Aubri perused the list slowly, rumbling a little to himself. Finally, he looked up.
“This is all very well thought out,” he said, “but it doesn’t go far enough. That’s not your fault,” he added hastily, as both Tad and Blade’s faces fell. “We train you fledges about regular outpost duty, but Five is almost twice as far away as any of the others. That was why Judeth and I went out there. If we couldn’t handle it, we certainly didn’t want to send any of you.”
Aubri and Judeth shared the leadership of the Silvers as co-Commanders under Skandranon. Tad’s father had turned over the actual working position to Aubri not long after the affair of the Eclipse Ceremony, more than twelve years ago. Skandranon had decided by then that he didn’t want to be a leader, not unless it was a leader in name only. He much preferred to be the Black Gryphon (or White Gryphon, depending on whether he was at Khimbata and Shalaman’s court or at home) with his talons into everything. The day-to-day trivia of leadership bored him; doing things made him happy.
Aubri, on the other hand, found himself, much to his surprise, to be quite good at the day-to-day trivia. Furthermore, it amused him. He said once to Skandranon that after all that he had been through during the Wars, dealing with requisitions and stupid recruits was a positive pleasure. The real truth was that he had long ago mastered the art of delegation and knew just who to saddle with the part of the job that he didn’t care for. And now, with the able tutelage of his partner and co-Commander Judeth, he very much enjoyed being a leader. For the last three years or so, both of them had been claiming that they were going to retire “soon,” but not one creature in the Silvers believed them. Neither of them was ever likely to enjoy retirement half so much as active duty.
It was Tad’s opinion that what would probably happen was that a third co-Commander would be appointed, one in charge of the more physical aspect of the daily activities of the Silvers, and the minor decisions that didn’t require an expert of the quality of either Aubri or Judeth. Judeth would remain in place as the overall Commander in charge of major decisions, and Aubri in charge of training, with which Judeth would assist him.
Now that, I can see happening. Judeth doesn’t much like climbing all over the city all day, but they’re both so experienced that it would be stupid to turn over complete control of the Silvers to someone younger—at least, not until they are comfortable with his competence. And Aubri loves bamboozling the trainees. Yes, that would make altogether too much sense, which is probably why that’s what they’ll do. They’re the two creatures in the whole world that I can trust to act sensibly.
Tad couldn’t imagine the Silvers without Aubri and Judeth in charge. It would have to happen someday, but he couldn’t imagine what that day would be like when it came.
“Now look, you two,” Aubri was saying. “You are going to be a long, long way from the city; it might be hard to get things to you if something wears out or breaks. Just because something minor like your water pump goes out, that doesn’t mean we’re going to rip open a Gate to send one to you. Gates are expensive, and you have perfectly sound limbs for carrying water in buckets.”
Tad was taken aback, and so was Blade. That simply hadn’t occurred to him; living among mages had made him think of Gates being put up quite casually. Gryphons flew, mages made Gates, it was that simple.
But now he realized that although a Gate went up just about every two or three days, they didn’t stay up for very long, and what was more, they didn’t even go up to the same place more often than once every month or two. There were just a lot of outposts and other far-flung ventures to supply, and that was what had made it seem as if Gating was commonplace and simple.
Aubri’s eyes twinkled. “Your Gates will be opened at the scheduled times, not one moment earlier unless it’s a real emergency of a life-threatening nature. They will remain open for only the scheduled times, so if there’s more stuff you’ve asked for than can be chucked through in a hurry, that’s too bad. You may have to wait through several resupply opportunities for your water pump. So what does that mean, Silvers?”
“Manuals,” Blade said with resignation, adding them to the list. “We’ll need repair manuals. All the repair tools we’d need will be there already, right?”
“And the manuals, too, don’t worry; that outpost’s been open a long time, and remember that Judeth and I were there first. We had the rank to order whatever we thought should be in place out there. Try again.”
Blade chewed a nail and frowned as she thought. Her brows furrowed, and her eyes darkened until they were nearly blue-black. “Um. You said it’s really damp. Humid?”
He nodded. “There’s fog there, isn’t there? Every morning. And rain every evening.”
She brightened. “Bladders. Seals. Anything made of leather or wood—or metal that might rust. Repair parts that can get ruined by damp! That would be for—the water pump, the stove, the plumbing—” She began to scribble.
“Good!” Aubri turned to Tad, who fortunately had an answer waiting, because he already knew Aubri’s prejudices. He’d heard the litany often enough, when he was still living at home.
“The kind of equipment that might go missing or get spoiled by damp that doesn’t rely on magic to work,” he said promptly. “Things like firestrikers, tinder boxes, trace sextant and compass for surveying . . . ah. . . .” He pummeled his brain. Aubri nodded.
“Don’t strain yourself; since you’ve just shown me that you know the principle, I’ll give you a list. It’s basically a few common replacement parts and some old army gear; won’t add that much to your load, but there isn’t much you can’t do with it if you put your mind to the problem.”
He didn’t even move; he just stretched out a claw and stabbed a piece of paper already waiting on the top of the goldenwood desk that stood just within snatching distance. He must have been ready for them, once again proving that he wasn’t nearly as absentminded as he seemed.
Blade took it from him, and Tad noticed that she seemed a bit bemused. Probably because she had a tendency to take everything and everyone at face value, and every time Aubri went into his “senile old featherhead” act, she fell for it.
Well, she can’t help it. This was her big weakness, and Tad had a good idea why she wasn’t likely to cure it any time soon. Part of the problem was that she just didn’t want to look past the surface masks that everyone wore, no matter how honest and genuine they were. Tad’s partner just didn’t want to know what surprises might lie beneath those polite masks; that Empathy thing of hers bothered her, and if she could have had it surgically removed, Tad had it figured that she would have done so no matter what the risk. And there were reasons behind that as well; she had realized a long time ago that she would never, ever be as good as her father at delving into people’s hearts and souls. She was the kind of person who, if she couldn’t excel at something, didn’t want to try.
Silly. Not every mage can be a Snowstar, but the hedge-wizards can do plenty of things he hasn’t got the time for, or even do subtle things he can’t do at all. Well, it’d be flogging pointlessly to take that up with her, at least now. Maybe after we’ve been out there a while, and we ‘ve had a lot of peace and privacy. That particular twitch of hers bothered him, though, and he wanted to have it straightened out before too very long. Any amount of mind-magic was useful, the more so in someone who might well be supposed to boast nothing of the sort. Father always says that if you’ve got an ability, it’s stupid not to train and use it, even if it isn‘t something that you‘d use very often.