Blade compared the two lists, and added several items to theirs before she handed the one Aubri had given her back to him. Tad was pleased to note that she had not needed to copy the whole thing down. So they hadn’t done so badly on their own.
I wonder if there was a bone setting kit on Aubri’s list, though. It certainly fits his criteria of “nonmagical” and “spoiled by damp.“ But, oh, the weight! If only someone could come up with better splints and casting material! It seems so stupid to be hauling wood and powdered rock!
Aubri crossed his forelegs in front of him, and regarded both of them with a benign, almost paternal expression on his face. “Well. Two more of my fledges go out to prove their wings. I think you’ll like the post; neither of you are the kind to pine after a city when you can thrash around in the forest and see things no one else ever has before.” He sighed. “Adventures are for the young, who haven’t got bone aches. Now me—I’m happy to be here in White Gryphon where I can sunbathe every day. But there should be enough new discoveries there to make even two youngsters like you happy.”
He did not mention that he knew their personal prime reason for being so happy with this assignment; getting away from their beloved families. He had never acted as if he recognized them as Skandranon’s and Amberdrake’s offspring—
Well, he wouldn’t; not while we were in training. But he’s never even mentioned our parents casually. Maybe he is a little absentminded in that direction; maybe he doesn’t recognize us now that we’re grown.
“We’re looking forward to it, sir,” he said honestly. “And it’ll be nice to be away from home for the first time.”
Aubri nodded, then grinned. “Oh, you aren’t the only ones who’ve been interested in long assignments outside the city, believe it or not. I told Judeth that she should never assign anyone to Five who didn’t have a good reason for being there as well as a good reason for getting away from home. I’ve never seen anyone who fit those qualifications better than you two. And to tell you the truth, I had a third reason to want you out there—you’re a two-and-four team. That’s a good combination for an outpost.”
That was a gryphon paired with a human. That particular team was not all that usual among the Silvers; people tended to team up with members of their own species. Usually the two-and-fours were default teams, made up of those who couldn’t find a compatible partner among their own kind. Quite often they broke up after training, when a senior Silver could take a junior out of training as a partner. Those who were in default two-and-fours generally did just that.
“I like a two-and-four for these remote postings,” Aubri continued, then got that twinkle back in his eye. “The teams are more flexible, more versatile. Even if some people think there’s something wrong with a gryphon who doesn’t team up with one of his own.”
Tad stared back at his superior with his head held high and challenge in his gaze. He’d heard that one before, and it didn’t ruffle his feathers. “Oh? Does that include you, too, sir?”
Aubri laughed. “Of course it does! Everyone knows I’m a twisted personality! All of us war veterans are warped, it comes with combat! What’s your excuse?”
Tad grinned back as the perfect answer came to him. “Family tradition, sir,” he responded immediately, prompting Aubri into another bray of laughter.
“Well said! And I can’t wait to tell the Black Boy what you just told me; if that doesn’t make his nares redden, nothing will.” He shook his head, and the feathers rustled. “Now, you two run along. Give that list to the supply officer; he’ll see to getting your basket packed up. All you need to worry about is your own kit.”
They both stood and snapped to attention. Aubri chuckled, and rose slowly to his feet to let them out—old, maybe, but not dead yet.
As Tad had expected, his father already knew about the posting, and was outwardly (and loudly) enthusiastic. If he had beaten every contender and been appointed as Judeth’s sub-Commander, Skandranon could not have been more thrilled. It was positively embarrassing. As they gathered for the evening meal in the main room of the family aerie, with the sky a dark velvet studded with jewellike stars beyond the window, Tad wondered if he shouldn’t have opted for a quiet bite alone—or perhaps have gone hungry.
“Outpost duty! And you fresh out of training!” he kept saying, all through dinner. “I can’t ever remember any Silver as young as you are being put on remote duty!”
His tone was forced, though, and he hadn’t eaten more than half his meal. At the least, this sudden change in his son’s status had put him off his feed. Was he worried?
Why should he be worried? What’s there to be worried about?
Zhaneel, Skandranon’s mate, cuffed him lightly. “Let the boys eat,” she admonished him. “You won’t be doing Tadrith any favor by giving him no time to have a proper meal.”
But her look of rebuke followed by a glance at Keeth made Skandranon’s nares flush red with embarrassment. He had been neglecting Keeth the whole time, although Keeth didn’t seem too terribly unhappy about that. “I hear fine reports about you from Winterhart,” he said hastily to his other son. “You’re training in things your mother and I dreamed of doing, but were never able to achieve.”
Tad winced. Now, if that didn’t sound forced, he’d eat grass instead of good meat!
“Well, if there hadn’t been that annoying war, Father, you two would probably have invented the gryphon trondi’irn, the gryphon kestra’chern, and the gryphon secretary,” Keeth said, with a sly grin at his brother. “And probably the gryphon seamstress, mason, and carpenter as well!”
Trust Keeth to know how to turn it into a joke, bless him.
Skandranon laughed, and this time it sounded genuine and a bit more relaxed. “And maybe we would have!” he replied, rousing his feathers. “Too bad that war interfered with our budding genius, heh?”
Tad kept silent and tore neat bites from his dinner, the leg of a huge flightless bird the size of a cow and with the brains of a mud-turtle. One of these creatures fed the whole family; the Haighlei raised them for their feathers, herding them on land that cattle or sheep would damage with overgrazing. The gryphons found these creatures a tasty alternative to beef and venison.
Tad was perfectly pleased to let clever Keeth banter with their father. He couldn’t think of anything to say, not when beneath the Black Gryphon’s pride lurked a tangle of emotions that he couldn’t even begin to unravel. But he was more and more certain that one of them was a fear that Skandranon would never admit to.
Of course not. He doesn’t want to cripple me with indecision or even fear of my own before I go out there with Blade. He knows that if he shows he’s unhappy with this, I might be tempted to back out of it. And he knows that there’s nothing to worry about; we ‘re hardly the first team to ever take this outpost. We ‘re just the first team that included one of his sons, and he’s been thinking about all the accidents that could happen to us ever since he heard of the posting.