Darian was perfectly capable of reading between the lines; but he also thought about Lilly, how she had used her crude skills to keep the barbarians occupied with her and away from the village girls - and he made a mental note to tell Silverfox about her at some point.
“As for why Firesong choked - ” Now Silverfox grinned. “Starfall initially had a - how shall I put this? - a somewhat narrow and distorted view of my profession, and said some misguided things about my relationship with Firesong.”
“Starfall nearly had a litter of kittens,” Nightwind said rudely. “And what he said doesn’t bear repeating. Needless to say, several of your k’Leshya compatriots had some choice words with him when we found out.”
“Oh - oh!” Now Darian understood Firesong’s reaction - hearing his father go from disapproval to calmly mentioning a room for Silverfox’s clients -
I think I’d have choked, too.
Snowfire snickered. There was no other word for the sound he made. “Don’t misunderstand me,” he said, “I admire Starfall immensely, but he has been known to get pig-headed about some things.”
“So you will recognize the same trait in the son,” Silverfox said smoothly. “I am glad, however, that there are no misunderstandings now; we have a full plate, which will be fuller yet if those threatened barbarians should appear.”
They all nodded, but it was Darian who broke the silence that followed that statement. “I’ve put it off long enough, I guess,” he said, mostly to Snowfire and Nightwind. “I’d better take care of one last thing before I discover I haven’t got the time for it.”
“What’s that?” Snowfire asked.
Darian made a face of distaste. “Tomorrow I’d better put in an official appearance in Errold’s Grove.”
Nine
Keisha kept herself busy, trying not to miss Shandi too much. Midsummer Faire came and went (Keisha stayed away, except for a single trip around the traders’ booths), with no further signs from the mysterious Hawkbrothers and the absent Dorian Firkin except for the frequent overhead flights of gryphons, sometimes bearing burdens, sometimes not. Lord Breon’s son came to the Faire representing his father, “selected” the wedding-shawl that had been especially made for him (with no indication that he realized his selection had been carefully steered). Valan of Kelmskeep assured everyone that, yes, the Hawkbrothers were in the process of setting up their settlement, and yes, Darian Firkin was with them. As to when he would reintroduce himself to Errold’s Grove, that, Val didn’t know. He had seen them, met with them on several occasions, even been to their settlement, so he could at least testify to that much.
Keisha didn’t much blame Darian for not showing up immediately and putting himself at the disposal of the village. If she were in his position, she’d give them a great deal of time to settle themselves down before she came to visit. The village of Errold’s Grove was entirely too keyed up about the return of their peregrinating son for her liking.
Fortunately, the excitement of Midsummer Faire, with Val in attendance, twice the usual number of Hawkbrother-traders, and several entirely new traders up out of the south, gave the villagers plenty to spend their excitement (and money) on.
Keisha wouldn’t have stayed so much away from the Faire, but after the first few candlemarks, she discovered that she couldn’t tolerate the press of people. She retreated to her workshop, discovered during the excitement of the games and contests that even that wasn’t far enough, and removed herself to the woods until the contests were over. Increasingly, Keisha suffered from headache, upset stomach, general nervousness when she was around two or more people - and she had no idea how to make it stop. Her best shelters were her workshop and the forest, and of the two, she preferred the forest, for in her workshop she was easy to find, and during the Faire people seemed to think it was their duty to coax her to attend.
She kept away from her family, too, as much as possible. In fact, even the outwardly peaceable Fellowship folk were something of a trial to be around, for beneath their placid exteriors lurked a stew of complicated emotions. Evidently there were some members of the group for whom a placid life and an absence of outward conflict was more of a trial than arguments would have been! Fortunately, she could get her meals without having to stay at the table.
