Valdemar Books

by Lackey, Mercedes

  The music led him in a dance wherein he found a balance he hadn't known he craved until he found it. The music spun him around; he spun with it, and he knew that having found this point of equilibrium he would not lose it again.

  :So, so, so, exactly so,: the music chuckled. :Now, you would protect yourself - thus the barrier, see? Dense, and it keeps all out, flexible to your will. Always your will, young Vanyel, it is will and nothing less -

  It spun him walls to keep others out of his mind; he saw the way of it and spun them thicker, harder - then raveled them again down to the thinnest of barricades, knowing he could build them up again when he wanted to.

  Then the blue-green music faded, leaving the green-gold to carry the melody alone. It sang to him then, sang of rest, sang of peace, and he dreamed. Dreamed of waking, moving to another's will, to drink and care for himself and sleep again. But no more dreams that hurt, only dreams full of the verdant music.

  Then he woke - truly woke, not dreams of waking - to the sound of it; breathy, haunting notes that wandered into and out of melodies that he half recognized, but couldn't identify. There was a scent of ferns; a smell of growing things, a whiff of freshly-turned earth, and a hint of something metallic. Behind the music, he heard the sound of gently falling water.

  He was no longer drugged. And the mind-channels within him no longer burned and tormented him.

  He opened his eyes, slowly.

  He thought for one mad moment that he was somehow suspended in a tree. He was surrounded on all sides by greenery, and luxuriantly-leaved branches hung over his head. Then he saw that while the branches were real, and the leaves, they were not the same organism. The branches supported huge ferns whose fronds draped down like a living canopy over his bed, and the greenery about him was a curtaining of multi-layered, multi-shaded green fabric hung from a framework of more branches, each layer as light and transparent as a spiderweb, and cut to resemble a cascade of leaf shapes. He had never in his life imagined that there could be so many colors of green.

  Weak beams of sunlight threaded past the fern fronds. The blankets - if that was what they were - were a darker green, like moss, and felt as soft as velvet, but were thick and heavy.

  He tried to sit up, and discovered that he couldn't. He was absolutely spent, with no strength left at all.

  The music beyond the curtains finished with a breathless, upward-spiraling run, and a few moments later, the curtains parted.

  Vanyel blinked in surprise at the young man who stood there, framed by the green of the curtain material; he knew he was staring, and rudely, but he couldn't help himself. He'd never seen anyone who looked like this -

  A young man - silver-haired as any oldster, with hair longer than most women had, and with eyes of light blue that measured and weighed him, full of secrets and thoughts that Vanyel couldn't begin to read. He wore a sleeveless green jerkin, and breeches of a darker green, and in the hand that held back the curtains there was a white flute that looked as if it had been carved from luminescent, opaque crystal.

  Vanyel suddenly realized that, indeed, he couldn't read the young man's thoughts; there was presence there, but nothing spilling over into his own mind.

  He stammered out the first things in his mind - not terribly clever, and certainly not original but - "W-w-where am I? W-w-who are you?"

  The young man tilted his head to one side a little, and Vanyel saw a faint hint of smile as he replied, very slowly and with a strange accent, "Well. 'Where am I?' you ask me - better than I had feared. I had half dreaded hearing "who am I?' young Vanyel." He tilted his head the other way, and this time the smile was definite. "You are in k'Treva territory in the Pelagir Hills, and before you ask, your aunt, our Wingsister Savil, brought you here. We are her friends; she asked us to help her with your troubles. I am Moondance k'Treva; I am Tayledras, and I have been your Healer. That is my bed you are lying in. Do you like it? Starwind says it is a foolish piece of conceit, but I think that this is only because he did not think of it first."

  Vanyel could only blink at him in bewilderment.

  Moondance shook his head, ruefully. "I go too fast for you. Simple things first. Are you hungry? Thirsty? Would you like to bathe?"

  All at once he was hungry - and thirsty - and disgustingly aware that his skin was crawling with the need for a bath.

  "All three," he said, a little hesitantly.

