Crucible

by Mercedes Lackey

  Something fluttered beside him. An enormous black wing brushed his cheek.

  Roli struggled to focus, but everything seemed blurry. Saire stood on the branch next to him. The bird bobbed his head up and down, then stretched his wings and chirruped. Roli squinted at the bird, then glanced down at the ground.

  Winterwind limped toward a huge knot of thornbush.

  Up on the outcropping, the surviving wyrsa circled its downed companion and then slithered away.

  Roli squeezed his eyes tight. His leg and his head seemed to be having a battle to outdo each other. A battle he was rapidly losing.

  Wyrsa don’t quit.

  Roli forced his eyes open. Forced himself to focus on finding another weapon. Something that would take out the last wyrsa. The beast would be stalking Winterwind . . .

  Saire bobbed again. There was something hanging in the tree beyond the Bondbird. Something long and sharp and . . .

  A widowmaker.

  Roli stared at the man-sized branch, a branch that had somehow broken free of the tree and been lodged in the canopy for who knew how long. He clenched his teeth, willing it to move.

  Pain knifed through his skull like jagged thrusts of lightning.

  He held a picture of the sharp-pointed widowmaker in his mind. Pictured it coming free of the other branches. Pictured it falling, falling, falling . . .

  Just as the wyrsa made its final attack.

  The widowmaker struck just behind the beast’s head, driving through the tough hide and pinning the beast to the ground. The wyrsa let out one final scream as the life left its body.

  Roli squeezed his eyes shut and blindly scrambled down the tree onto the forest path. He had to get to the cave. Find out if Medran was safe . . .

  Strong hands caught him, and something cold and damp was thrust into his hands. Roli tried to shove it away. “Medran . . .”

  “Drink,” Winterwind ordered, shoving the waterskin back into Roli’s hands.

  Roli drank, and the pain in his head eased enough that he could open his eyes.

  “Remind me never to make you angry,” Winterwind said with a chuckle. “That was some fine spear throwing.”

  Roli glared at the Hawkbrother.

  “Fine enough that you can lead our next hunt,” a voice called.

  “Medran!” Roli’s heart skipped a beat, and he spun around to see the hertasi hobbling down the trail from the outcropping, his foot wrapped in what looked to be a piece of Winterwind’s camouflage cloak. Leaves and feathers poked out in all directions, making the foot look as though it had walked through ankle-deep mud first and then through a thick pile of leaves.

  Roli started to giggle. The giggle turned to a laugh. The laugh turned to a tear-out-your-guts belly roar.

  Laughing didn’t drive away the painful drumming in his head, however.

  Neither did the ice-cold water Winterwind dumped on it.

  “I think the hunting can wait,” Winterwind said. “Come back with me to the vale. We’ve got teachers who can help you control that Gift.”

  Roli held up a hand. He didn’t think he would mind going with Winterwind, not anymore. Especially if Medran came along. Then maybe someone in this “vale” could help him learn about his ability. And maybe then he’d find someone who could help him find out where he came from.

  But there was something he had to take care of first.

  “It’s a deal,” he said, trying not to move. “But only if you can get the hertasi drummers out of my head.”

  A Fire in the Grass

  Michael Z. Williamson and Jessica Schlenker

  Keth’re’son shena Tale’sedrin led the caravan into the trade city of Katashin’a’in after a grueling, month-long ride from the Collegium. Even with Nerea beside him, it had been draining. Unlike his trip to Valdemar, however, he had traveled with experienced horsefolk. Not Shin’a’in, but horsefolk nonetheless.

  His betrothed, Nerea shena Tale’sedrin, pulled up alongside him. “The younger sibs will be happy to be home,” she noted. His—their—clan share had increased during the time in Valdemar, as is the way of horses.

  “The ones old enough to remember,” Keth’ agreed. He took in a deep breath. “It smells like home.”

  :For you,: Yssanda said, a touch wistfully.

  :I hope it becomes home for you, too, my friend,: Keth’ soothed.

