Darian dismounted the grandstand and managed not to stagger as he made his way to the little room he’d been given. It was deep within the Keep, not even a clothes closet by Tayledras standards, with a bare arrow-slit for a window. It was only large enough for a narrow cot, at the foot of which waited a tray with his breakfast on it - but right now, it suited his purposes perfectly. It had a bed, and nothing at the moment was needed more. Now he had no more duties until this evening, when he would be presented to all the guests, preside over the distribution of the prizes, and take the seat of honor at Breon’s right hand at the High Table.
Darian struggled against a heavy weight on his chest; for some reason, he couldn’t open his eyes or even move -
Finally he wrenched his head around, and his eyes flew open.
A huge, translucent cat lay laconically on him, covering him from his neck to his toes, hindquarters spilling over the cot and onto the floor. It looked into his eyes and breathed softly on his face; its breath held the same scent as the winter wind just before a storm.
It looked up suddenly, its shimmery golden eyes wary and alert. Darian found his gaze pulled to the tiny slit of a window.
A raven the size of the huge cat - and just as eerily translucent - peered in through the slit, first one eye, then the other, then tried to force its way into the room.
Impossibly, first the beak, then the head, then the body and wings flattened themselves and oozed into the room with him.
Both cat and raven stared at him, as if expecting him to answer a question of life-or-death importance -
But he had not the faintest notion what the question was.
He fought to cry out, but his throat was frozen -
And he sat bolt upright on the floor, with a shout.
He was alone. No bird, no cat; the heavy weight on his chest had been the cot; he had overset it on top of himself.
Hot with embarrassment, he was just grateful that no one had come in answer to his shouting, or the ruckus he must have made as he fought with his bedding. Still clumsy with fatigue, he managed to fumble the cot upright again, and lay back down, this time to sleep dreamlessly.
The next day he was safely back in k’Valdemar, and although he’d had some doubts about his performance at the feast, Anda assured him that he had done splendidly. “I caught the sarcasm,” Anda said, when he’d expressed his guilt over some of his remarks to one of Breon’s grouchy guests, “But trust me, Lord Talesar wouldn’t recognize irony if you loaded it into a catapult and flung it at him. You did well; people I talked with said they couldn’t believe how patient you were with the old goat.”
Today was a rest day for him; Anda and Shandi were getting their formal reception at Errold’s Grove. Keisha had gone along as moral support for Shandi, figuring that with both of them there, her mother wouldn’t be able to single either of them out for attention.
The first place he went when he arrived was the hot pools; the one thing he truly needed at this point was a long soak. As always, Meeren knew the moment he’d passed the Veil, and he had no sooner gotten settled into the water than the hertasi appeared with cold drinks and finger food.
“Well?” Meeren asked, perching on the rocks beside Darian. “How did it go?”
Darian gave the hertasi a complete description of the events of the past two days, knowing that Meeren would be providing all the details to the other, insatiably curious hertasi of the Vale, and to the kyree who served as their historian. Meeren sat rock-still, interrupting Darian only for questions about details, and at the end let out an enormous sigh of satisfaction.
“Excellent job,” he said, bestowing the hertasi vote of approval on him. “You gave them a good show, and you’ve made a fine impression on Lord Breon’s neighbors. I anticipate more trade agreements from this, especially now that they’ve seen the quality of our goods. We could use more trades for meat; those gryphons are eating the larder bare, and red meat fills them up better than herd birds.” Meeren rubbed his hands at the prospect; when trade agreements were conducted in the Vale, he usually served as Ayshen’s assistant - of late he had even conducted them himself under Ayshen’s supervision. Darian often wondered when he found the time to take care of the ekele and his other responsibilities.
Then again - if he couldn’t take care of twenty major things at once, Ayshen would never have picked him as an assistant.
“So tomorrow is the Ghost Cat ceremony,” Meeren went on. “I don’t foresee any problems there.”
“I wouldn’t think so,” Darian agreed. “No speeches, for one thing. I’ve been to their sweat-house gatherings before. Anything you say is supposed to be right out of your head, and spontaneous. Nobody minds if you aren’t very articulate.”
Meeren chuckled. “That should certainly suit you,” he teased. “You’re at your best when you’re inarticulate.”
“Oh, thank you,” Darian replied sarcastically. “Have you been taking lessons in sarcasm from Firesong? By the way, you might want to consider adding needlework to your list of potential trade items; most of Breon’s lady-guests were positively drooling over our surcoats.”
“I doubt any of them could afford what we would charge for work like that,” Meeren said dryly. “But I’ll keep it in mind. Who knows? There might be potential in selling small motifs for ladies to add their own work around.”
Having satisfied himself that he had pried everything worth hearing out of Darian for now, Meeren left him to his soak and dinner, pausing only to add, over his shoulder, “Oh, and by the way - good work on the hot spring.”
Once he was ready to come out, the building had started to fill up with folk coming in from hunting and labor. He left the pools to them, and sought his bed, hoping Keisha was having a good time at the village. He was still so tired from the vigil, his nightmare, and the feast that followed that he’d almost fallen asleep on his dyheli’s back, and that was no mean feat.