  "Then we remedy all three." Moondance pulled the curtains back to the foot and the head of the bed, and -

  - and reached to pull off the blankets. At which point Vanyel realized that he was quite nude beneath the bed-coverings. He flushed, and clutched at the blanket.

  Moondance gave him an amused look. "Who do you think it was that undressed you and put you where you are?" he asked. "I pledge you, it was not the Eastern Wind."

  Vanyel flushed again, but did not release the blanket.

  "So, so - here, my modest one - " Moondance reached up to one side among the hangings, and detached something which he tossed onto the blankets. Vanyel reached for it - a wrap-robe of something green and silken that was, thankfully, much more substantial than the hangings. As Moondance pointedly turned his back, he eased out of the bed and wrapped it around himself.

  And reached for one of the bed-supports as dizziness made the room spin around him.

  "That will never do." There was a cool touch between his eyes, and the room steadied.

  "Come," Moondance was just in front of him, holding out his hands encouragingly. "Keep your eyes on me - yes. A step. Another. You have been long abed, young Vanyel, you must almost learn to walk again."

  The Tayledras Healer walked backward, slowly, as Vanyel followed, looking only at his eyes. But he did not move to give the boy support in any way, except the one time Vanyel stumbled and nearly fell. Then Moondance caught him; held him until he could find his balance again, and only when Vanyel was standing firmly again did he draw away.

  Vanyel was vaguely aware that they had crossed a threshold into another room, but just walking was costing him so much sweating, concentrated effort he didn't dare look around any. It seemed to take years before Moondance stopped, caught his elbow, and guided him to a seat on a smooth rock ledge that rimmed a raised pool of water so hot that it steamed.

  "Now, look about you." Moondance waved at the pool and the rest of the room. "This is the pool for washing. Here is soap. When you are clean, go there, the pool for resting."

  Though the pool Vanyel was sitting beside was deep, it was quite small. Next to the "pool for washing" was another, much larger, much deeper, and slightly above it, with an opening in the side that spilled hot water down into this pool. Both pools looked natural; rock-sided and sandy-bottomed.

  "I think even weak as you are, you shall be able to find your way there. I shall return with food and drink." The young man hesitated a moment - then with the swiftness of a stooping hawk, leaned over and kissed Vanyel full on the lips. "You are very welcome, young Vanyel," he said, before Vanyel had a chance to get over his surprise. "We are pleased to have you, Starwind and I, and not just for the sake of Wingsister Savil."

  He vanished before Vanyel had a chance to react.

  Vanyel found that if he moved slowly and carefully he didn't exhaust himself. He shed the robe and eased himself into the water with a sigh, and soaped and rinsed until he finally felt clean again. His pool emptied itself over the side and down a channel in the floor - and where the water went from there he couldn't say. He had figured by now that this was some kind of hot spring, which accounted for the metallic tang in the air.

  With Moondance gone, he had a chance to get a good look around while trying to sort himself out. There didn't appear to be any "doors" as such in this dwelling; just doorways. This bathing room was multileveled; highest level was the "pool for resting" which cascaded to the next level and the "pool for washing," which in turn was above the "floor" and the channel carrying the water away that was cut into it. There were no windows in the walls of
natural rock; the whole was lit by a skylight taking up the entire ceiling, and there were green and flowering plants and ferns standing and hanging everywhere. There was only one entrance into this room - that led back to the bedroom, also rock-walled and roofed with a skylight, from what Vanyel could see of it.

  The ledge between the pools was not that high, though it took far more of Vanyel's strength to get over it than he would have believed. Once in the larger pool he discovered that his surmise was right; crystalline hot water bubbled up from the sand in the center of the pool; someone had improved on nature by forming the rock of the pool sides below the waterline into smooth benches.

  It was wonderful; the water was about as hot as was comfortable, and was forcing him to relax whether or not he wanted to. He closed his eyes and sat back, deliberately thinking of absolutely nothing, and only opened them again when he heard light footsteps crossing the stone floor below him.

  It was, as he expected, Moondance, who had brought with him an earthenware beaker of what proved to be cider and a plate of sliced bread and cheeses and fruit.