  :We’ll see,: his Companion replied. :At least with Jeris and Halath, I won’t be the only one for hundreds of miles.:

  True enough. When Keth’ had proposed the plan at the Collegium, his lean and good-humored classmate Jeris insisted on taking part the moment he found out about it. The Valdemaran considered Keth’ a dear friend, and he would begrudgingly admit the same. Even after Nerea had traveled to be with him, Jeris remained hard to shake.

  :Nor did you try all that hard,: Yssanda said.

  :No, I suppose I didn’t,: he agreed.

  They’d started with a much larger company. At likely points, the other Heralds had arranged Waystations, so future journeys would be both more restful and better supported. Eventually, there’d be other settlements, though most of the Plains dwellers were nomadic.

  There was no embassy here; they would have to build one. The first night, they stayed in a small inn amid surrounding tents. Some were the tall, conical lodges Keth’ hadn’t seen in four years. Others were the long, low desert tents of the deep plains. He was too tired to walk any farther, so they paid at the inn, stabled and brushed the horses and Companions, and sprawled on woven hair over fresh straw.

  • • •

  For breakfast, they ate a hearty stew, redolent with the herbs of the plains, with a cup of butter tea. Keth’ smiled at Nerea as they held their bowls. They were home. They’d changed, it had changed, but they belonged here. He hoped.

  After freshening up and checking on the horses and Companions, Keth’ took a walk around the town, gauging the flow of traffic, the people, the districts. Jeris walked with him, and they talked idly. Looked at with eyes fresh from four years in Haven, Katashin’a’in really wasn’t a town, but everything was represented, just on a smaller scale.

  Eventually he found what he sought, between another inn and a stable with a split rail fence at the ragged edge of town. Structurally sound and well situated, the building would do nicely. It needed work, but it had grazing land behind. It fronted a road with several alleys. That it required repair might even work in their favor, as far as hiring help. After all, he had no direct clan here to aid in the effort.

  Jeris cocked an eyebrow at him, and Keth’ nodded at the building. “It’s a good location,” he said. “You’ll want to ensure the ways between buildings are freshly tamped and graveled.”

  Jeris said, “I’ll want to look inside, but I agree. Can we lodge in the top floor?”

  “Typically, yes, with the horses below. Notice the window shutters close from the inside. It can be secured.”

  They ducked into the pub to ask the innkeeper about the building. At this time of day, they were the only customers there.

  “Are you interested?” asked a man wearing the bright, clashing colors of Shin’a’in taste. His accent was heavier than Keth’s, but the language was the same, and it came back to him.

  “We would like to look at it,” he said. “We wish to establish an embassy and trading house.”

  “Very good,” the landlord agreed with a grin. Yes, that would mean more traffic and business.

  • • •

  The building seemed as sound on the inside as it had from the outside, and it was sufficiently roomy. Jeris’ grasp of the language was too rough to negotiate a deal, so Keth’ acted as translator. The landlord took the first payment from Jeris on the spot. They paused to confer with the innkeeper as to where most of the craftsmen and laborers could be found. They also asked the price of lodging at his inn u
ntil the work was done.

  :You’re having a productive day,: Yssanda said.

  Keth’ agreed. :How is Nerea?:

  His Companion took a moment to respond. :She is . . . not having a productive day.: Yssanda refused to elaborate, and Keth’ set the question aside until he could ask in person.

  After locating the suggested area, a couple of apprentices pointed out the guild building. Once there, Keth’ explained the needed repairs and renovation, Jeris chiming in as he could. The guild representative agreed to assess the building and determine a price the next day. They headed back to their current lodgings.

  There, Keth’ found out why Yssanda had commented about a productive day. Attempting to repeat her arrangement in Haven, Nerea offered to tend to the stabled horses in exchange for lodging, but the innkeeper’s usual help were healthy and efficient. She was mildly disappointed. At least the innkeeper offered suggestions for where she might look for work. Keth’ soothed her by pointing out that they had only been here a day, that it wasn’t their actual home, and they’d already made more progress than expected.

