So Valdemar wasn't protected anymore because there was someone willing to pay the price of breaking the protections.
Or bending them....
All right; when the Border-protection has failed, what's been the common denominator? She rubbed her temple, as she tried to think of what those failures had in common.
It didn't keep Hulda out—but she didn't work any magic while she was here. It didn't keep some of Ancar's spells out, but they were cast across the Border. It didn't keep that assassin out—but the spell must surely have been cast on him when he was with Ancar. And it didn't keep Need out, but Need hasn't done a blessed thing—openly—since Kero got here.
So; as long as there wasn't any active magic-casting within the borders, the protections they had relied on weren't working anymore.
Or else there were now mages who were stronger than the protections, so long as they worked from outside.
And, without a doubt, Ancar had figured that out, too.
Furthermore, no matter how powerful the protections were, unless they were caused by some deity or other—which Elspeth very much doubted—they could be broken altogether, instead of merely circumvented.
And when—not if, but when—Ancar accomplished that, they were going to be as helpless as a mouse beneath the talons of a predator.
As if to underscore that, Elspeth heard the call of an owl, somewhere out in the gardens.
Someone was going to have to find a mage—preferably a very powerful mage, one who wouldn't suffer from whatever had kept the Skybolts' mages out—and bring him to Valdemar.
That was going to take a lot of money, persuasion, or both. The first they had—or could get. The second just required the right person. Someone who was experienced in diplomacy and negotiation.
Or, failing being able to bring someone in, a Herald was going to have to learn magic herself.
That's it, she decided. That's what I need to do—find a mage and bring him in. I'm the perfect instrument for the job. Or learn magic; Kero says there are some things—according to her grandmother—that just need a trained will. I've certainly got that.
And as for where to find a mage—I think I know just the place to start.
This time Elspeth called the meeting, at breakfast, in her mother's suite. She hoped to catch her in a malleable mood—which she often was in the early morning. Not that Elspeth enjoyed being up that early; on the whole, she preferred never to have to view the sunrise.
But for a good cause, she'd sacrifice a bit of sleep.
She stated her case as clearly and logically as possible, before Selenay had finished her muffins, but after she'd had her first two cups of tea. She'd thought about her presentation very carefully; why someone had to go chasing mages, and why that someone had to be her. Then she sat back and waited for her answer.
She has to agree. There's no other choice for us.
"No," Selenay stated flatly. "It's not possible."
For a moment she was taken aback, but she rallied her defenses, thought quickly and plowed gamely onward. "Mother, I don't see where there's any choice," Elspeth replied, just as firmly as her mother. "I've told you the facts. Kero backs up my guesses about what's likely to happen, and she's the best tactician we have. And Alberich backs her up. The three of us have talked this over a lot."
"I don't—" Selenay fell strangely silent, looking troubled and very doubtful. Elspeth followed up her advantage. I can't give her a chance to say anything. Look at her hands, she's clutching things again. It's conflict between being a mother and the ruler. I think I can convince the Council, but I have to convince her before I convince the Council.
"We can't do this on our own anymore; we have to have help. We have to have a mage—'Adept-class,' is what Kero says. Someone who can work around whatever it is that keeps active mages out. We have to find someone like that who is willing not only to help us but to teach Heralds if he can."
"I don't see why—" Selenay began. "We've managed all right until now. Why can't the Gifts provide an adequate defense? They've worked so far."
"Mother, believe me, there hasn't been a real trial of them," Elspeth countered. "I've listened to Kero's stories, and frankly they won't hold against a real effort by several mages. I'll tell you what, I suspect that we have people capable of becoming mages. The Chronicles all talk about a 'Mage-Gift' just as if it were something like—oh, Firestarting; rare, but not unusual. I don't think it's been lost. I think that we've just forgotten how to tell what it is, and how to train it. But to do that, we need a mage. A good one. And Kero says that all the good teachers are Adept-class."
"Even if all that is true," Selenay said, after a long silence, her hands clenched around her mug. "Why should you be the one to go?"
"Well, for one thing, I've got Crown powers. When I find a mage we can trust, I can offer him anything reasonable—and I know what's reasonable; Kero's briefed me on hiring mages. For another—I'm not indispensable. You have two more heirs, and if you want to know the truth, I'm not certain I should wear the crown." She smiled ruefully. "I take shortcuts a little too often to make the Council comfortable."
Selenay returned the smile reluctantly, but it faded just as quickly as it came.
Elspeth shrugged. "The truth of the matter is that the twins are probably going to be better rulers than I would. The Council can't object to letting me go, with two more candidates for the throne still here. I'm a full Herald, I know what we need, Kero can probably give me contacts, and I have Crown authority. I'm the best—absolutely best—person for the job."
Selenay started to say something—Elspeth waited for the rebuke—but it never came. It was almost as if something had interrupted her before she could say anything.
Odd.
But she followed up on her advantage.
