“I do not think the Emperor can forge any kind of lasting alliance with this city,” said Vander, sitting down and helping himself to some wine. “I have seen enough of your ways by now. The Lady Riona is a fine leader and good-hearted, but she is reaching the end of her reign and her council is plainly corrupt. I witnessed your trial yesterday.”
“But why do you care?” said Arren.
Vander smiled very slightly. “I took a liking to you when we first met. I admired your intelligence and your refusal to be ashamed of your blood and background. And your courage in the Arena impressed us both.”
“Yes, but why do you care?” Arren persisted. “Why risk your life to save mine?”
“Because I am sympathetic to you,” said Vander. “And to the rest of your people. The darkmen are a dying race. Their land is subjugated and occupied, and most of their population live in chains. Despair can destroy a people as no massacre or disease ever can. And though you are not a slave, you have all but been turned into one. You know what it is to be humiliated, to wear a collar and be beaten and locked in a cage like a beast, waiting to be put down as soon as your usefulness comes to an end. It was not enough that your griffin was taken from you and that you were disgraced and cast out from your fellows—now they must use you for their sport.”
“You know about that?” said Arren.
Vander nodded. “I have heard things, here and there. Lord Rannagon was very anxious to assure me that the city would not have a Northerner advising its Mistress. He told me that it would not be accepted, by him or by the other councillors. And I heard your accusation yesterday and was inclined to believe it. I had already suspected that those in power were plotting to be rid of you, and it seemed far too convenient that you had simply lost your mind. And they would not listen to you. It made me very angry to see. In Amoran, every man accused of a crime may speak out and defend himself, and his claims will always be taken seriously and investigated. The only time a criminal is ignored and punished without fair hearing is when that criminal is a slave. I watched many trials when I was a boy; my master was a judge, and I learnt a great deal about law while I fetched papers and cleaned the floor.”
Arren paused. “You mean, you weren’t born a noble?” “No, Arren. I was not,” said Vander. He touched his neck. “The marks have faded now, but I have not forgotten that time.”
“You were a slave?”
“Yes,” said Vander. “I was born one. When Ymazu chose me, I was set free.”
There was a thump from the doorway and both of them turned sharply, but it was only Ymazu. The brown griffin entered, limping slightly, and sat down by Vander’s side.
“Your griffins are fools,” she said to Arren, “to only choose nobles. No blood makes one man worthier than another. I chose Vander for his courage and his intelligence, because I knew that he could become great with my help, and so he has done. I liked Eluna. She was also wise in her choice.”
“Thank you,” Arren said softly. “To both of you.”
Vander stood up. “I am sorry for what happened to you. I hope we can meet again, Arren Cardockson, but now it is time for you to go.”
“But where should I go to?” said Arren, standing up. “Where can I hide?”
“One of the neighbouring states, perhaps, could hide you,” said Vander. “But I advise you to go to the North. Some of your own people still live there free; they will, perhaps, accept you. It is your only hope.”
Ymazu stood. “Come,” she said, and walked out onto the balcony. Arren bowed low to Vander and followed her. On the balcony, Vander helped him onto Ymazu’s back. “Good luck,” he said. “And to you, Ymazu.”
Ymazu rubbed her head against Vander’s dark cheek. “I shall see you again soon, Vander.”
Arren held on to the harness fastened around the griffin’s neck, and Ymazu took off, flying up and away from the Eyrie with easy grace. She could bear up under his weight without any trouble, and began to circle the city, climbing for height. “Where shall I take you, Northerner?” she asked.