The Vildecaz Talents: The complete set of Vildecaz Stories including Nimuar's Loss, The Deceptive Oracle and Agnith's Promise

by Chelsea Quinn Yarbro

  “Oh,” she said, trying to recall what the proper response was, and coming up with nothing suitable.

  “The Emperor asks me to greet you in his name and assure you of his happy anticipation of your Shadowshows.”

  “Thank you,” said Erianthee, offering another respect.

  “We must depart within the next week if you are to arrive at the opening of the Zunah.” He might as well have run his hands over her body, given how he spoke to her.

  “You are to escort me all the way? Will you continue with the Grand Escort?” Erianthee asked, aware that would be a significant break with tradition, yet wanting an excuse to linger in his presence.

  “Nothing so outrageous, or so enjoyable, not that I would not welcome such a duty. As I said, I and my men will go as far as Udugan, and you will be provided with the Archmagistrate to protect you, and I will relinquish you to his care, in accordance with the wishes of the Emperor. The Archmagistrate and his Grand Escort will take you the rest of the way to Tiumboj.” There was a hint of disapproval in this announcement, as if he were readying himself for a new outbreak of the rivalry that had flared between them last year.

  “Hajmindor Elet?” Erianthee asked, picturing the man almost to the point of summoning a Spirit of the Outer Air in his semblance. She shook herself mentally to break free of her imagining. “Is he going to escort me?”

  “He and a dozen of his best men. The Emperor is determined that no one should interfere with your journey.” Kloveon offered her a formal smile, one that lacked his wonderful crinkling eyes. “I haven’t the patent to travel to the Imperial Capital with so many armed men.”

  “It may be just as well, given the Emperor’s penchant for seeing enemies in every shadow,” said Erianthee, thinking she ought to guard her tongue around Kloveon. As attractive as she found him, she knew his first loyalty had to be to the Empire, not an obscure border duzky like hers.

  “Just so, and something you might keep in mind during your Shadowshows, since the Spirits of the Outer Air could influence him to distrust you; not that I think you would work against Riast in any way,” said Kloveon, a bit too smoothly. “In my own regard, I do comprehend your concern, and I thank you for – “

  ”I am being nervous, that is all,” said Erianthee. “You mustn’t regard what I say too closely.”

  Kloveon smiled. “I can’t help being flattered that you would worry for my safety. I am much comforted by your concern.”

  This was getting worse and worse, Erianthee thought, deeply flustered. “I have much yet to do, and less time than I would like to do it in, so if you will excuse me, Mirkal?”

  He took a half-step back. “Of course, Erianthee.”

  Irrationally, since she not wanted him to use her title, she wished he had included that formality, for now it seemed he was on overly familiar terms with her. She gave a single, impatient bounce on her toes and hurried off, knowing he was watching her as she hurried down the corridor.

  * * *

  Nimuar was not in his study, nor was he in his book-room, nor in his private apartments. Masking her worry with annoyance, Erianthee put off changing for the banquet and instead hurried to the stable, where she found Ninianee sitting in the stall of her big bay coach-horse.

  “I thought you must be donning your finest gaunel by now,” said Ninianee as she looked around at the sound of Erianthee’s approach. “Sanma here informs me that he may be throwing a splint. His leg is a little warmer than it should be, and he is favoring it, even here in the stall.”

  “I can’t find Papa anywhere,” said Erianthee without any other greeting, and paying no heed to the ailing horse.

  “I think he’s in the northeastern tower. He claimed that he needed to do a sighting of some sort, an hour since. You should find him there,” Ninianee said. “Just as well that he isn’t around, with Bihn going through the castle like a curious ferret, and that Dinvee-creature slinking after Hoftstan, wanting to pounce on him. It’s a pity Hoftstan has to attend to making the Great Hall ready for the banquet; that woman is driving him to distraction. If I could order him to go to his home, I would, but General Rocazin would be very put out at such a lapse in conduct.”

  “She is a bit of a chore to deal with – Dinvee, not General Rocazin,” said Erianthee. “If you’re certain Papa is in the tower, I’ll dispatch Rimdoch to find him and bring him back. It is time to be dressing.” She studied her sister. “Shall I have Ver send a plate out to you?”

