Laela spent the rest of that morning with Arenadd, learning her first lessons. To her surprise, Arenadd wasn’t her only teacher-Oeka taught her, too.
Arenadd began by lecturing her about the habits of griffins-what they liked to eat, the best materials to give them for nest-building, and even the times when they preferred to go to sleep and wake up. Oeka then helped him show her how to clean her partner’s talons, how to treat fleas, how to remove a bone lodged in the throat, and a dozen and one other things about griffish health and medicine.
Laela took it all in, paying close attention not just because of her renewed interest in becoming a griffiner but also because most of it was fascinating. Learning so much about griffins made her feel like she was being brought into a secret circle of knowledge, seeing things only a select few were allowed to see. That feeling of pride and excitement kept her so enthralled that she didn’t even realise how much time had passed until Arenadd announced that they should stop for lunch.
After lunch, Laela had to go to the library again for another lesson with a wary Yorath, but the next morning she was with Arenadd again. Now he began teaching her something she was particularly determined to learn-the language of griffins.
It was much harder than she’d thought. Griffins had a completely different language structure than humans, and the sounds they used were far away from anything humans used. Arenadd explained that griffish was a primitive language that had never really been meant to express complicated ideas, and that humans weren’t built to speak it. The best that Laela would be able to manage would be a crude approximation of griffish sounds, but the important part of knowing griffish was learning how to interpret what Oeka said. Griffins could indeed understand human languages even if their beaks stopped them from speaking them properly, but they preferred to be spoken to in griffish.
As far as Laela was concerned, knowing griffish was another and even more important part of being a member of the secret world of griffins and griffiners. One day, she would be able to talk to Oeka and know what she was thinking and what she wanted. And maybe then they could be friends.
On the second night after they had become partners, Laela returned to her room with Oeka, but without the sense of dread she’d had before. On the way she paused briefly to give a few orders to a servant, who hurried away to make arrangements. By the time she and Oeka had eaten, a hammock had been hung near the fireplace.
“There,” said Laela. “If yeh like that bed better, then keep it. I don’t mind.”
Oeka watched her while she spoke, and Laela imagined that she could see satisfaction in the griffin’s face. There was definitely a new air of energy about her as she picked over the bones of her dinner and went next door for a drink before returning and climbing into her new nest.
Laela watched her rearrange the shredded blankets and snuggle down, and felt an affection toward the griffin that hadn’t been there before. She was dangerous; Laela wasn’t about to doubt that now, but she was appealing, too, with those bright green eyes and the fluffy feathers on her chest. Laela wouldn’t have gone so far as to call her cute, but she was nice to look at, and there was something endearing about her slightly awkward, leggy frame and the way her head bobbed up and down when she walked.
With that pleasant thought, Laela snuffed out the lamp and climbed into her new hammock. She’d never slept in one before, but she was so tired that she was convinced she could sleep anywhere.
She was wrong. The hammock was uncomfortable and swung back and forth alarmingly whenever she moved too much, and the shock always woke her up. She tried what felt like half a dozen different positions, hoping to find one that would let her sleep, but none of them changed the fact that the hammock didn’t support her back and kept on threatening to tip her out.
Finally, after spending what felt like half the night trying to sleep in the wretched thing, she got out of it and padded over to the bed, rubbing her back along the way. She could just see the outline of Oeka in the middle of her nest. She could hear her, too-cheeping softly in her sleep.
Laela didn’t even think about trying to make her move. But maybe there was another solution.
She took a deep breath and climbed into the nest. Oeka stirred and clicked her beak warily, but she didn’t attack.
“It’s only me,” Laela told her. “Mind if I join yeh?”
There was a rustling as Oeka moved away, leaving a warm hollow where she’d been lying. Laela grinned and took it. Instantly, the musty smell of feathers enveloped her.
It wasn’t that bad.
The nest was surprisingly comfortable, and Laela quickly felt her tiredness take hold. As she started to drift off, she felt Oeka snuggle against her.
She smiled to herself and went to sleep.
The Amorani diplomat arrived two days after his message, his griffin coming in to land at the top of the Council Tower. Arenadd gave him the rest of the day and that night to rest, so they didn’t actually meet until the following morning.
