Owlknight v(dt-3

by Mercedes Lackey

  Perhaps - it becomes available when the person masters something - keyed to that -

  No one had ever tried anything like this before, not that she knew of. But just because no one has ever done it before, that doesn’t mean it can’t be done. . . .

  Once again, though, she knew only that she didn’t know enough. She would have to ask the dyheli Neta as she had thought last night, at the very least. Perhaps the Shaman might know something out of his own traditions that would help.

  It would be so nice just to go back to sleep and forget this for a little longer, she thought wistfully. It had been so long since she’d had the luxury of sleeping until she felt completely rested -

  But now that she was awake, her restless mind wouldn’t let her go back to sleep again. Too much to do. She shoved the thought of drowsing away resolutely, and pushed the blankets aside. Like the log-houses of Ghost Cat, the loghouse of the Chief of Snow Fox had little cubicles around the walls used for storage and sleeping in a modicum of privacy. Presumably because Snow Fox was a very prosperous tribe, the barrier between the cubicle and the rest of the house was not a simple curtain, but was one of the beautiful piecework felt blankets.

  It cut off the light from the central hearth fire much better than a cloth curtain would have; it was as dark as a cave in their cozy nest.

  She sat up and swung her legs over the edge of the platform bed she shared with Darian, and he stirred. “Getting up?” he asked; he didn’t sound sleepy, and she wondered if he had been awake and thinking as long as she had.

  “I’ve got so much I need to do - ” she began “Anything I can help with?” He sat up, too. “I knew you were really concentrating on something, and I wondered what about. You seemed tense.”

  “I don’t - ” she began, then stopped as a thought interrupted her. Hadn’t she been thinking that the power she used in Healing was like magic? And hadn’t he added his power to hers in the past? Maybe he had an answer, or part of the answer she was looking for. Quickly, she explained what she had been thinking of doing. “Do you know of a way to keep that knowledge locked up until the person is ready for it?” she asked.

  He pondered her question, giving it full attention; she couldn’t see his face clearly, but she sensed he was concentrating, trying to remember something. “I think it can be done,” he said finally. “You’d have to be awfully good, though. I - don’t think I could do something like that. Maybe an Adept could.”

  She grimaced; disappointed, but not surprised. “I’ll see if their Shaman knows of something that would work. You never know.”

  “I might as well get up, too,” he said, levering himself up out of bed beside her, his long hair strung across his face in tangles. “There’s a lot to get done. I think that we’d better stay here until the sick are healed, so we can have Snow Fox’s full support when it’s time to move on. It can only help.” He sounded as wistful as she was, though. “Sometimes I wonder if the only time we’ll ever get to be lazy is if we get sick ourselves.”

  “Don’t even think that,” she chided, and reached for her clothing, handing him his. “We can’t afford to be sick.”

  They both got dressed and Keisha pushed aside the partition blanket, stepping out into the central room. The Shaman’s wife hurried to greet them, handing them bowls of porridge made with crushed nuts and sweetened with honey. It was very good, and a nice change from the breakfasts of cold meat they’d been having.

  They were the first ones awake from their group, although some stirring and muttering indicated that the rest weren’t too far behind them in getting up. Keisha finished her breakfast quickly and got her rain cloak, heading out to find the Shaman and begin the morning’s treatments.

  The Shaman was waiting for her at the house holding all the sick, and before she and his apprentice began work, he made a point of offering her a second breakfast, this time of a kind of bread or cake made of the same crushed nut mixture. She was not at all averse to having more to eat, knowing that she would need all the energy she could get.

  As they ate, the Shaman introduced his apprentice as Lother. Henkeir’s wife made all the meals for the sick isolated here in this house, and had sent extra for Keisha, her husband, and his pupil.

  “Your wife is extremely accommodating,” Keisha said dryly, thinking how much work a woman of the tribes did just to keep her own family fed, clothed, and cared for - never mind adding on the care of a dozen sick people.

  “My wife tells me just how accommodating she is on a regular basis,” he replied, just as dryly. “But I agree with her, even when she is not nearby to hear it.”

  Keisha covered her mouth with one hand, stifling her giggles; young Lother laughed outrignt, and Henkeir grinned behind his beard.

  “I think that this may be the case with all worthy spouses,” Henkeir told them. “Perhaps they fear that if they are too silent, we will come to take them for granted.” He put aside his cup of hot herb drink and stood up. “Are you ready for the morning’s work?”

  “More than ready,” she told him, and the three of them approached the first patient of the day together.

  After rest - and a noon meal that she ate so fast she didn’t even taste it - Keisha went out in search of the dyheli. She was altogether gratified to learn from the Shaman that the dyheli and Karles had been housed in the communal storage house, rather than forced to spend the rainy night and day out in the weather.

  The children, who shed the water like so many ducklings and evidently considered this to be balmy weather, were making a great game of going out and tearing up armloads of grass to feed to the four-legged guests. She spotted a group of them running into the storage house, shrieking with laughter, so laden with long, wet bundles of grass that they looked like so many little walking haystacks. She followed them, and soon discovered why the sport of feeding the dyheli was so popular.