"Let me give you another reason. You wanted me safe, right? You can put forty layers of guards on the twins and they won't mind, but you know very well that I won't put up with it. On the other hand, if you send me to Uncle Faram, Ancar won't know where to find me at first—and when he finds out, he won't risk a try for me in Rethwellan. Uncle has a larger army, he has mages, and I don't think even Ancar would risk all-out war with him." She firmed her jaw and raised her head stubbornly. "Besides, I won't be there for long, I'll be looking for Kero's old mage Quenten. He has a school, she says, and if anybody can find us mages, I should think he would. When I'm there, I'll be surrounded by mages. I couldn't possibly be safer than that."
Selenay finally sighed and unclenched her hands. "There must be something wrong with that logic, but I can't figure out what it is," she said, her brow furrowed with an unhappy frown.
Elspeth turned a look of appeal on Talia, who bit her lip and looked very uncomfortable. As if part of her wants to side with me, and part of her doesn't.
"I just don't like it," Selenay said, finally. "You're far too vulnerable. Even traveling through Valdemar, I wouldn't feel comfortable unless you had a full company of troops with you. Traveling across the Comb is nearly as dangerous in summer as winter—there are thunderstorms, wild beasts—and the only decent pass is too close to Karse for my comfort." She shook her head. "No, I can't allow it. Bringing in a mage—that's not a bad idea. I think you're right about that much. But the person I send won't be you."
Selenay's chin came up and her voice took on a steely quality that Elspeth knew only too well. There was no arguing with her mother in this mood.
She could appeal to her stepfather and Alberich. Kero was already on her side.
But not now.
And it might take weeks, even months, to get Selenay to change her mind. By then it would be fall or winter, and she would have another excuse to keep Elspeth at home—the weather. And perhaps by then it would be too late.
She closed her eyes for a moment. The odd pressure inside her, now that she had a goal in mind and a task that really needed to be done, was already uncomfortable. Any delay would make it intolerable.
She had to go
—had to. And she couldn't. She wanted to scream, argue, cry, anything.
But just a single word at this point would ensure that she would never win Selenay's permission. And without that permission, there was no point in going to the Council; they would never override the Queen on this.
If I just ran off and did it—
No, that wouldn't work, either.
She had to have Crown and Council authority to make this mission a success, and running off on her own was not going to win her either.
So instead of bursting out, as she really wanted to, she simply clamped her mouth shut.
She got up, leaving her breakfast untasted, bowed stiffly, and took herself out of the room altogether.
She managed to keep her temper as far as her rooms—where she slammed the door shut behind her, and yanked open the closet so hard she nearly took the door off the hinges. The handle did come loose in her hand, and she flung it across the room without a single word, grabbing a set of old clothes from the back of the closet, pulling off her uniform and throwing it in a heap on the floor, and pulling on the new clothing with no care whatsoever.
She heard several stitches pop as she pulled the shirt over her head and ignored them.
:Kitten?: Gwena said, tentatively. :Dearest, don't be too discouraged. Things can change, sometimes in a heartbeat. There are events occurring out on the borders that none of us know about yet—one of those may force your mother to change her mind.:
:Don't patronize me,: Elspeth snarled. :I'm past the age when you can tell me that everything will be all right. We have trouble, and no one wants to admit it or let me do my part in meeting it. So leave me alone, all right? Let me cool down my own way.:
:Oh—: Gwena replied, very much taken aback by the barely-suppressed rage in Elspeth's Mind-voice. Then she remained silent though Elspeth sensed her watchful presence in the back of her mind.
She ignored it; leaving her rooms with another slamming of doors and heading defiantly out to the gardens and her pottery shed.
No one even tried to stop her. Several people looked curiously at her as she stormed past, but no one spoke.
Most of the evidence of the assassination attempt was gone, along with the remains of those pieces that were smashed in the struggle. The floor had been swept clean—much, much cleaner than Elspeth ever kept it.
No, it was more than that. There was a new stool beside the bench where the old one had stood, there was a new door in place of the shattered one. Her old stove had been replaced with a new kiln and a new stove, her shelves had been replaced with stronger ones, the walls had been scoured, the floor scrubbed, and the place had been tidied up with meticulous precision.
Elspeth stared around with a sense of affront.
Bad enough that she'd been attacked here—but someone had taken it upon himself to "improve" the place.
Her sanctuary had been violated. With good intent, but violated, just the same. It wasn't hers anymore....
But it was all she had.
Resolutely, she squared her shoulders, went to one of the waiting boxes of raw clay, and cut herself a generous chunk—quite enough to make another two-handled vase.
Better than the last one.
And she set about grimly wedging the helpless hunk of clay into submission.
Stubborn, unreasoning woman, she fumed, punching the defenseless clay as hard as she could, flattening it to a finger-wide sheet on the smooth slate top of the bench.
A lot like her daughter, whispered her conscience.
So what? she answered it. I can see sense when I have to, whatever it costs me. She won't even consider what this could mean if I succeed—or what it will mean if I'm not allowed to try. I don't even know if she'll send someone else—she might decide not to. She might even forget.
Her conscience persisted as she rolled the sheet of clay up into a cylinder and flattened the cylinder into a sphere. You've never been a mother, so how can you know what letting you go would cost her? You heard Talia—if it were her son that was in jeopardy, she'd be just as irrational, and she is the most sensible person you know. And besides, you aren't the only one who could take this mission on and make a success out of it.