  “No, I don’t think so,” said Ninianee. “I’m afraid all that fine meat would not sit well with a Challim doe, and Ver would wonder at being asked for a plate of grain. I can get any food I will need from the bins in the tack room.”

  “I hadn’t thought of that,” said Erianthee, and shrugged nervously. “You know best.”

  “I may want a hearty breakfast come tomorrow, for I’m going to try to see what Maeshar and his friends are up to in our game preserve – with any luck, I might frighten them into leaving the woods to Vildecaz,” Ninianee said, trying to project calm and amusement to her sister. “For tonight, you have no reason to worry about me. Beirach – you know: the fur-trader – was here earlier, and he said that the Otsinmohr hunt is going out after dusk; I should be able to avoid the hunters, since I should reach the forest some time before they do. I will look for you in the morning room, an hour after dawn. At least I am a doe this moon, not hungry for flesh: last moon, I was a marten – a very large marten, whose legs could hardly hold her up because of her size. I’m lucky only you and a woodsman saw me. That Change would have been awkward with so many guests in the Castle as we have now.”

  “I recall, and I understand you, Nin,” said Erianthee, feeling steadily more flustered. “I apologize for being so uneasy. I know I must not continue this way tonight. But it is all I can do to handle being civil to Bihn and trying to keep away from Kloveon. I know you’re in no position to help tonight. And I’m not trying to make your way more difficult, it’s just that with all that’s been going on, you are in a risky position, and . . . “ Her words trailed away.

  “I take it, then, you’ve seen Kloveon?” Ninianee ventured, her expression showing no emotion.

  “Bontaj, yes!”

  Ninianee stared, surprised to hear Erianthee use such strong language. “Oh, dear.”

  “He’s just one more thing to deal with,” said Erianthee hastily. “I expected the Imperial Courier sometime this week, because he has come at this time for the last three years, but I never thought it would be Kloveon.”

  “Why should you?” Ninianee soothed, then added, “He must have bribed someone very important to get the mission.”

  Erianthee responded without thinking,“Coming, as it did, on top of seeing Doms Guyon in Valdihovee – “

  Ninianee started. “Doms Guyon?”

  “Yes.”

  “But he left months ago,” said Ninianee, turning a little pale.

  “He left, but was driven back by a storm, or so he says; he is going to be one of the entertainers tonight, if he’s needed,” Erianthee told her, feeling even more awkward than before. “I probably shouldn’t have mentioned him.”

  Ninianee’s laughter cracked like the slap of a riding crop. “I wonder if it’s true?” Her voice was rising in pitch. “It must have been a very convenient storm.”

  “I don’t know; he’s not strong enough to conjure a storm himself, so at least that’s – ” Erianthee broke off. “And he’s probably shielded his memories, so not even Heijot Merinex or Papa could find out what actually happened, if he’s prevaricating.”

  “Did he tell you why he is in Valdihovee just now?” Without giving Erianthee a chance to answer, Ninianee went on, “Has he been there long? What brings him here – this Castle, the city, or the River Dej?”

  “He didn’t tell me,” said Erianthee. “But at least he is not going to be with us this afternoon, although he pointed me to some very good entertainers.” She felt her blush begin, a token of an incomprehensible rush
of embarrassment.

  Ninianee saw it and reached out to put her hand on her sister’s shoulder. “You didn’t do anything wrong in talking to him. In fact, it’s probably just as well that you did. It’s unfortunate that he should reappear, particularly now, when there are other matters claiming our attention – “

  ”But it’s so arduous, balancing so many things,” Erianthee burst out. “I feel as if I’m about to stumble and fall.”

  “I wish we were through the three nights of the full moon; you would have fewer burdens than you carry at present.” Ninianee sighed. “And, with that in mind, I will turn Sanma out into the pasture shortly; I’ll let everyone in the stable know I’m going out to keep an eye on him.”

  “You will have clothes waiting for you, for the morning,” said Erianthee.

  “Thank you, yes,” said Ninianee.