Arenadd put on his best robe and the crown he usually avoided wearing, and met his guest in the audience chamber that had once belonged to Lady Elkin. It still had its old white marble floor, but the walls were covered by richly woven tapestries. Dozens of beautifully made, straight-bladed Southern swords hung there, too-trophies from the war.
Arenadd had managed to persuade Skandar to be there, and the giant griffin grudgingly stepped up onto the marble platform intended just for him. Arenadd sat on a cushion between his partner’s talons and waited.
Lord Vander came into the chamber, with only his griffin beside him. He was a short, middle-aged man with a thin grey moustache, and most of his body was covered by an enormous cloak covered in feathers that had probably come from his griffin. She was small, as Amorani griffins generally were, and had dark brown feathers with a patch of scarlet on the throat. Her legs and beak were yellow, and she wore an elaborate headdress.
Arenadd stood to receive them but said nothing and stayed where he was while Skandar stepped down off the platform. The ambassador stepped aside, and waited while his partner went to meet her own host.
If anything, the dark brown griffin looked even smaller next to the hulking Skandar, but she moved with a grace and confidence that impressed Arenadd. She bowed her head until her beak nearly touched her talons and waited submissively while Skandar walked around her, sniffing her up and down and nudging her none-too-gently with his beak. This would have been enough to provoke most griffins, but this one held still until Skandar moved away. When he was at a respectable distance, she raised her head-not too high, Arenadd noted-and spoke rapidly. She was using the faster, more basic version of griffish, which most humans were too slow to understand.
Skandar was also too slow. He waited until she had finished, and grated back.
This time, Arenadd understood perfectly, and he smiled to himself.
“I am Ymazu,” the ambassador griffin said at last.
“Am Skandar.” He turned to look at Arenadd. “This one not fight,” he said, and lumbered back to the platform. “Will mate with her later, maybe,” he added, and settled down to groom his wings.
The griffish formalities over with, Arenadd finally stepped forward to meet his human guest. “Welcome,” he said. “I’m honoured to have you in my Kingdom, Lord Vander.”
Lord Vander folded his hands together and bowed his head. “The honour is mine, Sire.”
Arenadd raised an eyebrow. “You speak Northern. I’m impressed.”
Vander smiled. “As an ambassador, I am expected to know the languages of the places I visit.” He spoke the dark tongue very well though with a pleasantly rounded accent.
Arenadd extended his good hand. “As one griffiner to another, my lord.”
Vander hooked his fingers with Arenadd’s, and tugged briefly in the traditional griffiner gesture of greeting. “I see that your fingers are in better condition than I expected, Sire.”
Arenadd held up his maimed hand. “Not these ones, I’m afraid.”
“Ah.” Vander inspected it briefly. “Yes. So that story of you is true.”
“Story?” Arenadd couldn’t help but be intrigued. He gestured at the seat by the platform as he spoke.
“Yes,” said Vander, taking it while Ymazu settled down beside him. “In my homeland, they call you the King with the Broken Fingers. It is said that you snapped the bones with your teeth to prove to the chiefs of your people that you did not feel pain.”
Arenadd rubbed the fingers in question. “I wouldn’t dream of ruining such a great story by saying anything about that. So tell me, my lord-I’m curious-where did you learn my language?”
“From one of your people, Sire,” said Vander. “You may know that there are black-haired men in Amoran who do not have our skin.”
“Yes,” Arenadd said gravely. “I know that. I’m surprised you were prepared to learn from a slave.”
Vander ran a delicate finger along his thin moustache. “How else could I have learned their language, Sire?”
“Most people think they’re above even talking to slaves, my lord.”
Vander touched his neck. “I am not, Sire.”
“And neither am I.” Arenadd leaned forward. “My lord, I’m sure you’re aware that my main condition for making this alliance with Amoran-apart from promises of military support-is that I want those slaves to be returned to their homeland.”
“I do know that, Sire,” said Vander. “And I expected it before I knew. After all, the freeing of slaves is something that you have become famous for.”
Arenadd touched the collar scars on his neck. “We all need to be set free, in one way or another. Now, is the Emperor willing to accept that condition?”
“I think so,” said Vander, slowly and deliberately. “If the conditions are agreeable, Sire.”
