The crow, at least half again as large as the ones Rinton was used to, landed on a nearby branch and tilted its head to look at the two of them.
:?: It replied to Rinton. Linx nodded a little, indicating that he, too, was listening.
:Need help.: Rinton had long ago learned that it was best to keep things very simple until he knew the relative intelligence of the animal he addressed. There was no point in exhausting his Gift trying to explain complex concepts to a creature incapable of grasping them.
Another head-tilt. :Hurt? Need food? Need nest? Need mate? Kiyan help.:
Rinton blinked. “The bird has a better understanding than I could have hoped,” he murmured to Linx. :The people in the buildings. Why does no one come in or out?:
:Red-robe worried. Girl frightened. People frightened.:
Rinton almost groaned. “So, there’s a Sunpriest in residence, and his phrasing suggests that the Empath’s projections have the whole town paralyzed with fear.”
:Which would explain the rather hastily erected palisade. I wonder . . . : Linx’s Mindvoice trailed off, leaving Rinton unclear on what exactly he was wondering.
:Is the red-robe kind?: It was the best way he could think of to ask about the Sunpriest’s role in the village.
:Leaves seed for Kiyan, feeds meat to cat.:
“Well, that at least is promising. A kindly rural Sunpriest might not take quite so dim a view of Gifts, or of Valdemarans even, as those of the cities. Maybe Kiyan should carry my note straight to the Sunpriest.”
:Lurking around the periphery of the town isn’t going to gain us anything but lost time. If the Empath is a young girl, we need to get her out of the town and into Valdemar for her own safety, and we need contact inside to make it possible.:
:Will you carry something to the red-robe for me?:
The bird bobbed its head vigorously, his enthusiasm comical. :Kiyan help mind-friend!: Both Rinton and Linx winced at the volume of the bird’s mind-voice.
Rinton turned to Linx and dug around in one of his saddlebags for a carefully oilskin-wrapped bundle, which he opened to reveal a sheaf of paper sandwiched between two writing boards, a quill, and a tiny tube of ink. Cutting a small strip off one of the sheets, he sharpened the quill with his dagger and dipped it in the ink, then paused. “How much should I reveal?”
:At this point, absolute truth. From here I can get you safely back across the border if armed Karsites come out of the palisade gate. And if we want a Sunpriest to trust us with one of his flock, we should show the same trust in him.:
Rinton nodded, then began to write, carefully translating into Karsite. “I wish there were a word in Karsite for ‘Herald,’ or something other than White Demon,” he grumbled. “It seems inadequate to say that I am Valdemaran, and my Companion and I want to help with the Gifted One who feels fear.”
:Any Sunpriest worth his robe can fill in the blanks from that.:
Waving the scrap of paper to dry the last of the ink, Rinton eyed Kiyan, who had closely watched the writing. He folded the paper, but Linx nudged him before he began to roll it up.
:Put some of my tail-hairs into the paper. That more than anything else will show that you are truthful.:
Rinton moved to his Companion’s hindquarters and ran his hand through the glimmering strands, taking the few loose hairs that clung to his fingers and coiling them together before tucking them into the folds of the paper. Rolling it tightly, he pulled a short length of red cord from the writing kit and tied a secure knot around the tiny roll.
Before he could even address Kiyan, the bird had hopped over to land on the rock he had used as a makeshift writing desk and reached out one claw for the paper.
:Kiyan take to red-robe. Mind-friend share eyes?: He tilted his head to Rinton, who blinked.
:This is not an ordinary crow, Chosen. I was wondering about him, and now I’m certain that he’s one of the special Hawkbrother birds, like those mentioned in the Chronicles of Vanyel’s time, although how he got over the Comb from the Pelagirs is beyond me. They were somehow . . . Gifted, and far more intelligent than any normal bird. He’s offering for you to link your mind with his, to see through his eyes.:
“I’ve only done that with you, Linx, and only to see if I could do it. To join my thoughts to a strange bird seems foolhardy. There’s no telling what might happen if I get lost or distracted. But to be able to actually see the Sunpriest, and how he reacts . . .” Rinton let his voice trail off, realizing how foolish his protests were. No matter how nervous he might be about sharing even a small portion of his mind with someone other than his Companion, the potential gain was far too great to miss. And Linx would be right next to him.
