not even getting out of your way!” He managed to get back to Arren’s side and was nearly knocked over by someone running past. “Godsdamnit!”
They had neared the edge of the marketplace now, but the crowds hadn’t thinned much. Arren ignored all the bodies thumping into him and forged on, stone-faced.
Gern, though, had other ideas. “Out of the way, godsdamnit !” he roared at the people in their way. “This is a griffiner!” Several people turned to stare at him. “You heard me!” he resumed. “The Master of Trade is trying to get through, so get out of his way!”
It worked; as Gern continued to shout, many people did move out of Arren’s path. He could see them staring at him, and it made him crumble inside.
“There you go, sir, that’s a bit better. Oi! Move it, you, you’re in the griffiner’s way!”
Arren grabbed him by the shoulder. “Please stop it, Gern.”
Gern stopped and looked at him. “Why, sir? What’s wrong?”
Arren started to speak, and then shook his head and stared at the ground. “I just—not now. Please.”
“Sir? Are you all right?” Gern looked upward, and then at the surrounding buildings. “Where’s Eluna, sir? Sir?”
But Arren had let go of him and was walking away. Gern tried to run after him, but he vanished into the crowd, leaving Gern to search for him in vain, frowning and confused.
Arren could see the Eyrie looming overhead, and he sped up. Would they be expecting him?
When the guards on the door saw him they instantly came forward to stop him. “Excuse me, but what do you want?” said one of them.
Arren made an attempt to straighten his tunic. “I’m here to see Lord Rannagon.”
“Is he expecting you?”
“Yes.”
“That’s news to me,” said the guard. “Because the last thing I heard, Lord Rannagon was in the council chamber taking part in an important meeting which can’t be disturbed.”
“I can wait,” said Arren. “He told me to report to him as soon as I arrived.”
“What for?”
“That’s between him and me.”
“I see.” The guard didn’t sound particularly sincere. He looked Arren up and down. “And you’re intending to go in there looking like that, are you?”
Arren growled and barged past them into the Eyrie. One of the guards followed him for a short distance, but gave up and returned to his post. When Arren reached the doors leading into the council chamber, though, he found them shut and guarded by two more guards, these ones accompanied by their griffins. He stopped at a respectful distance, and one of the griffins came forward to sniff at him. It turned away with a contemptuous flick of its tail and returned to its partner, who lifted his spear slightly and said, “What are you doing in here?”
Arren bowed his head slightly. “Arren Cardockson, Master of Trade. I’m here to see Lord Rannagon. Will he be long?”
“Don’t know, but you can’t see him now,” said the guard. “He’s busy talking to the Mistress of the Eyrie. I couldn’t say how long they’ll be; it’s been a while already.”
“What are they talking about?”
“I don’t know.”
“I think I know,” the other guard broke in. “He’s arguing with her again. Trying to make her change her mind.”
“About what?” said Arren.
“Didn’t you hear?” said the guard. “It’s all over the place.”
“What?”
“Lady Riona’s thinking about retiring and naming someone as her replacement. Obviously Lord Rannagon thought it’d be him, what with him being her brother and all. But she said no.”
“It’s because of that bastard of his,” said the other guard. “It’s got to be.”
“What, you mean that boy who showed up claiming to be Rannagon’s son?” said Arren.
“Yeah, that’s him. Erian, I think he’s called. Rannagon gave up and admitted he was the boy’s father. He didn’t have much choice; he’s the spitting image of him. Anyway, there went his chances of being Master. You can’t have a Master of the Eyrie who goes around fathering bastards.”
Just then they were interrupted by a loud screech and a thump from inside the council chamber. The guards’ griffins started to hiss, and one of the guards opened the door behind him in order to look through and see what was going on. Arren looked over his shoulder and saw Rannagon and Riona. They were trying to restrain their griffins, which were snarling and snapping their beaks at each other. The two guards entered and approached warily. Arren hesitated a moment and then followed.
“My lady?” said one of the guards, stopping and bowing. “Is there anything you want