Breon’s guests, no longer hindered by the need to be alert and fresh the following day now that the tournament was over, had kept him awake far longer than he’d wanted to be. It was just a good thing he’d been able to opt out of the Errold’s Grove welcome; he really pitied poor Anda.
When he got back to his ekele and into the bedroom, he found that Meeren had left a mug of something on the bedside table with a note attached. In the spiky hertasi script, it read, “Drink this, and nothing will wake you up until I do.” He contemplated the mug for a moment. He wanted to be awake when Keisha came back from the village - but he really didn’t want any of those uneasy dreams he’d been having off and on. So I suppose the question is, how much do I want to greet Keisha, versus how much I want to avoid having a nightmare.
He yawned, closed his eyes for a moment, and caught himself starting to drop off. That decided him.
The question isn’t “want” but “need.” I need sleep. They’re going to have the sweat house packed and hot, and I can’t leave it without losing face. If I don’t get enough sleep, I won’t be able to take the heat, and I might even pass out.
There was danger in that possibility as well; if he passed out, it was possible that no one would notice in the darkness until he was in serious trouble.
And wouldn’t that be a bad omen where everyone was concerned! No, Keisha’s Healer enough to expect me to be sleeping, and she’d probably get mad at me if I wasn’t getting the rest I need.
He picked up the mug and drank the contents off as quickly as he could, resolutely ignoring the bitter taste that no amount of honey could conceal.
Before the potion could go to work on him, however, he wrote a note for Keisha on the other side of Meeren’s. The hertasi want me to sleep, so I’m going to be obedient. Otherwise I might wake up to find all my clothing tied in knots. Sorry I couldn’t wait up for you, ashke.
Only after he had propped the note up on the empty mug did he lie down, and it was a good thing he did, because when the potion hit, it hit without warning, and not even an earthquake would have
awakened him.
Seven
The Ghost Cat enclave was near enough to k’Valdemar that the inhabitants could send runners to the Vale for protection in case of disaster or attack. In the first few weeks, that had given Darian an odd feeling - that Northerners would be running to the Tayledras, and for protection! By now, though, he was so used to it that it only occurred to him on the occasions when Ghost Cat tribesmen dressed up in their ceremonial regalia, and once again, his sense of difference woke up. What the tribesmen wore for everyday use was similar to Tayledras scout gear but for the looser seams, and grew more so all the time as Ghost Cat adopted Hawkbrother materials and styles. The people he had first thought of as barbarians turned out to be very appreciative people, even going so far as to honor their benefactors by becoming like them whenever they could. When Darian woke up with Meeren shaking him, Keisha was already up and dressed, looking down at him with laughter in her eyes. She, too, had donned a special costume for the occasion, the female version of Shaman Celin’s garb. On her head, because she was a Healer and allied with the Tayledras, she wore a hood made to resemble an enormous hawk head. Darian thought he detected the delicate touch of Firesong in the placing of the feathers, and Ayshen’s talons in the carving of the beak, which had clearly been modeled after Kel’s. The headdress was attached to a feathered cloak, complete with pseudo-wings, and while the feathers of the head had been made from the molted feathers of k’Valdemar raptors, the cloak had been built out of the body-feathers of the gryphons. Keisha’s deerskin dress, fringed and beaded, had the badge of the Healers worked in beadwork on the breast just under her throat. Little bone carvings dangled amid the fringes, but unlike Darian’s, which were of predators and prey, Keisha’s were of flowers and leaves, with the occasional hawk. Her dress ended at the floor, but the deerskin had been slit into fringe from the floor to the knee, giving her great freedom of movement. She wore boots with leaves appliqued along the outer calves and lacings up the inner side. Once again, the hertasi had outdone themselves . . . but then again, Meeren and Loshi found Keisha and Darian very undemanding when it came to clothing.
I don’t think we’ve asked for anything new for . . . more than a year anyway. The outfits that Loshi had designed might well have been in production, or even finished, waiting for a special occasion to finally be presented.
Well, not the two surcoats - but the uniforms, the festival garb, and the Ghost Cat regalia could have been made. There was bound to be something of importance at Ghost Cat eventually.
“You know - ” Darian paused to yawn, and accepted a warm mug of something from Meeren. “You look amazing in that outfit.”
“I think I like it,” Keisha replied, turning to the right and left to look down at herself. “I didn’t think it would be comfortable, but it is.”
Darian downed the drink, which was mouthpuckeringly tart, and handed the mug back to Meeren before he got out of bed; his mind felt very fuzzy, and he hoped whatever it was that Meeren had given him was a dose to help clear the effects of the sleeping potion. “How did the village welcome go?”
“I think I am going to be in Shandi’s debt for at least a year,” Keisha replied, still looking as merry as she had before Darian broached the subject. “She’s gotten Mother to think of something besides me.”
She looked so tickled that Darian could only say, “Dare I ask how?”