She salved her conscience by providing her family with food instead of her physical help - greens and herbs from her garden, other foodstuffs from the bounty given her by her patients. They seemed to fear that now that she was on her own, she was in serious danger of starving to death. Every day saw a rough, temporary container plaited of green reeds or made of giant leaves stitched together left on her doorstep, containing something to eat - a loaf of fresh bread, a round pat of fresh-churned butter, fresh-picked vegetables, a meat or berry pie, a half-dozen eggs - if it was edible, it generally ended up in a basket on her doorstep. Sooner or later the bounty would probably dry up, but while it continued, sharing it with her family soothed the pangs of conscience for “deserting” them.
It was just that at the moment, it was harder than ever for her to be around them. Two of her brothers were trying to court the same girl, which led to a great deal of masculine head-butting, snorting, and prancing around the dinner table. The youngest two were in the stage of adolescent revolt, which meant a great deal of conflict with her father. Her Mum was worried because they’d gotten only two letters from Shandi, and both were very brief. Keisha wasn’t at all surprised, considering the daily round of chores and classes Shandi described! Shandi wasn’t spoiled, but she’d never had to work this hard in her life! There seemed to be a great deal of book-learning, too, which was not Shandi’s strongest suit.
Be fair, Keisha. She’s not a dunce either. She would just rather do handiwork than bookwork.
At least they’d done the wisest thing at that Collegium, so far as Shandi’s chore-assignments went, and put her to work on sewing and mending for her share of the daily work. By now they had probably discovered that with Shandi’s nimble fingers on the job, they didn’t need to assign anyone else the sewing tasks!
Mum worried, though, and that made Keisha’s stomach ache, which made it impossible for her to eat, which made Mum worry more, and - well, Keisha began to look for reasons to be away from the dinner table.
It certainly is convenient how many little accidents occur around dinnertime.
In fact, it was getting so she could find those little accidents before anyone came to fetch her - granted, though, she was looking for them. But when it came to baby’s colic or mother’s burned hand, brother’s tumble from a tree, father’s work-related blisters or sister’s bad sunburn, Keisha had never been so attentive to the needs of the village. Small wonder she was getting little gifts left on the doorstep.
In the afterglow of mingled pleasure and exhaustion that followed the Faire, the only topics of discussion among the villagers were Val’s betrothed, the pledging of two of the village couples, and the resounding success of trading. For the moment, they had forgotten to fret about Darian and the Hawkbrothers, the weather, the harvest, or the level of the river. All of these were safe enough topics not to cause argument, and laden with contentment rather than worry; Keisha woke on the third morning after Midsummer, looking forward to a few more days without headaches.
She was out in her garden when the unusual sound of hoofbeats on the path behind her made her look up - to find herself staring up at a strange, deerlike animal with long, curved horns and a Hawkbrother on its back. She gaped at him stupidly, her mind gone blank.
“Heyla!” the rider said, cheerfully, in very good Valdemaran. “I am looking for someone of authority in Errold’s Grove to deliver a message to. Some children sent me here.”
That, at least, brought her out of her daze. She stood up, wiping her hands on her garden-smock. “The Mayor is probably checking the irrigation mill,” she said, thinking out loud. “I know the priest is visiting a sick farmer. Will I do? I’m sort of the Healer.”
“Assuredly,
” the Hawkbrother replied. “It’s simple enough. We of k’Valdemar Vale are finally settled in, and I was told to say that the Elders of the Vale and Mage Darian will come tomorrow to present themselves as new neighbors to you. They told me to tell you that there is no need to make a great event of this, or special preparations. We waited until after the Faire so as not to disrupt your celebration.”
She stared at him for a moment, before stammering a reply. “Ah - that will be fine, wonderful!” she managed.
“I’ll go find the Mayor and let him know right now! Who shall I say gave the message?”
The rider had already given some subtle signal to his mount; it was ten paces back up the path before she got out the last word of her reply. The rider called back over his shoulder.
“I am Wintersky k’Vala - and thank you for taking the message for me!” His beast leaped into a gallop, and he vanished into the forest.
