The Shadowed Throne (18 page)

“All right, who started this?” one demanded.

The man Laela had punched spoke up. “It was her!” he yelled, pointing at Laela with one hand while clutching his swollen eye with the other. “She hit me first!”

“No she didn't; ye hit a girl, ye great coward!” another man butted in.

But others spoke up, yelling in support of the man with the swollen eye. Laela didn't try to defend herself, but only grinned wickedly through a heavy nosebleed.

“All right, get her out of here,” one of the guards snapped at his colleague.

Laela didn't object, but let them throw her out of the tavern.

“An' don't come back!” one of them called after her.

Laela scurried off and stopped to rest, leaning against a wall. She ached in several places, and her nose was still bleeding, but she'd never felt so alive.

She dabbed at the blood on her face and whooped to herself. “Whoo! What a night!”

Once she felt a little calmer, she set off for home, limping slightly but feeling better than she had in ages. She even started to sing to herself—an old peasant ditty she'd learnt when she was little.

“I danced around the tree when yeh came to look for me, round an' round the tree we went, round an' back again . . .” She couldn't remember the rest of the words, and occupied herself with trying to remember them for the rest of the walk to the Eyrie.

Climbing back up the stairs was much worse than climbing down them, especially with a badly bruised leg, but she stomped up there without complaint.

Up in her room, she poured some water into a bowl and cleaned her face before changing out of her dress into something more respectable. It was past midnight by now, but she felt too alive to sleep.

Once she was dressed, she barged out of the room and on through the Eyrie's richly decorated corridors until she found the door to the room where the Master of Taxation slept and banged on it until it opened.

The Master of Taxation looked irritable until she saw who it was, and quickly pulled herself up and tried to look dignified despite being in her nightgown. “What can I do for you, my lady—” She broke off. “My gods, what happened to your face?”

Laela ignored the question. “I got a job for yeh,” she said.

“Yes, my lady?”

“I want yeh to go to yer office right now and write up an order to get rid of the beer tax. Yes, all of it. I want all beer to be tax-free from now on. An' yeh can tell everyone
that's
what Queen Laela's doin' for the common people.”

K
ullervo's time in Gwernyfed was one of the most joyful of his life.

After the celebrations were done, he spent the next few days walking around the village or helping with the work. He ate as much as he could and made sure he got plenty of sleep, building up his strength.

He didn't see Senneck again in those days, and he wondered where she had gone.

Nearly a week after their first meeting, he had decided to go for a walk after dinner. He went alone, leaning on his crutch. The truth was that he was hoping to find Senneck since she was supposed to return to the village at night. There was no sign of her among the buildings—he'd never seen her there anyway. He wandered out of the village and into the orchard not far from Rufus' home.

Hobbling around a blackberry thicket, he found Senneck crouching alone among the trees.

Heart beating faster, he moved toward her.

She stirred and rasped very softly. “So the freak has returned. Speak or be gone.”

Kullervo kept on coming until he had gone around her and reached her head. He kept at a safe distance. “Hello, Senneck.”

She regarded him. “Were you looking for me?”

“Yes,” said Kullervo. “I heard about Erian, and . . .” He trailed off.

She grunted. “So you know who I am.”

“I do,” said Kullervo. “And I'm sorry.”

The blue-eyed griffin raised and refolded a wing. “Hopes come, and hopes die. I lost my Erian because of my own stupidity, and I have paid the price.”

“It wasn't your fault what—what
he
did,” said Kullervo.

“I did not listen to the Mighty Kraal. I did not believe him. If I had, I would never have allowed my human to face
Kraeai kran ae
alone. Instead, I believed that
Kraeai kran ae
was a mere human. Mad and savage, but still human. His death at Erian's hands would win us everything that I longed for. And so I let my human go to his death.”

Kullervo listened to her speak and gradually realised what he was hearing. She was confessing. Confessing to guilt, admitting to weakness. Showing him her shame. Exposing the most secret side of herself.

“Why tell me this?” he asked, unable to stop himself.

She shifted her position, talons extending. “Why not? I have no reputation to uphold, no power to keep. I have nothing but myself and my memories, and you understand me and are here. Who would you tell that would care? The moon, perhaps.”

Kullervo wondered if that was a joke. “I won't tell anyone. You can trust me, Senneck.”

“You remind me of Erian,” she muttered. “Alone in the world and as foolish as a chick. But perhaps not so ignorant.” She looked at him, unblinking. “You are no messenger of a god that does not exist. You are something else that I do not recognise.”

Kullervo was tired of lying. “I'm a hybrid,” he said. “My father was human. My mother was a griffin who was transformed.”

“Kyaaa!”
she hissed. “Truly?”

