Выбрать главу

Aoth shot Jhesrhi a warning glance, a reminder she didn t need. When she, the war mage, and the Stag King had each taken a cup and pledged one another, she only pretended to sip.

But apparently she or Aoth didn t pretend well enough, because the Stag King cocked his head and asked, Isn t the brew to your taste?

It might be pleasant, said Aoth, to spend a hundred years in revelry that would pass like a single night for us. But our business won t wait.

The hulking spirit laughed. It occurred to Jhesrhi that the action might have set the bells in his antlers chiming except that, as she observed, he didn t have any. Perhaps, since he possessed the ability to speak, unlike his subjects, he saw no need for them.

Evidently, he said, the two of you have heard your share of nursery fables and tavern tales.

Aoth shrugged. A person can only act on the basis of whatever information comes his way, he said. That s why you re fortunate that Lady Coldcreek, Zyl, and I are here today. We have important tidings to share.

Tilting back his head, and so clicking his antlers on the back of his throne, the Stag King drank from his cup and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Yes, he said. My trusty spy said the durthans have risen to resume their old quarrel with the hathrans, this time with new allies. But should that concern me? I helped the hathrans once. It entertained me. But who s to say it would do so a second time?

As I understand it, said Aoth, most dark fey sided with the durthans. Even though the fomorian lady you sent Zyl to spy on wasn t all that keen on the idea, it s a safe bet that many will again. And if they defeat the hathrans and the Iron Lord, isn t it likely that they ll want to settle old scores? You d be wiser to fight them now, before they build any more strength, and before they kill the folk who are willing to stand with you.

The Stag King grunted. Perhaps, he said. Or maybe, now that the hathrans have mighty wizards like you and the lady here to help them, my assistance is unnecessary. Or perhaps I ll simply go away, deep into the Feywild where no old foe will ever find me. He waved a hand in a gesture that encompassed the hall. You see the dreariness that passes for my court. My blood may have been a little too potent.

Jhesrhi scowled. You d forsake your own children? she asked. Abandon them to suffer and die without you?

The spirit grinned. Forgive me if, for whatever reason, that pierces to the quick. he said. But perhaps it doesn t have to be that way. I might be amenable to marching off to war if someone was willing to make it worth my while.

I d imagine, said Aoth, that when the war is done, the Rashemi will be happy to reward an ally.

But the hathrans and the Iron Lord aren t here, the Stag King replied. Nor do you truly have the authority to offer treasure on their behalf. Whereas you and Jhesrhi Coldcreek are here. What will you pay? Will she indenture herself to me as Zyl has done?

Are you sure? the Stag King asked as he turned his gaze on Jhesrhi. I m not such a bad master. Zyl will vouch for that. I can teach you a great deal, and make it easier to complete your transformation.

It is complete, she said through gritted teeth.

And I like it where I am.

The Stag King turned back to Aoth. Well, then, Captain, that leaves you, he said.

I have wealth to barter, the Thayan replied.

Gold, some talismans, enchanted weapons, and such. It s not all in Rashemen, but if we make a deal, I ll get it to you.

The enormous creature grinned. No need. Your greatest treasure is here: eyes infected with the Blue Fire that changed the whole world. Eyes with truesight. Give me one of them. You ll still see better than any other human in the world.

Aoth snorted and said, Unless some foe sneaks up on the wrong flank.

Then you decline the offer?

Of course. I explained that it s in your best interest to ally with the hathrans and me. That should be enough. I shouldn t have to haggle with you like I m trying to buy a carpet in a marketplace, and it s laughable that you think I d give up one of my most valuable officers, or mutilate myself, to purchase your help. With all due respect, it s nowhere near that important. So sit idle in this tumbledown pile if it pleases you. Jhes and I will find a way to beat the undead without you.

The Stag King glared. Is that your final word? he asked.

Yes, Aoth replied.

The spirit s glower softened into a crooked smile.

Well, I may not be a rug merchant, but you still can t blame me for trying, he said. But all right. My warriors and I will accompany you to the Fortress of the Half-Demon. We ll see what we can learn and whom we can kill.

SEVEN

Zyl had alluded to berserkers cutting themselves and frothing at the mouth. But though Vandar fought like a madman when the fury held him in its sway, Cera hadn t seen him do either of those things, and so she d assumed the hare was exaggerating.

She didn t think so anymore. Even though the warriors of the Griffon Lodge weren t headed into battle at the moment, and the excitement they were experiencing was likely only a shadow of what they would feel then, a few were indeed slicing their own brawny arms and chests. Others gnashed their teeth in a gesture seemingly intended to mimic a griffon snapping its beak, a gesture that often sent spittle flying through the air. Meanwhile, the rest had other ways of acting crazy. They screeched like griffons, swept their arms wide like griffons spreading their wings, or punched their neighbors for no particular reason.

Which was to say, with Vandar having delivered his news, his brothers were raising the feral spirit they d likely need when they reached the Fortress of the Half-Demon. Cera suspected that Jet, standing with Vandar and her in front of the crowd, was a potent source of inspiration. The berserkers might constitute the Griffon Lodge, but how many of them had ever been so close to their totem?

At first, Jet regarded the berserkers display with what Cera had learned to recognize as dour tolerance, an attitude of

Humans are idiots, but there s nothing to be done about it. Soon, however, he raised his black-feathered head high. Some of the Rashemi fell silent, and the echoing clamor inside the lodge diminished.

What is it? Cera asked.

I need to get outside, the familiar replied. He glanced at a tall mullioned glass window, surely an expensive luxury and object of pride in that rustic land. Already wincing, Cera imagined him leaping and smashing through it. But instead he turned and bounded down the length of the smoky torch-lit hall toward the double doors in the far wall. Startled berserkers scrambled out of the way, and she and Vandar scurried to keep up.

She threw open the doors. Jet leaped out into the dirty, trodden snow, and she and Vandar followed. She heard the sound that the familiar had caught even inside the noisy building. Faint with distance, the cries of other griffons mingled with the whistle of the wind.

Is it the wild ones? she asked.

No, said Jet. It s the ones from Aglarond.

How can you tell? Vandar asked.

For one thing, said Jet, a grim note in his voice, I d recognize the call of that male with the blue eyes. Trust me, it s the Aglarondans, and the reason they re calling to one another is that their riders are rousing them to fly.

In the middle of a cold winter s night, Vandar said. Folcoerr Dulsaer would only order that if he suddenly thinks he knows where to go to strike a blow at the undead

Cera smiled. If Jet and I shadow them, we can find out exactly what they re up to, she said.

That s a good idea, the berserker replied. But I should be the one to go.

I m no griffonrider, Cera said. But I ve at least spent enough time aloft to know how to sit in the saddle and trust Jet to take care of me. Besides, you need to get your brothers ready to travel.

Although Yhelbruna had told all the outlanders they could ask for help as needed, Cera and Vandar had judged that the Griffon Lodge needed to sneak out of Immilmar and march on the Fortress of the Half-Demon alone. Otherwise there was a fair chance that the Aglarondans or Mario Bez s sellswords either of whom could travel faster in the sky than the Rashemi could on the ground would race to their destination ahead of them, accomplish whatever could be accomplished there, and claim the credit for doing it.