The Last Herald-Mage Trilogy

by Mercedes Lackey

  “To help—” All the color drained from Treesa’s face. “Van—how badly is he hurt? Dear gods—”

  She struggled to sit up, but the Healer prevented her from moving by holding her down with one hand on her shoulder. Moondance put his hand atop the Healer’s, eliciting a gasp from both the Healer and Treesa.

  “We go to him now, my lady,” Moondance said, and smiled sweetly. “Be at ease; all will be well.”

  And with that, he turned and swept out of the room, Starwind joining him so that they left as they had entered, together. Savil smiled at Treesa, as reassuringly as she could, and followed them.

  “Where is young Vanyel?” asked Starwind as soon as they were all in the stone-walled corridor.

  “Up a flight and over a bit,” Savil told him, taking the lead again, and moving as quickly as her aching hip would permit. “I should warn you about something. Seems he’s lifebonded again, this time to a young Bard about half his age—”

  Starwind exchanged a wry glance with Moondance. “Indeed? And where have I heard that tale before?”

  “I would have no idea,” Savil replied, her tone heavy with irony. “Just because you were near thirty and Moondance was all of sixteen. . . . At any rate, the boy’s with him. Don’t frighten him; he’s had a bad few hours, and he’s part of the reason why I haven’t been frantic to get you here.”

  Moondance looked puzzled, but Starwind nodded knowingly. “Ah. The blade feeds on both of them. I had wondered why you were so calm about all this.”

  “So long as you didn’t take a week to make up your minds, I reckoned we had time.” She paused outside Vanyel’s door. “Here. And remember what I told you.”

  This time Starwind held the door open for her, and followed her inside with no dramatics at all. Stefen, white-faced, was absorbed in Van—so completely that he didn’t even notice they were there until Starwind laid a gentle hand on his shoulder.

  Stefen jumped; he looked up at the Tayledras Adept, and his eyes grew very large, and very round. His mouth opened, but he couldn’t seem to make a sound.

  “We are here to help young Vanyel, little one,” Starwind said kindly. “But for us to do so, you must move away from him.”

  Stefen lurched to his feet, knocking over the chair he’d been sitting on, and backed away, tripping over it in the process. Moondance caught him before he fell, and Savil wondered for a moment if the poor boy was going to faint on the spot. He recovered, and edged over to Savil, standing slightly behind her, his eyes never once leaving the Tayledras.

  Starwind held one finger near to the leech-blade, but did not touch it. “A nasty piece of work, that,” he said in his own tongue to Savil. “More than ordinary malice went into its making.”

  “But can you get rid of it?” Savil asked anxiously.

  “Oh, aye. Not easily, but it is by no means the hardest task I have ever undertaken. Ashke—”

  Moondance nodded, and moved to stand immediately behind him, with one hand resting lightly on his shoulder. Starwind ripped part of the ornamental silk from his sleeve; the cloth parted with a sound like the snarl of a hunting cat. He wrapped the bit of silk around his hand, and only then grasped the hilt of the leech-blade.

  “Now we give it something else to seek after,” he murmured, and held his other hand a few thumblengths away from the wicked little knife. Invoking Mage-Sight, Savil Saw that his hand glowed with life-force; far more than Vanyel possessed, even at the core of him. And she Saw how the blade loosened its hold on the Herald-Mage; how it turned in Starwind’s hand, and lurched out of the wound like a hunger-maddened weasel.

  “Not this time, I think,” Starwind said aloud, pulling his unprotected hand away before the writhing blade could strike it. “Now, ashke—”

  Moondance made an arc of pure power between his two hands, and Starwind brought the blade down into it.

  The thing shrieked.

  Stefen screamed, and clasped his hands over his ears. Savil very nearly did the same. The only reason she didn’t try to block her ears was because she knew it wouldn’t do any good. That hideous screaming was purely mental.

  The scream of the blade continued for four or five breaths, then, as suddenly as it had begun, the thing fell silent. Moondance damped the power-arc, and when Savil’s eyes and Mage-Sight recovered from the dazzle, she saw that Starwind held only a hilt. The blade itself was gone, and the air reeked of charred silk.

