Andre Norton - Gryphon's Eyrie

For some reason, even as I thought of that thing which ran the ridges in the night, I was conscious once more of the touch of that Other. Closing my eyes, I could “see” the craggy rocks of the mountainside, the grey stone of the Keep. The Keep, which stood like a wardtower between the Waste and Arvon… Maleron’s Keep, it must be. What was it called? Names… I concentrated, blanking my mind, thus opening it to any hint forthcoming from that Other.

Long moments, then I found my lips shaping a name. Car Re Dogan … A mighty fortress, surely. The home of a ruler. But then reason and knowledge asserted themselves. I had heard no mention of any such Keep, nor of any ruler named Maleron during the three years my lord and I had wandered within the bounds of this land. My visions must thus come from the past…

I sighed, stretching my weary body, too tired to worry further at the puzzle. Further enlightenment must come as part of the sendings from my Other self—nor did I doubt that she was not yet finished with her story.

After removing my boots, I once again produced a length of rawhide, without comment knotted it to my lord’s wrist. He submitted quietly, before we lay down together.

Even with the moon nearing fullness again, the stars showed, and in spite of my weariness, I watched them. Slowly I raised my free hand, rested it on my middle. No movement yet—but soon, soon. Words echoed in my mind, insistently:

My lord, I carry your child . Formal words, too formal.

Kerovan, we are going to have a child. Please be glad … Too pleading. He will be pleased, I told myself, yet doubts still surfaced. His face, when he had looked down at Ennia in my arms—twisted and withdrawn, it had been… why?

Have you ever thought that we should have children, my lord ? Stupid. There was no longer any question about it, it was foolish to phrase my news as though there were…

A faint snore broke into my thoughts. Turning, I saw his face, eyes closed, weariness stamped upon it like a brand. Exhaustion had finally overcome the strength of the pull from the mountains.

I smiled wryly. Small likelihood that I could rouse him to hear my tidings now—and, as if in answer, a deeper snore followed.

Sleep took me, also. The moon was nearly down when I wakened to the clink of a shod hoof on rock. The horses? Turning my head cautiously, I saw the dark shape of Arren, then the white-spattered one of Nekia. Both animals stood head-down, hipshot, plainly dozing.

Even as I watched, the sound came again, from downhill. Someone was coming.

I tugged sharply at Kerovan’s arm. “My lord! Wake!” I spoke softly, but with such urgency that he roused immediately. Joisan?”

“Someone comes.”

I felt him fumble across me, then the cold touch of his reclaimed knife on the thong. In one smooth motion, he was on his feet, that knife in hand. Hastily I drew my own weapon from my belt-sheath, then, thinking better of it, laid hand to sword-hilt instead. The partly drawn blade glimmered blue in the moonlight.

The horse stopped. I heard the sounds of someone dismounting, the ring of an empty stirrup—then footsteps. I swallowed, my breath catching harshly. Is it Nidu ? I wondered fearfully. Does she hate me that much, then ?

The steps slowed, hesitated, then stopped. Beside me Kerovan tensed, his body prepared to leap—

” M’lord?” Surely I had heard that voice before! I gasped, then heard Kerovan’s voice, sounding incredulous:

“Guret! What—”

Hastily I stood, my hands reaching for my pack, for the fire-striker therein. It snapped once, twice, then the wick of the candle I held caught, the feeble flame swaying with the night breeze.

It was indeed Guret who stood before us, blinking as his eyes focused on the sudden yellow flame. “Cera Joisan, I’m sorry I startled you. I’ve been following you since this morning. I had to come.”

I glanced at my lord, searching for his reaction to the younger man’s words, then realized speech was again beyond him. Even as I watched he turned, like a lode-stone seeking north. I reached out, grasped his hand to keep him beside me. Sighing, I looked back to Guret. “But what of Nidu?”

His glance at Kerovan was swiftly measuring, then he phrased his response for my ears alone. “I know not, Cera. I rode from camp without seeing her, leaving my mother and father to tell Nidu and the Council that I refused selection.”

“Were they angry with you?”

His face in the candlelight was shadowed, yet I could still see the emphatic shake of his dark head. “No. I told them that Kerovan had saved the scouting party—and me—at the well, then Nita told them how he had risked death to draw her from the river. I explained that I had sworn liege-debt to him, and how he had refused to accept aught from me but friendship. They agreed with me that even if I am not formally liegebound to your lord, still there is a debt between us—and the Kioga repay their debts. Your lord rides toward… what?”

I shook my head sadly. “I know not. I feel no taint of the Shadow, but that proves nothing.”

“No matter what comes, he shall find me his shieldman. I could not do otherwise than follow, Cera.”

I sighed wearily, realizing suddenly that dawn was not far off. “Thank you, Guret. It is good to have such a friend when one faces the unknown. I must sleep again, if I can. Can you watch to make sure he does not ride off?”

“Aye.”

Grateful to be able to relax my vigilance even for so little, I lay down on my bedroll. I had scarcely closed my eyes when I was back again in the world of the Other.

Car Re Dogan towered before me, adding its sweeping height to the dizzying precipice fronting me. Yet “I” was swift, scorning the open road on the other side of the mountaintop, climbing the narrow trail with quick, sure strides. The rock beneath my narrow, near-taloned feet was solid, comforting, in stark contrast to the swirling muddle of my own emotions. How could Maleron have meddled so? Did he not realize that his actions in stopping the progression of Time had opened the door to sickness and the Shadow? Neither Neave nor Gunnora, the Amber Lady, looked kindly upon those who disturbed the progress of Things As They Must Be.

Sobbing, partially from the swiftness of my climb, but largely from anxiety, I scrambled my body over the lip of the sheared-off ledge marking the top of the mountain. Not allowing myself rest, I sped toward the massive door marking the postern gate to Car Re Dogan.

I scarcely saw the armsmen posted within, their shadows massive in the flickering glow of the torch-sconces as they stepped back to let me past. My eyes fastened instead on the curtained portal marking the Hall-of-State. Maleron’s voice reached me:

“Send the messenger immediately. Release one of the carrier hawks, with notice to provide him a fresh mount when he reaches the Council Hall. He is to return with (he Seven Lords’ answer as swiftly as may be.”

“It shall be as you say, Margrave.”

Just as I reached the heavy velvet curtain cloaking the entrance, he spoke again. “Where is my sister?”

“I have not seen the Lady Sylvya today. She must be—

The deep purple of the heavy velvet spilled across my wrist like wine as I thrust my arm, then my body, through the drapery. “I am here, Maleron.”

He frowned at my lack of ceremony, but forebore any rebuke before the serving-man. “Be seated, sister.” His deep eyes surveyed me, measuring my dishevelment. “You may go, Bern.” He dismissed his man absently.

When we were alone, he gestured to the seat at his right hand. “I have granted you permission, Sylvya.”

The aura of his Power was palpable, seeming to glimmer around him at every movement. That he was an Adept I had long known, but to my suddenly opened eyes that faint presence surrounding him seemed tarnished, dulled… darker—and, if possible, even more powerful. I found I was trembling. “Maleron, why ? You have hurt—you may have destroyed—the valley. Why?” I held my breath, watching his face change—