  The dyheli were earning their dinner by taking turns telling stories.

  Of course, when a dyheli “told” a story, it appeared in the “listener’s” head, complete with pictures, sounds, and smells. The children were absolutely enraptured. This was better entertainment than anything they’d ever encountered before.

  It was not yet Neta’s turn to tell a story, so Keisha was able to take her aside and quiz her on the possibility of transferring knowledge rather than language.

  Neta considered the question, then diffidently asked Keisha for free access to her mind. Keisha sat down on a pile of furs and obliged - sitting, in case this turned out to cause the kind of reaction that a language transfer did, and she passed out cold.

  She didn’t drop over, although Neta’s explorations left her with the oddest feeling, as if her mind was a box whose contents were being meticulously turned over and examined, one bit at a time. It felt strangely like the mountain sickness, crossed with being intoxicated on very bad wine, and then being flattened thoroughly with a rolling pin but not minding it at .all.

  :I think the transfer can be done,: Neta finally said, when she’d withdrawn her mind from Keisha’s. :The problem would be that Healing involves development and exercise of mental powers - rather like training muscles for strength. If a young one tried to use the knowledge before he had the strength, it could harm him. Worse than another Healer could fix.:

  Keisha ground her teeth in frustration. Not that she hadn’t already been afraid that would be the case, but it was disappointing in the extreme.

  :Let me think of this, and consult with Karles,: Neta added, responding to her frustration with a sympathy that surprised her. :There may be something that we can do.: The dyheli doe looked across the room at the Companion, who responded by joining them immediately.

  Karles regarded Keisha with an unreadable deep-blue gaze, then turned his attention toward Neta. While the children in the corner giggled and exclaimed over the story one of the young bucks was “telling” them, Keisha watched the silent colloquy going on between the Companion and the doe, and wondered what they were talking about.
Finally Neta turned back toward Keisha. :If we think of knowledge as something to be held, then what you need is a container from which a little can be taken at a time, yes?:

  “More like a smart container that knows how much to dole out, but yes, something like that,” she replied, intrigued by the analogy.

  :Karles suggests that we ask the Snow Fox to be that container.:

  Shaman Henkeir was at first surprised speechless, then briefly appalled - then intrigued by Keisha and Neta’s suggestion. “It has . . . merit,” he said cautiously. “If this could be done, it would mean that we need never fear the loss of a Wisewoman, for the Snow Fox would always hold this wisdom in its keeping. The old stories hold that the People give knowledge to the gods. That is why we do not become like stagnant water, for we can create and give that knowledge to benefit the totem. The Snow Fox might be pleased by this, yes.”

  Keisha did not ask why the Snow Fox didn’t already have that knowledge to dispense. The tribal totems didn’t seem to be so much “gods” as benevolent overseers and benefactors. They certainly weren’t all-seeing and all-knowing, or they would have been able to protect their own tribes from the depredations of others. It was said, even in Valdemar, that gods received power and support from their followers, and they in turn helped those followers prosper. She wondered if there was a kind of spiritual warfare going on among the totemic “animals,” with the stronger paving the way for the conquest of the weaker as the totemic spirits defeated each other.

  It was actually a rather frightening thought.

  If that were the case, it was no wonder that the tribes spent so much time in strengthening their totems with prayer and worship!

  “How would we find out if the Snow Fox was willing to be the vessel for this knowledge?” she asked aloud, and the Shaman’s eyes widened as he looked over her shoulder.

  She felt a cool breath on the back of her neck, and turned to find herself staring into a pair of amused, milky-blue catlike eyes. She flinched backward, which elicited a look of frank amusement from the manifestation.

  The eyes were set in a head with a sharply pointed muzzle and a pair of blunt, pointed ears. The head was attached to a body the size of a small pony, but it was a resemblance in scale only. The furred body was a misty white, and translucent - just as the shadowy spirit of the Ghost Cat had been. Tiny sparkles of white light, like twinkling stars, fell away from the apparition in all directions, as slow as falling dust motes in sunlight.

  Time seemed to slow for Keisha, and there was only one thing that she could think. I - guess we have our answer!

  Sixteen

  Another day, another deity.

  On the whole, even after hearing from Keisha about the bizarre manifestation of the Snow Fox itself and its subsequent absorption of her Healing knowledge, Darian regretted leaving this latest tribe - but there was no choice. Something strong and true and part of him drove him on; if he gave up now, how could he remain himself?