“And what conditions would those be?”
“Conditions,” said Vander.
Arenadd resisted the urge to drum his fingers. “Be more specific. What does he want? Lower trade taxes? Money?”
Vander paused. “Tell me, Sire-are you still planning to come to Amoran?”
“If all goes well with our negotiations,” said Arenadd. “A courtesy visit to the Emperor would be expected of me.”
“The Emperor would like to see you, Sire,” said Vander.
“Is that so?” Arenadd scratched his beard. “Did he say why?”
“Between us, I suspect it is partly curiosity,” said Vander. “All of us in Amoran have heard your story; many would be astonished to see you in person.”
“But there’s another reason, isn’t there?”
Vander shifted. “There is,” he admitted at last.
“Tell me, then.”
“I have forged many alliances between my country and others,” said Vander. “And with such a major treaty, it is expected for the ruler that suggested it to make a gesture more meaningful than a few agreements and proclamations.”
“A gift, perhaps?” said Arenadd, not liking the diplomat’s indirect manner.
“A gift,” Vander nodded.
“I’m sure I can find something,” said Arenadd. “Is there anything in particular he wants?”
“Griffin eggs.”
Arenadd paused at that. “Griffin eggs?”
Vander stroked his partner’s shoulder. She chirped in response and nibbled at his ear. “Our griffins in Amoran are strong and cunning, but smaller than those in Cymria,” said the diplomat. “This request comes not from the Emperor himself, but from-”
“But from the griffin who chose him,” Ymazu interrupted. “Wise Zaerih.” She flicked the crest that decorated the back of her head. “Those in Cymria have never stayed in Amoran, but we believe that a mingling of blood would benefit us all. If a nestful of hatchlings from your Eyrie were to come to us, we would be most glad.”
Arenadd shook his head. “This isn’t a question for me to answer. Skandar?”
Skandar blinked and raised his head. “What say?”
Ymazu stood. “Mighty Skandar,” she said, bowing her head to him. “We ask if you would give us eggs from your females. Young griffins, to live with us.”
Skandar jerked his head forward and snapped his beak loudly. “I give egg!” he boomed. “I give to you!” He made an odd, purring noise deep in his throat. “Come see. I give Mighty Skandar egg! Hatch big chick!”
Ymazu fluttered her wings and purred back. “I would be honoured.”
Arenadd hid a smile. “That answers that question.”
Vander was openly grinning. “If Skandar comes to Amoran, I am certain that plenty of females will be willing to submit to him. That should please the Emperor enough.”
“Then that’s settled,” said Arenadd. “Is that all he wants?”
“No, Sire,” said Vander. “There is one other thing.”
“Name it.”
Vander’s dark brown eyes gleamed. “There is another way in which the mingling of blood could be. . useful to us all, Sire.”
“Human blood, this time,” Arenadd surmised. “Yes?”
“The Emperor has a daughter,” said Vander. “She is young-very pretty, too, if you ask me.”
Arenadd groaned internally. “I see. An arranged marriage.”
“You are not married, Sire,” said Vander. “I know that already. If the women of your own country do not please you, then perhaps an Amorani princess would.”
There was no way Arenadd could tell Vander why the idea horrified him, so he settled on a compromise. “I’ll go to Amoran,” he said. “And talk it over with the Emperor. I’m sure we can come to some agreement.”
Vander smiled. “I am glad to see that you are a reasonable man. Those in the South would not be pleased to know that I am speaking with you!”
“Ah, yes, and what about the South?” said Arenadd, relieved at the change of subject.
“Bah.” Vander flicked his fingers dismissively. “The South would not ally with us in a way that satisfied us, and by now they are nothing. By now the North is the only part of this land that is wealthy and peaceful. Thanks to you, Sire,” he added, fixing his eyes on Arenadd’s face.
Despite himself, Arenadd felt flattered. “I did what I had to do.”
Vander said nothing. He kept looking at Arenadd, studying him in a way the King found very disconcerting.
The silence drew out uncomfortably, until Vander finally broke it. “I never thought I would see you again,” he said. “And never in a place such as this. Truly, the gods work in mysterious ways.”
