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

toll on the gryphons. If the gryphons wasted their energy or strained themselves on this obstacle course of
Zhaneel's, they might not have that little extra they needed to survive an encounter with these new
makaar. Garber, of course, only knew that the gryphon cull was doing things he hadn't ordered, not so
much flouting his authority as ignoring it. No gryphon in Sixth Wing was allowed to think for itself; the
very idea was preposterous. He was already aching with humiliation at the lecture the Lady Cinnabar had
delivered—on Urtho's behalf—concerning the reassignment of injured gryphons' hertasi. Winterhart had
not been present, but several who had overheard the Lady had indicated she had been less than flattering
concerning Garber's intelligence and ability to make a sound decision. Then came news of Zhaneel
creating some unorthodox training program, encouraging others to join her in it, completely bypassing
Garber's authority. This could not be permitted, so he had sent the gryphon's Trondi'irn—the lowest
ranking officer in the wing, she acidly reminded herself—to dress her down for it. Never mind that it was
a successful program so far. That was hardly the point.
Winterhart threaded through the crowd, more uneasy with every passing moment. She did not like
confrontations. She particularly disliked them when there was a possible audience involved.
But she had direct orders. She also had an exact speech, delivered to her by Garber's
aide-de-camp, and duly memorized. Presumably the commander did not trust her to deliver a proper
dressing-down... or perhaps he was as contemptuous of her intelligence as he was of the gryphons!
Abruptly, she found herself in a clear space, and practically nose-to-beak with the runt.
Zhaneel blinked in surprise, and backed up a pace or so. "Winterrrharrt," she said blankly. "What
do you herrrre?"
That was all the opening that Winterhart required. "It is more to the point to ask you what you are
doing here, gryphon," she said coldly. "You are here without orders, you have commandeered equipment
and personnel that you have no right to, and you have subverted other gryphons inside and outside of
your wing into not only aiding you, but following in your ill-conceived plans. Your commander is highly
displeased. What have you to say for yourself?"
She expected Zhaneel to behave as she always had; to cower a little, stammer an apology, and
creep off to her aerie, forgetting and abandoning her ridiculous "training program." She had readied a
magnanimous acceptance of that apology before she was halfway through her speech. Something that
would make her look a little less like Garber's mouthpiece....
"I?" the cull replied, and every hair and feather on her body bristled. She drew herself up to her full,
if substandard, height, and looked down her beak at the Trondi'irn with eyes full of rage. "I?" she
repeated, raising her voice. "How isss it that I am to blame becaussse the commanderrr of Sssixth Wing
hasss no morrre imagination than a mud-turrrtle? How isss it that it isss my fault that therrre isss only one
trrraining progrrram for all, no matter the cirrrcumssstancesss, norrr if they change? What isss it that I am
doing wrrrong! What isss it that I am doing that I ssshould be accusssed of doing wrrrong?" Her voice
rose to full volume, and the audience, which had begun to disperse, regrouped in anticipation of another
sort of spectacle. It was clear in an instant that they would not be siding with Winterhart.
"I do nothing wrrrong!" Zhaneel shouted. "I do what ssshould have been done, that no one carrred
to do! And you, my Trrrondi'irrrn, you ssshould have ssseen that it needed doing!"
By now the audience had surrounded the two of them, leaving Winterhart no route of escape. She
couldn't help herself, she flushed with profound embarrassment.
"You had no orders and no permission—" she began.
"Orrrderrrsss?" the gryphon interrupted with shrill incredulity. "I am on leave time! Thessse who help
me arrre off-duty! What need have we of orrderrrsss, of perrrmissssionsss? Arrre we to requessst leave
to pisssss now?"
Growls from behind her, a little laughter on all sides, and nods and angry looks on the faces she
could see. Winterhart's face burned painfully.
"We arrre off-duty," the gryphon repeated. "When hasss Garrrberrr the rright to decrrree what we
do off-duty?"
"He doesn't," Winterhart admitted reluctantly. "But he gave me the orders...."