"Mercedes Lackey & Larry Dixon - Mage Wars 01 - The Black Gryphon" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lackey Mercedes)

keep Skan awake. His pain was bearable; he could lie down in relative comfort, and he had a full crop.
Urtho had that mysterious weapon, and in any case, there was nothing for Skan to do until he healed.
Sleep seemed in order, and there were no mysteries so pressing that they could not wait until tomorrow.
He shifted himself around on his cushions until he found the best possible position. He put his head
down on his forelegs and yawned once—and that was the last thing he remembered doing or thinking
until the Healers woke him at dawn.




Four
Gesten had rearranged Amberdrake's schedule to include Skan as a regular "patient" for the next
several days. Amberdrake discovered the change when he checked the roster the next morning. He
didn't bother to comment on it; he knew that Gesten's reply would be sardonic. Dear Gesten, whom he'd
hired on so long ago, liked to think he fostered a heartless image, constantly spitting barbed comments
and double-entendres. Even though the little hertasi failed utterly at posing as a bossy ogre, Amberdrake
was not going to tell him so, directly or by implication. So often the gruffness people showed the world
was a defense, meant to protect the ones they loved. That was how it was with Gesten. It was also how
it was with Skandranon, and when Amberdrake wasn't indulging himself in self-pity, he was well aware
of that.
And Skan was first on the day's roster, with a generous amount of time allotted to him. Amberdrake
could visit him, add his own touch to the Healing meld, and spend some time simply enjoying Skan's
company before returning to work at the tent.
This was interesting; his schedule was bracketed by gryphons today. The first patient was Skan, and
the last a gryphon named "Zhaneel." A female, according to the log, with a gold-square token. He'd have
to make certain Gesten had the bleaches and dyes ready; she might want a feather-tip job in addition to
whatever other pampering and primping she desired. Amberdrake's other talents often obscured this one,
and few knew he had ended his apprenticeship at the ancient trade of kestra'chern as a feather-painter,
and still enjoyed doing it. Skan, of course, wouldn't let him practice on his feathers, no matter how
Amberdrake tried to assure him that it would be a subtle pattern, sophisticated and elegant. No, the
Black Gryphon was the Black Gryphon, and black he would remain. Skan had made it clear time and
time again that the only dye to touch his feathers was the stark black he himself had chosen.
But female gryphons, to whom nature and Urtho had given fairly drab coloration, tended to be very
fond of painted feathers. In peacetime they had sometimes sported patterned feathers as gaudy as a
Kaled'a'in weaving or a messenger-bird's bright plumes—now they had to confine themselves to
something that made them less of a target. If she's got goshawk coloring, perhaps I can persuade her
into something in blue and gray, he mused. That way she'd have the advantage of sky-camouflage
when she was flying, but up close she would be dappled in fishbone patterns and ribbons.
That would be a pleasant way to end the day.
He washed and shaved, tied his hair back, then donned a plain linen tunic and breeches to stroll over
to the mess tent for breakfast. He could eat in his quarters, and often did when he was pressed for time
or tired, but he preferred to share at least one meal with the other kestra'chern. Experience and
observation had taught him that if the top-ranked kestra'chern acted no differently than the rest, there
would be less acrimony and jealousy, both of which could lead to unpleasantness and outright sabotage.
He was careful to dress plainly when off duty, shared his knowledge and experience freely, and when
forced to cancel appointments, did his best to see that the canceled clients had been distributed fairly
among the others. Thanks to this, the rest of the kestra'chern tended to regard him as their unofficial
leader and spokesperson. He had mixed feelings about that, but it was probably better that he was in
that position, rather than someone else. He was the only Kaled'a'in among them; the other Kaled'a'in
kestra'chern chose to work among the Healers and save their other skills for their own people. No other