Law of the Broken Earth(63)

And even without Kes or her companion mages pushing at the Wall, Jos thought the cracks would probably get worse. He was almost certain they had been worse this dawn than last night’s dusk. Damage that worsened overnight was probably not due to the griffins’ mages.

Jos only wished he knew what had caused the damage in the first place, what was still causing more damage every day. And, of course, he might wish as well that knowing what had caused the problem would let him see how it might be fixed. That was a separate issue.

There was a ripple in the air, a shift in the light, and Kairaithin was suddenly present, lying on the high winds, far above. His shadow swept across the meadow, brilliant and fiery-hot.

In his true form, Anasakuse Sipiike Kairaithin was a great-winged griffin, not the most beautiful griffin Jos knew, but one of the greatest and most terrible. He was a very dark griffin. Black feathers ran down from his savage eagle’s head and ruffled out in a thick mane around his shoulders and chest. His black wings were edged and barred with narrow flickers of ember-red. They tilted to catch the wind, shedding droplets of fire into the chilly mountain air. His lion pelt was a shade darker than crimson, his talons and lion claws black as iron.

The chickens scattered beneath his fiery shadow, squawking in desperate terror, heads ducked low and wings fluttering. The goat, wiser than the chickens, bolted straight through the door into the cottage where it would, judging from past experience, crowd itself under the bed.

Jos tilted his head back to watch the griffin come down through the thin air—air imbued with the natural, wild magic of the mountains and the river. No griffins but this one could come to this place. That was why the Wall had been allowed to end down below: because it ran out into thin, cold air and wild magic inimical to griffin fire, and no griffin could simply pass around its end. Except this one. Anasakuse Sipiike Kairaithin seemed to have no difficulty going wherever he chose, whether in the country of fire or the country of earth or this wild country that belonged to neither.

Kairaithin landed neatly in the middle of the tiny meadow. Heat radiated from him. In his shadow, the delicate grasses withered. But in the rest of the meadow, flowers opened and tilted their sensitive faces toward the griffin’s warmth as toward the sun.

Jos said mildly, “If you would come in your human form, I would not need to spend hours prying the goat out of my house and collecting terrified chickens.”

Kairaithin tucked himself into a neat sitting posture like a cat, tail curled around his eagle talons. He tilted his head to one side, the mountain light glancing off his savage-edged beak as off polished metal. He said, Have you other pressing amusements with which to occupy your hours?

A joke. At least, Jos thought that question had probably been intended as a joke. Sometimes griffin humor seemed a little obscure to an ordinary man. He said after a moment, “Well. Little enough, I suppose, except for watching the Wall.”

The griffin’s eyes were black, pitiless as the desert sun or the mountain cold or a fall from a bitter height. But they could glint with a kind of hard humor. They did now. The griffin said, One hopes observing the wall is not an activity that calls for your constant attention.

Jos said straight-faced, “I suppose I might be able to spare an hour from my scrutiny.” Then he added, much more tentatively, “The damage seems very little worse today than it did yesterday. Do you think perhaps the cracks through the Wall are becoming more stable?”

The griffin did not answer this, which might mean that he was uncertain or might mean that he thought not, but probably meant that he did not wish to dwell on a false hope. He asked, Kes?

“She has not come today.” To the endmost block, Jos meant, the block that anchored this end of the Wall—the block that was most seriously cracked. Once, he would have meant, She has not come here to speak to me. He did not have to say that, now. Now, she never came to the cottage or to Jos. She ventured up into the mountains only to cast fire against the Wall, to try to shatter the stone or throw it down.

Opailikiita Sehanaka Kiistaike? Ashairiikiu Ruuanse Tekainiike?

Ruuanse Tekainiike was a young griffin mage, hardly more than a kiinukaile, a student. Griffins might be students for a long time or a short time, and became full mages and no one’s subordinate, as Jos understood it, simply by waking up one morning and declaring themselves masters. Ruuanse Tekainiike was not a student because he admitted no master, but he was in no way Kairaithin’s equal. He did not worry Jos at all. Or very little.

Opailikiita was different. Opailikiita was a young griffin as well; she, too, was nothing like as powerful as Kairaithin, though Jos had reason enough to respect her power. But, much more important, she was a particular friend to Kes. Iskarianere was the griffin term for it—like sisters. Jos knew the word, though he was aware he had only a dim idea of its true meaning.