She didn’t wait any longer herself; the Mayor needed to hear this right away. She tore off her smock and left it in the middle of the garden, pelting down the path toward the river as fast as her feet could carry her.
She intercepted the Mayor and the blacksmith on the path leading to the river. They were their way back from their weekly inspection of the mill that kept the vegetable fields nearest the village irrigated - the ones on the other side of the river, being at a lower level, could be watered naturally. She waved her arm wildly at him as soon as she saw him and increased her speed; he stopped immediately, a look of worry jumping into his eyes.
She might have been running, but not long enough to be the least winded. She didn’t wait for him to ask what was wrong. “A message came from the Hawkbrothers, sir!” she called, as she came to a halt on the path in front of him. “The new ones, the ones with Darian Firkin! They’re coming here tomorrow to meet you!”
The worry changed immediately to pleasure. “Finally!” he exclaimed. Then the worry returned. “But tomorrow? How can we make proper preparations with such short notice?”
“The Hawkbrother - he said he was Wintersky k’Vala - said he was told to tell you that this isn’t a formal meeting, that you aren’t to make a big fuss over it - ” But she saw she might just as well have been talking to a wall and stopped trying. The Mayor was off in a tangle of plans and preparations, and probably wouldn’t believe that the Hawkbrother had said any such thing. In fact, he broke into a trot, heading straight for the village square, probably with the intention of gathering every person of importance in Errold’s Grove to see what they could put together for a “proper” greeting committee.
The blacksmith was right behind him, too, but heading for his home. The news was about to spread through the village by the fastest means possible. He was going to tell his wife, who would promptly start the news going in all directions. Wives were better than Heralds and Companions at getting any news of any kind spread.
Which meant that Keisha could go back to her garden with a good conscience.
I only hope it‘ll continue to stay my garden, she reflected, worried. Darian can’t possibly want the cottage back. No, surely not. He’s living with the Hawkbrothers.
Everyone in the village was awake before dawn. From the great oven of the village baker (who was also the miller) came the scent, not only of bread, but of roasting meat. From dozens of hearths rose equally appetizing smells. From the other huge oven at the threshing barn came the aroma of cake and pie. Errold’s Grove was going to give a feast for Darian and his Hawkbrothers whether they wanted one or not.
As soon as the first dawn light pierced the morning sky, groups of children streamed past Keisha’s cottage, heading for the forest, their voices shrill with excitement. They came back within a candlemark, laden with boughs of greenery and bunches of long, trailing vines. Keisha followed them and joined the older children in decorating the square with the greenery, while all the tables and benches that had just been taken back into houses after the Faire were brought back out again and set up in the square itself.
By midmorning, most of the preparations were complete; food that didn’t need to be warm had been brought to the Temple for later serving, the bowers and decorations were up, banners and flags flew from windows looking out on the square, and a small boy, giddy with pride at his important assignment, was up in the Temple tower, watching for the first sign of the Hawkbrothers.
Keisha’s only symptom so far was a knotted stomach and a faint headache; those she could bear easily enough, so she remained with the rest of the village, waiting in the square. After two false alarms, at midmorning the shout went up from the tower.
“They’re coming!” the boy shrilled. “Oh, there’s a lot of them! And they’re riding on deer!”
Keisha’s stomach lurched, and she faded back into a doorway, while the Mayor gathered up his cronies and hustled them up onto a low platform left over from the Faire at the end nearest the Temple. Moments later, the visitors rode into the square.
A spontaneous cheer burst out, making their mounts start. The visitors seemed pretty startled, too, at least to Keisha’s eyes, but they kept their composure in spite of all the noise. She saw two of the ones in the lead - a thin, but good-looking young man about her own age and a dignified, craggily handsome older man with long, silver-white hair - put their heads together for a quick consultation. The young man gestured discreetly at the platform, the older man nodded, and they led the entire group toward the waiting Mayor.
The Mayor stood nervously clasping his hands as they approached him and his group. The cheering died down when the visitors dismounted and made the last few steps afoot.