“Yes.”

Senneck kneaded the ground with her talons. “I have never imagined such a thing. What mad ruin of a griffin would mate with a human?”

“My mother did,” said Kullervo. “That's all I can tell you.”

“I see. So you were born this way.”

“I can change,” said Kullervo. “I have magic. I can be a man or a griffin.”

Senneck cocked her head. “But now I see neither man nor griffin.”

“Just now, I'm halfway,” said Kullervo. “It was an accident.”

“Youngsters often have troubles with their magic,” said Senneck. “I had those troubles myself.”

Carefully, Kullervo lowered himself into a sitting position. “What's your power, Senneck? Can I ask?”

“You may.” Senneck arched her neck proudly. “My power is stone. I can change whatever I please into solid rock. Even living things.”

“That's amazing,” Kullervo said with genuine admiration. “Did you turn many things into stone?”

“A dog, once,” she said. “And once the very surface of the ocean.”

“And people?”

“Never a human,” said Senneck. “Every day I wish I had done so to
Kraeai kran ae
.”

“It might not have worked,” said Kullervo.

“Still, I should have tried. But that is a burden I must bear.” Senneck clicked her beak. “I was crueller to you that night than I should have been. To hear that
Kraeai kran ae
was dead caused me pain.”

“I understand,” said Kullervo.

“You spoke about this half-breed human as if you knew her,” Senneck commented. “I think that you do.”

“I . . . yes. I do know her. We only met once.”

“But you were friendly to each other?”

“Yes.”

“Then you came here to find us at her command,” Senneck said at once.

“No! No. No, I didn't. The Queen doesn't know this place exists. And I'm not going to tell her. No, she sent me to look for something else, and I stumbled on Gwernyfed by accident.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Then what were you seeking?”

“A human,” said Kullervo. “A traitor. I think you might know her, Senneck.”

“What human is this?”

“The Dark Lord's cousin,” said Kullervo. “Saeddryn Taranisäii.”

“The one-eyed one,” Senneck hissed. “The female who fought beside him. I know her.”

“She betrayed the Queen,” said Kullervo. “And now she's probably plotting to take over. We know she tried to betray the King himself before he died.”

“I see.”

Senneck lifted a hind leg and scratched herself behind the ear. Absurdly, as he watched her, Kullervo felt his body responding to her presence. Something stirred inside him, and he shivered uneasily.

“I think you will go back to the other half-breed soon,” Senneck interrupted. “This place is not your home.”

“Yes, I suppose I should go back,” Kullervo mumbled. “Laela must be wondering where I am. And she needs to know about what I found.”

“Very well,” said Senneck. “I understand.” She stood up. “When you are ready to go, come and see me.”

“Why?” said Kullervo.

“Because I am coming with you,” said Senneck.

K
ullervo and Senneck left Gwernyfed only a day or so after making their agreement. Kullervo didn't feel strong enough to make the change again before they left, but Senneck agreed to carry him for the sake of speed.

They said goodbye to Rufus and the others early in the morning. Kullervo had tied his wings in place to stop their catching the air and had wrapped himself in a thick, woollen cloak. That and the wings kept him surprisingly warm.

Rufus said his goodbyes with genuine sadness. “It's been wonderful to have you here, Kullervo,” he said. “You don't know how much happiness you brought us all.”

“I can guess.” Kullervo smiled. “I'll never forget what you did for me.”

“I hope you do remember us.” Rufus paused. “You're not going to come back, are you?”

“I'll try,” said Kullervo.

“Then I'll keep watch for you.” Rufus gave him a bundle of food and turned to the waiting Senneck. “And you, Senneck. I have to say the place will seem very different without you. You were one of our oldest friends.”

Senneck flicked her tail. “This place has never been a true nest for me. But it has been a shelter. Now I am ready to leave. The story of Senneck is not done yet. Soon they will know my name again.”

“They will.” Rufus bowed to her. “You're a mighty griffin, Senneck, and a hero in your own right. See to it that they know that.”

“I shall. Come, Kullervo. It is time for us to leave.”

To Kullervo's surprise and embarrassment, Rufus gave him a hug. “Goodbye, holy one, and good luck. Go with Gryphus.”

“I will.”

Senneck crouched low, and Kullervo climbed—clumsily—onto her shoulders. He settled down between her wings and neck, as he had seen griffiners do, and put his arms around her neck as far as they would go with the bundle of food tucked in front of him.

Senneck had already straightened up. “You are safe?”

“I think so . . .”

“Do not fall,” she advised. “I have not carried a rider in many years.”

