The volor Rogue’s Galley touched down in a clearing outside the Beastspeakers’ compound, solar-sail wings drooping to support it from tipping. Eric disembarked after Professor Temerin, feet thumping to grassy ground for the first time in what seemed longer than a few days. He felt relieved, having never really trusted the relic airship not to fall from the sky.
Overhead, the three gryphons wheeled around and flared for landing, extending their talon-tipped legs to touch down at a run. Rachel dismounted hers and came over with Ezhiri and Ralbor.
The first word out of Eric’s mouth was, “How?”
“Long story.” She grinned.
“We feared we would not see you again,” Ralbor said. “But you are here now! Let us feast!”
With a gang of sky pirates following behind, they were led inside the temple compound and to its courtyard, where food was already being placed on tables. Sir Wotoc’s squires Remdel and Issel met them, the latter wearing the same samurai-esque armor Wotoc had.
“Young Remdel!” Wotoc greeted him.
“That’s Sir Remdel, now,” he replied. “Lord Leon made me a man-of-honor after we returned.”
“You escaped the Argo and the Arztillan fleet,” Temerin said. “How?”
Rachel explained, “They didn’t see the boat we were in—Remdel, Issel, me, and Grog, the old guy. We rigged up a sail and reached the Whispering Isle after three days.”
Then, she continued, they’d deactivated the infrasound defenses again and searched the place, finding a solar-electric boat which they repaired and sailed back to Primus. This they sold to a local lord for a small fortune, enough to buy a house. Grog had disappeared into the nearest tavern with his share, Rachel and the others eventually found their way to Highwater Mountain.
“So you’re a Beastspeaker now?” Selva asked.
“Not yet, but I’m studying. In fact...” Rachel smoothed the sleeves of her green robe. “If this works, if we stop Dulane—I want to stay here. On Meridian.”
“Really?” Eric switched to Americ. “A planet with no electricity, no antibiotics?”
“It’s more than that. I grew up in the outback on Durango, I think I can get used to this. But back home, even after I finished my Ph.D. I’d be looking at what, twenty to thirty years in junior roles at some biotech consortium, running the rat race and climbing the corporate ladder before I got in on a project half as grand as this. With just a little more science and a bit of imported equipment, these people could work wonders.”
“You friend is learning quite fast,” Ralbor said as they sat down at a circular table of heft oak wood. “She’ll earn her sash before year’s end, I am certain of it.”
The food was better than Eric would’ve thought, surprising him with the colors and varieties even such primitive technology offered—to the rich, at least. He suspected most peasants made do with bread and gruel in their hovels.
It took at least an hour to recount to Rachel all that had happened since they were separated: the brutal imprisonment, gladiator fight against dinosaurs, flight from Grand Arztilla and rescue from the Savage Hunters, and their confrontation with the last of the Keepers at the Iron Mountain. Felden and Zandra, sitting on a bench, were swarmed by gaggles of children until Felden relented, handed his plate to his sister, and took off with a running leap.
“Though there may be more left than just Norla,” Selva said. “She must have a regeneration suite somewhere.”
“And there’s no record of them anywhere offworld?” Zandra asked. “A lot of that back in the facility looked like American Federation stuff, late Second Interstellar Period.”
“Not as far as I know,” replied Selva. “Though of course most my classified memories were elided before this mission. The great powers of that age were not known for their openness or truth-telling.”
Eric had swapped out his pewter mug containing some vile alcoholic concoction for self-cleaning water bottle. He took a sip, then looked up as men came riding in on horses—Lord Leon and his entourage. Leon grimaced and ducked on reflex as Felden came swooping down on his fifteen-foot wings, dive-bombing the kids who followed after him.
“I hastened here when I heard our saviors had returned.” Leon dismounted. “Much has happened since we last spoke. The Assembly has implemented your plan, pressed the attack against Dulane’s forces in the Northlands. I must call on you again for advice, if we are to win.”
“Of course.” Temerin nodded.
“One more thing.” He glanced to Rachel. “I gave your lady a gryphon as payment for saving our lands. I thought that since you came here as searchers, it would suit you. Now I wish to do the same for the rest of your party—those who are fit to ride, at least.” His eyes fell on Sir Wotoc the Humongous.
“We have been training several in anticipation of your return,” Ralbor said. “Though not all of you will be able.” He went on to explain Wotoc was too heavy, as was Cobb (one downside of varsity football); Temerin too old, and he felt unsure how a gryphon would react to Selva.
“So far, they’ve just tried to kill me.” She folded her arms.
Ralbor stopped in front of Felden and Zandra. “And, well, you don’t need them… Whatever you are.”
That just left Eric.
“I haven’t even flown a plane before!” he protested.
“It’s easy, once you got the hang of it,” Felden said.
“What if I fall off?”
“There’s parachutes in our supply kit. I think.”
Rachel added, “It’s quite incredible, honestly.”
“But I’ll be going home after this.”
“Please, it is the least I can do,” Lord Leon said. “For you especially. We have already built one water-cleaning system, from the notes you left.”
“Really. Huh.” He hadn’t thought that would be useful yet.
“The Beastspeakers will provide food and care for your gryphons with my payment, you will be free to use them as you see fit.”
“Sleep well tonight.” Ralbor patted Eric on the shoulder. “Your training begins at dawn.”