  Erianthee gestured impatiently. “I wish we could spend longer together, but I have to dress for the banquet and make ready to do a Shadowshow for our guests. This is not the way I want to spend the evening. Truth to tell, I would prefer to be alone with Kloveon, but that’s impossible. I don’t want to have to endure an evening with Yulko Bihn and his so-called student, but if I must, I must.” She paced down to the end of the broad aisle between a double-line of box-stalls, turning abruptly and coming back to Ninianee. “What do you want me to tell them about your absence?”

  “Only that I am taking care of an ailing horse; no one will question that,” said Ninianee. “And that I won’t subject them to stable-clothes.”

  “All right,” said Erianthee, and prepared to leave.

  “Eri,” said Ninianee, “be careful with Kloveon. Much as he admires you, you aren’t the only thing that brings him to Vildecaz.”

  Erianthee slapped her hands together. “I know, Nin, I know.” She started toward the main door, adding over her shoulder as she went, “And I don’t know if that makes his being here better or worse.”

  * * *

  Near sunset, at the end of the feasting, just before the entertainment began, Duz Nimuar rose and addressed the company gathered in the Great Hall. He was in his very best hupslan, of rich, sculptured Adamine-velvet from Pomig the deep color of ripe joalliberries, over which his doga of pale-grey damask glistened like polished silver; his duzine cornet shone on his brow. “I am delighted to have so many honored guests under my roof, and I thank you for the distinction you lend to this House. May your stay be as delightful as your departure is sad.” He blinked as if suddenly exposed to bright light. “I leave you in the capable hands of General Rocazin, the entertainers, and my daughter, Duzna Erianthee, but I fear I must excuse myself for the remainder of the afternoon and into the evening.” He respected the whole room, then hurried to leave the High Table.

  “Where is he going?” Dinvee asked, loudly enough for almost all to hear her.

  “He has been studying,” said General Rocazin. “I think he is bound for his book- room; he has spent many hours there of late.”

  “What can he do there?” Dinvee pursued. “He hasn’t any magic left in him, has he?” She glanced over at Yulko Bihn and offered her best vulpine smile.

  “He still studies,” said General Rocazin, her mouth becoming a firm line.

  “No doubt he does,” Dinvee said at her most deprecating.

  Before this encounter could become any more acrimonious than it was, Erianthee rose to her feet. “Honored guests, we have entertainers to amuse and confound you. The first among an exciting diversity are a brother-and-sister, whose skills will amaze you. I direct your attention to the raised platform opposite this dais, where, as you see, the curtains are parting.” As the trumpeters sounded the call to amusements, she sat down, glad she had decided to save her Shadowshow for last; she needed time to recuperate before summoning Spirits of the Outer Air. She had almost settled back in her chair when she realized that Kloveon had risen and was going in the direction of the near-by Reception Room, as if preparing to follow Nimuar. Blinking in surprise, she went after her father as the two performers began their presentation.

  “Papa! Papa!” she called to him.

  “I’m in a hurry, my child,” he answered without turning as he hastened down the corridor. “Do not fear. All will be well.”

  “But Papa – “ She could think of nothing more to say, so she attempted to catch up with him only to be motioned back.

  ”Return to our guests if you would, Erianthee. Else they will be offended that no one of the family is present.” He slowed his walk a little. “Be careful of Kloveon.”

  Erianthee stopped as if transfixed by an invisible lance. “Why do you say so, Papa?”

  He gave her no reply as he increased his pace again, bound for his book-room.

  Erianthee watched him go, and scowled, deep in thought. If only Ninianee were here to help, she told herself, we could get through this more easily. Then she laughed. Ninianee in her Challim-doe form would complicate matters, and sunset would be upon them in less than an hour; there was no use asking her to preside, or keep watch over their father: it would not do to have the Duzna Ninianee turning into a doe before all their guests, or running loose in the Castle. Turning back to the Great Hall, she caught sight of Kloveon standing in the archway as if waiting for someone; she stepped back, hoping he had not seen her, but to her dismay, he smiled at her and offered her a respect. “Mirkal,” she said with great formality to discourage any close inquiry.

