Valdemar Books

by Lackey, Mercedes

  All three of the Adepts looked startled at that. "How could that be?" Starblade asked.

  "Well, she could operate on her own as a mage, or through her bearer," Elspeth told him. "Or she could direct her bearer, if the bearer was Mage-Gifted—that was how she worked with me, after I refused to let her take me over. But for fighting skills, you had to let her completely take control of your body." She grimaced. "I'm afraid I wouldn't let her, artifact, mage, or no. She didn't much care for my attitude."

  A hint of smile appeared around Starblade's mouth; Darkwind grinned openly. "Why am I not surprised by that?" the younger mage said, to no one in particular.

  Elspeth was glad that the darkness hid her flush; Darkwind seemed to have an uncanny ability to poke pins into her pride. Maybe it was just ill-luck, or bad timing.

  She licked her lips and kept her temper. "I think that she wasn't used to being thwarted," she said carefully. "Captain Kerowyn, who had her before I did, told me that I would have to be prepared to counter her, that she'd have me hating off to rescue whatever female nearby was in trouble, whether or not it was a good idea to poke my nose into her problems. That, though, was while she was still—" Elspeth thought a moment. "As I remember, she called it 'being asleep.' I gathered that the personality was dormant, unconscious for a long time. Need never told me why."

  "The blade may not have wanted you to know why," Tre'valen said smoothly. "Certainly, if you contradicted her will, she would not be so free with revealing secrets."

  "That's true," she acknowledged. "Anyway, she didn't start to wake up again until I was at Kata'shin'a'in. So I don't know as much as I'd like to about her. I think she is likely to take over Nyara; I think that after years of her father molding her to his whim and will, Nyara is inclined to be manipulated like that."

  Skif bristled, and started to say something. Darkwind's thoughtful statement forestalled him.

  "That would not be entirely ill for her," the Hawkbrother said quietly. "Especially since—it seems, at least to me—Need has no intention of doing anything detrimental. I think she seeks to make her bearer a stronger woman. It is just that she does not like to have her will thwarted."

  Elspeth smiled ruefully. "I can testify to that," she said.

  "It seems to me this might be a good thing for the Changechild," Starblade added thoughtfully. "Despite what has happened, I—I can feel pity for Nyara. She and I—" he faltered "—we have much, much in common. What Falconsbane did to her—it is very like what he did to me. It may be that this sword, if it has healing magics like those of Kethra and Iceshadow, can reverse some of the things that were done to the girl, even as Kethra is aiding me. I hope that is so. For her sake, and for ours."

  There didn't seem to be anything else to say; Elspeth sat there awkwardly for a moment, until Iceshadow cleared his throat conspicuously. "If there is naught else that we can tell you—" he said.

  Elspeth shook her head; so did Skif. "Not that I can think of," she replied. "Although I probably will come up with a dozen questions I should have asked just before I drop off to sleep tonight."

  Iceshadow chuckled; Starblade nodded knowingly. "If you can recall them when you wake, feel free to ask them," Iceshadow said, rising. "In the meantime—we hold celebration, to welcome you to the Clan and Vale. Your fellow k'Sheyna are anxious to see you; they are as curious about you as you are about them."

  In a way, that statement was something of a relief. It meant that the secretive Hawkbrothers were human enough to be curious. For all the time she had spent in Darkwind's presence, there was more that was a mystery about him and his people than there was that was familiar.

  "In that case," she replied, rising from her own seat, "let's not keep them waiting any longer."

  Elspeth followed Darkwind's direction, as Iceshadow escorted Starblade in another direction—presumably, to rest. "We have had little enough to celebrate, of late," Darkwind told the two Heralds and their Companions in a quiet voice, as he shepherded them down yet another path bordered by wild growth. "The stalemate with the Stone, the constant harassment on our borders, the separation—it has been difficult for everyone here. Add to that my father's attempt to foster dissension between the scouts and the mages, and there was more tension than many could bear."

  "That particular dustup was all because of Falconsbane, wasn't it?" Skif asked. "I hope that's been settled. I'd just as soon not find myself in the middle of a private quarrel."

