Firebrand
Page 38

“Uh, why is he a stone gryphon?” Alton asked.
“That is his true form, boy. Or, at least the gryphon part is. Whiskers, wake up.”
The stone texture melded into fur and feather. A hint of orange tabby shone through the tawny hide of the catamount. He had a magnificent ruff. Whiskers stared at Alton from above and down his beak. Alton felt the blood drain from his head.
“I presented him to you in his cat form,” Merdigen said, “because I did not wish to startle you unduly.”
Of his own volition, Whiskers shrank into his house cat form and licked his paw.
“What have you been feeding him?” Alton asked faintly.
“Well, you may have noticed the tower is rather free of rodents, so there is that, but as a magical creature, he can feed off of etherea, so I let him eat a little of me.”
Alton stared aghast at Merdigen.
“Don’t look so mortified, boy. I just share a little bit of my energy. He wouldn’t mind some real meat for sure, but this has done fine for quite some time.”
Alton found it all a little hard to take. Even as a magic user himself, it was not easy for him to imagine a world in which real gryphons once flew the skies. It seemed in the aftermath of the wall being breached, many things had begun to awaken: the Eletians, Mornhavon the Black, and the monsters of Blackveil, the elemental, and now a gryphon. A gryphon named Mister Whiskers, who was now in the shape of an orange house cat purring contentedly on his back with his paws in the air.
“Do you see why I said we need kittens?” Merdigen asked.
Alton had a flash of little orange kittens flying around the tower with eagle wings. “You want kittens?”
“To guard the towers, boy, against Sleepers. Though I admit, it would be fun to have little ones to play with.”
“You think gryphons would guard against Sleepers?”
“I understand your skepticism,” Merdigen replied. “The cat nature is strong in them and they are not like guard dogs, but I’m quite sure they would recognize the threat of the Sleepers.”
Alton felt another sneeze coming on and tilted his head back, but it failed. He sniffed. He bet his eyes were swollen and red-rimmed. “I thought you said Whiskers was the last of his kind. Doesn’t it take, um, two to make kittens?”
“It does,” Merdigen replied. “I am not absolutely certain he’s the last gryphon. I thought to release him and see if he can find a mate, or if a mate can find him. At the very least, he can hunt for some fresh meat.”
The sneeze finally came and was so powerful that Whiskers flipped onto his feet and hissed. If nothing else, Alton thought, releasing Whiskers to the wild would relieve his allergies.
A PICNIC
Karigan slept through the night deeply and without dreams. Only as she gradually climbed out of the depths did she recall what had transpired the day before, and immediately she wished she could succumb to oblivion once more. She felt wrung out despite the rest and like the slightest thing—a wrong word, or a certain look—would set her off. Lhean had brought everything raw and to the surface.
But she also felt cleansed by having released so much that she had held inside, both her sorrow and her anger. Yes, Lhean had dragged her away from Cade and into the present, but it had been Cade who had let her go. Some part of her was unreasonably angry with him because of it, and another part knew he’d done it out of love.
She choked back a sob and tried to steady herself as she stared at the beams of the ceiling above. Her eye hurt like the fires of all five hells, as if the shard in it had shredded her inner eye. Ghost Kitty hopped on her belly, awakening her bladder. She hastened to get up and take care of business, and stoked the fire in her hearth. She splashed water on her face and then dabbed some of the numbing salve Ben had given her on her lower eyelid. She slipped the patch on and climbed back into bed, prepared to hide all day beneath her blankets, when a gentle knock came on her door and someone peered in.
“Oh, good,” Estral said, “you’re awake.”
Karigan let go a deep breath. If it had been anyone else . . .
Estral hauled in a basket and a teapot. “Thought you might like something to eat. They serve very good food in the diplomatic wing, and I asked if I could have a picnic basket with my tea. The staff kind of looked at me funny, but they didn’t ask questions.” She set the basket on the big desk and unloaded cups and muffins, cheese, and little mince pies and meat rolls, and even a couple wrinkly apples brought out of winter stores.
“I assume I missed breakfast,” Karigan said, watching in fascination as Estral unloaded yet more food from the basket.
“Actually, both breakfast and morning tea. It is now midday.”
“Oh, gods. My father and aunts—”
Estral poured tea in both cups and handed one to Karigan. “Not to worry. Your father is spending midday with members of the merchants guild, and your aunts are shopping.”
“Shopping,” Karigan murmured. The local shopkeepers ought to love seeing them coming, especially at a time of year when commerce was slow.
“Yes.” Estral now passed Karigan a nut muffin. “Something you said to them the other day made them decide it was best to give you some quiet time. Plus, the captain told them you were still on king’s business.”
“The king told them I had leave.”
Estral smiled. “Things have a way of coming up, don’t they?”
Karigan snorted and leaned back against her headboard.