  Her efforts made no impact upon him. “Is you father well?” he asked as he approached her, apparently concerned. “I know he is somewhat eccentric, and since he is under scrutiny, he must know how irregular his departure will appear.”

  “I believe he does. He is a bit . . . impulsive about his studies,” she answered as she swept past him through the archway; he followed her without comment, and took his place at the High Table. Erianthee sat down next to Yulko Bihn. “Magsto,” she said, offering him a half-respect. “My father asks you to excuse him, but he is involved in research that cannot be delayed.”

  “Of course,” said Bihn in a tone so condescending that she longed to slap his face.

  The performers did a spectacular juggling-and-tumbling sequence, ending with the sister standing on her brother’s shoulder and tossing up and down between them great glowing hoops of iridescent metal, all done without any apparent spell; the audience applauded, making any comment of Erianthee’s inaudible. As the noise died down, she said, “I must prepare for my Shadowshow. If you will excuse me, Magsto?” She began to move away before he spoke.

  Unfazed by her haste, Bihn waved a languid hand at her. “Will this one be prophetic or simply more folk-stories, as you performed last night?”

  “It will be a more involved story,” she said, knowing she was avoiding an answer.

  At the edge of the dais, she found Hoftstan Ruch waiting for her, his demeanor more nervous than usual. “Duzna.” He respected her.

  “Is something wrong, Hoftstan?” She saw his eyes flick in Dinvee’s direction. “Has she continued her pursuit?”

  “She hasn’t left me alone until we sat down to eat,” he said, sounding harried. “Even with my wife here, that woman continues to plague me.”

  “She’s something of a trial, isn’t she?” Erianthee asked, accepting Hoftstan’s arm as she came down the two stairs.

  “Yes.” He accompanied her to the side of the performing platform. “I have the screen ready. When these two are done, Rimdoch and I will set the stage for you.”

  “Thank you,” she said.

  Hoftstan faltered, clearly trying to make up his mind. “Is your father all right?”

  “I think so,” she said, and added in a lowered voice. “I am guessing he wants to keep away from Bihn as much as he can, so he has gone to his book-room for the declared purpose of tending to urgent studies.”

  “Oh,” said Hoftstan, much relieved. “I suspect you’re right.”

  The applause welled once again, and the two on the platform offered their au
dience deep respects.

  “Well,” said Erianthee. “Shall we?”

  Hoftstan signaled to his son and they went to set up the screen for Erianthee.

  * * *

  It was easy to Change in the pasture, with only Sanma watching curiously, his big eyes showing mild alarm but no real fear. He sniffed carefully at the Challim-doe, then lowered his head to graze as Ninianee cleared the fence in a graceful bound, and hurried into the dusk, leaving her clothes behind her on the fence-rail, where she hoped they would go unnoticed; she would reclaim them for herself the next morning. The game preserve wasn’t far, and she planned to be there before the huntsmen. At least there was no rain this evening, although mist was gathering on the River Dej, far down the slope of the mountain, and would be likely to spread during the night.

  Entering the forest, Ninianee headed for the high meadows, framed with shaggy pines and twisted old oaks. She passed other deer as she ran – they sensed her transformation and kept their distance – making the most of her strong legs and haunches. By the time she reached her goal, she could hear Maeshar’s Bougard hounds baying, and the sound of the huntsmen’s horns as they came crashing through the main wood. Ninianee paid close attention to the hounds, and discerned from their cries that Maeshar was after boar this night, not deer, and she warned the first sounder of boar she came across that the game preserve was unsafe that night. The boar all expressed their willingness to get out of range, and to encourage other animals to flee as well. Relieved by this intelligence, she decided to wait a while and then circle around behind the hunters to see what she might be able to discover.

  Maeshar’s hunting party had enjoyed food and drink before the hunt began, and the eight men accompanying Maeshar were in rollicking humor, using the dark forest as a setting for games as much as a place to hunt wild boar. Hoots of laughter struck up as frequently as hunting horns, and the game preserve resounded with laughter and the occasional zing of a dart-hurler. Maeshar himself roistered along with his guests, shouting contradictory instructions from time to time, and bellowing risive whoops when he almost fell from the saddle while attempting to clear a low-growing tangle of berry-vines.