Elspeth rubbed her feather-adorned temples, hoping that her fears and tensions would mercifully go, and leave her mind in peace for just once today.
This isn’t what I expected. I wish this were over.
Herald Elspeth, Heir to the Crown of Valdemar, survivor of a thousand and one ceremonies in her twenty-six years, brushed nervously at a nonexistent spot on her tunic and wished she were anywhere but here. “Here” was the southern edge of the lands held by the Tayledras, whom Valdemarans spoke of as the fabled Hawkbrothers. “Here” was a rough-walled cave, presumably hewn by magic, just outside the entrance to k’Sheyna Vale. “Here” was where Elspeth the Heir was stewing in her own juices from anxiety.
Elspeth was still getting used to these people and their magic. As far as she could tell the cave hadn’t been there before yesterday.
Then again - the walls didn’t have that raw, new look of freshly cut stone, and the sandy, uneven floor seemed ordinary. Even the entrance, a jagged break in the hillside, appeared to be perfectly natural, and healthy plants lined the edges. Greenery grew anywhere roots could find a pocket of soil to hold onto. And the smell was as damp and musty as any cave she’d ever seen during her Herald’s training.
Maybe she was wrong. The cave might always have been there, but its entrance may just have been well-hidden.
Now that she thought about it, that would be a lot more like the style of the only Hawkbrother she knew, Darkwind k’Sheyna. He wasn’t inclined to waste time or energy on anything - much less waste magical power. He took a dim view of profligate use of magery, something he’d made very clear to Elspeth in the first days of their acquaintance. If something could be done without using magic, that was the way he’d do it - hoarding his powers and doling them out in miserly driblets.
That was something she didn’t understand at all. When you had magic, shouldn’t you use it?
Darkwind didn’t seem to think so.
Neither did the Chronicles she had read, of Herald-Mage Vanyel’s time and before. Incredible things were possible to an Adept - and that, of course, was why she was here. If she’d dared, she’d have used her powers now, to shape a more comfortable seat than the rock she perched on, just inside the cave’s entrance.
That at least would have given her something to do, instead of working herself up into a fine froth of nerves over the coming ceremony.
She glanced resentfully at Skif; he looked perfectly calm, if preoccupied. His dark eyes were focused somewhere inward, and if he was at all nervous, none of it showed on his square-jawed face. In fact, the only sign that he wasn’t a statue was that he would run a hand through his curly brown hair once in a while.
Elspeth sighed. It figured. He was probably so busy thinking about Nyara that none of this mattered to him. The only thing that being made a Tayledras Wingbrother meant to him was that he’d be able to stay in Hawkbrother territory for as long as it took to find her.
Assuming the sword Need let him find Nyara. The blade not only used magic well, it - she - was a person, a woman who’d long ago traded her aging fleshly body for the steel form of an ensorceled sword. It wasn’t a trade Elspeth would have made. Need could only hear, see, and feel through the senses of her bearer - and in times when her bearer wasn’t particularly MindGifted or when she had no bearer at all, she had drifted off into “sleep.”
She’d been asleep for a long time before Elspeth’s teacher, Herald Captain Kerowyn, had passed her on to her pupil. But something - very probably something Elspeth herself had done - had finally roused her from that centuries-long sleep. Once she was awake, Need was a hundred times more formidable than she had been asleep.
She had quite a mind of her own, too. She had decided, once Elspeth was safely in the hands of the Hawkbrothers and the immediate troubles were over, that the Changechild Nyara required her far more than Elspeth did. So when Nyara chose to vanish into the wild lands surrounding the Tayledras Vale, Need evidently persuaded the catlike woman to take the sword with her.
That left Elspeth on her own, to follow her original plan; find a teacher for Valdemarans with mage-talent, and get training herself. Among the few hundred-odd things she hadn’t planned on was being made a member of a Tayledras Clan. How did I get myself into this? she asked herself.