:Yes, thank you, Kiyan. I would like to share eyes.: Staring into the bottomless black of the crow’s pupils, he slowed his breathing and drifted into a light trance, enough that he could shift his mind to align it with the bird’s, as he had with Linx, until he suddenly saw himself, eyes closed. He struggled to prevent the disorientation from breaking his connection with Kiyan and nodded slightly.
The crow correctly interpreted the gesture, and his view changed as the bird launched from the rock into the air and with steady wingbeats took his mind-passenger through the forest until they soared over the small village.
Rinton’s stomach lurched as Kiyan dropped out of the air, angling for a tiny open window on the side of one of the largest buildings. The painted solar disc over the front door proclaimed this the local “Temple” of Vkandis Sunlord. Rinton had barely time to recognize that detail before the bird darted through the window and into what appeared to be a small study. A gray-haired Sunpriest sat at a desk, drumming his fingers against the table, ignoring the open book in front of him, until Kiyan landed next to him, beak open and, Rinton assumed, cawing for attention.
The Sunpriest’s lips moved, his weathered face welcoming, despite the clear worry lines that creased his brow. Those lines deepened as he noticed the bird holding out the paper, and he tentatively held out his hand to receive it.
Rinton watched as the man untied and unrolled the paper, pausing in shock as the silvery coil of horsehair fell to the desk. The Sunpriest picked up the strands, rubbing them between his fingers with a stunned expression, as though to convince himself that they were real, then rapidly unfolded the note and scanned the written lines. He exhaled heavily, and Rinton had no doubt that there was clear relief in his face, before he turned the paper over and reached for his own quill and ink.
When Kiyan had taken the reply from the Sunpriest’s hand and launched himself out of the window, Rinton separated his mind from the bird’s. Coming out of his light trance, he felt Linx’s solid presence behind him, supporting and protecting him. He kept his eyes closed, preparing himself for the disorientation of seeing once again through human senses, without the strange sharpness and precision the crow’s eyes had given him.
A harsh caw, followed by a jubilant Mindcall, shook him fully back to the present. :Mind-friend! Kiyan brings from red-robe!:
“He keeps using that phrase. I wonder what he means by it,” he murmured to Linx.
:I think, Chosen, that the crow has, for lack of a better word, Chosen you as well.: The Companion’s Mindvoice was full of laughter. :The Hawkbrother birds are apparently very special, although nothing like a Companion. I shall have to get used to sharing you.:
Rinton’s eyes flew open with surprise, then closed again as he examined his own mind and found a faint thread weaving a connection between himself and the crow. It was a pale shadow of the brilliant cord that bound his mind and heart with Linx’s, but it was undeniably there.
“Well. That’s unexpected,” he finally managed. “How am I going to explain him to the Heraldic Circle?”
:I expect that it won’t be nearly so difficult as you imagine it to be. And depending on what we find here, it may be a minor issue indeed.:
* * *
The Sunpriest’s note was short, but Rinton read his concern even in those few words. “I can no longer protect Mirideh. Black-robes are coming in a day or two, and nights will not be safe. I will hang a red cloth over the palisade—meet me there.”
“I can only assume he means me to meet him as soon as possible. You should wait here; it’s about as close as you can get without running the risk of being seen.” He reached up a hand to scratch behind Linx’s ears. “I will not let you take any chances. Just because their Sunpriest is willing to work with a White Demon doesn’t mean that panicky villagers won’t try to turn anything large and white into a pincushion.”
His Companion lowered his head in silent acknowledgement.
“And we have no idea how the Empath will respond to me, or to you. Better to have just one of us at first.”
