For most Silvers, perhaps, but not for Blade and Tadrith. This meant three whole months in a place so far away from White Gryphon that not even a hint of what transpired there would reach the city unless he or Blade sent it by teleson. There would be no watching eyes, waiting to see if he could replicate his legendary father. There would be no tongues wagging about his exploits, imagined or real.
Of course, there would also be no delicious gryphon ladies for three months, but that was a small price to pay. Three months of chastity would be good for him; it would give him a rest. He would be able to use the leisure time to invent new and clever things to do and say to impress them. He would have all that time to perfect his panache. By the time he returned, as a veteran of the border, he should be able to charm any lady he chose.
Outpost duty was a long assignment, in no small part because it was so difficult to get people to the outposts. Even though magic was now working reliably, and had been for several years, no one really wanted to trust his body to a Gate just yet. Too many things could go wrong with a Gate at the best of times, and at the moment the only purpose anyone was willing to put them to was to transport unliving supplies. The consumables and their mail and special requests would be supplied to their outpost that way; a mage at White Gryphon who was familiar with the place would set up a Gate to the outpost. Workers would then pitch bundles through, and the mage would drop the Gate as soon as he could.
No one wants to leave a Gate up very long either. You never know what might go wrong, or what might stroll through it while it’s up.
“You know, of course, that there’s a great deal of uninhabited and poorly-surveyed territory in between Five and home,” Blade went on with relish. “We’re going to be completely on our own from the time we leave to the time we return.”
“What, no lovely gryphon ladies and human stallions to wile away your time of exile?” jibed Keenath, and shuddered realistically. “Well, never mind. I can guarantee that in the case of the ladies, I can make certain that they will not notice your absence, twin.”
“They are more likely to cry out in pain at your I poor attempts at gallantry, Keeth,” Tadrith told him and turned back to Blade. “You realize that this shows a great deal of trust in our abilities, don’t you? I mean, the usual first assignment is something like—”
“Like guarding the farms, I know,” she replied smugly. “That must have been why they kept us behind the others, training and overtraining us. They wanted to be sure we were ready, and I bet they decided to send us out there because we’re the only people who really want to go. In fact, I would bet my favorite armband that Aubri plans to send us out on long outpost duty every chance he can get!”
They grinned at each other with relish, for there was another aspect to outpost duty they both anticipated with pleasure. Those so posted were expected to do a certain amount of exploring, and sometimes the explorers found something valuable. The Emperor Shalaman got a share, of course, as did the treasury of White Gryphon, but the generous portion remaining went to the intrepid explorers who made the discovery. Not that Tadrith was greedy, of course, but he did have a certain love of ornamentation, a pronounced interest in the finer things of life, and finding something extremely valuable would make it possible for him to indulge his interests. And it didn’t hurt to have the wherewithal to impress the ladies, either, and ornament them a bit now and then.
“Just how much exploring has been done up there?” he asked.
Blade’s eyes widened knowingly. “Not all that much,” she replied. “And there are more ways to explore than sailing over the tree-canopy, hoping something on the ground will show itself.”
He nodded, following her thoughts. Probably most of the Silvers assigned to Outpost Five in the past had been gryphon teams; that made sense, although it probably wore them down terribly, not having humans and hertasi to tend to them. A human on station, though, could make a detailed survey of a particular area, including the smaller animals and plants living there, and take mineral samples. That was something a gryphon was ill-suited or, for that matter, ill-inclined, to do.
“There’s been no trouble from that sector for years,” she mused. “We should have plenty of time for surveys.”
“But most of all, you’ll be on your own,” Keenath said enviously. “I wish I could find some way to escape for a few months.”
Blade patted his shoulder sympathetically. “And miss all the benefits of trondi’irn, hertasi and kestra’chern fawning on you every spare moment? The horror! You could ask to be taken on by the Silvers once you’ve finished training under Winterhart,” she suggested. “Then you’d get some assignments elsewhere. Down with the embassy at Khimbata, maybe; you could go as the trondi’irn taking care of the Emperor’s gryphon-guards.”
Keenath’s eyes lit up at the idea, and Tadrith knew how he felt. For a chance to get out of White Gryphon he would have put up with just about anything.
The problem was that there was literally nothing that he said or did that Skandranon didn’t eventually find out about. It wasn’t that Skan was purposefully spying on his sons, or even deliberately overseeing them—
Well, not much, anyway. And not overtly.
—it was just that everyone told the Black Gryphon everything that went on in this city. A mouse couldn’t sneeze without Skandranon finding out about it eventually.
Neither can we—except that it’s guaranteed that if we sneeze, someone will go running to Father with the news. Not only that, but the report would be detailed as to how, when, and how well we sneezed.
It wasn’t exactly tale-bearing, for people made certain to bring Skan the most flattering reports possible. Skan was a very proud father.
He can’t get enough of hearing about all the marvelous things Keeth and I are doing, especially now that we aren’t in the family aerie to bully into making reports on ourselves. The trouble is, he is fully capable of blowing the most minor accomplishment up into the equivalent of a brilliant piece of wartime strategy or heroism.
It was embarrassing, to say the least.
And, of course, anyone who wanted to curry favor with the Black Gryphon knew the fastest way to his heart was to praise his sons. Skan would go out of his way to see that someone who flattered the twins got a full hearing and careful consideration. That was all he would do, but often enough, that was sufficient.
As Keeth continued to look envious and a little pained, Tadrith preened his short eartufts in sympathy. “I wish there was a way to send you out of the city for trondi’irn training, Twin,” he murmured.
Keenath sighed. “So do I. When we were all choosing the subject we wanted to study, I tried to think of some discipline I could enjoy that would also get me out of the city at the same time, but I couldn’t. I think I’m going to be good at this, and it certainly feels right, but it means I’m stuck here.”