:Willingly and with open eyes,: her Companion Gwena replied, the sarcastic acidity of her Mindspeech not at all diluted by the fact that it was a mere whisper. :You could have gone looking for Kero’s great-uncle, the way you were supposed to. He’s an Adept and a teacher. You could have followed Quenten’s very clear directions, and he would have taken you as a pupil. If necessary, I would have made certain he took you as a student. But no, you had to follow your own path, you - :
Elspeth considered slamming mental barriers closed against her Companion and decided against it. If she did, Gwena would win the argument by default.
:I told you I wasn’t going to be herded to some predestined fate like a complacent ewe,: she snapped back, just as acidly, taking Gwena entirely by surprise. The Companion tossed her mane as her head jerked up with the force of the mental reply, her bright blue eyes going blank with surprise.
:I also told you,: Elspeth continued with a little less force and just a touch of satisfaction, :that I wasn’t going to play Questing Hero just to suit you and the rest of your horsey friends. I will do my best by Valdemar, but I’m doing it my own way. Besides, how do you know Kero’s uncle would have been the right teacher for me? How do you know that I haven’t done something better than what you planned by coming here and making contact with the Shin’a’in and the Hawkbrothers? Vanyel was certainly a well-trained Adept, and the Chronicles say that the Hawkbrothers trained him.:
Gwena snorted scornfully, and pawed the ground with a silver hoot. :I don’t know whether you ve done better or worse,: she replied, :but you were asking how you got yourself into this - this - brotherhood ceremony. And I told you.:
Elspeth stiffened. Gwena had been eavesdropping again. :That was a purely rhetorical question,: she said coldly. :Meant for myself. I wasn’t broadcasting it to all and sundry. And I’d appreciate it if you’d let me keep a few thoughts private once in a while.:
Gwena narrowed her eyes and shook her head. :My,: was all she said in reply. :We’re certainly touchy today, aren’t we?:
Elspeth did not dignify the comment with an answer. If anything, Gwena was twice as touchy as she was, and both of them knew why. The only way for Elspeth - or Skif - to be able to remain in the lands guarded by the Tayledras was to be made Wingbrothers to the Clan of k’Sheyna. But that required swearing to certain oaths - which none of their informants had yet divulged, saying only that they’d learn what those pledges were when they actually stepped into the circle to make them.
Elspeth had been trained in diplomacy and statecraft from childhood, and undisclosed oaths made her very nervous indeed. It wasn’t so bad for Skif - he wasn’t the Heir. But for her, well, the things she pledged herself to here could have serious consequences for Valdemar if she wasn’t very careful. She carried with her the Crown’s authority. The fact that a forgotten oath had made a crucial difference to Valdemar in the recent past only pointed up the necessity of being careful what she swore to here and now.
“Nervous?” Skif asked in a low voice, startling her out of her brooding thoughts.
She grimaced. “Of course I’m nervous. How could I not be? I’m hundred of leagues away from home, sitting in a cave with you, you thief - ”
“Former thief,” he grinned.
“Excuse me. Former thief and a bloodthirsty barbarian shaman from the Dhorisha Plains - ”
Tre’valen cleared his throat delicately. “Pardon,” he interrupted, in the Tayledras tongue, “But while I am both shaman and bloodthirsty, I am not, I think, a barbarian. We Shin’a’in have recorded history that predates the Mage Wars. Can you say as much, newcomer?”
For a moment, Elspeth was afraid she had offended him, then she saw the twinkle in his eye, and the barely perceptible quirk of one corner of his mouth. Tre’valen had proved to have a healthy sense of humor over the past few days, as they waited out the response of the k’Sheyna Council of Elders to their petition to remain. She had heard him refer to himself as bloodthirsty and a barbarian more than once. In point of fact, the shaman seemed to enjoy teasing and challenging her. . . .
“I stand rebuked, oh Elder of Elders,” she replied formally, bowing as deeply as she could. She was rewarded with his broad grin, which grew broader as she continued, “Of course, the fact that you don’t do anything with all that recorded history has no bearing at all on whether or not you’re barbarians.”
“Of course not,” he replied blandly, evidently well-satisfied with her return volley. “Dwelling overmuch upon the past is the mark of the decadent. We aren’t that, either.”
