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

by Chelsea Quinn Yarbro

Kloveon, looking more harried than usual, reminded her, “We’re supposed to leave at tomorrow’s dawn. The grooms must know which animals to take. The order was for ponies – ”

  “Not from me, or Ninianee. You decided, arbitrarily, that ponies were more appropriate. Appropriate! For Court you may be right, but on the roads we must travel – well!” Her brown eyes blazed, then she relented. “I didn’t mean to speak so . . . so ungratefully to you, Kloveon. I . . . I can’t help it. I have so much on my mind, and so many things to settle here before we depart.”

  He tried to look offended and failed. “I should have spoken to you sooner. I thought, with so many things to arrange, having one fewer problems would ease your burdens. I apologize.”

  She sighed. “Had you chosen mules, I would have thanked you, but . . . You understand, don’t you, that the mules are the better choice? They’re stronger than horses the same size, and they are steadier. The roads are rutted and narrow, and mules are more sure-footed than ponies.”

  “I know they are what you would prefer. Are you still determined to ride rather than take your carriage?” He could sense another dispute building, but went on out of a sense of urgency. “Riding in the rain can be most uncomfortable.”

  “No worse than a carriage. I have a cloak of jeneie-fur, and it is impervious to rain.”

  “Hours in the saddle are tiring,” he said in a last attempt to dissuade her. “You may come to dislike it.”

  “So is being jarred over a bumpy road in a carriage with leather springs and heavy wooden wheels.” She lifted her chin in triumph. “I’m going to wear brikes and a dolaj under the cloak. I’m tempted to cut my hair.”

  “No,” said Kloveon, who found her lovely, honey-colored locks ensorceling. He could not bring himself to continue to wrangle with her.

  “No,” she agreed, adding with the hint of a wink, “The Porzalk Emperor wouldn’t like it if I did.”

  “You could grow it magically upon your arrival,” he pointed out.

  “Matching colors magically is difficult. I wouldn’t want to present a disordered appearance.”

  Kloveon refused to rise to the bait, saying only, “Then you’ve made a wise decision. You have a demanding trek ahead of you, no matter how you dress or wear your hair.” He motioned to the grooms who were coming across the main courtyard of Vildecaz Castle. “Duzeon Erianthee prefers mules to pull the wagon for her journey. And she intends to ride.”

  The grooms looked a bit uneasy, but none of them spoke against this. “Which horse do you want, Duzeon?” asked Nejoch, one of the grooms of the castle stables.

  “Nytral,” said Erianthee at once. “And Srin for a remount.”

  “They will be ready before dawn, fed, watered, saddled, and bridled.” The young man was confident so that neither Kloveon nor Erianthee doubted it would be so.

  “Six carts in your train,” Nejoch went on. “Four mules per cart, and a reserve of six in case they are needed. Two passenger carts, one with a bed inside it, if it is required, the rest for baggage and supplies. The farrier will reshoe the horses and mules tonight with shoes charged with traveling spells , the tack magicked for protection from harm. The carts and wagons are to be loaded tonight, and the grooms will rise an hour before sunrise to ready everything. They will be ready to depart at dawn. You have chosen your drivers and out-riders. If they have not selected their mounts and remounts, I would like them to inform me after supper tonight, so that it may be attended to.” He offered a respect to Erianthee and then to Kloveon. “We will need to feed and groom them.”

  “Your stable is well-managed,” said Kloveon as Nejoch gave orders which carts to bring out.

  “Our father insists upon it,” said Erianthee.

  “What of the traveling spells? Who will attend to them?”

  “Heijot Merinex will cast them. He and his apprentice, Vazha Parumenz, have made the Casting Room ready for our departure.” She put her hand on his arm. “You needn’t worry. Vildecaz may be a long way from Tiumboj, but we aren’t hopelessly barbaric.”

  “I never claimed you were,” said Kloveon, heat in his eyes. “There is little in Vildecaz that I can fault.”

  “Then you are not looking clearly,” she said, smiling in spite of herself. “But I thank you for that.”

