“If we had a flock of griffons ... if they all carried riders into combat ... could that be the hammer needed to crack the shell around Sithelbec?” Sithas spoke with growing enthusiasm.
“Wait a minute,” said Kith, holding up his hand. “I suppose you’re right, in a hypothetical sense. In fact, the horses of the humans were spooked as I flew over, even though I was high, out of bowshot range. But who ever heard of an army of griffons?”
Sithas settled back, suddenly realizing the futility of his idea. For a moment, neither of them said anything—which was how they heard the soft rustling in the room behind them.
Kith-Kanan sprang to his feet, instinctively reaching for a sword at his hip, forgetting that his weapon hung back on the wall of his own apartment. Sithas whirled in his seat, staring in astonishment, and then he rose to his feet.
“You!” the Speaker barked, his voice taut with rage. “What are you doing here?”
Kith-Kanan crouched, preparing to spring at the intruder. He saw the figure, a mature elf cloaked in a silky gray robe, move forward from the shadows.
“Wait.” said Sithas, much to his brother’s surprise. The speaker held up his hand and Kith straightened, still tense and suspicious.
“One day your impudence will cost you,” Sithas said levelly as the elf approached them. “You are not to enter my chambers unannounced again. Is that clear?”
“Pardon my intrusion. As you know, my presence must remain discreet.”
“Who is this?” Kith-Kanan demanded.
“Forgive me,” said the gray-cloaked elf before Sithas cut him off.
“This is Vedvedsica,” said Sithas. Kith-Kanan noted that his brother’s tone had become carefully guarded. “He has ... been helpful to the House of Silvanos in the past.”
“The pleasure is mine, and it is indeed great, honored prince,” offered Vedvedsica, with a deep bow to Kith-Kanan.
“Who are you? Why do you come here?” Kith demanded.
“In good time, lord—in good time. As to who I am, I am a cleric, a devoted follower of Gilean.”
Kith-Kanan wasn’t surprised. The god was the most purely neutral in the elven pantheon, most often used to justify self-aggrandizement and profit. Something about Vedvedsica struck him as very self-serving indeed.
“More to the point, I know of your dream.”
The last was directed to Kith-Kanan and struck him like a lightning bolt between the eyes. For a moment, he hesitated, fighting an almost undeniable urge to hurl himself at the insolent cleric and kill him with his bare hands. Never before had he felt so violated.
“Explain yourself!”
“I have knowledge that the two of you may desire—knowledge of griffons, hundreds of them. And even more important, I may have knowledge as to how they can be found and tamed.”
For the moment, the elven lords remained silent, listening suspiciously as Vedvedsica moved forward. “May 1?” inquired the cleric, gesturing to a seat beside their own.
Sithas nodded silently, and all three sat.
“The griffons dwell in the Khalkist Mountains, south of the Lords of Doom.” The brothers knew of these peaks—three violent volcanoes in the heart of the forbidding range, high among vast glaciers and sheer summits. It was a region beyond the ken of elven explorers.
“How do you know this?” asked Sithas.
“Did your father ever tell you how he came to possess Arcuballis?” Again the cleric fixed Kith-Kanan with his gaze, then continued as if he already knew the answer. “He got him from me!”
Kith nodded, reluctant to believe the cleric but finding himself unable to doubt the veracity of his words.
“I purchased him from a Kagonesti, a wild elf who told me of the whereabouts of the pack. He encountered them, together with a dozen companions. He alone escaped the wrath of the griffons, with one young cub—the one given by me to Sithel as a gift, and the one that he passed along to his son. To you, Kith-Kanan.”
“But how could the flock be tamed? From what you say, a dozen elves perished to bring one tiny cub away!” Kith-Kanan challenged Vedvedsica. Despite his suspicions, he felt his own excitement begin to build.
“I tamed him, with the aid and protection of Gilean. I developed the spell that broke him to halter. It’s a simple enchantment, really. Any elf with a working knowledge of the Old Script could have cast it. But only I could bring it into being!”
“Continue,” said Sithas urgently.
“I believe that spell can be enhanced, developed so that many more of the creatures could be brought to heel. I can inscribe it onto a scroll. Then one of you can take it in search of the griffons.”
“Are you certain that it will work?” demanded Sithas.
“No,” replied the cleric frankly. “It will need to be presented under precise circumstances and with a great force of command. That is why the person who casts the spell must be a leader among elves—one of you two. No others of our race would have the necessary traits.”
“How long would it take to prepare such a scroll?” pressed Kith. A cavalry company mounted on griffons, flying over the battlefield! The thought made his heart pound with excitement. They would be unstoppable!
Vedvedsica shrugged. “A week, perhaps two. It will be an arduous process.”
“I’ll go,” Kith volunteered.
“Wait!” said Sithas sharply. “I should go! And I will!” Kith-Kanan looked at the Speaker in astonishment. “That’s crazy!” he argued.
“You’re the Speaker of the Stars. You have a wife, a child! More to the point, you’re the leader of all Silvanesti! And you haven’t ever lived in the wilderness before like I have! I can’t allow you to take the risk.” For a moment, the twins stared at each other, equally stubborn. The cleric was forgotten for the moment, and he melted into the shadows, discreet in his withdrawal.
It was Sithas who spoke.
“Do you read the Old Script?” he asked his brother bluntly. “Well enough to be certain of your words, when you know that the whole future of the realm could depend upon what you say?”
The younger twin sighed. “No. My studies always emphasized the outdoor skills. I’m afraid the ancient writing wouldn’t make much sense to me.” Sithas smiled wryly. “I used to resent that. You were always out riding horses or hunting or learning swordsmanship, while I studied the musty tomes and forgotten histories. Well, now I’m going to put that learning to use.
“We’ll both go,” Sithas concluded.
Kith-Kanan stared at him, realizing the outcry such a plan would raise. Perhaps, he had to admit, this was the reason the scheme appealed to him. Slowly, Kith relaxed, settling back into his chair.
“The trip won’t be easy,” Kith warned sternly. “We’re going to have to explore the largest mountain range on Ansalon, and winter isn’t far away. In those heights, you can be sure there’s already plenty of snow.”
“You can’t scare me off,” answered Sithas purposefully. “I know that Arcuballis can carry the two of us, and I don’t care if it takes all winter. We’ll find them, Kith. I know we will.”
“You know,” Kith-Kanan said ironically, “I must still be dreaming. In any event, you’re right. The sons of Sithel ought to make this quest together.” With a final mug of wine, as the sky grew pale above them, they began to make their plans.
9
Kith-Kanan and his mother rode through the tree-lined streets of Silvanost for several hours, talking only of fond memories and pleasant topics from many years before. They stopped to enjoy the fountains, to watch the hawks dive for fish in the river, and to listen to the songbirds that clustered in the many flowered bushes of the city’s lush gardens.
During the ride, it seemed to the elven warrior that his mother slowly came to life again, even to the point of laughing as they watched the pompous dance of a brilliant cardinal trying to impress his mate.