“Point taken.” She conceded defeat, and turned back to Skif. “So I’m here in a cave waiting for some authority to come along and demand that I swear something unspecified, which may or may not bind me to something I’d really rather not have anything to do with - why should I be nervous?”
Skif chuckled, and she restrained herself from snarling. “Now think a bit,” he told her, fondly, but as if she were thirteen again. “You’ve read the Chronicles. Both Vanyel and his aunt swore the Wingbrother Oaths. They had to, or they couldn’t have gone in and out of the Vales the way they did. If there was nothing in the oaths to bother them, why should you be worried?”
“Do you want that alphabetically or categorically?” She kept herself from reminding him that she was the Heir. After all, she had tried long and hard to make him forget that very thing. Instead she continued, “Because that was a long time ago, and a different Clan. We don’t know if things have changed since then, or whether the oaths differ from Clan to Clan.”
“They do not differ,” Tre’valen said serenely, “and they have not changed in all of our recorded history. Many shaman of the Shin’a’in swear to Wingsib; and believe me, the oaths our Goddess requires of us bind us to far more than your own oaths to your Crown and country. And She can move her hand to chastise us at her will. I think you need not be concerned.”
Well, that was some comfort, anyway. Elspeth had seen for herself how the Shin’a’in Goddess - who was, so Darkwind said, also the Goddess of his people - could and did manifest herself in very tangible fashion. And she had a sure and certain taste of how seriously the Shin’a’in took their oaths to protect their land from interlopers. Well, if Tre’valen knew all about the oaths and felt comfortable with them, she probably didn’t have to worry.
Much.
This would be the first time she and Skif had been permitted inside the Vale of k’Sheyna itself. The Hawkbrother Mage - or was it Scout? - Darkwind had dismissed it with a shrug as “not what it once was” with no indication of what it could be like; and Tre’valen, if he knew what the Vale was like in its prime, was not telling. Descriptions in the Chronicles of Vanyel’s time had been sketchy, hinting at wonders without ever revealing what the wonders were.
:Probably because they didn’t know,: Gwena said, most of the sarcasm gone from her mind-voice. -Vanyel and Sayv - Savil had too much on their minds to give descriptions of where they‘d been. Besides, why describe somewhere no one else would be allowed to visit? It might tempt them to try, and that would be fatal. The Tayledras tend to perforate first and apologize after.:
:Are you snooping in my head again?: Elspeth replied, with a bit less venom than before.
:No, you’re echoing at me,: Gwena told her candidly. :I can’t help it if your surface thoughts echo down our link unless you block them. And I can’t help it if you forget to block because you‘re nervy.:
:All right, all right. I stand rebuked. I apologize.: Elspeth carefully put up her lightest shields, and went back to her brooding.
There was a fourth party sharing the title of Wingbrother with them, but shaman Kethra had sworn her vows a long time ago. She was considerably older than Tre’valen, though not as old as his superior, Kra’heera, and she had been a wingsib for at least a dozen years. She was a Healer as well as a shaman, and she was tending to Darkwind’s father, Adept Starblade. Darkwind seemed reluctant to discuss what Mornelithe Falconsbane had done to his father, and Elspeth wasn’t about to press him for answers. She did want to know, however, and badly; not because of morbid curiosity, but because one day she might need to know just how one Adept could so completely subvert another. One of Weaponmaster Alberich’s precepts was that ‘anyone can be broken.’” If it was possible she might find herself on the receiving end of an attempt to break her, she’d like to know what she could expect. . . .
Elspeth had been a bit surprised that Tre’valen was staying on, though. He had said only that his own master had asked him to remain with k’Sheyna “because it is important.” Whatever it was, it couldn’t have anything to do with what Falconsbane had done to the Clan - Darkwind and Kethra were tending to that.
Could it be because of what had happened to Dawnfire?
The memory was so vividly etched in her mind, she had only to think of the hawk Dawnfire to relive what she’d seen.
The Shin‘a‘in stood in a rough circle below Dawnfire’s perch. The red-shouldered hawk had taken a position just above the door of the gryphons’ lair, her head up and into the wind, her wings slightly mantled. Then one of the Shin‘a‘in, a woman, put her hand up to the hawk.