  "Eat lightly," the young man warned, climbing to Vanyel's level and setting his burdens down on the rim of the pool at Vanyel's right hand. "You have been three weeks without true food, and spent more than one of those days drugged."

  "Three weeks?"

  Moondance shrugged. "You needed Healing, of a kind your good Healer Andrel could not give you. I think perhaps no Healer among your folk could have given you such Healing; they know nothing of the Healing of hurts caused by magic, only of illness and wounding. That is a study only a few have made, and most of those few Tayledras. Eat, young Vanyel. There are herbs in the bread and the drink to strengthen you."

  "Where - where is Savil?" he asked, suddenly a little worried at being alone with a stranger.

  "With Starwind. She was very weary, both in body and in soul. This - thing that has happened. It has been a deep grief to her, as well to you. Her heart is as sore, I think. They are old friends, my shay'kreth'ashke and Savil, and there are no secrets between them, and much love. She has need of such love. Perhaps more than you, for she has had no one to lend her support."

  Vanyel had looked up at him sharply at that - with the word ashke striking him with the force of a cold slap in the face, making his heart pound painfully.

  Moondance looked down at him, something speculative in his glance. He weighed Vanyel for a moment, then cleared his throat and looked away, deliberately. "I have a thing to say to you, a thing I wish you to think upon."

  Vanyel put down his cider, and waited, apprehensively, to hear the rest.

  "I have shared your thoughts; I know more of you than anyone, except, perhaps, your shay'kreth'ashke."

  Moondance changed his position so that he was sitting with his back to the pool, leaning his weight against his hands and staring up at the clouds visible through the skylight. He was being very careful not to look at Vanyel.

  "As you have guessed from my words," he said, "I am shay'a'chern. As is Starwind. As you." Now he gave Vanyel a very brief, sidelong glance. "I am a Healer-Adept and I Heal more than people - I Heal places. I know the natural world as only one who wishes to restore it to its rightful balances can. This is the thing I wish to tell you; in all the world, there are more creatures than just man that make lifetime matings. Among them, some of the noblest - wolves, swans, geese, the great raptors-all creatures man could do worse than emulate, in many, many ways. And with all of them, all, there are those pairings, from time to time, within the same gender. Not often, but not unheard of either."

  Vanyel found himself unable to move, and unable to anticipate the direction this was taking.

  Now Moondance dropped his eyes to catch and hold Vanyel's in a joining of glances and wills that was unbreakable.

  "There is in you a fear, a shame, placed there by your own doubts and the thoughts of one who knew no better. I tell you to think on this: the shay 'a 'chern pairing occurs in nature. How then, 'unnatural'? Usual, no; and not desirable for the species, else it would die out for lack of offspring. But not unnatural. The beasts of the fields are innocent as man can never be, who has the knowledge of good and evil and the choice between, and they do not cast out of their ranks the shay 'a 'chern. There was between you and your shay 'kreth 'ashke much love - only love. There is no shame in loving."

  Vanyel couldn't breathe; he could only see those ice-blue eyes.

  "This I think I have learned: where there is love, the form does not matter, and the gods are pleased. This I have observed: what occurs in nature, comes by the hand of nature, and if the gods did not approve, it would not be there. I give you these things as food for your heart and mind."

  Once again, before Vanyel could move, he bent deliberately and kissed him, but this time on the forehead.

  "I leave you for a moment with both kinds of nourishment." He smiled, and gave Vanyel a slow wink. "Since you are not to stay in the pool forever, I must needs find you clothing. I would not mind, but your aunt grows anxious and wishes to see you awake and aware, and we would not wish to put her to the blush, hmm?"

  And with that, he jumped down from the pool ledge to the floor, and vanished again.

  Twelve

  “Here." Moondance, a crease of worry between his brows, was back in a few moments with a towel and what looked like folded clothing; green, like his own. "You shall have to care for yourself, I fear. There is trouble, and I have been called to deal with it. Starwind and Savil will be with you shortly." He hesitated a moment, visibly torn. "Forgive me, I must go."