“Shandi can answer that for herself, thank you,” Shandi replied, poking her head in at the bedroom door. “Mother made the mistake of asking about - no, actually making prying questions about the overnight arrangements Heralds have, meaning me and Anda of course. So I told her.”
Shandi’s lips twitched as she tried not to laugh. “Oh, but that wasn’t the best part,” Keisha put in. “She turned bright pink, and practically shouted, ‘You mean you sleep with him?’ “
“And I answered, quite matter-of-factly, ‘Why, no, do you think I should?’ It’s the first time I’ve ever seen her speechless.” Shandi couldn’t hold back the laughter any longer, and Keisha and Darian joined her.
Darian wiped his eyes, which were damp with tears of laughter. “Both of you had better go get something to eat before all the good stuff is gone. I’ll catch up with you. It won’t take me long to get dressed.”
Shandi vanished, and Keisha took the hint. Only then did Darian get out of bed. He’d gone to sleep last night not wearing much, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to get out of bed in front of Shandi. She didn’t have Tayledras sensibilities, after all.
Meeren had his entire outfit ready and waiting, and in next to no time he was trotting up the trail toward the building where most people in the Vale ate together; food was always kept ready and waiting there, but at the usual mealtimes hot, fresh dishes were brought from the kitchen in a steady stream. He actually did catch up with Keisha and her sister just before they reached the door; they helped themselves, then took a small table near one of the open windows. Gauzy curtains and vines framed them as they began their meal.
He ate lightly, but drank plenty of water; he hoped someone had warned Anda to do the same. “Where’s your senior?” he asked Shandi, as she did justice to a stack of flat-cakes.
“He’s already over at Ghost Cat,” she replied. “You should have seen his face when I told him what he was going to be doing today!” She rolled her eyes and grinned. “It’s a good thing he has patience and a sense of humor. I pointed out that he wasn’t the only one making this round of ceremonies, and that it’s all in his honor anyway. He just sighed, and said, ‘I wish they were a little less glad to see me, then.’ “
“How long have you known him?” Keisha asked, curiosity writ large all over her expression. “You mentioned him now and again, but I didn’t think he was anything more than one of your teachers.”
“All the way from the time I arrived - what I didn’t know is that there’s a kind of fast way through the Collegium, if you arrive older than about fifteen and are already educated by Collegium standards.” She paused to take a bite or two. “I didn’t have to go through most of the academic courses, because I had the basics already - and imagine my surprise to discover that all of those useless lessons in ‘manners’ we had to go through turned out to be identical to all the courtly protocol Heralds need for dealing with the nobility!”
It was Darian’s turn to drop his jaw. “No! Are you serious?”
“Absolutely.” Shandi nodded and grinned. “Even the book they use is the same one old Widow Clay uses. There were three examinations, which I passed - those old lessons saved me from a year of schooling in ‘Courtly Graces.’ To cut it all short, by doubling up a fair amount and not taking as many holidays as everyone else, I finished in two intensive years instead of four. In order to do that, I had to have a mentor assigned to me to help. It was no accident that I got Anda. As soon as the Queen and her Council realized what you lot were up to, they planned to send an ambassador and picked Anda for the job, and he mentioned that I was from the region. The Queen herself gave the nod about me, can you believe it? And so then I was being tutored by Anda.
He was learning as much from me as he could while I was stuffing my head full of Collegium classes, and he tutored me when I wasn’t quite getting things. He’s a lot like your Starfall, Darian. Very dry sense of humor, but it goes deep. He took to dragging me around with him socially, once he knew I wasn’t going to embarrass him, so I got to know the gryphons and some of the other ambassadors. We got on so well that they waited until I had my Whites and sent us both, so I could coach him on local politics and customs while I learn about how to be a diplomat.”
“Are you going to stay after your field-year?” Keisha asked.
I’ll bet she wants Shandi to stay, Darian thought. I think it would be a good thing if she could.
Shandi shook her head. “I don’t know; it may depend more on what happens here than anything else. If Anda thinks I need more experience elsewhere, then I’ll be sent off. If he decides he needs me to help out here,
then I’ll stay. Heralds don’t have much say in where they’re sent; we go where we’re needed.”
“But why send a Herald-Mage and not assign another Herald-Mage as his junior?” Keisha wanted to know.
Good question. Darian was as interested to know the answer to that as Keisha - maybe even more.
Shandi took her time in finishing her breakfast before answering. She pushed the plate away as a sign that she was done with it, and took a long drink of juice while Keisha waited with admirable patience.
“I can only tell you what I think is the reason,” she replied, putting down her glass. “I haven’t asked that question myself, partly because right now I’m supposed to be learning to figure out answers on my own. I think that the reason a Herald-Mage was sent in the first place is twofold. First, the Circle wants to know more about how to use that Heartstone they’ve got simmering under the Palace, and they hope Anda can pick up some answers from you lot. Second, magic comes as naturally to the Hawkbrothers as breathing, and someone who didn’t have Mage-Gift might make some wrong assumptions or give the wrong impression to them.”
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