Dawnfire stared measuringly at her for a moment, then stepped down from her perch onto the proffered wrist. The woman turned to face the rest.
Like all the other Shin‘a‘in who had come to their rescue, this one was clad entirely in black, from her long black hair to her black armor, to her tall black boots. But there was something wrong with her eyes. Something odd.
Elspeth had sensed a kind of contained power about her; the stirrings of a kind of deeply-running energy she had never felt before.
The woman raised Dawnfire high above her head and held her there, a position that should have been a torment after only a few moments, no matter how strong she was. Tayledras hawks were the size and weight of small eagles, and Dawnfire was by no means the smallest of the kind. But as the woman continued to hold Dawnfire aloft, the entire group began to hum - softly at first, then as the volume increased, and as the ruins rang with harmonics, Dawnfire started glowing.
At first Elspeth had thought it was just a trick of the setting sun, but the light about the bird grew brighter instead of fading. Then Dawnfire spread her wings and grew larger as well as brighter.
Before long, Elspeth couldn‘t even look at her directly; she had averted her eyes, for the light from the hawk was bright enough to cast shadows.
Kra’heera had looked at her and said, “Dawnfire has been chosen by the Warrior.” She hadn‘t known what that meant then. She did now.
When the light and sound had faded, and she was able to look at the bird again, she saw that it was no longer a red-shouldered hawk. It was a vorcel-hawk, the emblem of Kra‘heera‘s Clan, and the largest such bird she had ever seen. Although the light had dimmed, it had not died, and there was an otherwordly look in the hawk’s eyes that had made her start with surprise.
It was the same look as in the eyes of the female warrior who held her - their eyes held neither whites, iris, or pupils - only a darkness, sprinkled with sparks of light that were visible even where Elspeth stood. As if instead of eyes, they had fields of stars.
That was when she had remembered the description of the Shin’a’in Goddess - and had realized exactly what she was looking at. Small wonder the memory was as vivid as it was; it wasn’t every day an ordinary mortal saw a living Goddess and her Avatar.
She eyed Tre’valen with speculation. No matter how casually the elder shaman had treated the event afterward, she wondered if he hadn’t been just as surprised as everyone else by the appearance of his Goddess. From what little she understood, change came to the Plains seldom and slowly. When Kerowyn had regaled them with tales of her Shin’a’in cousins, had she ever said anything about their Goddess creating Avatars? Elspeth didn’t remember anything like that. ...
So maybe this was something new for them. Maybe that was why Tre’valen was here; to watch for Dawnfire, and to try and figure out the reasons behind his Goddess’ actions.
Well, if that was the case, he must have told the Hawkbrothers, or at least their leaders. On the surface none of this seemed to have anything to do with her - but Elspeth didn’t take anything for granted anymore. After all, why should the Shin’a’in have shown up at all then? Who could have predicted she’d get involved with the Tayledras, and wind up adding their enemies to her own rather formidable list? I ought to ask him later if I’m right about all that. Maybe we can help each other out.
Gwena walked to the entrance of the cave and looked out - impatiently, Elspeth thought. Her Mindspoken words to her Chosen confirmed that. :I wish I knew what it was they were spending so much time doing in there,: she said. :They’ve certainly been keeping us cooling our heels long enough. At this rate, that ceremony of theirs won’t be over until dark :
Elspeth wondered why she was so impatient - the Companions weren’t the ones being sworn in, even though they wouldn’t be permitted in the Vale until the Heralds were. Evidently, by common consensus, the Tayledras regarded the Companions as creatures that simply didn’t require oaths to hold them.
Hmm. That requires thought. Do they think Gwena is some kind of Avatar herself? The idea was kind of funny. If they ever listened to her moaning and griping they’d soon lose that particular illusion! I rather doubt Gwena’s hiding that kind of secret.
Not that she hadn’t been hiding other kinds of secrets. This “plan” for Elspeth’s future that the Companions had been plotting, for one. And there were others. . . .
