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

by Chelsea Quinn Yarbro

  “He’s the Emperor’s man, provided to me, and it behooves me to look after him. I’ll dispatch the letters, if you won’t object.”

  “If it’s necessary, then do as you think best,” said Erianthee. “Do you think he might have known the men would attack us? Is that the reason for your hesitation?”

  “Perhaps,” he said.

  “What do you think happened to him?” she asked, aware that his incertitude could work against him.

  “I don’t know – and that bothers me. When the masked men fled, he might well have gone with them, or after them. They could have captured him during the fray. He could have gone off on his own, getting away from the fighting. I wish someone had noticed.” He made an impatient gesture and scowled at his own cogitations. “Well, nothing I can do now, is there? I’m not about to ask you to use your talent to discover his fate – that would be reprehensible.”

  “You can keep on toward Vildecaz,” she suggested. “Time enough to make inquiries when we get there. We have Magsto Zhanf there, I trust, whose talent is very great.”

  “If he’s there, then I’ll ask him. If not – is your household magician talented at locating the missing?”

  Erianthee laughed. “Heijot Merinex? If they’re within the Castle walls, probably, but beyond them, I think not. He’s not really very effective beyond the walls.”

  Kloveon pressed his lips closed, saying nothing for fifty heartbeats. “Someone will help us.”

  “Once we arrive? Yes, I guess so.”

  This uncertainty was new to Erianthee, and it troubled Kloveon. “What about your sister?” he ventured. “Won’t she be willing to – ”

  “Her talents extend to communicating with animals, not humans. But perhaps the animals can tell her something, and we can learn from what she discovers. I’d like to find out if she and I could effect a communication together.” It struck Erianthee that she would have a great deal to tell Ninianee upon her return, and a vast amount of new information to impart. Again she felt slightly ashamed that she had left her sister to deal with Vildecaz while she went to the Imperial Court, for Ninianee would have had to contend with her Changing on her own, which Erianthee knew was difficult.

  “I hope she won’t mind if I ask her to try,” said Kloveon. “I think I’ll need to know more about many things before I’ll have an idea about what’s best to do – for both of us.”

  “I don’t think she will mind, not if she understands why we’re asking,” said Erianthee, not wholly convinced that Ninianee would be willing to undertake such an effort. “If my father has returned,” she went on, trying to sound confident, “he may be able to help.”

  “I hope he has,” said Kloveon.

  “So do I,” said Erianthee. “I hate not knowing where he is, or what’s become of him.”

  Kloveon nodded. “Understandably.”

  Erianthee tried to summon up a witty response, but discovered that she couldn’t find the right words to be encouraging and amusing at once. She decided to change the subject. “We’ll have at least five more nights together.”

  “More than that, I hope,” he said, his glumness vanishing.

  “You mean once we’re back at Vildecaz Castle, you want to continue officially?”

  She felt a sudden nervousness at the contemplation of such a step, and the significant alteration such a declaration represented. In spite of their joyous couplings, she wasn’t yet sure of his purpose with her. “You needn’t continue with me if all you want is sanctuary. You may have that for all you’ve done.”

  “Do you want to end our love-making?” He tried to keep his tone neutral, but without success.

  “No. But you don’t have to share my bed in order to have my protection.” She kept her gaze on the road ahead. “Unless you want to continue as we have been.”

  “Of course I do.” His voice rang with sincerity. “You didn’t think I was only acting out of impulse, did you, or to gain your protection. I’ve been courting you for over a year.”

  “As Mirkal of Fauthsku,” she reminded him. “Alliance with Vildecaz would benefit Fauthsku a great deal. You told me so yourself.”

  “In the hope you would consider my offer,” he said. “You and I have to deal with our positions in life, even in love, little though we may want to.”

  “I’m aware of that.” She drew in her copper-dun and moved a little closer to him as the road narrowed. Behind them, the mounted escorts moved in between the wagons rather than flank them.

