Andre Norton - Gryphon's Eyrie

Guret’s hand came out to clasp mine, his fingers cold.

“Kerovan”—my voice struggled to pierce that ancient silence—“who built this place? Whose things are these?”

He turned, some of the bemusement fading from his Face, to see me clearly for the first time, I thought, in hours. “You do not know?”

I was growing tired of such questions, and my voice held more than a touch of asperity, I am afraid. “No, I do not. I would be happy to be enlightened, my lord!”

He came to me, putting his hands on my shoulders, his eyes intent. “All these years, this is what I have been afraid of, all unknowing. It called to me, for it holds my heritage. I was not ready to accept that part of me, until I could accept my own humanity, Joisan. Kar Garudwyn was—and is in a way I can hardly explain, because I just know —Landisl’s citadel.”

When Joisan looked at me as we stood together in that wind-touched room, high in the tower of Kar Garudwyn, I believed I saw fear in her eyes.

“Landisl’s citadel…” she breathed, her gaze never leaving mine. “Could any Keep have stood so complete, unruined, for that long?”

“If bespelled, Joisan.” I, too, was lost in wonder at this tower room, the ancient books, the scrolls undisturbed by time, the deeply incised runes not even dust-blurred. “All would have crumbled ages since, were that not so. I think”—my gaze swept on out, to the mountains ringing in this Keep—“that perhaps this citadel is barred to any chance comer—open only to he who holds the heritage of the gryphon within him.”

“In other words, it waited for you .” Her voice caught a little in her throat, her hands reached out to touch my shoulders, gingerly, as though now, in spite of all lying behind us twain, she half feared she might be repulsed. “ Power … my lord, in truth that is yours. I can feel it.”

I, too, could sense a growing surge within me, as of a storm-wracked sea. tossing and ebbing. Once, as a lad. I had swallowed a draught too heady for careless drinking. Then also had my sight blurred, crossed by only half-seen visions as it did now. Knowledge came and went. I was aware—then ignorant again—until such uncertainty made me giddy. At times was I almost another—then suddenly Kerovan again.

“I know.” Again arose that flow of knowledge that I could almost— almost —grasp, make mine. Then it was gone! I sighed, closing my eye, only to be roused as her grip on my shoulders tightened. I was shaken—

“Kerovan! No!” Joisan’s face bore tear stains, her eyes shone wide and wild. “Do not so slip away from me, not here, not now, my lord! Power—what do I care for Power, if in the gaining of it I must lose my husband? Let us get hence from this place—now!”

“Joisan…” I gathered her to me, forcing a steady-voice, though part of me still quivered from what I felt. “No, dear heart. All the Power in the world would be too great a price to pay—if such knowledge meant losing you. No, never…”

Dimly aware that Guret, with inborn courtesy, had left us alone in the chamber, I held close my lady, until the near-frantic clutch of her arms about me loosened, and I could once more put sufficient distance between us to see her clearly. I touched her pointed chin, turning her face up to mine, looking down straightly into those blue-green eyes. “Be patient with me, my lady, I ask of you. I know well all the trials I have forced unheedingly upon you—and there are doubtless many more of which I remain ignorant. However, in truth, this place surrounds me now with a Tightness… a strength… that makes me sure it is our true home.”

Joisan smiled, albeit a little wanly. “Patience—of all the virtues Dame Math long tried to instill in me, always she despaired of my learning patience! But the war, three years with you, have accomplished much toward her goal.

Also”—her voice softened, her fingers brushed an unruly lock back from my forehead—“when one loves truly, little is impossible, Kerovan.”

I bent to kiss her, quickly, mindful of the youth waiting outside the chamber. Together we recrossed that rune-incised floor, careful to avoid stepping full on any of the patterns still glowing a dim violet.

Together, then, the three of us retraced our way to the Great Hall, where stood that dais. Carefully seating Joisan on the raised step—for my lady looked near to exhaustion—I cleared my throat. “One of us should go down the ramp before full dark, see to the horses.”

Guret nodded. “I would, willingly… save for one thing. How would I get through that rock barrier?”

I sighed. “I know not. There is doubtless some way, but my knowledge of this place comes in spurts, then ebbs, never by my conscious willing. So it is better I see to the horses. Then we must seek out a source of water up here.”

Guret hefted his waterskin. “ Is there water? Otherwise, you should fill these when you are below.”

I answered him slowly. “Yes… somewhere, I know there is water. But we must search for the source. My inconvenient memory has not enlightened me as to where it may be found.” I grinned at him wryly. “I am no sorcerer yet, Guret, so give me not those awed, sidelong glances. I am truly but Kerovan, as always I have been.”

He grinned back at me, half-abashed, half-relieved, as I slung our feed bags together and took the ramp, hurrying because I moved downward into darkness. But even as I went, the blue stone of the wall shone with a gentle glow. As I reached the valley, I whistled. Moments later, Nekia, grass tufting from both sides of her mouth, appeared. A moment later Arren and Vengi followed. I saw from the stallion’s wary glances at the mares that they had repulsed his attentions. Scratching his neck, I fed him his ration of grain, well away from his female companions.

“Poor fellow… so they want nothing to do with you?”

He snuffed gustily, bobbing his head from the feed. I smiled. “Well, as the spring advances, you will find that changing. The maned ladies shall not be able to resist your charms for long.”

Again he bobbed his head, as if in agreement, then returned to crunch greedily. I looked to Kar Garudwyn, though even in the daylight I could have barely seen its walls because of the cliff’s acute angle. A faint blue glow told me that, like the ramp, the whole structure must give off light from the blue stone-metal of its building. Had it given off that faint shine every night through the countless deserted years, or did it only do so when there were those dwelling within its walls?

Weariness fell upon me like a blow as I started up the climb. The excitement of finding this long-abandoned citadel drained away, dissolving my steps into a fatigued stumble, forcing me to now and then use the wall as my support. Blue stone brightened where I set hand to it, and under my fingers it was warm rather than cold. Such touches seemed to give me a measure of energy, of well-being, pushing back my exhaustion for a few moments.

I discovered Joisan and Guret before a section of that large mosaic covering the circular wall of the Great Hall. Shouldering my lady’s pack along with my own, I led the way instinctively through an archway opposite the entrance. Our feet echoed loudly on the stone floor. As before, the light globes sprang to radiant life as we approached, emitting that soft, rose-amber glow. Beyond the Great Hall, a narrow corridor stretched onward, lined on either side by those floor-to-ceiling slender arches. Joisan’s voice reached me faintly, for the air here, though fresh, appeared somehow to muffle all sound.

“If we are to stay here, my lord, we must barrier these. I have no fancy to lose my footing some morn and find myself part and parcel of those rocks below.”