Shortly after Nyara had vanished, taking Need with her, Elspeth noticed that Gwena was missing. Worried about her - since Gwena had been injured in the fight with Falconsbane’s mage-beasts - she had tried to find her Companion, and when she failed, tried to Mindtouch her. When that failed, she had been alarmed and had gone looking for her.
Gwena had been perfectly all right - but she’d been locked in a self-induced trance, shielded even against the prying of Elspeth’s thoughts. And when she’d come out of it, she’d been very unhappy to find her Chosen standing there, tapping her foot impatiently, waiting for an answer.
Under pressure from both Elspeth and Skif, she reluctantly admitted that she had been in contact with another Companion in Valdemar all during this journey. Elspeth had expected that Companion to be her mother’s - and had been both surprised and relieved to find that it was actually Rolan, the Companion of the Queen’s Own Herald, Talia.
Then she had been annoyed, though she hadn’t made much of an issue about it. She hadn’t known that Companions could relay messages that far - and so far as she was aware, no one knew that little fact. Was it just Gwena and Rolan, or could others do it, too? One way or the other, it was one more thing that the Companions had been hiding. So how much more could they do that they hadn’t revealed?
Gwena had said crossly that Elspeth should have expected that “arrangements would be made.” And Elspeth had been forced to agree. After all, she was the Heir, and she’d been allowed to go haring off into the unknown with only one Herald to guard her back. For all that she’d managed to get complete agreement from the Council and Heraldic Circle, it was still rather irresponsible. If Queen Selenay had not had a way to get news about her errrant offspring, she’d likely have had strong hysterics before a month was out. Especially after Elspeth departed from the agreed-upon itinerary, and “vanished” into the Dhorisha Plains.
Still, she hadn’t much liked the idea that little reports on her progress were being sent back home, as if she was some kind of child on her first outing without Mama.
On the other hand, Gwena had told them, when Elspeth pressed her for exactly what she’d been telling Rolan, that the “reports” she’d been sending Rolan were edited. “Heavily edited,” in fact, was what the Companion had said, rather glumly. Which was just as well. If Selenay had the smallest inkling just how much danger Elspeth and Skif had gotten themselves into -
She’d have found a way to haul me back, that’s what she ‘d have done, and plunked me down in nice safe embroidery classes for the rest of my natural life.
How could she possibly explain to her mother that ever since she’d started on this trip - even before she’d started - she’d had the feeling that the Crown wasn’t something she was ever going to wear? Even if she had tried to tell her, Selenay would have taken it the wrong way; she’d have been sure that Elspeth had some premonition of doom, and there she’d be in embroidery class again, away from all possibility of danger.
What an awful idea.
And it wasn’t a premonition of “doom,” or anything like one. It was just the feeling that she was never going to rule. That one of the twins was going to have the throne, and the other -
The other would be King’s Own. Not a bad arrangement, since they aren‘t at all alike. Wouldn‘t be the first time that sibs were Monarch and Monarch’s Own.
Her fate was something else entirely - though what, she hadn’t the faintest notion. Even though her conscience bothered her now that she was so far away from home, she’d been doing some useful work, assigned to Kerowyn and the Skybolts. And, though she would never have believed it when she left Haven, she was homesick.
She kept telling herself that there wasn’t much she had been doing that couldn’t be done by Talia and Daren . . . and that though she wasn’t a ForeSeer, she’d never been wrong when she got really strong feelings about something. There was something she had to do, and it was tied up with learning magic.
She’d said as much to Gwena, who’d agreed with her. “Even though you aren’t following the course we’d planned for you,” she’d added.
Too bad. So I’m a stubborn bitch. I do things my way, or not at all, and if Mother, Gwena, and Rolan don’t like it, I’m not at all sorry. So there. Nyah, nyah. She grinned to herself at her own childish thought. Really, it was a very good thing that the messages were going through Rolan to Talia and only then to Selenay. Rolan had more of a sense of humor than Gwena - and a little more tolerance. And Talia knew her former charge very well indeed. Further, Talia had told Elspeth privately that she thought the Queen was reacting like most mothers to the evidences of her daughter growing up and developing a mind of her own.