  Kloveon became uncomfortable. “The Emperor could exile me and pass Fauthsku to someone he felt was more worthy to hold it for him. It’s not the kind of thing Riast has done before, but he hasn’t had to face so much disruption until now, for with all the ruin in Tiumboj, he must depend upon his allies far more than he has in the past. I might have to give half the income of my Mirkalin to the Empire so that the Empire can be fully restored, which would be a burden to all the people of Fauthsku/ Perhaps Riast could order me to Court as a means of insuring Fauthsku’s allegiance – he’s done that with others in my position, in which case you would be expected to accompany me. That might change how my status as official suitor would be perceived, both in Vildecaz and the Porzalk Empire. Vildecaz might not want one of its Duzeons so much under the demands of the Emperor.”

  “Possibly, but none of those considerations is enough for me to revoke my acceptance of you,” said Erianthee, who had anticipated this reservation and was prepared to deal with it. “My father is himself something of an exile, even in his own Duzky.”

  “Do you think he will return?” Kloveon asked hesitantly. Since she had manifested a god, Kloveon thought she might have a greater understanding of her father’s fate, though she said nothing about it.

  “I think he will if he’s alive,” said Erianthee, and patted the copper-dun’s neck as if to reassure herself as much as the horse. “I don’t know when.”

  “Oh, Erianthee,” he said, keenly aware of her sadness.

  “We’ll probably know more once we reach Vildecaz,” she said, trying to persuade herself this was a reasonable expectation.

  He smiled. “Yes. Probably we will.”

  * * *

  They came down on Duz Kinzyrach’s Road that ran from the Hovanthroee Bridge to the Library of Duz Kinzyrach and led past the North Tower and the North Gate of Vildecaz Castle, Doms in the saddle, Ninianee up behind him, their chests and cases strapped around her. The afternoon was sunny, warm in the light but cold in the shadows, a reminder that winter hadn’t yet departed. Womilaj picked up his pace as he sensed the approach to his own paddock and stable. As they neared the gate, the pony whinnied, and was answered by a chorus of others. It was the twenty-seventh day of the Thirteenth Month, and Last Day was four days away, just as Doms had reckoned, and there were signs of activity inside the Castle walls.

  “Are you ready to return?” Doms asked Ninianee. “We could just ride on toward the Library and choose another road to try.”

  “Don’t jest,” she said lightly. “I have to return to the Castle and my life.”

  “Suppose your father is back, and your sister. Would you be willing to spend another several months with me?”

  “Would you want me to?” she challenged.

  There was no doubt of his constancy. “Every day. Every day, Ninianee.”

  On the tower battlements, an officer looked over the side and shouted down, “Who comes to Vildecaz Castle?”

  “Duzeon Ninianee,” she called back. “And Yaolaj Doms Guyon. Admit us – without fuss.” As she ordered this, Womilaj moved out of the shadow of the tower and sunlight struck the confined red curls of her hair.

  “Oh, Agnith!” the officer shouted. “Duzeon Ninianee. It is you!” He waved his arm to the others on the battlements. “You men! Open the gate! Duzeon Ninianee is home!” This was greeted with a confusion of shouts and there was a noisy scramble to remove the heavy brace that held the gate.

  “So much for a circumspect return,” Niniane
e said to Doms.

  “I told you this would happen,” he rejoined.

  There was a groan of metal on metal and the gate swung ponderously back. Four guards hurried out to respect her, doing their best to ask no questions as they escorted the seal-brown pony through the gate, although their eyes were huge with speculation. Ninianee returned the respect as best she could from where she sat. One of the Day Guards ran ahead of them, hurrying along the path between the paddocks and pens, shouting to make way for Duzeon Ninianee. As the pony followed the Guard, more and more of the Castle’s folk came out to see the arrivals.

  By the time they reached the entry to the stable-court, there were dozens of Guards and Castle staff clustered about them. As they dismounted, Garminrich came out of the stable and offered first Ninianee and then Doms a deep respect. “Let me welcome you home, Duzeon. It’s good to have at least one of our Duzeons at Vildecaz Castle,” he said in a carrying voice as he reached for the reins of Womilaj. “The pony’s very shaggy. You must have gone into cold places.”

