  He didn’t seem too disturbed.  One had the impression that this fit in rather nicely with his opinion that the world was all screaming downhill toward unavoidable chaos anyway.

“
Kane?” Melkin asked Kai, terse and troubled.

“
Denies any knowledge of it.”  Their eyes locked.  “He had no comments on Vangoth,” Kai added when Melkin narrowed his eyes like he wanted to laser through that expressionless Dra façade.  Khrieg snorted as if it was all beside the point, and the unremarkable person that ran the entire Cyrrhidean intelligence network said quietly, “There would be no reason to disclaim responsibility—such things are well within Merranic Law and Kane is not above making bold and violent decisions about his subjects.”

“
It’s such a shame,” Khrieg said dolorously, shaking his silvery head and seeming oblivious to the finer mysteries being laid out in front of him here.  “He had a fine mind; what a waste to have it destroyed…and after he risked so much to tell us what he knew.”

What he knew?  The way Ari remembered it, the Mage
’s contribution to the proceedings had involved a few scant geophysical facts and a whole lot of unsupported and over-dramatic predictions of the end of the world.  How exactly had that changed anything?  But then, maybe it was simply the deep pessimism that was so pleasing to his Skylordship.  Ari looked at the sorrowing face in amazement.  It was hard to see how he summoned the strength to keep up breathing.  Between him and his daughter, Ari wondered if Cyrrh could even muster if there was a war.

“
We must be ready for the power he predicted Raemon would return with,” Kai said, eyeing the Cyrrhidean ruler sternly.

Lord Khrieg gave a weak, humorless laugh. 
“Ready?  My dear Kai, you have been a friend to this Throne for many years, but even you cannot create defense when we have so little.  We seem unable to acquire any more gryphons, and with barely four full Talons, we will be at the mercy of any dragons that rise with Raemon.  Our Sentinel forces, at maximum recruitment, are still many thousands short of the force fielded in the Days of Old—there is no more we can do.  Am I right, Traive?”

He turned to
whom was apparently the Lord Regent of all forces of Cyrrh, with that noticeable lack of formality that had Cerise stiffening angrily a couple pillows away.  Before their companion of the past few weeks—whom they thought they had known pretty well—could speak, a tall, lantern-jawed man on the other side of the Skylord said, “We have talked about a draft, discussed extending our patrols, increasing our stagrider numbers…”  He was staring narrowly at Traive, too, not his monarch, and it was the Lord Regent who said in that familiar, understated voice of quelling command:

“
Yes.  We have discussed it, Sentinalier.”  It was obvious to everyone that it wasn’t going to happen again now.

Khrieg looked from one to the other. 
“You discussed,” he said almost plaintively.  “But it would be to no avail.  Why risk precious Cyrrhidean lives to no purpose?”

“
There are men who would gladly die to make Cyrrh safe,” a slender man with a face so fine-boned it was almost feminine, said.  The long, pale blue honors of the Taloners draped over his pillows and knees, a nearby cat batting interestedly at one of the ends.  There were cats everywhere in the Skypalace, though Ari had yet to see a single dog in the entire Realm.  “And right now there is no way to assure ourselves of Cyrrh’s safety without knowing where, how, and when she will be attacked.”

“
And Master Melkin now brings us the chance to discover some of this information with the quest he brings to our door,” Traive said smoothly, steering the council nicely back on track and possibly saving Melkin’s sanity.

The Master glowered at the Circle
, voice a parody of courtesy, ground out between his teeth like sandpaper over steel.  “I don’t see how our being here has changed anything; we’ve got nothing but more questions with every step on this cold trail we’re following.  Apparently, we have the only known clue as to what lies behind this sudden unrest of the Enemy, which everyone seems to be aware of and no one certain as to its cause.”  He swiveled his head around like he was measuring target distances, glaring.  He didn’t say it out loud, but his eyes were shouting clearly that the majority of the brainless lot of them didn’t
care
why the Sheel should suddenly be so full of menace.