  Their brief acrimony behind them, he led her into the Great Hall of Vildecaz Castle. “Have you arranged entertainment to welcome Pareo tonight?”

  “My Shadowshow of departure will serve to welcome him,” she said, feeling a inward wince of disgust at the thought of Zervethus Gaxamirin’s secretary.

  But Kloveon was concerned. “You’re sure you want to do a Shadowshow tonight? Considering what happened last time, don’t you think you might do better to allow others to entertain? Another Shadowshow could tire you, and you don’t want to set out on your journey tired. The last time you conjured the Spirits of the Outer Air, you were exhausted for days, and everyone in the Castle is aware of it. Ask Doms to do some juggling instead.”

  “I doubt anything of that sort will happen tonight. I’m not going to risk dealing with any of the Founder Gods, just the local tales of Valdihovee, and if I don’t perform, the whole staff will be slighted,” said Erianthee. “Yes; I think this time it will be the usual performance of one of the old stories, as the Shadowshows generally are.”

  “You sound sure of yourself,” said Kloveon.

  “Since you will guide me on the first half of my travels, I am, because I am sure of you.” She smiled at him in a way that made his pulse leap.

  He stopped beside her and pulled her to him, daring to kiss her where half the Castle staff might see them; in spite of her best intentions, Erianthee responded to his kiss, her lips soft beneath his, her body pressed against him. “Reonoj, I thank you,” he murmured as he let go of her. His invocation of Reonoj, the Ubiquitous, revealed the depth of his feelings, for this hermaphroditic god/goddess was considered so powerful and far-reaching that he/she was rarely called upon in any but the most profound circumstances.

  “Hush,” she said. “Choose another benefactor.”

  “I can’t,” he said. “You are my destiny. You know it as well as I do, only you deny it. Reonoj binds us together. I feel it in the marrow of my bones. Upon whom else should I call?”

  The intensity of his declaration stunned her, and for a short while she was silent. “I think we had better visit the kitchens, to see what provisions are being packed for us.”

  Shaken by his audacity, he nodded once and followed her through the maze of corridors to the cavernous kitchens where Ver Mindicaz, the Cook-Major of Vildecaz Castle, held sway.

  * * *

  “Does the Castle seem empty to you?” Doms Guyon asked as he came up to Ninianee in the book-room. It was located over the smaller Dining Hall, and had an broad northern exposure that just now offered a view of the rebuilt section of wall at the far end of the window.

  “For the most part, yes,” she said, trying not to be startled by his sudden appearance.

  “Your sister leaves in the morning. You must be sad to see her go.”

  “I am a bit sad, though I know her journey is necessary and beneficial.” She turned and stared at him. “Are you really a Yaolaj, or do you make your claim to provide you a chance to gain advantages?” She was shocked to hear herself ask, and she was about to find a way to modify the impact of her question when he came up to her, and, surprisingly, kissed her, their lips touching before his arms went around her. She could not bring herself to struggle with him, but she knew she had to break away from him before her resistance to him faded completely.

  “I have been longing to do that since I entered this Castle,” he said as he loosened his hold on her.

  She felt slightly dizzy, and as she held out her hand to steady herself on a high-backed chair, she said, “Given your expectations, is your patience recompensed?”

  “More than,” he said, his voice as soft as his lips, and as persuasive. “You have great responsibility put
upon you. If I can assist you in any way, I am yours to command.” His smile widened. “I am always yours to command.”

  “You shock me,” she said, trying to make light of his offer in order to keep from dealing with the dizzying sensations that crept over her.

  “I doubt that,” he said, and tweaked one of the tightly curled tendrils that clustered around her face. “You have a small banquet still tonight, do you not?’

  “Erianthee is offering a Shadowshow as a farewell.”

  “I’ll watch Pareo while the Shadows perform,” Doms offered.

  “If you think it would help.” She dared not become too grateful to him.

  “I think it could be useful,” he said, kissed her lightly a second time, and added, “And so do you.”

