"No," Bareris said. "They've already seen us. If we just play our roles, they'll pass us through."
He thought it would work. He was wearing the trappings of a Thayan knight, plundered, like his demon horse, from the Dread Ring, and if that proved insufficiently convincing, he'd bring his bardic powers of persuasion to bear.
But as he rode closer, he saw that the soldiers manning the barricade were yellow-eyed corpses, all but immune to the sort of songs that addled the minds of the living. And when one of them recognized the outlaws who'd bedeviled Szass Tam's servants for a century, Bareris and Mirror had no choice but to fight.
So they did, and when they had finished with the soldiers at the roadblock, they broke into the tax station and slaughtered every creature within. Because no one must survive to report who'd perpetrated the massacre. And for a precious time, the exigencies of combat drove all other thoughts from Bareris's head.
When the fight was done, Mirror-who had at some point taken on the appearance of a gaunt, withered ghoul complete with fangs and pointed ears-frowned. "The authorities will likely blame the local rebels for this. They'll make reprisals."
"Good," Bareris said, then caught himself. "I mean, good if they don't even suspect that we were the ones who passed by in the night. Not the reprisals part."
Keeping low lest the moonlight glint on their armor or the saddles, tack, and packs slung over their shoulders, Toriak and three companions slunk toward the sleeping griffons. Fortunately, the winged creatures occupied a field somewhat removed from the rest of the camp. The zulkirs' soldiers were leery of the beasts, and well-trained though the griffons were, it would be stupid to keep them close to the horses whose meat they so relished. So, once Toriak and his companions crept clear of the smoky, crackling campfires and rows of tents, they didn't have to worry quite so much about being spotted.
Or so he imagined. But as he cast about for Dodger, his own beloved mount, a figure rose from behind the moundlike form of a different griffon. Gaedynn's long, coppery hair was gray in the dark, but his jeweled ornaments still gleamed a little. He nudged the beast before him with his toe, and it made an annoyed, rasping sound and stood up too.
"I don't remember ordering you lads to make a night patrol," Gaedynn said.
Toriak wondered if a lie would help, then decided it plainly wouldn't. He took a deep breath. "We're leaving."
"Remember the compact you signed when you joined the Brotherhood. You can leave between campaigns, not when we're in the field. Then it's desertion, and it's punished the same as in any other army."
"We already took plenty of loot from the Dread Ring," Toriak said. "It's stupid to hang around any longer."
A dark form reared up, and despite the gloom, he recognized its contours immediately. His voice had woken Dodger, and in all likelihood, the voices of his companions would rouse their particular griffons. He made a surreptitious gesture, hoping they'd understand he was encouraging them to talk.
"I take it," Gaedynn said, "that you don't credit the warning of impending universal doom."
Standing to Toriak's right, Ralivar snorted. "Things like that just don't happen. Not anymore. Maybe they never did, except in stories." His griffon raised its head.
"I'm skeptical myself." Casually, as though making some petty adjustment to his garments, Gaedynn laid an arrow on his bow. "But it would be embarrassing to bet that it isn't going to happen and then be proved mistaken."
"I'll risk it," Duma said. Maybe her griffon hadn't been asleep, or at least not soundly, for it rose to its feet at once. "It's better than fighting in the vanguard time after time."
"But that's what sellswords do," Gaedynn said. "More to the point, it's what we have to do in this situation. Because we're better than the council's troops, and only we can win the toughest fights."
"We don't care! Like Toriak said, we're leaving! Do you think you can stop us and four griffons too?" Sopsek half-shouted, making sure his mount would hear. Toriak winced at the loudness, but no answering cry of alarm sounded back in camp, and at least Sopsek's griffon did spring to its feet, cast about, and, like its fellows, come prowling across the field to stand with its rider. Sensing the tension between their masters and Gaedynn, the creatures glared at the latter, and the one steed crouched in front of him.
"I promise that at the very least, I'll stop a couple of you," Gaedynn said. He still hadn't bothered to draw his arrow back to his ear, much less aim it. "Would anyone like to volunteer to die first in the hope that his gallant sacrifice will aid his comrades-in-arms?"
To the Abyss with this, Toriak thought. He drew breath to order his mount to attack, shifted his grip on his saddle to use it as a shield against the officer's arrow, and then a huge shape emerged from the gloom at Gaedynn's back. Toriak hadn't noticed its approach because, unlike the other griffons, it was black as the night, except for eyes like lambent drops of blood.
Jet screeched, a cry like an eagle's scream with an undertone of leonine roar. The other griffons shrank back before the leader of their pride, then slunk away from their human masters.
"Now," said Gaedynn, "it appears to be two griffons and me against the four of you. Still like your chances? If not, I'd scurry back to camp before Aoth comes to find out what stirred up his familiar."
Gaedynn watched the would-be deserters until he was sure they actually were returning to camp. Then he scratched Eider's feathery neck and told her she could go back to sleep. The griffon grunted, shook out her wings with a snap that would have knocked him staggering if he hadn't seen it coming and stepped back, then lay back down in the dewy grass.
Gaedynn turned to Jet. "Thanks for backing me up," he said.
"Glad to," the familiar rasped. "Do you think more men will try to leave?"
"I hope not. With luck, those four will warn other malcontents that we're alert to the possibility. And speaking of them, I need another favor. Please don't tell Aoth they sneaked out here tonight."
"You don't want them punished?"
"They're good soldiers. It's just that they know we're in a tough spot, and they had a little crisis of confidence, possibly exacerbated by strong drink plundered from the Dread Ring's cellars. They'll rediscover their nerve in the morning. Besides, I have my own reputation to consider."
Jet cocked his aquiline head. "Your reputation for not caring about anyone but yourself?"
Gaedynn grinned. "Unkindly put! But something like that."
A chunk of rock and soil supporting a single pine tree floated just west of the Lapendrar, one of many such islets in the sky, raised by the Spellplague. It commanded a view of Anhaurz, so Khouryn and Aoth landed their griffons on top of it, dismounted, walked to the dropoff, and surveyed the city.
Khouryn reflected that despite the distance, Aoth's luminous sapphire eyes no doubt made out every detail with utter clarity. Squinting, Khouryn had a harder time of it but fancied he was seeing enough to draw conclusions.
After a time, Aoth said, "It didn't always look like that, but then, I remember hearing that the blue fire destroyed it. It's been completely rebuilt since then."
Khouryn dug his fingers into his beard to scratch an itch on his chin. "The question is, why? The civil war was over, and while this town commands the river crossing, it's also well inland from the edge of the realm. To say the least, the average lord wouldn't fortify it to the extent that this one-or his predecessor-has."
"Then I gather you wouldn't relish laying siege to the place."
Khouryn snorted. "You gather rightly. The bridge amounts to a castle by itself, and combined with the rest, it's as bad as the Dread Ring. Maybe worse." He grinned. "In other words, it's perfect!"