“I'll, uh, do my best. Try not to—”

She broke into the shambling preflight run before he could finish. He shivered and sat as still as he could, trying hard not to be jolted out of his seat when her wings unfurled and began to thrash.

Senneck took off.

Kullervo could feel the wind pulling insistently at his wings, trying to peel them away from his back. He pulled them back as well as he could, thanking Gryphus that he'd thought to tie them together. His tail was less lucky; it flapped about between Senneck's wings like a flag on a string, completely useless. Still, he did manage to stay in place more or less, and he had an advantage because he knew the rhythms and the movements of flight so well himself. He had never flown on griffinback before in his life, but
being
the griffin meant so much more.

Once they had levelled out and settled into a steady pace, he revelled in the wind and the feeling of weightlessness once again. The sensation of joy in flight was so great that he felt his bones creak, wanting to make the change. Not now, he told it.
Not now.

This time, pure will-power was enough.

Senneck didn't seem bothered by her burden. She was a little unsteady at first, but she soon found her balance and turned to fly south as if she knew exactly where to go. Perhaps she had never forgotten the direction that had brought her to Gwernyfed in the first place.

In flight, there wasn't much for Kullervo to do but balance. But he had to stay alert for safety's sake, and he occupied himself with thinking and watching the view.

He wondered about Senneck. What was she planning to do when they reached Malvern? Kullervo wasn't sure, but he trusted her. She had no reason to hate Laela and every reason to hate Saeddryn.

Kullervo believed that Laela would help her. Take her in, as she had done for him. Help her. Give her a home again. Surely Laela would do that for the griffin who had once been partnered to her own uncle. He smiled to himself, imagining how they would greet each other. Laela's surprise and excitement. In a way, Senneck was a part of the family she had never had. Like Kullervo.

They could be together now, surely they could. Him and Laela and Senneck, a human and a griffin and a man who was halfway between the two. Three of them who had been lonely but would never have to be again. They could make a family.

He clung to that idea, believing it with all his might. Maybe he hadn't found Saeddryn, but he had found Senneck. And Skandar, him, too. Poor Skandar.

What he had found was still a good thing, surely, good for Laela.

He thought of Laela and wondered if she was all right. But she must be, with Oeka there to keep her safe. She was tough.

“Wait for me a little longer,” Kullervo said aloud. “I'm coming, sister. I'm coming home.”

L
aela sat alone in the dining hall and massaged the bruise on her forehead while trying not to start yelling incoherently. There had been enough of that for one day.

The dining hall had been serving as her audience chamber ever since Oeka had returned, and the old one had become too . . . unpredictable. It was Oeka's lair now, and Laela hadn't even set foot in there in several days. She hadn't spoken to Oeka either. And Oeka hadn't come out. Not once.

Since she had returned, the small griffin had stayed in the audience chamber, crouched in silence on her marble platform with her eyes closed. Nobody wanted to go in. Even the servants had stopped cleaning it. Because, even though Oeka was the only one who went in there, she wasn't alone.

Strange things had begun to happen in the audience chamber. People reported hearing voices, and seeing light flash through the windows and the entrance. Sometimes, there would be odd smells, too, often an unsettling, cold kind of smell with a metallic edge to it, like ice or steel.

As time passed, the signs became more extreme—and frightening.

Laela herself heard crackings and breakings, unearthly howls and faint screams. White mist poured out into the corridor outside, and escaped through the windows into the sky around the tower. Even people down in the city had begun to notice the light that sometimes shot through the openings at night.

It was worse than that. People who ventured too close to the chamber complained of mysterious headaches. A few unlucky servants suffered temporary blindness or loss of hearing, and a guard who decided to investigate lost all his memories and couldn't even remember his own name for two days. All the victims recovered eventually, but the audience chamber and its occupant were feared by almost everyone in the Eyrie.

Eventually, Laela herself had decided to try to put a stop to whatever Oeka was doing. Even all these weeks later, she still couldn't remember what had happened after that. All she remembered was a vague vision of the archway that led to the chamber, shadowed and dusty, and a pain so intense it blinded her. She had woken up the next day in the infirmary, and was told that she had been unconscious for the best part of a day. Nobody would come out and say it, but she had heard rumours that she had been raving in her coma.

After that, she didn't dare to visit even the ramp that led to the chamber, and declared the entire level off-limits to everyone. A guard had been posted to stop people's trying, but he wasn't really necessary. No-one was stupid enough to disobey.

With all that, and with Oeka gone from her side, the last few weeks had been some of the worst in Laela's entire life. All she was thankful for was that there had been no word from Saeddryn. It seemed the former High Priestess was biding her time. The people of Malvern seemed quiet enough. And the Moon Temple's rebuilding was well underway. The new High Priestess was doing her job well.