  "You won't," Darkwind actually chuckled, as Elspeth hid a sigh of relief. "It's been settled. I can pledge you, everyone is ready for a good celebration. The fact that you are the cause of it—and are strange Outlanders into the bargain—will make you very popular. "

  That gave Elspeth a bit of a qualm; not because she was ill-at-ease at the idea of being the focus of so many strangers, but because of what Darkwind had called her.

  Outlander.

  She was a stranger here. There was nothing in this place that would remind her of home. If Darkwind seemed alien to her, his words were a reminder that she must be just as alien to him, and by extension, to his people. She wasn't used to being the stranger; it made her feel disconnected and unbalanced.

  And now, for the first time since she had arrived, she felt completely alone, completely without roots. And felt a wave of terrible homesickness wash over her.

  At that moment, she was within a breath of weeping. Her throat closed, and she couldn't speak. Her eyes clouded, and she stumbled—

  But when she looked up, she found herself on the edge of another clearing, but this one was full of light—people.

  Her training took over; there were people waiting to meet her out there. She was the Heir to the Throne, she was a Herald. Her homesickness could wait. She must put on a good face for them, impress them, so that they would see that Valdemar was worth aiding.

  She blinked once or twice, clearing her eyes. The Companions, Skif, and Darkwind got a pace or two ahead of her, giving her the chance to compose herself further. She took a deep breath, another, then followed them out into the radiant clearing.

  She had expected mage-lights, and mage-lights there were in plenty, but the chief illumination came from the moon. The soft, silvery light blurred and softened details; and as she looked around her, she suddenly realized that not all of the exotic occupants of the clearing were human.

  Hertasi, the shy lizardlike creatures that were roughly half the height of a very tall man, she had seen once or twice before, in colored beads and satins—and the gryphons of course.

  Their presence was a welcome surprise, and she waved at Treyvan when she knew he had seen her. She hadn't known that the gryphons were coming, and Treyvan's wide-beaked grin from across the clearing chased away the last of her homesickness. She couldn't help herself; the gryphon grin was so contagious it left no room for such trivialities. Hydona saw that Treyvan was staring in their direction and turned to see what he was looking at. When she saw them, she nodded; her smile matched her mate's and welcomed the newcomers with a warmth that surpassed species boundaries.

  The gryphons occupied one entire nook of the clearing all by themselves, but beside them were three graceful, horned creatures that Elspeth guessed must be dyheli. And scattered among the Hawkbrothers were a handful of two-legged creatures whose feathers were real, and growing from their heads, not braided into their hair.

  Tervardi! Elspeth's years of protocol schooling kept her from staring, even though she would dearly have loved to. Along with the gryphons and the hertasi, these creatures were the stuff of legend in Valdemar. Legend said the tervardi were shapechangers, that they sprouted wings and turned into real birds when they chose. One of them turned, and Elspeth caught sight of a still, serene face with a mouth rimmed by something that was either a small, flexible beak, or hard, stiff lips. The creature gestured before she turned back to her conversation-group, and Elspeth saw the stunted, colorful feathers, the last vestige of her wings, covering her arm.

  As she moved hesitantl
y into the clearing, she realized that the previous occupants were—not ignoring her, but permitting her politely to fit into their group. That was certainly more comfortable than being mobbed and was exactly what a similar gathering of Heralds would have done.

  She looked around; there were birds everywhere, some sleeping on perches, some awake and perched on shoulders or poles. The Companions both had joined a small group of mixed humans and nonhumans, along with Tre'valen; somehow, Darkwind and Skif had vanished, she had no idea how, but it left her on her own. With all those people carefully, politely, not looking at her, she felt more conspicuous than she would if they had been staring at her.

  She hurried across the rest of the grassy space between her and the gryphons. Odd that of all of that gathering, they were the strangest physically, and the most familiar in every other way....

  "Sssso!" Treyvan greeted her, extending a taloned foreclaw in a token of welcome. "You are now Tayledrasss, Clansssssib! Do you feel any different?"

  "Well, yes and no," she replied. "No—I mean, I'm still a Herald, and I'm still everything I was before."