Arenadd’s forehead wrinkled. “‘Again,’ my lord?”
Vander smiled. “You do not remember me? Disappointing, considering that I saved your life, Arren.”
Arenadd went cold all over with shock. “I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about, my lord,” he said, keeping his face carefully blank.
Vander ignored him. “When we last met, you were only a boy,” he said. “It was in Eagleholm, before the war. I was there to treat with Lady Riona. A long time ago by now, but I remember you well. And I remember you,” he added, looking at Skandar. “I saw you fight in the arena. Darkheart, they called you.”
Skandar blinked lazily at him.
Vander, however, was still looking at Arenadd. “Forgive me, Sire,” he said. “But if I saw you today as I saw you then, I never would have dreamed that one day you would be a King.” He paused. “But I would have easily accepted that you had the strength and the will.”
Arenadd didn’t know what to say.
Fortunately, Vander took his silence as modesty. “My masters always taught me to be truthful, Sire. You could have fled that night-taken your escape while your enemies did not know you had broken free of your prison. But you returned. Ymazu told me everything. You stayed to free another prisoner.” He looked at Skandar again. “And I see that he was grateful.”
Arenadd shivered internally. Dear gods, he was there. He knew me. . knew Arren.
“Ancient history, my lord,” he said airily. “Right now I’m more interested in the here and now.”
“Understood, Sire,” said Vander. “I apologise if my idle reminiscences were not appropriate.”
Arenadd longed to ask him more, but he knew he couldn’t. “Thank you for. . what you did for me back then, my lord.”
Vander smiled. “I considered it a parting gift to the masters of Eagleholm. But I doubt they even thought of it after they had suffered your own. Now.” He leaned forward. “We have talked long enough, and I am tired. Perhaps we should speak again, this evening, or perhaps tomorrow.”
“Agreed,” said Arenadd.
Saeddryn was not amused. “Amoran? Ye’re goin’ to Amoran?”
Arenadd folded his arms. “A courtesy visit to the Emperor. I’m sure the Kingdom will be fine in your capable hands.”
She took a deep breath. “I see. An’ ye didn’t think it would be a good idea t’say somethin’ to us beforehand?”
“Actually, I’m pretty sure I mentioned it more than once,” Arenadd said calmly. “In fact, if I recall, I said something about it last week.”
“Well, yes, but I didn’t think that was anythin’ more than idle speculation. .” Saeddryn trailed off, eyeing the other councillors. None of them looked about to support her, so she shifted her gaze to Laela, who had begun attending council sessions.
Laela noticed the thinly concealed hatred in Saeddryn’s expression, but she only raised her chin and looked back smugly.
The High Priestess looked away. “An’ ye’ll be away for a year.”
“At the very least.”
The councillors looked uncomfortable.
“A year, Sire?” said Lord Iorwerth. “Without ye?”
“I’m afraid so.”
The tough commander straightened up. “No, Sire. We can’t let ye go. Not that far. Not for that long.”
“I agree,” said Torc, from beside his wife. “Too far, too dangerous.”
Arenadd raised his eyebrow. “I don’t know what I’ll tell the ambassador, then. He came a very long way to negotiate this visit.”
“Sire,” said Iorwerth. “Think of this.” He rubbed his head. “Ye are what’s stopping the South from invading us again. Fear of ye. With ye gone for a year. . what would we do if they came back? Without our protector. .”
Arenadd cast an amused glance at Laela. “I think the Master of Wisdom can help us here.”
Laela stepped forward, aware of all the eyes on her. Oeka came with her, to stand by her side, and Laela put a hand on her head. The griffin didn’t object, and Laela felt warm confidence fill her from end to end.
“No offence to yeh, Lords an’ Ladies, but yeh ain’t been in the South,” she said. “I have. I seen what’s goin’ on there, an’ let me tell yeh, there ain’t no invasion comin’. Not now, not for ten years. South’s in turmoil. In the place where I grew up, we had a new Eyrie Master every other spring. Griffiners over there’re too busy fightin’ each other t’even think about comin’ up here.”