  They left Snow Fox better provisioned than they had arrived. Dried meat, nut-meal, and dried berries made their saddlebags bulge, and in the packs of trade goods, gold nuggets replaced packets of dye. Keisha now wore two token necklaces instead of one; in addition to the owl, she wore a string of tiny carved foxes of mother-of-pearl. The Snow Fox Shaman had given her that just before they left. Keisha tried to think little of what she had done, but inside, Darian figured Keisha knew she had just given an entire tribe of people an edge against the cruelties of the wild world. The customs of the tribes made effusive thanks from a male to a female unlikely; given everything she’d done to heal their sick, he figured she more than deserved that necklace, and it was one of the few ways that the Shaman could show his gratitude. In fact, by rights she should have been bedecked by a dozen such necklaces by now, one for every tribe she’d helped, and for every Wisewoman and Shaman she’d tutored in the Valdemaran use of the Healing Gift.

  I think that Keisha is blissfully unaware of what a huge impact she is having upon an entire culture, by what she gives so selflessly. The tribes may worship or thank the holy dyheli now, but it is Keisha and the others in green they talk about plenty among each other, I’ll wager.

  They had good instructions on how to reach Raven tribe - and the origin of the vests had been confirmed. One more stretch of mountains lay between them and their goal - one more stretch, that just happened to be claimed by Wolverine.

  Every time he thought about Wolverine, an odd chill touched him for just a moment.

  “This is as far as I can take you,” their guide said at about noon on the second day after they had left Snow Fox. He looked out over the valley that stretched out before them with some regret. “You wish to aim for that pass, between those two peaks,” he said, pointing. “On the other side is the Bitter Water, and the Raven tribe.”

  And between us and them is trouble. He didn’t give any sign that he was worried, though; he just thanked the hunter with as much sincerity as he could show, and watched as the man trotted off into the shelter of the forest that Snow Fox called its territory, melting into the undergrowth almost like a Tayledras might.

  He looked back over his own group; Keisha was worried, but he could hardly blame her for that. Hywel was as confident as any young and untried warrior. He happily bore the arrogance of ignorance. Steelmind was as calm as one of the mountain peaks, Wintersky impatient to be gone, and Shandi unreadable. The nonhumans displayed a similar mix of emotional stances.

  “It’s probably going to take us twice as long to cross this stretch as it’s taken before,” he said, mostly to Keisha and Shandi. “If you thought we were being careful before, you were wrong. We’re truly going into enemy territory now, and we’ll be moving accordingly.”

  Shandi nodded alertly. “Kel overhead, the birds out in front, the dyheli, Karles, and Hashi behind them, then us, following on foot. Right?”

  “Absolutely right.” He felt rather gratified that she had caught on so quickly, but then, she was a Herald, and Heralds got some military training. The only difference between this group and a group of the Guard or local militia was that their scouts had wings, paws, and hooves. He dismounted, and the rest did the same, taking time to tighten every baggage-strap and harness-fastener so that the hooved ones wouldn’t be hindered by loose baggage. Then every stirrup was tied up, so that they didn’t dangle free either. If they had to run for it, having the stirrups out of the way would make mounting and riding harder, but not impossible, especially not since their mounts were dyheli and a Companion.

  He gave the mental signal to Kuari that the owl had been waiting for, then called Kel.

  :All right, Silver Gryphon - we’re moving out! Take high point.:

  :I am ready,: came the reply from somewhere aloft. :The way is clear to the next stretch of trees. Dodge to your left to make use of the runoff ravine and follow it to the light-gray stack of boulders.:

  The dyheli and Karles spread out, trotting down through the waist-high meadow grass, heading for the trees. Hashi was with them, but invisible in the grass. He could have left a “wake” in the grass, but he didn’t - and wouldn’t. The kyree were masters of moving invisibly.

  Now it was the humans’ turn, and despite having been given the word that there were no enemies in the immediate vicinity, they moved cautiously across the open stretch, hunched down near the tops of the grasses. Those who had bows had arrows loosely nocked to the strings. Wintersky and Darian, as the two most experienced in this sort of movement, took point; Hywel took right flank, Shandi the left, and Steelmind the rear, putting Keisha in the relatively protected middle. Darian wondered briefly if that rankled with her, then centered all of his attention on scanning the territory ahead.

  It was hard to remain on the alert when from all the signs there was no need to be. Tiny birds flitted through the stalks of the grass, or skimmed ahead of them, chasing the insects they scared up. Occasionally they kicked up a rabbit. Other than that, the meadow drowsed in the warm late-spring sun, with so
me puffy clouds around to the west beginning to develop darker bottoms that might promise (more) rain.

  Darian figured that as long as he remained in a posture of readiness, the others would take their cue from him - especially Hywel, who might well need “reminding.”

  The greatest danger was that because the meadow was at least a league wide, enemies might appear before they had crossed it. The dyheli, and kyree, Kel and Karles ought to be able to spot them in time to take cover in the grass, but that would leave them horribly vulnerable.

  But they made it into the shelter of the forest again without mishap, and Darian relaxed a little. But only a little. There was one advantage here; the giant trees were interspersed with “normal” trees, and that gave them an escape route and a hiding place - into the boughs of those trees.

  They had gone about another league into that forest, relying on Kel and the birds to guide them towards the mountain pass that was their goal, when Hashi sounded a warning of his own.