  They slept on beds that night.

  • • •

  The craftsman who arrived was brusque but knowledgeable. He pointed out several nonstructural areas needing repair that had escaped Keth’s and Jeris’ notice. As this was officially a Valdemar-Herald venture, Jeris kept the purse and had final say on the finances.

  :He seems to be honest, at least,: Jeris said.

  :Yes, he does,: Keth’ replied as he concluded the negotiation. Jeris handed the craftsman the appropriate amount of coinage, while the craftsman wrote up a short agreement and receipt. He disappeared to collect laborers, apprentices, and an extra journeyman. The workers would be building basic furnishings, replacing rotted boards, pounding down the floor with mallets, and filling or refreshing the roof thatch. Tending to the walkways around the building would be a project for another day.

  The builder reappeared after a couple of hours with the first of the crew and materials in tow. They started work immediately. Across the street, young men who should be working idled and made comments, few worth noting.

  Among them was a shaman apprentice who said nothing but watched the activity closely.

  :That one?: Jeris asked Keth’.

  :I noticed him, too. Not yet, though. We’re not ready.:

  :I concur,: Yssanda said, overlaid by Jeris relaying the same from Halath.

  • • •

  A few days later, with most of the work completed, a shaman arrived, the apprentice they saw that first day trailing him.

  “You are an outsider,” the shaman said to Jeris.

  “I am,” Jeris said. “Keth’re’son shena Tale’sedrin is not.” Keth’ noted that Jeris’ accent had already improved a touch, and he kept his sentences short.

  The shaman turned to look Keth’ in the eye. “I have heard of you. The Shin’a’in who was bonded by a Valdemar spirit animal and traveled thence.”

  “Yes,” Keth’ said. “Chosen by Yssanda, my Companion.”

  “Your friend?” the shaman tilted his head at Jeris.

  “Is the Chosen of the Companion Halath and a Herald of Valdemar,” Keth’ said.

  The shaman looked around. “Your pledged sought you out some time ago. She arrived safely?”

  He should have anticipated that Nerea’s insistence on following would become gossip. “She did. She has returned with me, our clan share, and Yssanda.”

  “It is indeed rare for outsiders to see true Shin’a’in-bred horses,” the shaman said. “More unusual for a Shin’a’in to leave with an entire clan share.”

  “My training required much time at the Collegium in Haven, and she did not know when I might return,” Keth’ said. “I learned much.” He gestured toward the inn. “I could tell you more about it, if you like, over a meal?”

  The shaman agreed. “My apprentice and I would enjoy hearing more of your journey and education.”

  • • •

  When Keth’ stepped out of the embassy two mornings later, a small boy was loitering near the entrance, a subdued but anxious expression on his face. He sat playing with some of the gravel that had been patted down to make a better walkway. As Keth’ watched, one of the rocks spun from one hand to the other.

  Keth’ cleared his throat and the boy dropped the rocks as if they had been heated. “You need not fear,” he said. The boy’s expression remained wary. “Theran sent you, didn’t he?” Keth’ got the impression the shaman was asking questions with at least one individual in mind.

  The boy shrugged, though. “My father was curious as to why the building was being fixed. I thought I would ask for him.” He wasn’t lying, as near as Keth’ could tell, but that wasn’t his impetus.

  “An embassy for Valdemar,” Keth’ said. “A place for Heralds of Valdemar and other officials to stay when visiting. Merchants and traders may also visit, to discuss business with Valdemar if they desire.”

  The boy nodded and Keth’ was on the verge of asking him about the rock. :Asking him outright may chase him away,: Yssanda said. :Ask if he wants to meet us?:

  “Would you like to meet a Companion of Valdemar?” Keth’ asked.

  The boy shrugged, so Keth’ gestured for him to follow to the paddock in the back. Yssanda and Halath waited at the fence. The boy lit up and reached out to the Companions. “They look different from the horses my clan raises,” he said.

