Storm Warning - Mercedes Lackey [153]
“I asked Rris if there was any oral kyree tradition about the mage-storms that followed the Cataclysm,” Darkwind told them all. “So here he is, and he’s going to recite it to you.”
Rris rose from his place at Darkwind’s side where he had been lying like an obedient dog, stepped forward into the center of the room, bowed his furry gray head once to all of them, and sat down on his haunches with immense dignity. :1 trust you will not object if I tell it in the traditional manner?:
“Go right ahead,” Firesong said. “You might forget something if you break from tradition, else.”
Rris nodded. :Hear you all, from the times of the Change, from the times of the Falling of the Sky and the Stars,: he began, his mental voice ringing in Karal’s mind. It occurred to Karat at that moment, as he scribbled furiously to get all of the story down, that he himself had changed out of all recognition ever since he had come to Valdemar. Not that long ago, simply seeing the kyree would have put him into shock. Now he was taking down what the creature dictated into his mind, without a second thought.
Was this a good thing, or a bad one?
Neither, he decided, as his fingers flew across the page, filling line after line with meticulous script. It’s just change. You change, or you turn into a dry old stick.
And another thing occurred to him.
Dry old sticks break under pressure. So maybe it was a good thing after all. The last thing they all needed right now was one of their number who would snap like a twig.
It had been a long day; it was going to get longer before Karal saw his bed. Nevertheless, when An‘desha intercepted him on his way out of the gryphons’ room and asked him to make a map of the way to the Compass Rose, he volunteered to act as An’desha’s escort instead, after they both had some supper. Ulrich was to work with the Tayledras and Elspeth, strengthening shields again; that left Karal free to make a hasty copy of the day’s notes and show An’desha the way.
That was why they both found themselves trudging through a night made darker by the clouds still overhead, splashing through puddles left by the rain, with the sounds of carousing coming from the lantern-lit taverns all around them.
“Thank you for coming with me to where these engineers meet,” An’desha said shyly. “I would be very uncomfortable, going there alone.”
Since this would be the first time, to Karal’s knowledge, that An’desha had ever left the grounds of the Palace, he suspected that “uncomfortable” was an understatement. Terrified might be more apt.
But An‘desha was set on going. He felt that someone was going to have to try to explain magic to those without it, and that he was the best person for the task. That was the argument Karal had walked in on this afternoon. An’desha had volunteered his services, and Firesong had objected.
Firesong might be jealous; he might be afraid that An‘desha will find someone else he’s attracted to. I wonder if that occurred to An’desha as an explanation for all his objections?
“I have all these notes from our meeting to deliver, and I need to get copies of what they’ve done for our mages,” he replied. “And besides—An’desha. I know you’re shy, and I just couldn’t let you walk in there alone, face all those people you don’t even know. That’s what friends are about, right?”
“I had hoped so.” An’desha smiled tentatively. “But you are stretching yourself very thin, running errands for all of us, transcribing the notes of our meetings for us. I hadn’t wanted to ask you.”
“Before this is over, we’re all going to be exhausted, so don’t worry about it,” he told the young mage. At that moment, they reached the door of the tavern, and he paused for a heartbeat on the threshold. “Well, brace yourself. This is not going to be like anything you’ve ever seen before.”
An’desha did visibly brace himself, but