  “And that,” the Tayledras said with satisfaction, turning the blackened hilt over in his hand, and examining it carefully, “is that.” He looked up at Savil. “And now, dearest Wingsister, we four can all join to bring our brother back to us.”

  She was placing her hands over Moondance’s when she realized what he’d said.

  Four? Huh. Well, why not?

  “Come here, lad,” she said over her shoulder to Stefen, who was hovering worriedly in the background. “They won’t bite you.”

  “Much,” Moondance said, in her tongue, with a sly grin for Stefen. Oddly enough, that seemed to relax him.

  “What can I do?” he asked, taking his place at Savil’s side.

  “I have no idea,” she admitted. “But he knows. So let’s both find out.”

  Starwind smiled, and placed his hands atop theirs.

  • • •

  Savil took a long, deep breath and looked quickly down at Vanyel. He was breathing normally, deeply asleep, and his color was back. He’ll probably wake up in a candlemark or so. ’Fandes will be out about as long.

  “What happened?” Stef asked, dazedly. “What did we do?”

  “Sit, Singer,” Moondance said, pushing him down onto the bed. “We gave young Vanyel a path back to himself, and the strength to return upon it. But that strength came from us, you most particularly, and you should now rest.” He nodded at the bed. “There is plenty of room there, and Vanyel would feel comforted by your presence.”

  “He would?” The youngster looked on his last legs, but was stubbornly refusing to admit his weariness. “Well—if you think so—”

  “I think so.” Moondance threw a light blanket over the Bard’s shoulders. “Rest. You do not hasten his recovery by fretting.”

  “If you—” He stifled a yawn. “—say so.”

  Moondance shook his head at Starwind. “Children. Was I that stubborn-minded?” he asked in Tayledras.

  “Oh, you were worse.” Starwind grinned, and took Savil by the elbow. “Kindly show us where we will be staying, Wingsister. I think we will have to remain here some few days more, else Vanyel will foolishly exert himself and it will be all to do again.”

  :And just what do you have up your sleeve?: she asked him. :You’re right, of course, but there’s more that you aren’t telling the boy.:

  :Perceptive as always,: he replied. :I wish you to hear this from Moondance, however.:

  She nodded at Moondance, who joined them at the door. “Sleep, Stefen,” he ordered as he closed it. An indistinct mumble came from the general direction of the bed. It sounded like agreement.

  “In the absence of anyone else I guess I’ll make the decision of where to put you two,” Savil said. “And because I don’t know where else, I guess you might as well take the room next to Van’s.”

  She opened the door to the next guest room, which looked about the same as Vanyel’s in the dim light; with Forst Reach entertaining as many as a hundred visitors during the course of a year, no room ever sat long enough to take on an air of disuse. The only real sign that it was not occupied was the fact that the shutters were closed, and what light there was leaked in through the cracks.

  “So, now, what was it you wanted to tell me about?” Savil asked Starwind, closing the door behind him. The older Tayledras went directly to the window and threw the shutters open.

  “Not I,” he said, “but Moondance.” He sat on the window ledge and leaned out,
looking with interest—though real or feigned, Savil couldn’t tell which—at the grounds below.

  “Well?” she asked impatiently of Moondance. The Healing-Adept looked very uncomfortable.

  “I do not know how much you give credence to our beliefs,” he said doubtfully.

  “Depends on which one,” she replied, sitting on the edge of the bed. “If it’s the one about how people should live in trees, I still think you’re out of your mind.”

  He ignored the sally. “We think—and have proved, insofar as such a thing is possible to prove—that souls are reborn, sometimes even crossing species’ boundaries. Rebirth into something of like intelligence, a hertasi perhaps being reborn as a kyree, or a kyree as a human—”

  “Must make things interesting at dinnertime,” Savil jibed.

  He glared at her. She gave him a sardonic stare right back.

  “This is all very fascinating philosophy, but I don’t see what it has to do with Van,” she pointed out, tilting her head a little.

  Moondance shook his head. “Not with Vanyel—with the Singer.”