Linx’s head came back up. :I don’t think you’re strong enough to impose a Mindshield on her, but I might be able to, through you. You’d have to be touching her, though, until you bring her close enough that I can see her.:
Rinton’s eyes widened. “That . . . would be immensely helpful. I was going to try to do it myself, but if she resisted, I know I couldn’t maintain it.”
:Just . . . be careful.:
Rinton nodded, then turned and slipped between the trees, skirting around the edges of the thicker woods to try to see the red cloth the Sunpriest would be using as a signal. Kiyan hopped from branch to branch, following him closely. He was nearly to the opposite side of the palisade when his eye was caught by a flicker of movement, and he saw a square of color, no larger than a handkerchief, hanging along the side.
:Hmph. I suppose any fabric would count as a “cloth,” but he’s lucky that there’s a bit of a breeze today, or I’d never have noticed it.: He was so accustomed to speaking aloud to Linx that projecting Mindspeech to his Companion felt strange, even though it shouldn’t have been any more unusual than talking to Kiyan or any of the pets up at the Collegium.
:Well, part of the point is to not be noticed by the villagers, either.:
Even though the Companion couldn’t see him, Rinton nodded, then studied the trees and terrain leading up to the back of the palisade. There were at least some stands of trees that he could use for cover as he moved, and the cloth hung a few feet from a low scrubby briar. Taking a deep breath to calm his jangling nerves, he began working his way forward.
The nearer he got to the palisade, the more signs Rinton saw of how hastily it had been erected. Many of the posts weren’t even securely anchored into the ground, simply lashed to others. As a defense, it would fail utterly before the weakest intruder. Against what did the villagers think this would protect them? His stomach roiled in anticipation before each movement, his senses turning every whisper of wind in branch into the whistle of an arrow past his head.
:Mind your shields, Chosen!: The sharp edge in Linx’s voice cut through the strain, and he strengthened the protections that had begun to slip. Almost at once, the fear and nausea eased, and he realized with a bit of chagrin that he had nearly succumbed to the Empath’s continued projections. Now that his shields were up, he could feel the peaking distress as something clearly outside of himself, and he turned his attention back to his stealthy progress.
The bit of red fabric, it turned out, had been wedged into one of the numerous gaps between the unevenly shaped logs. The last stretch was the most unnerving for Rinton, for it meant he would have to completely leave the cover of the trees. As he was about to spring forward, he heard caws from overhead, the local birds greeting Kiyan, and nearly smacked his forehead over his stupidity. All along, he had been accompanied by the perfect means to gauge his danger.
:Kiyan? Does anyone watch from inside?: A burst of movement sped skyward from the nearby branch where the crow had landed, and he watched the bird climb, then soar briefly out of view over the palisade before returning to sight.
:Red-robe and girl.: Kiyan settled onto the top of one of the palisade posts, preening himself.
Making himself as small as possible, in case the bird’s keen vision had missed something, Rinton darted across the final length of open ground, squeezing between the scraggly shrub and the palisade.
His breathing hadn’t even settled to normal when one of the posts near him moved, bowing outward with its neighbors like a makeshift door. The red-robed Sunpriest he had seen through Kiyan’s eyes poked his head out to study him.
“You sent the note with the bird?” The Sunpriest jerked his head upward to indicate Kiyan on the post nearby.
“Yes, Honored Father. I am Rinton.” The Karsite language felt awkward to his tongue, but the other nodded, so his accent must be passable. He said a silent thanks to the Weaponsmaster for the hours of stilted conversations while cleaning and repairing leather practice armor.
“You are—” the Sunpriest paused, as though searching for a word, “—a White Rider? You do not wear white.” He looked pointedly at Rinton’s dull gray-brown traveling gear.
Rinton blinked at the courtesy of the Sunpriest in calling him something other than a White Demon. “One of my kind in white inside Karse does not live long,” he replied with a smile, and the small joke was met with a thin answering smile.
“I am called Fides,” the Sunpriest continued. “My granddaughter Mirideh is the Gifted one, and the black-robes are coming soon, and this time she will be taken to the Fires. I can no longer hide her. I’ve even tried to use a mind-numbing herb, but she’s too strong for it. You must take her with you. She understands this and is ready to go.”