Arenadd nodded as if that settled it. “Well said, Lady Laela. Now.” He turned his attention back to the council. “The South is in no condition to fight us, and even if they were, I doubt they’d ever dare set foot on my soil again. And how would they even know I was away? We’re miles away from them, we have no communications with them-there’s no way they’d ever find out. And besides,” he added wickedly, “I hope you’re not implying that you don’t think you could fight them off if they ever came sniffing around our borders.”
The King’s jab had the right effect; Saeddryn looked irritated, and several of the griffins hissed at the insult.
Iorwerth’s partner, the scarred Kaanee, spoke out. “Then we have no argument against your plan, Kraeai kran ae,” he rasped. “But if you are right, why do you care so much about Amoran? Those griffins are small and strange, and the humans are not of your kind.”
This was Arenadd’s moment. He stepped forward, his face suddenly full of rage. “What in the Night God’s name is wrong with you?” he demanded. “We’re Northerners, aren’t we? Didn’t we fight to give our people back their homes? Didn’t we stand up against the enemy to set our brothers and sisters free? Didn’t I come into this city, alone, and fight to protect you all-didn’t I lead the slaves back to the North? Have you forgotten that?”
Iorwerth’s fists clenched. “I would never forget that, Sire. Never.”
“Well then, remember this,” Arenadd snarled. “Remember that there are still Northerners living in slavery. And they’re out there.” He pointed a thin finger eastward. “They’re in Amoran, building giant statues of the Day God. Cleaning his temples. Serving his worshippers.” Arenadd wiped a hand over his forehead. “You think I care about military benefits? Trade agreements? No. I care about our people, and unless I make an agreement with the Emperor, and please him enough to make him want to repay me, then there’s no way I can bring those people home.” He paused. “That’s my duty. It’s always been my duty, ever since the Night God handed it down to me. And if I never do anything else while I’m King, I’ll fulfil that duty to the very last.”
Silence followed the King’s speech. The councillors glanced at each other.
Laela almost gaped at her protector. She’d thought she knew him better than anyone else aside from Skandar, but she’d never imagined that he could be so eloquent, or so passionate.
For the first time, she began to see why so many people had been prepared to follow him-and still did.
Finally, Saeddryn spoke out. “Sire,” she said. “I apologise. I was too hasty. If going to Amoran is what it’ll take to bring the rest of our people home, then so be it. I’m sure we can look after the Kingdom while ye’re gone.”
“Agreed,” said Iorwerth.
“I agree as well,” Torc said solemnly. He touched his neck. “I haven’t forgotten what slavery is like, and I never will. And I’ll never forget who it was that set me free. Go to Amoran, Sire. Bring our brothers and sisters home.”
Arenadd smiled with his eyes. “I will, Lord Torc. I promise.”
“There’s only one other thing left to decide,” Saeddryn cut in. “An’ that’s who ye’re going to leave in charge of the council while ye’re away.”
Arenadd stroked his beard. “You mean who’s going to sit on the throne in my place, Saeddryn?”
“If ye want to put it that way, Sire, then yes.”
“You, of course,” said Arenadd. “Who else would I leave in charge but the eldest member of my family?”
Saeddryn’s expression was inscrutable. “Who indeed, Sire.”
Laela, watching closely as Arenadd had told her to, had the odd feeling that there were other meanings and other words hidden behind what had just been said. But just what that was she couldn’t tell.
“She’s happy about bein’ left in charge,” she observed to Arenadd afterward, as they were leaving together.
Arenadd walked slowly, still limping slightly from his injury. “Of course she is. You know, she never forgave me for coming back.”
Laela kept pace, with Oeka close behind. “Comin’ back how?”
Skandar hadn’t bothered to come to the meeting, but Arenadd glanced over his shoulder as if expecting to see the giant griffin behind him. “Oh, well, when we stormed Malvern, after the fighting was more or less over, I. . well, it’s a long story, but I was out of it for a few days afterward. They took me for dead, and Saeddryn took charge. She would have been happy about that; after all, she always saw it as her revolution, and she didn’t much like it when I took charge. Anyway, I came back to my senses and walked in on her just as she was telling everyone how I would’ve wanted them to demolish the city and go back to living in huts. I put a stop to it quick smart, but I’ll never forget the look on her face when I walked into the room.” He paused. “Now I’ll give her a taste of ruling here while I’m gone, and we’ll see how well she enjoys it. Not too much, I hope.”