  "But yesss?" Hydona spoke gently. "I think perhapsss it isss homesssicknesss?"

  She blinked, surprised, and in an odd way, grateful. "How did you guess?"

  The female gryphon nodded at the rest of the gathering. "We arrre the only two of our kind herrre asss well, except for the little onesss. We know how ssstrange you musst feel."

  She flushed, embarrassed that she could have missed something so very obvious. "Of course. It's just that you and Darkwind are such friends, it never occurred to me—"

  Treyvan laughed. "If it neverrr occurred to you, then I would sssay that iss a compliment on how well we have come to fit in herrre!" he exclaimed. "And trrruly, the humansss of the Valesss arrre not that unlike the humansss of our own landsss."

  "Ah," she replied vaguely, not knowing what else to say. "Oh, where are the little ones?"

  "Therrre." Hydona indicated another corner of the clearing with an outstretched talon; there, in the shadows, the two young gryphlets were sprawled on the grass, listening sleepily to what appeared to be—

  A very large wolf?

  —except that it wasn't speaking, so how could they be listening?

  "That isss a kyree; they arrre not often in thisss Vale," Hydona said, as if she had heard Elspeth's unspoken questions. "It isss a neuter. It hasss taken a liking to the little onesss and hass been kind enough to tell them taless sssince we arrived. I believe it iss called—" She turned to her mate for help.

  "Torrl," Treyvan supplied promptly. "It wass a great friend of Dawnfire, and iss sstill a great friend of Darrrkwind. Kyree neuterss are often verry fond of little oness of any speciessss; it iss a good thing the childrren arrre both sstrong Mindspeakersss."

  And that, of course, was how the kyree was "telling tales" to the young gryphlets; directly mind-to-mind, as the kyree who helped Vanyel at the last had spoken to Stefen. Elspeth's mouth had gone very dry; this was like being inside of a tale herself, the experience being made even more dreamlike under the delicate illumination of mage-lights and moonlight.

  She managed not to jump, as something tugged at the hem of her tunic. She looked down quickly; it was one of the hertasi, carrying a tray laden with fruits and vegetables that had been carved into artful representations of flowers. It offered the tray to her, and she took one; she hadn't the faintest notion of what she'd taken, but she didn't want to offend the little creature by refusing.

  It slipped into the crowd, and she bit cautiously into her "prize." Crisp and cool, it had a faint peppery taste, and a crunchy texture; encouraged by her success, when the next hertasi came by, this one with a tray of drinks, she took a glass with more enthusiasm.

  This proved to be a light wine; she sipped it and continued to chat with the gryphons, deliberately keeping the subject light, asking innocuous questions about the kyree and the other nonhumans, until other Tayledras drifted up to join the conversation. Gradually she began to relax, and to enjoy herself.

  When a touch on her elbow made her turn, she found that Darkwind had found his way back to her. He handed her a slice of something breadlike, with something like a tiny, decorative flower arrangement atop it, and slid into the group beside her.

  "Your friend Skif and my brother seem to have discovered that they have much in common," he said by way of joining the conversation, "And they have gone off to discuss weaponry. Knives, I think."

  She shook her head. "That figures. Offer to talk about knives, and you'll have Skif's undivided attention for as long as you like. Do I eat this, or wear it?"

  He chuckled. "You eat it. I think you will like it; it is smoked fish."

  She nibbled the edge of it, tentatively. The smoked fish she was used to generally had the consistency and texture of a slab of wood, and tasted like a block of salt dipped in fish oil. She was pleasantly amazed at the indescribable blend of delicate flavors. As Darkwind chuckled again at her expression, she devoured it to the last shred.

  "I have been asked," he continued, both to her and to the gryphons, "to request the presence of my good friends Treyvan and Hydona at the waterfall, and my wingsib Elspeth at a gathering of the scouts."

  "Ssso?" Treyvan replied. "What isss at the waterrfall? And whom?"

  "Kethra, Iceshadow, and my father, among others," Darkwind told him. "And, I am told, a very large selection of fresh fish and uncooked meat and fowl. Some of our more sensitive guests, like the dyheli and tervardi, might be distressed by refreshments of that nature, so we took them out of the way."