  * * *

  Everyone in the Great Hall was looking at the small stage, their eyes filled with anticipation; this was to be the last Shadowshow Erianthee performed here until she returned from appearing before Riast II, the Porzalk Emperor. Supper had been served and cleared away, and now even the scullions were on hand to see what Erianthee would do.

  From her place at the High Table, Ninianee watched as the room darkened a little, the result of a minor spell from Heijot Merinex; all torches and candles reduced their brightness by nearly half. She was keenly aware of Doms Guyon, who sat next to her, but she said nothing and did nothing to reveal her aching awareness of his presence as she continued to stare at the stage.

  “Worried?” Doms asked at last, very softly.

  “No,” said Ninianee, more curtly than she intended. She coughed once, quietly. “A little.”

  “She’ll be fine,” said Doms. “And if anything goes wrong, Kloveon will leap to the rescue.”

  “I hope so,” said Ninianee, just above a whisper. “If Kloveon is permitted to accompany her all the way to the capital.”

  “Why should he not?” Doms asked.

  “Last year, her escort was changed half-way.”

  “That was last year,” said Doms. “A dual escort could be arranged. Given she is a Duzeon, she could insist.”

  Ninianee found herself biting back arguments. This was not the time or the place for them to be arguing. She tapped the table in front of her, noticing a small crumb of pillow-bread, then watched the platform as Erianthee stepped out from her couch behind the screen.

  “Tonight, as part of this Shadowshow, I am going to do the story of how Lorjoran the Provider, came to confront the children of Lost Times,” she said. “And how Samthee united the people of Theninzalk after Lorjoran’s visitation.” She respected the audience, then went behind the screen.

  In a short while, filmy figures began to materialize on the platform, the first being a group of children of the Lost Times. They were wretched figures, in rough, tattered cloth, living in stone huts, the only kinds of buildings that had survived The Cataclysm. In this village, as in all villages, the strong took from the weak, violence ruled their conduct, and they teetered on the edge of starvation for most of the year. The lives of these unfortunates were unpleasant at best, horrific at worst. The place was called Nizalk in legend, the first village of Theninzalk. Everyone watching gave these Shadows their full attention.

  Rai Pareo leaned forward, intrigued by what he saw. Doms made a mental note of the new-comer’s interest.

  The Shadow-village burned and the people were without shelter. Some of the villagers fled into the forests and were attacked by beasts, some ran to the rivers and were drowned in floods. A few tried to restore the village, and it was to these few that the god Lorjoran appeared at the end of the year as the constellation of the Bridge dominated the night sky. He entered the village on foot, carrying the satchel that was his symbol, and summoned the people out to him. They came hesitantly, afraid that they would be made to suffer more.

  “I am Lorjoran, the Provider,” said the god, “You have nothing to fear from me.”

  The people of Nizalk approached him reluctantly, making many respects as they did.

  Just as Lorjoran’s Shadow was about to speak, the Shadowshow was interrupted by the wailing howl of Senkei, the Vildecaz Castle spell-hound echoed through the Great Hall, and a moment later, a filmy spectre of Nimuar appeared next to Erianthee’s Shadows. Shocked whispers filled the room as Senkei continued his ululation.

  “Bontaj,” Ninianee swore softly, transfixed by the image of her missing father.

  “He’s trying to speak,” said Doms, concentrating on the image’s face. “His mouth is moving.”

  “What should I do?” Ninianee asked Doms. “Should I try to speak to him? Should I approach him and try to listen?”

  At the end of the table, Heijot Merinex had risen and was beginning to chant a spell to compel the figure to reveal who it was and why it had come. The room grew silent as the castle’s magician strove to engage the spectre.

  “You don’t think this is because he’s dead, do you?” Ninianee murmured to Doms in order not to interrupt Merinex.

  “No,” Doms answered softly. “If he were dead, you would know it. The Omen-falcons would come.”

  “Yes,” she agreed, “they would.”

  The figure of Nimuar, Duz of Vildecaz grew brighter and more real in appearance. Suddenly his voice rang out, “Agnith’s Treasure. Agnith’s Treasure.” Then he faded, vanishing more quickly than smoke, and the platform was empty, not even Shadows remaining.

