Page 81 of Gryphon in Light

“Poke me with your elbow when you start, and I’ll feed you power,” Kel told him. “Otherwise . . . I think we should be quiet now.”

Redlance is a fine fellow, but he turns “yes” and “no” into speeches. I don’t want to hear speeches right now.

He tried to count heads in the gloom. It looked as if everyone was here. I hope we’re not going to be standing here all night in the rain . . . ugh, that sounds selfish and ungenerous, but . . . I really hope we’re not.

But then he felt a familiar tingle . . . a shield spell, yet another one, but he could tell from the taste and smell of the magic that it wasn’t a defensive one. It was a barrier. Someone other than Redlance—

—oh, it’s Daria! He made her out sitting up on her haunches, making passes in the air in front of her with her talons.

And a moment later—she had put up a different shield, one that was like a Vale shield, that at least for now kept the rain off. The muffled sighs of relief at that were matched by the murmurs of approval as Redlance put up his reflective shield. At that, Torandi sent several globes of mage-light to hover over the group.

That was when Tutack stepped forward. “Rina and me . . . we want you to know, there is no blame. And Uglik was so happy the shaman chose us for this! You cannot know. He thought sometimes his time of being a warrior was past, that it was too late for him to do great things. That there would be no chance for a song to be made about him. And then you say, come go on this journey! Nothing made him happier. He stood his ground and showed the gods he is a hero. Now, he will have songs made for him. In the lore of our people, he will live forever, his name always known. He is worthy to join the great heroes of Ghost Cat! There can be no better ending.”

“‘I do not want to die old and unremembered.’ That was what he said to us, often,” Rina added. “‘I do not want to die a sad, withered stick in a bed! I want to die like a hero!’ And he did.”

Kel blinked in the mage-light. I don’t want to die a sad, withered stick, either! Actually I don’t want to die at all . . . but I understand perfectly how he felt. All of us will die, and the stories of what could be will become stories of what was.

The siblings stepped back and nodded to Serenshey. The Firecat leapt up onto the pyre and instantly set the whole thing ablaze, sizzling and steaming wet wood and all. Not just plain old flames, either; the flames leaping around Serenshey were every color, red, blue, green, yellow, purple—was this Serenshey’s doing? Was it a peculiarity of the driftwood? Was it Uglik’s belongings, or something his siblings had put in those bundles?

Was it even a sign that Uglik’s own gods approved?

The tervardi began a wordless song, a curious mix of dirge and celebration; Rina and Tutack closed their eyes and clasped each other, swaying slightly to the music. Kel let it all wash over him: the smell of the fire, the crackle and hiss, the rain on the shield, the light reflected from the fire down on all of them from the shining shield above, making multiple shadows. Should I be sad or happy? He didn’t know. So he just let whatever emotions he had rise to the surface, flood through him, and then fade. So many emotions . . . the only one he didn’t let himself experience fully was rage. Rage at those unnatural creatures that had taken his friend. It wasn’t fair. They’d done nothing to warrant being attacked like that! In fact, they’d gone out of their way to avoid a fight! If anything deserved the blame for Uglik’s death, they did! Murderous bastards!

But this wasn’t the time for rage, so he continued to feed Redlance’s and Daria’s spells and let the rage subside, submerging once again in that pool of feelings that at this point were almost as mixed as they had been when he’d returned to the Vale.

The Firecat remained coiled within the flames until every scrap that was burnable had been reduced to ashes. Only then did Serenshey allow the flames to die, and as he stepped out of the pyre, no longer on fire, the tervardi ended their song.

“Let his memory live forever,” said Rina and Tutack together.

“Let his memory live forever,” they all replied in a chorus.

Torandi dimmed her mage-lights down to just enough for people to see their way back to their beds. That was when Kel dropped the feed to Redlance and Daria’s spells; the reflective surface faded away and the rain came down on them again.

Somehow, that seemed fitting too, that they all go their ways, thinking about Uglik, while the sky wept for them.

In the morning, the hertasi had already cleared the least hint of the pyre away; Kel had to assume that this was how the siblings wanted it, because they didn’t seem surprised or upset. Breakfast was plentiful, hot, and hearty, but no one seemed inclined to talk. Rina and Tutack were the first to speak up, volunteering to stand watch on the riverbanks, and Hallock accepted without making the objections Kel thought he would—

But then, how do I know how other peoples do these things? He was familiar with the Tayledras way of death, of course, and it was not that dissimilar to that of the Kaled’a’in of White Gryphon. But he was just now beginning to understand how little he knew of the others on this journey.

I need to change that, he thought, collecting the stripped carcasses from beneath the bondbirds’ perches, dropping them in a basket, and taking the basket to where Silverfox’s lammergeier waited for him. The bird’s eyes pinned in pleasure at the sight of the feast of bones. Lammergeiers mostly ate bone, not flesh—another thing Kel found fascinating and incomprehensible. How on earth did the bird get any food out of bone?

But he did, and thrived, apparently.

Kel found himself staggering a little after delivering his parcel, and decided that unless Silverfox or Hallock found something for him to do, he was going to go lie down in his nice dry nest again. He discovered when he got there that Ayshen—or Jylan—had lined the cup of bracken and grass with some old blankets, which made the nest look so inviting he just about fell into it.

And, of course, just when he started to doze off, Serenshey, Jak, Silverfox, Hallock, and Firesong came around the prow of the barge, obviously looking for him, because there was no one else back here.

“Hurrr,” he said with resignation. “What is it you need to power?” The breastplate and the stone were practically a part of him now, except when Nightwind and Jefti took it off to groom him, or he slept. But even then, he kept one foot on it at all times. Just in case.

Because I am not a Firecat, and I do not wish to burst into flames, nor do I want to sleep in the rain to keep from bursting into flames.

“At the moment, nothing,” sighed Firesong, and sat right down in the nest with him, putting his back up against Kel’s belly and reaching under his neck-feathers to scratch him. Silverfox joined his mate; Hallock perched awkwardly on the edge of the nest, declining to join the pile; Serenshey perched velvet-pawed on Kel’s rump and began soundlessly purring. Or he thought it was soundless, anyway. It was hard to tell over the rain. Jak was the only one standing, but he looked comfortable enough.

Actually, he looks the best-rested of us all.

It was rather nice, being here, saying nothing, listening to the rain while they were warm and dry.

It seemed as if the others wanted to say something, but were unsure of how to start. So before the silence grew too unbearable, Kel himself broke it.