  "Wissse," Hydona acknowledged. "But the little onessss—"

  "Toni assures me that they are not too far from falling asleep," Darkwind answered, "And when they do drift off, the hertasi have promised to keep an eye on them."

  "I am famisshed," Treyvan said, with a look of entreaty at his mate.

  Across the clearing, Elspeth noticed the kyree raising its head from its paws, and looking directly at them.

  :Every parent deserves some time without the young,: she heard, just as clearly as if the kyree was her own Companion. :They are too tired to get into mischief that I cannot distract, and anything that wishes to harm them will have to come at them through not only me, but all the defenses of the Vale. And, I suspect, the large white hooved ones.:

  Hydona gave in; Elspeth readily understood her reluctance to have the gryphlets out of her sight, considering all that had happened to them, but the kyree was right. If the little ones weren't safe here, none of them were. They rose to their feet, folded their wings tightly against their sides to avoid knocking anything or anyone over, and took their leave.

  Darkwind led the way up and down yet another path; this one ended beneath one of the enormous trees she had only glimpsed through curtains of bushes and vines. There were quite a few Tayledras gathered beneath it, but for the first few moments, all her attention was taken up by the tree itself.

  Simply put, it was so large that an entire house could have been built within the circumference of its trunk. A curving staircase had been built around it, leading up to a kind of balcony three stories above the clearing. Soft lights hung from the bottom of the balcony, preventing her from seeing anything above that level, but she had the feeling that the staircase continued upward. When she shaded her eyes and peered upward, she caught sight of other, fainter lights near the trunk, half-obscured by the enormous branches. The Chronicles had once referred to the Hawkbrothers as the "tree-dwelling Tayledras," and she knew that Darkwind lived in a kind of elaborate platformed treehouse. So it looked as if that was the norm for the Hawkbrothers, rather than a concession to danger.

  At least now she knew why they made a point of cultivating those enormous trees. Such marvels could support not one, but several dwellings.

  When she turned her attention back to the gathering, she discovered that most of the Tayledras here were dressed very like Darkwind; in relatively "plain" clothing, and with hair either cut or boun
d up to be no longer than just below the shoulders, dyed in patterns of mottled brown and gold. They looked more like the Shin'a'in than the mages did, and it wasn't just that their hair wasn't white....

  It's because they're scouts, fighters, she realized, after a moment. Like Darkwind, they couldn't wear clothing that interfered in any way with fighting movements, nor could they afford to indulge themselves with elaborate hairstyles. Like Darkwind, they had a certain economy of movement; nothing dramatic, nothing theatrical—nothing done just for the effect. There were strong, well-trained muscles under those silken tunics, hard bodies that saw furlongs of patrolling every day.

  She felt herself relaxing further in their presence, even before Darkwind began introducing them to her. These were people who, although they were familiar with magic, had very little to do with it; they were somehow more down-to-earth than the mages in their sculptural robes. And they were more like Heralds than anyone she had met yet.

  She took careful note of the names as they were introduced to her, the habit of someone born into politics. Winterlight and Stormcloud, Brightmoon and Daystar, Earthsong, Thundersnow and Firedance—she matched names with faces, with smiles shy or bold, with personality quirks. Darkwind had explained the Tayledras habit of taking use-names, names that described something of what the person was like. She had to admit that it wasn't a bad system; it was much easier to match a name with a face when Winterlight (one of the few scouts to grow long hair) had a thick mane that, when he was persuaded to unbraid and unbind it, looked like moonlight pouring down on snow—when Daystar was as sunny of disposition as the twins—and when Firedance was always in motion, never quite still, mercurial in temper and bright with wit. She wondered if she ought to take a use-name as well, though it shouldn't be hard for them to remember Elspeth, Skif, Gwena, and Cymry. Four names were easier to remember than an entire Clan-full.

  "These are the k'Sheyna scouts," Darkwind said, when he'd finished the introductions, confirming her guess that there wasn't a mage among them. "Not all of them, of course; we still have a full patrol out tonight. But enough for now, I think; any more of us, and you would be overwhelmed with names and faces."