“She will not be able to return—” Rinton began, but Fides cut him off.
“But she will live, which she will not if she stays—”
A clarion sound drifted to them on the breeze, and unmistakable fear washed over the Sunpriest’s face. “The sunhorns. The black-robes are nearer than I thought. You must hurry. Mirideh!” He gestured and pushed a little harder on the wood, and a slim girl of about twelve summers slipped through the widened opening, her brown eyes huge and dark with fright, a small bundle clasped to her chest.
Rinton reached out and caught her arm, feeling Linx’s presence strengthening his own protections as the Companion worked through their bond to place a Mindshield around the girl. A smile of sheer relief blossomed over her face.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “The voices, the feelings . . . they’re gone.” She looked over at Fides, who smiled as well.
“You have done what I could not. My training could only help me protect myself, but not others.”
Rinton filed what they said into his memory, certain that the Queen and the Circle would be interested in what it suggested about the Sunpriests. But then the strange horn sound reached them again, and Fides reached out to grasp Mirideh’s hands.
“The Sunlord hold you and keep you in his arms, little one,” he said, a tear tracking down his face.
“And you, grandmother.”
Rinton gaped, and he felt Linx’s shock as well. A woman Sunpriest? Was that not anathema? He studied the short-haired Sunpriest, now recognizing that what he took for a close-shaven chin was in fact beardless, that the worried lines on the face disguised surprisingly delicate cheekbones.
Fides took a moment to grin at his shock. “Most of the villagers are either related to me, and thus protect my disguise, or are too young to remember when I was Fidesa, old Berthelm’s assistant. After Berthelm’s death, I took over the rites and rituals. The Sunlord has always granted me the blessings I have asked on their behalf, and the village trusts that. Besides, there is change coming, even to Karse, and sooner than those in Sunhame think.” Her voice dropped lower on the last sentence, ringing with a strange resonance.
Before Rinton could ask what that meant, a third echo of the horn sounded, and Fides—Fidesa—released Mirideh’s hands. “You must go, before the black-robes send
out their demons to catch you. Even your white horse will be hard-pressed to race with them. Go with Vkandis’ blessing.”
“My thanks to you,” Rinton managed. “Mirideh will be well-cared for, I promise.” He reached out to grasp the Sunpriest’s hand, then turned and guided the girl away from the only home she had ever known.
That third sounding of the horn had seemed suddenly too near the village, and Fidesa’s worry over it infected Rinton and the now-shielded Mirideh. Hand in hand they scurried through the woods, not even trying to conceal their passing, until they reached the clearing where Linx waited, one silvery hoof pawing impatiently at the ground. Kiyan had flown dark and silent overhead, circling high up.
:How near are the newcomers?: If they were in immediate proximity on the road, Kiyan would see them.
:Not close. Horses stopped. Black-robe stands. Guards watch.:
Rinton was not comforted. As he and the girl had run through the forest, the late autumn sun had been sinking steadily, and the implications of the Sunpriest’s note were not lost on him.
“Black-robes are coming, and the nights will not be safe.” Even a poor student of the Chronicles would remember the tales of the horrors of the night-demons that chased anyone out after dark in Karse. With barely a pause, he lifted the awed Mirideh onto Linx’s back, pulling himself into the saddle behind her.
“It is a good thing we are both skinny,” he murmured to her, and he was pleased to hear a faint giggle. With Linx protecting her mind from outside distress, she was calm, and she seemed to have inherited a healthy dose of her redoubtable grandmother’s practical nature. Despite her strong projections of the past days, now no panic came from her—although surely her Gift told her that he meant her no harm.
“Hold tightly, little one. We fly.” At the words, though they had been spoken in Karsite, Linx leaped forward.
In almost the same moment, the strange horns sounded again, and this time the blast held a different note—a distinct warning and threat. In the fading light, Kiyan spiraled overhead, then his flight took the same arrow-straight path to the north as Linx’s pounding hooves.
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