  “They’re Companions. They’re . . . more than horses, much like a Hawkbrother’s Bondbird is more than a bird, but more so,” Keth’ said.

  The boy frowned slightly. “You mean, they know what we say? They can talk to us?”

  :Indeed,: Yssanda said to the boy. :We understand you quite well.:

  The boy jerked back from where he’d been petting her nose, his eyes wide. :I am Yssanda, Companion of Keth’. You are?:

  “S-Semar,” the boy said, eyes still wide. He looked up at Keth’. “She—talked to me?”

  “Yes,” Keth’ said. He patted his dearest friend fondly. “That’s not too different from my reaction the first time she spoke to me, too.”

  :It took a bit to convince him I wasn’t just a horse, either,: Yssanda told the boy. :You’re taking it better than he did.:

  Semar frowned again. “My father said that you had to leave the plains and open sky because of it.” Underneath, though, his thoughts were as loud as if he had spoken them. I don’t want to leave.

  “That’s why I came back,” Keth’ said, gently. “I had to learn much. I came back to teach, so that others may stay.”

  The boy nodded slowly, and backed away a bit. “I should go back to camp. Father will be waiting for me.”

  Keth’ agreed, and the boy left. :He’ll be back tomorrow,: Yssanda said. :He’s curious now.:

  :Hopeful, too, I think,: Keth’ said. It was a start.

  • • •

  Nerea moped around the Embassy. By Shin’a’in standards, this was a busy trading center, boasting multiple stables for hosting a traveling merchant’s animals. She’d offered at three close by, with signs up. All had politely declined. She was also frustrated with how insular folks were here, but then she remembered how hard it had been to visit, adapt, and remain in Valdemar.

  Back in Haven, she had been proud of herself for not having been unduly influenced by the different environment. She did not understand why she was being turned away now. Her skill and voice with animals was unmatched, at least in Haven.

  Here, she reminded herself sternly, among my own people, there are others. That was why Keth’ had been Chosen, and taken away from the Plains in the first place. This task wasn’t her calling. Still, she had nothing else to do, not as long as she remained with him.

  So she cared for the horses and Companions here. Yssanda, being a person-mind herself, greatly enjoyed proper
brushing and grooming. Nerea did a thorough job of cleaning her hooves and dressing them with balm. It had been a long travel. Halath playfully demanded his share of the attention. She got the impression the Companions were humoring her ill mood, and she appreciated it.

  They hadn’t expected this to be a quick mission, but it might take their lives or longer. She wondered if Keth’ had realized they were unlikely to fully return to the plains of their childhood. As much as she was glad to be with him, she needed something of her own, too.

  The merchants, at least, were nonpartisan. They sold food and fodder, tools and equipment without trouble. As long as the money clinked, they were happy. Nerea made it her task to check in with them on a regular basis, sometimes with Jeris or Keth’ along, sometimes alone. The sellers warmed up to the trio, particularly after approval filtered through the guilds for the respect and prompt payments on the building repairs and furnishing.

  In a trading center, it paid to keep the approval and good will of the permanent merchants. A week later, a pair of representatives for one of the more distant clans approached Keth’, and asked about trade possibilities in Valdemar.

  “Kin horses are much in demand,” Keth’ assured them. “They respect them and treat them well, but need a great many of them for riding, pulling, hauling.”

  Nerea’s tasks slowly expanded beyond ensuring the replenishment of the embassy. She had no experience as a trader, but she was rapidly becoming a sales agent. She spoke both languages and lettered well enough. There was a list of Valdemar interests wanting healthy, young stock, and she could rate a horse by hoof and mettle in moments. She appraised them fairly, and in some cases rather higher than the breeder had asked.

  Letters and notes of marque needed to be sent back and forth before the deal was finalized, but he suspected her estimates would be pleasing to both parties.

  The interim deal was made, and a letter sent along requesting buying agents from Valdemar, to arrive no sooner than three months hence.