  “Stef?” she exclaimed incredulously. “Why on earth Stefen? And why is it important?”

  “Because my shay’kreth’ashke believes—as do I—that your Stefen is, or was, the young one called Tylendel,” Starwind called from the window.

  Savil’s first reaction was surprise, then skepticism. “What, just because they lifebonded? Really, isn’t that a little too neat, too pat? It makes a very nice tale, but—” She shrugged.

  “No,” Moondance said, walking to the window to stand beside Starwind. “No, it is not because of the lifebond, or not primarily. There are other things—memory traces of Vanyel many years ago, ties other than the lifebond.” He paused, and looked up at the ceiling as if gathering his thoughts. “And there are reasons, pressing reasons, for this to have happened. The bond between Tylendel and Vanyel was strong, stronger even than most lifebonds I have seen. There is a debt owed to Vanyel because of what happened. There is unfinished business because Tylendel failed as a Herald.” He looked at her expectantly for a moment, then shrugged. “I could go on at length, but that would only bore you.”

  “I doubt it,” Savil replied, fascinated in spite of her skepticism. “But I can’t see what relevance it has to the current situation, either.”

  Starwind left the window. “Only that the past has bearing on the present, and will color what happens in the present.”

  “So, should I tell them about this speculation of yours?” she asked curiously.

  “Ah.” Starwind clasped his hands behind his back, and gave his lifebonded a wry smile. “That is where we differ. I think perhaps yes, but I do not feel at all as strongly as Moondance, and am willing to be overruled.”

  “And I think that on no account should you tell them,” Moondance said adamantly, leaning his back against the windowframe. “But our reasons for our feelings are much the same.”

  “We feel,” Starwind took up the thread of conversation, “that this relationship should be permitted to develop without the baggage of the previous one. It is not the same set of circumstances at all, their meeting and bonding, nor are their relative status or ages the same. Therefore I think they should be told so that they may avoid misunderstandings that echoes of the past may bring.”

  “And I think that being told will only bring problems; that Vanyel will cease to react to Stefen as he has become, and that he will begin behaving in ways that will warp the relationship out of all recognition and health.” Moondance crossed his arms over his chest, and looked very stubbornly at Savil.

  “I can think of one problem right off,” she said slowly. “If Van thinks Stef’s his old love, he’s likely to do one of two things—pay more attention to Stef’s opinions and advice, or less. Neither is healthy. Stef’s got a good head on those shoulders, but he also has a lot of growing up to do yet. Right now Van’s giving him about the same amount of slack he’d give any lad his age, and listening to him when he makes sense—”

  “Which is the way it should remain,” Moondance concluded.

  She shook her head at Starwind. “Sorry, old friend, but my vote goes with Moondance.”

  He shrugged. “I had already told you I did not feel that strongly; I am content to be overruled.”

  “To change the topic, how long do you want to stay?” she asked. “I’ll have to tell Withen something when he gets back.”

  “Three days, perhaps five. No more, certainly.” Starwind shook his hair back. “Two days to keep Vanyel from overexerting, then however long it takes to unravel who did this thing, and why.”

  “If we can,” Moondance said with resignation. “It is by no means certain. But with four Adepts at work, the odds are that what can be uncovered, will be.”

  “Which brings me to a request, dearest Wingsister,” Starwind grinned. “Do you think this place is capable of producing garments of a suitable size for us? It seems that we forgot to pack. . . .”

  “Oh, probably nothing good enough for you, you preening snow-birds,” Savil grinned wryly, “but we may be able to rummage up something.”

  CHAPTER 12

  YET ANOTHER OF Treesa’s ladies had Savil and the elder Tayledras trapped in a conversation, this time just outside the keep as Starwind sent his falcon up for some exercise. There was no reason for this one-sided discourse; she’d done it purely for an excuse to gawk at the exotic. Savil closed her eyes for a moment, and wished that the chattering child-woman would come to the point. “This,” said Starwind under his breath, in his own language, “is not a family, it is a small army. And half of them are mad.” He nodded to the young woman, smiled, and tried to interject a single word. “It—”

  She ran right over the top of him without pausing for breath, and without taking her eyes from Starwind’s face. “But my mother’s cousin twice removed, you know, the Kyliera Grove Brendewhins not the Anderlin’s Freehold lot, the ones who—”

  :Does she never cease speaking?: Starwind asked. :Even in sleep?:

  :Not to my knowledge,: Savil replied the same way.