“Yeh really think yeh can trust her?” said Laela, recalling Saeddryn’s hostile expression.
“Of course I do,” said Arenadd. “She might be a bad-tempered old stick, but she’s still my cousin. And besides, I’ll have Iorwerth keeping an eye on her. Now that’s a man you can trust to the ends of the earth.” He put a peculiar emphasis on that last part.
“Well, yeh got ’em t’let yeh go, anyway,” said Laela.
“Oh, I’d have gone even if they hadn’t ‘let’ me,” said Arenadd. “They might be the highest officials in the land, but I’m still the King, and I have the final say in everything we discuss. All they can hope to do is talk me out of it. Now-”
“Yeah?”
“I’m on my way to have lunch with the ambassador,” said Arenadd. “As my advisor, you should definitely meet him, so would you care to come with me?”
Laela glanced at Oeka. The griffin had perked up and was looking as interested as her partner. “’Course I’ll come!” said Laela. She grinned. “I never met an Amorani before. Do they really have hair all over their faces?”
Arenadd choked on a laugh. “I don’t know about the rest of his people,” he said, recovering his dignity, “but Lord Vander’s got a lot less hair on his face than I do. I’d love to know how he keeps his moustache so neat even when he’s travelling. . I should ask him what his secret is.”
Laela hid a giggle and did her best to keep close to Oeka and look important as they entered the dining hall.
When she saw the Amorani ambassador for the first time, she was almost disappointed. He was short and slight, and aside from his brown skin, he could easily have passed himself off as a Northerner, with his dark hair and eyes.
Aside from the moustache Arenadd had admired, his face was hairless, and lined. Laela thought he looked shrewd but not unfriendly.
“My lord.” Arenadd nodded.
The ambassador stepped forward, speaking in Northern. Arenadd replied, glancing at Laela.
“Very well, then,” said Vander, using Cymrian this time. He looked at Laela with an interested expression. “I am Lord Vander, of Amoran,” he said, holding out a hand. “And your own name?”
Laela hesitated for a moment, but then linked fingers with him and tugged, as Arenadd had taught her. She bowed her head briefly. “I’m Lae-Lady Laela,” she corrected, adding with pride, “Master of Wisdom.”
Vander looked her up and down, then looked at Arenadd. “So this is the famous Laela,” he said. “Forgive me, Sire, but I was not prepared. .” He glanced at Laela again. “I did not know that you had a daughter.”
Laela and Arenadd both stopped and looked at each other.
For Laela, it was as if Vander’s remark had lifted a veil. She looked at Arenadd’s face as if for the first time, taking in the angular features, the long, curly hair. . features she knew she had, too-features that had made her look so sharp and odd, and not how a woman was supposed to look.
No, she thought. That’s just stupid. There’s no way. Yer real father’s dead. An’ Arenadd wouldn’t. . he’d never. .
No. She shook herself, pushing away the unwelcome thought. Arenadd was her friend, and he was a good man; she believed it with all her heart. He would never rape a woman, not even a Southern woman. Never.
Arenadd laughed humourlessly. “You’re mistaken, my Lord. I don’t have any children. Laela here was born in the South, anyway.”
Vander looked at Laela again. “Forgive me-” He stopped abruptly, and his expression changed. “Ah. I see. Of course. Forgive me; I did not mean to imply that you would ever father a. .” He trailed off.
Arenadd glanced at Laela, his look suddenly embarrassed and defensive. He tried to shrug it off with another laugh. “Well, let’s hope not, my lord. I mean, could you imagine? The Shadow That Walks-with a Southerner?” He grimaced as if the very idea was disgusting.
Laela actually took a step back. She froze, staring at him as if she could hardly believe what he’d said.
Arenadd looked at her. “Laela? What’s the matter?”
She could feel her shoulders trembling as she straightened up. “I was born because a Northerner raped my mother,” she said, in a voice like ice cracking. “One of your people, Sire. She was barely older’n me, an’ she never did nothin’ to anybody. It happened in the war. So it was your fault.”
Arenadd’s face fell. “I didn’t mean-”
Laela couldn’t stand it a moment longer. She turned and strode out of the room.