  “We did,” said Ninianee, returning his respect, even as she wondered what had delayed Erianthee. “See he’s groomed and fed. He’ll need new shoes. He’s had his shoes changed twice since we left, but he’s overdue for new ones.” She paused. “I gather my father hasn’t returned yet.”

  “He hasn’t. Nor has your sister.” He coughed once. “And what do you want me to do with your cases?”

  “Have them brought to my sitting room,” said Doms. “Wherever it may be.” This slightly sardonic remark inspired a buzz of whispers.

  Much of the crowd gathered in the stable-court parted as General Rocazin made her way forward to welcome Ninianee home. “You’ve been missed, Duzeon,” she said as she made her respect first to Ninianee and then to Doms. “And you are welcome.” She showed no surprise at seeing the Duzeon in his company. “I’ve ordered the bath-house heated, your private apartments opened, and . . . we’ll hold a proper welcome this evening. We’ll summon musicians from Valdihovee and have the trumpeter play Welcome the Family before we dine.” She looked over at Doms. “What provision do you want for your companion.”

  Ninianee knew this moment was coming, so she had prepared herself for it, but she still felt odd saying this aloud. “Yaolaj Doms Guyon is my Official Suitor. His quarters are my quarters, and his requests are mine as well. I request that all of the Castle’s residents treat him with the esteem which he is due.” She tried not to hear the general gasp and subsequent whispers that accompanied this announcement. “You will make him welcome here, I am sure.”

  “As you wish,” said General Rocazin. “Would you like to eat before or after you bathe? I ask because I can see you’ve lost some flesh during your absence. If you’re hungry right now, Ver Mindicaz can provide you winter soup at once, and a proper meal in an hour.”

  “The bath would be most welcome. And we’ll dine with the rest of the household at the end of afternoon. You’ll have a little extra time to prepare for the occasion.” She gave General Rocazin an impulsive hug as she started toward the side entrance to the Castle’s keep. “I have much to thank you for, I know, and the same for many others.” She motioned to Doms to come with her, thinking as she did that this was all happening much too fast, that she needed a day or two to ease back into the life of Vildecaz Castle. But with Duz Nimuar still missing and Erianthee not yet returned, she knew she couldn’t ask for such a luxury as a gradual reintegration. “I will need to have reports on developments in the last months.”

  “Whom would you like to see first? What reports would be most useful to you now?” the Housekeeper-General asked as they moved passed the arched doors to the kitchens.

  “I should like to have information from Hoftstan Ruch, and Poyneilum Zhanf, I suppose,” said Ninianee, and caught a change of expression in General Rocazin's eye. “What is it? Did Zhanf leave?”

  “No. No, it’s not that,” said General Rocazin, doing her best not to betray her distress to Ninianee so soon. “It’s Hoftstan Ruch. I regret to tell you that Ruch is dead. Zhanf will explain it to you. I’ll let him know you’ll want a report from him. Before or after you bathe?”

  Ninianee sighed. “Before. I’ll be in my apartments for half an hour. Please ask him to visit me. I have been told that my sister isn’t here – do we know when she’s expected?”

  “She has yet to return from Tiumboj, and we have had no word of when that might be. We are assuming the dreadful conjure-storm is the reason for her delay. We’ve had almost no travelers from the Porzalk Empire since the start of winter, and those few who come tell of vast devastation everywhere.” General Rocazin put her hands to her face as if to hide her emotions. “Your pardon, Duzeon. This is all more than you should hear so soon after your return.”

  “When better?” Ninianee asked. “There is so much to attend to that the more I know and the sooner I know it, the more likely I am to make informed decisions.” She glanced back at Doms. “We may have a difficult few hours.”

  “Hardly surprising – we’ll probably have a difficult few weeks,” said Doms. “With both you and your sister away, and your father wholly missing, it’s not surprising that the Duzky should have problems beyond the usual.”

  General Rocazin ducked her head in agreement. “I’d be remiss if I didn’t do my utmost to assist you in all the demands of your return. I’m sorry to have such news for you as I do. It would be easier if your sister or your father were here.” She pointed to the stairs leading up to the main corridors and Ninianee’s apartments. “Go on up. I’ll have wine and cheese sent up to you while you speak with Magsto Zhanf and wait for the bath-house to be readied for you.”