  He put his burdens down on the pool edge and ran back out the doorway before Vanyel could do more than blink.

  Gods - I feel like somebody in a tale, going to sleep and waking up a hundred years later. It seems so hard to think - like I'm still half asleep.

  He dressed slowly, trying to collect his thoughts, and making heavy work of it. He did remember - vaguely - Savil telling him that he was too ill for Andrel to help; and he definitely remembered - despite the fog of drugs about the words - being told that she was going to take him to some friends of hers. He hadn't much cared what was happening at that point. He'd either been too drugged to care, or been hurting too much.

  Presumably Moondance, and the absent Starwind, were the friends she meant. They were fully as strange as those weird masks of beads and feathers that Savil had on her wall. As was this place. Wherever it was.

  He pulled the deep green tunic over his head, and suddenly realized something. He wasn't drugged - and he wasn't hurting, either. Those places in his mind that had burned - he could still feel them, but they weren't giving him pain.

  Moondance said he Healed me. Is that why it feels like I halfway know him? Tayledras. Didn't Aunt Savil tell us stories about them? I thought that was all those were - stories. Not real. He looked around at the strange room, half-structure, half-natural, each half fitting into the other so well he could scarcely tell where the hand of nature left off and the hand of man began. Real. Gods, if I were to describe this place, nobody would ever believe me. This - II 's all so different. I even feel different.

  He could sense some kind of barrier around him, around his thoughts. At first it made him wary, but he tested it, tentatively, and found that it was a barrier that he could control. When he thinned it, he became aware of presences, what must be minds, out beyond the limits of this room. Animals, surely, and birds, for their thoughts were dim and here-centered. Then two close together - very bright, but opaque and unreadable. One "felt" like Savil and the other must be the mysterious Starwind. Then two more; just as bright, just as opaque - but one he recognized by the "feel" as being Yfandes. Then a scattering of others…

  Yfandes. A Companion. My Companion.

  So - it was no hallucination, then. He had somehow gotten Herald-Gifts and a Companion.

  Gifts I never wanted, at a cost I never thought I'd pay. I'd trade them and half my life to have - him - back again.

  That hit like a bl
ow to the gut. He descended from the level of the uppermost pool to the floor and sat heavily on one of the stone benches around the edge of the room, too tired and depressed to move.

  Oh, 'Lendel… gods, he thought, bleak despair overcoming him. What am I doing here? Why didn't they just let me die?

  :Do you hate me, Chosen?: said a bright, reproachful voice in his mind, :Do you hate me for wishing you to live?:

  :Yfandes?: He remembered what Savil had said, about how his Companion would pine herself to death if he died, and sagged with guilt. :Oh, gods, Yfandes, no - no, I'm sorry - I just - :

  He'd been able to not-think about it when he'd been drugged. He'd been able to concentrate on nothing more complicated than the next moment. Now - now his mind was only too clear. He couldn't ignore the reality of Tylendel being gone, and there were no drugs to keep him in a vague fog of forgetting.

  :You miss him.: she replied, gently. :You need him, and you miss him. :

  :Like my arm. Like my heart. I just can't imagine going on without him. I don't know what to do with myself; where to go, what to do next.:

  If Yfandes had a reply, he never heard it; just at that moment Savil and a second Tayledras, this one in white breeches, soft, low boots and jerkin, entered the room. Vanyel started to stand; Savil motioned for him to stay where he was. She and the stranger walked slowly across the stone floor and took places on the bench beside him.

  Vanyel was shocked at her appearance. Although her hair had always been a pure silvery white, she'd never looked old before. Now she did; she looked every year of her age and more. He recalled what Moondance had said about Tylendel's death being as hard on her as it was on Vanyel. Now he believed it.

  "Aunt Savil," he said, hesitantly, as she and the stranger arranged themselves comfortably beside him. "Are you all right? I mean - "

  "Looking particularly haglike, am I?" she asked dryly. "No, don't bother to apologize; I've got a mirror. I don't bounce back from strain the way I used to."