Oh, no? she snarled at her conscience, picking the ball of clay up, and throwing it down on the slate, over and over again. Who else is there?
Kerowyn, for one, her conscience replied too promptly. After all, her uncle—if he's still alive—is a White Winds Adept. And Quenten used to be one of the Skybolts' mages. She has the same contacts she would be giving you. Surely one of them could be persuaded to help.
And if not? she challenged.
If not—there're King Faram's court mages. They aren't exactly apprentices, and they've already proved they'll work for hire by being in his employ. And Kero is Daren and Faram's very good friend. She could probably even persuade Faram to part with one or more of his mages, if they are willing to come up here.
But I'm their relative, she countered. That should be twice as effective.
Her conscience had no counter to that, but she had no answer for it, either. So she wasn't the only person who could go—so what? She was still the best choice, if not the only one, if only Selenay would admit it.
The clay was ready—but she wasn't. She continued to pound her temper out on it as she sought reasons why Kerowyn could not be spared to go in her place.
She's the Captain of the Skybolts—
Who are in Valdemar's employ. And she has perfectly adequate stand-ins.
She doesn't have Crown authority, in case she has to negotiate with someone besides the people she knows.
Well, there's always a writ.
She's too old.
That sounded like a stupid excuse even to Elspeth. Too old, sure. She can beat me nineteen falls out of twenty. Not even close, girl.
She doesn't know what we need.
Now that might be a good reason. The needs of a mercenary Captain and the needs of a country like Valdemar were vastly different. A Company might be able to use someone who didn't necessarily fit their profile. Valdemar was going to need someone very special.
For one thing, he's going to need a pretty good set of ethics. He'll have to be able to get along with people. He'll have to know when not to use his power. And most especially, he'll have to be someone who would never, ever, abuse either his power or position.
In other words, he would, for all intents and purposes, be as much like a Herald as possible.
And ideally, really, he would be Chosen as soon as Elspeth returned to Valdemar with him. That would be perfect.
But that would make him the first Herald-Mage since Vanyel....
She shook off the haze of speculation. What mattered was that Kero—if she went—was all too likely to bring back someone who was picked with a Captain's eye, rather than a Herald's. And that could be a major mistake.
She might well take the best of a dubious lot, without looking any further. She could get someone who had managed to conceal his motives. She could even get someone in alliance with Ancar, who had not only managed to conceal his motives, but his intentions.
Kero was smart, but she hadn't been a Herald for very long. She still took some folks aback by her attitudes. That was amusing inside Valdemar, but in a situation where Valdemar's well-being depended on her attitudes—a difference of opinion could be dangerous.
And there was always the possibility that she would pick someone who was not strong enough to pass the borders. Then what?
Would she simply conclude that this mage-hunting was a waste of time, and return?
Elspeth wouldn't—but she wasn't sure that the same would be true of Kero.
This may be one case where my stubborn streak is an advantage. I won't give in until I have someone. Kero might. And if she winds up having to go outside of Rethwellan—I think her reputation as a mercenary might be held against her. There might be mages with active morals who would feel that working with a mercenary, former or no, wasn't ethical,
no matter how worthy the cause.
Kero had worked all of her life to keep her emotions out of her negotiations. That lack of obvious passion might work against her in a case like this.
But Elspeth might be convincing enough....
I have all the reasons and counters I need, she thought, grimly kneading her clay. Now if only someone would be willing to listen to them.
Chapter Four
DARKWIND
"So, you have encountered another situation," Starblade k'Sheyna said coldly as he regarded his son without blinking. The ekele was too low on the tree trunk to sway, but the branches surrounding it moved in a gentle wind. Darkwind tried not to shift position in any way that might be interpreted as showing his discomfort. It was difficult to remain cool beneath that measuring, inscrutable gaze. Starblade's bondbird, a huge, hawk-sized crow, gazed at him with the same, impassive expression as its bondmate. It might have been a stone bird, or a shadow made into flesh and feathers.
What ever happened to the Father I knew? He's gone as thoroughly as Songwind.
"Let me see if I understand this correctly. You were on patrol along the border. Your bondbird located invaders. There were some seven intruders, two of whom may have been mages, the rest of whom may simply have been in their employ." Sun poured through the leaves, beyond the open windows, engulfing them in a dappled silence.
"Yes, Elder," Darkwind replied, just as impersonally. Perhaps if I give him a little taste of his own attitude…
Starblade inclined his head a little, in mocking acknowledgment of the imitation, and the tiny multicolored crystals braided into his waist-length, snow-white hair sang softly as he moved, echoing the wind chimes strung in each window. "But you are not sure."
"No, Elder." Darkwind knew very well what Starblade was up to and did not rise to the bait. He wants me to get angry, and I won't. That would be an acknowledgment of weakness and lack of control.
"Why not?" Starblade persisted, narrowing his ice-blue eyes to mere slits. "What was it that you did to try and determine what they were?"
As if he didn't know what would be the proper procedure. "I followed them for some distance, before I judged they had ventured too far into k'Sheyna territory. Nothing in their conversation gave me any clues as to their identity, Elder," Darkwind replied, holding his temper in check.
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