The Mayor had probably memorized a grand speech, but his efforts were entirely set at naught, for the first words out of his mouth were “By Haven, Darian! Is that really you? You’re - bigger!”
The younger man laughed and held out his hand, clasping the Mayor’s firmly. “Boys have a habit of growing up, Lutter,” he replied, his warm, deep voice very amused. He shook the Mayor’s hand. “What are you, Mayor now? Good for you; I’m not surprised. Congratulations!”
Mayor Lutter flushed, and plainly made the decision to discard his planned speech, since the atmosphere of great dignity and importance he had been trying to establish was spoiled anyway. “Good to have you here again. Now, who are these fine folks?”
Darian introduced them, and Keisha took careful note of their names. The older man was Starfall k’Vala, an Adept, clearly one of the men in charge, and dressed in a tunic and breeches of exotic color and cut. A fellow who was dressed like the Hawkbrothers she was used to seeing was identified as Snowfire k’Vala, and a lady with night-black hair and sharp blue eyes as his mate, Nightwind k’Leshya. She was given the title of trondi’irn, whatever that was. But the next two to be introduced had every eye in the village fairly popping from its socket, Keisha’s included.
“This is Healing Adept Firesong k’Treva, and the kestra’chern Silverfox k’Leshya,” Darian said proudly, gesturing to the pair. Silverfox would have startled almost anyone in Errold’s Grove with his appearance. His black, silver-streaked hair was so long it touched the back of his knees, and he wore it unbound, flowing as loose as a maiden’s. His elaborately brocaded, sleeveless vest of green and teal could only be silk, as were the emerald shirt with its wide sleeves, and the matching, tight-fitting breeches. Keisha yearned to examine the silk brocade more closely, and his leather knee-boots fit so smoothly they must have been tailored to his legs alone.
But Silverfox paled in comparison with Firesong . . .
Firesong’s silver hair was just as long as Silverfox’s, but he sported a braid on either side of his face, with strands of crystal beads, silver chains, and tiny bells braided into them. His shirt of emerald green was embroidered all over in a pattern of blue, green, and silver feathers. Its pendulous sleeves reached down to his knees, and it was held in close to his body with a silver belt in the form of two birds, whose tails flowed together at the back and whose beaks hooked together in the fron
t. He wore loose-fitting silk breeches tucked into green boots with silver ornaments down each side. But the crowning touch, the object that set him apart from everyone else, was the mask that he wore, completely covering his face.
It seemed to be of metal, and yet it was far too flexible to be of that substance. Patterned in glittering silver, with touches of shining emerald and sparkling sapphire, its ornamentation echoed the feather-embroidery of his tunic, giving him the look of a fantastic bird.
It was the mask that did it, that told her that this was the Firesong, the famous Adept who trained Princess Elspeth, who helped save Valdemar in the Great War, who then helped save it again from the mage-storms. . . .
“I am quite pleased to visit this place,” Firesong was saying, pretending to ignore the fact that he was the center of everyone’s gaze. “I understand that the wizard who helped to save your village was someone I had the honor of meeting a very long time ago. Justyn, wasn’t it?”
Keisha wondered why that casual remark would make Mayor Lutter pale, but the man regained his composure after a moment of coughing. “Ah, yes, Wizard Justyn - he was young Darian’s first Master - that’s his statue, there, facing the bridge, you know - seemed the most appropriate place - least we could do to honor his memory - ”
Mayor Lutter pointed, and naturally everyone turned to look, in spite of the fact that most people here were as familiar with the statue as they were with the members of their families. Of course, from this angle, all anyone saw was the back of the statue, but at least it was evident that the statue was a pretty good one. It should be, considering it had been done by the same artist who made all the religious statues hereabouts, and not by the fellow that Mayor Lutter originally wanted to hire, a dauber who usually carved and painted inn signs. Lutter had been overruled by nearly everyone. Keisha saw Darian nod to himself, with a pleased little smile.
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