  :Then I shall have to do something rude to free us from the chains of her words,: he told her.

  :You’re forgiven in advance,: Savil assured him.

  Suddenly, with no forewarning whatsoever, Starwind’s white gyrfalcon swooped down out of the sky above them, and dove at the girl, missing her by a goodly distance, but frightening her into silence. The bird hovered just over Starwind’s head, screaming at her, threatening to dive again.

  “Your pardon,” Starwind said, with a completely disarming smile, “but I think my bird must have taken a dislike to your apparel. I have never seen him act in this way before. He must believe that you are a threat to me.”

  The bird dove again, and this time the girl shrieked and fled. Starwind held up his arm, and the falcon settled on it immediately, then hopped to his shoulder and began preening itself with every sign of being completely calm.

  Kellan wandered up, and put her nose up to the bird. It reached out with its wicked beak and gently nibbled at her upper lip before resuming its preening.

  :A bird with sense,: Kellan told her Chosen, a wicked twinkle in her eye. :I was considering charging you three just before Starwind asked Asheena to threat-dive.:

  :The only problem with that is Lytherill would never have believed threat out of you,: Savil said. :She believes in the unquestionable goodness and purity of Companions.:

  Kellan hung her head and moaned. :Does this mean I can expect her to garland me with roses, try to hug my neck, and speak to me in babytalk?:

  Savil laughed. :No love, she’s not quite that young, though a couple of years ago, before she discovered boys, you’d have been in danger.:

  :How close are you to finding out what that mage was up to?: Kellan asked, with the kind of abrupt change of subject Savil had come to exp
ect from her over the years.

  :Close. We’ll probably be able to run the spells tomorrow.:

  :Indeed, Wingsister.: A new mind-voice entered the conversation and both Savil and her Companion suppressed startlement. Adepts—or very powerful Mindspeakers—were so few that Savil seldom remembered that the Tayledras shared with Vanyel the ability to “overhear” any conversation that was not shielded against them. :Pardon,: he said apologetically. :Yes, we should be prepared enough and Vanyel recovered enough to make the attempt tomorrow. Would the one who struck him were still in condition to be questioned.:

  Starwind sent his falcon up once more, this time in response to a pigeon taking wing from the keep eaves. Wild raptors, Savil knew, missed more often than they struck, but Tayledras bondbirds seldom stooped without a kill at the end. Starwind had his eyes closed, and his entire body stiffened with tension as his bird dove. A scream of triumph rang out as the bird pulled up for the kill and Starwind shivered a little, a tiny smile of satisfaction on his lips, as the falcon’s talons struck home.

  The gyrfalcon carried its prey to the roof to feed, and Starwind opened his eyes and smiled a little more broadly at Savil’s knowing grin.

  “Fantasizing someone other than a pigeon at the end of that stoop, hmm?” Savil asked.

  “I?” Starwind was all innocence. And Savil didn’t believe it for a moment.

  “You. If I had that bastard in my reach right now—never mind. Come on, let’s finish this walk.” Savil headed out into the paddocks, and Starwind fell in beside her, Kellan following noiselessly behind.

  “As for being waylaid by half-grown girls, half the problems you and Moondance are having you brought on yourselves,” she told him frankly. “You two insisted on being spectacular, well, now you see what happens to a spectacle. I’m sorry, but I can’t feel terribly sorry for you.”

  “I would not have insisted, had I known the sheer number of inhabitants in this place,” he replied ruefully. “Gods of my fathers—five families, with no less than seven children in each, hundreds of men-at-arms, and then there are the servants, the fosterlings—” He shook his head in disbelief. “K’Treva is little larger, and it is an entire clan! It staggers the imagination.”