  The End

  Book Two Deceptive Oracle

  For

  JOY

  and

  CHERYL

  1. Expectations

  “I don’t want to Change,” Ninianee said aloud, voicing her thoughts as she stood at the window in her private apartments on the third floor of Vildecaz Castle, watching the sun dropping lower over the majestic cliffs of the Valdishan Escarpment and making the River Dej far below shine as if filled with molten silver. Tonight would be the first night of the full moon, and she would shortly have to be outside the Castle walls, or risk a discovery that was too disastrous to contemplate. She knew she had to go, but she was reluctant, afraid that she might be watched. It was such a risky business, eluding the staff and guests now that she was the sole Duzeon in the whole Duzky of Vildecaz, and the object of attention and concern.

  If only her younger sister, Erianthee, had not left for the capital of the Porzalk Empire to perform her Shadowshows for the Court! It had been necessary, and the two of them had accepted it, but still – Ninianee paced her chamber restlessly, trying to decide what would be the best way to leave the Castle. Erianthee had always helped Ninianee at the full moon, and it would be four months – four full moons – until Erianthee returned. In the past, when Erianthee had been away, Nimuar, their father, had, in his own way, shielded her from the kind of scrutiny she wished most to avoid. Ninianee tugged at one of the tight russet curls that framed her vixen’s face, and sighed. It was bad enough to have Erianthee gone, but to have their father missing made Ninianee feel much more exposed. His spectral manifestation during Erianthee’s last Shadowshow had served only to increase her distress. He had left no magical spoor to follow, and the Castle Magician, Heijot Merinex, was beginning to say that the manifestation had been a ruse to flummox anyone attempting to search for Duz Nimuar.

  “I’ve got to leave.” Ninianee said it aloud for added impetus. Impulsively she opened her closet and pulled out her oldest, most worn dolaj, and a pair of threadbare brikes and tossed them in a large, leather hunting-satchel. She chose an old pair of boots and threw them in as well. Feeling marginally better prepared, she sat down on the corner of her bed and calculated how much longer it would be until sunset, as she had been doing for the last half hour. “There’s no point in wasting more time,” she declared to encourage herself to act. Rising, she picked up the satchel and headed toward the door, hoping against hope that she could elude Doms Guyon, her self-declared protector and suitor. The last thing she wanted now was for him to see her preparing to slip out of the Castle – he undoubtedly would try to
follow her, and tonight that would never do.

  Pulling the door open carefully, she muttered a spell to keep people from noticing her. No one was in the corridor. Whispering thanks to Ondirpikeon, the Cyclical, she took a deep breath and made for the side-stairs that led down to the stable-yard. As she hurried down the winding stairway, she wished – as she had done for the last nine years – that she would know before she Changed on the first night what creature she would be for this full moon. Last month she had been a Challim-doe, but that meant nothing: over the years she had been predator and prey, often unusually large or unusually small. Tonight she might be a gigantic mouse or a very small Aon-bear, or any other fur-bearing creature of the Great World, so long as she was the same weight and density that she was in her natural, human form. The possibilities were too daunting to consider with the Change so near.

  Reaching the bottom step, she tugged the door open and went out into the yard. Nine horses were still out in their paddocks, and for an instant she considered taking one in order to get a good distance beyond the walls. But that could be dangerous, since she might Change into a predator who would hurt the horse. She passed along the narrow walkway between the paddocks and made for a postern gate in the inner wall. More than seeing, she could feel the approach of sunset, and that hurried her along toward the second wall.

  “Duzeon Ninianee,” said a voice from the shadows of the second wall.

  Ninianee halted. “Who’s there?”

  “Maj Dalmai,” the voice answered; a heavy-shouldered man of about thirty stepped into the fading sunlight.

  “You’re one of the masons, aren’t you?” said Ninianee.

  “I am.”

  “You’re working on the repair of the outer wall,” she said, thinking of the on-going project that was supposed to be completed in another few days.

  “We are. I was just cleaning up. I’m about to go into the Guard House.” He seemed a bit puzzled. “Are you safe out here on your own? Shall I send for – “