  “Very good,” said Ninianee, giving the Housekeeper-General another respect.

  Doms offered Rocazin one as well, and prepared to climb the stairs with Ninianee, but paused to say, “Could you include a bowl of sweet pickles with the wine and cheese? Or something savory?”

  “Certainly,” said General Rocazin, already moving toward the arches leading into the kitchen.

  As they started up to the second floor from the main one, Doms remarked, “Everyone in the household seems to be watching you.”

  Ninianee had become uncomfortably aware of members of the staff standing on landings and along the galleries to catch a glimpse of her. “You’d think they’d never seen me before.”

  “You’ve been gone a long time, especially, as General Rocazin observed, since your sister hasn’t returned yet, nor your father. It will take everyone a little while to get used to you being here, and that might bring some awkwardness. To make the circumstances more demanding, your presence is doubly important now because you’re the only one here. You’re an omen of returning stability at the least, and a much-desired continuity for the entire staff.” He nodded toward the corridor leading to her apartments. “Is that the way we go?”

  “Yes.” She wanted to take his hand but held off, knowing how gossip would magnify that simple gesture. “Are you tired?”

  “I am, as are you. But by the sound of it, rest is some hours off.” He paused at the door to her apartments. “Your deputy should arrive in a few minutes, if you want to straighten up a bit.”

  She laughed. “My hair is a mess, I know, and I’m dressed like a poacher from Cazach Forest. If Giuynee is about, I should send for her, and ask her to work what repairs she can on me. She’ll make the best of the situation, given how little time we have until we dine.” With that, she opened the door to her private reception room, thinking to see something utterly familiar.

  “Duzeon!” Giuynee shrieked, respecting her lavishly. “It’s true. You’re back!”

  “I am,” said Ninianee, looking about her as if recalling the chamber from her youth, a place of distant memory, not a room she had left some four months ago.

  Giuynee bustled up to her. “Your hair . . . Duzeon, you must let me do something to . . . and you’re so thin. You clothes . . . I’ll get something from your dressing-room. By Mysinjrau!
You’ll take some efforts on my part to restore you.”

  “I thank you in advance for those efforts,” said Ninianee a bit impatiently. “For now, if you’ll tidy and dress my hair, I have to see Poyneilum Zhanf and then go down to the bath-house – the Yaolaj and I. There’s a return meal being prepared for sunset.”

  As if she had been unaware of Doms’ presence, Giuynee blinked and made another respect. “Yaolaj. I didn’t know you were here. I’m . . . I’m sorry to have slighted you.”

  “I’m not slighted,” said Doms, amusement curving the corners of his mouth. “But if you don’t mind, I’m going to sit down. It’s been a long journey.”

  “Yes. Yes, it must have been,” said Giuynee as she pulled up a low-backed chair. “Duzeon, sit down.” She patted the chair nervously. “I hardly know where best to begin. I’ll try to do something . . . I’ll get the shears for later, but for now, a Mozh-cloth scarf and a loose braid twisted into a coronet will do, at least until after you bathe. But your curls are all wild in spite of the bands.” She pulled at the plain linen bindings that held Ninianee’s hair clubbed, and gave a yelp as she saw the bits of leaves and twigs still stuck in it. “I’ll get the broad-toothed comb; it may take an hour to get this all untangled and free of . . . of bits and pieces,” she said, and rushed toward the bedroom.

  While Giuynee busied herself seeking out the broad-toothed comb, there was a discreet knock at the door, and Poyneilum Zhanf announced himself.

  “Come in, Magsto, please,” Ninianee responded, motioning to Doms to pull another chair up to hers for him. “The high-backed one with the flexible frame would be best.”

  Zhanf admitted himself, making a respect as he closed the door. “I’m very much gratified to have you once again at home, Duzeon Ninianee.”

  “Thank you,” she said, standing enough to provide a respect.

  “And Doms Guyon,” Zhanf went on. “I’m glad you’re safe.” His expression was quizzical, as if he was unsure if he should continue with Doms in the room.