Badly.
Oh, not as badly as she could have, but all things considered, it was much better for Elspeth to be off beyond Mama’s reach for a while. By the time she returned, it might be possible for Queen Selenay to admit that her daughter wasn’t a foolish, headstrong, stupid child anymore.
I’ve managed to acquire a little sense, anyway. . . .
:Gather yourself, my dear,: Gwena Mindspoke, interrupting her thoughts. :They’re coming for you. Finally.:
Elspeth glanced out of the corner of her eye at Skif and Tre’valen. Skif looked as if he were concentrating on every word that the Hawkbrother called Iceshadow spoke. Actually, he probably was; his command of the Tayledras tongue wasn’t anywhere near as good as hers. Odd; she’d slipped right into the language as if she had known it most of her life.
Oh, that’s probably because it’s like Shin‘a‘in, and Kera taught me some of that.
Tre’valen wore that inscrutable face that Kero always put on when she was determined not to let anyone know what I she was thinking. “Gambling-face,” she called it.
The more she thought about it, the better she liked the idea of approaching Tre’valen later to see if they could do anything for each other. She felt a lot more comfortable around him - around any of the Shin’a’in, really - than she did around the Tayledras. That was probably because she could read him, a little. He and Kethra reminded her of Kero; well, that shouldn’t surprise her. Kero had trained her, and Kero had, in turn, been trained by a Shin’a’in Swordsworn, so there was a lot of Shin’a’in attitude and thinking patterns in the way Kero looked at things. A good bit of that had rubbed off on her pupil, without a doubt. The Tayledras, however, were very exotic, and Darkwind had been so hard to read that Elspeth had given up even trying.
I wonder if they seem that way to Tre’valen?
They hadn’t had much of a chance to see the Vale; as Gwena had predicted, it was sunset when the Hawkbrothers came for them, and most of the Vale was shrouded in shadows as they passed through it. Elspeth had gotten some impressions that had taken her breath away, however - of luxuriant growth that made any forest she’d ever seen look sparse by comparison, and trees so enormous her mind refused to accept their size. The Companions had trailed along behind as they followed a well-worn path past curtaining vines covered with cascading flowers the size of her hand, and bushes with leaves bigger than a saddle. Elspeth couldn’t wait to see the place in the daytime.
Darkwind himself had come to fetch them, as their sponsor into the Clan; Kethra was Tre’valen’s. With him had come at least a dozen more Tayledras - and Elspeth had done her best not to stare, but it had been very difficult. She had thought that Darkwind was a typical Hawkbrother, and she had been just a little disappointed, given the hints in the Chronicles of how strange the Hawkbrothers were, at his shoulder-length, mottled-brown hair and his drab clothing. The Chronicles had talked about Moondance and Starwind being as “brightly plumaged as firebirds” and she’d cherished images of brilliant colors and weird clothing, maybe things that didn’t look like clothing at all.
She wasn’t disappointed any longer. The dozen Tayledras with Darkwind had been garbed as wildly and beautifully as she could have wished. Every one of them had hair that was waist-length or longer, white as ice, and twined with feathers, crystals, bells, slender chains, or strands of silk matching their - costumes. That was the only word she could arrive at. “Clothing” certainly wasn’t adequate - not for robes with layered sleeves that trailed on the ground, hugged the arm like silken skin, were scalloped, bejeweled, embroidered, and tapestried. “Garb” didn’t describe tunics and gowns that mimicked feathers, leaves, flower petals, frozen waterfalls. Every one of the dozen was unique; every one was incredible and complex. And yet, the costumes weren’t any less functional than, say, Valdemaran Court gear; although she wouldn’t have known how to move in those outfits without tripping over something.
She felt for the first time as if she had truly left the world she knew and had stepped into the pages of a tale.
Even Darkwind - drab, disappointing Darkwind - had been transformed. Although his hair was still shoulder-length, he had somehow managed to get patterns dyed into it. She assumed it was dye; it might not have been. How would she know? It might have been magic. Birds flickered whitely against a dark gold background every time he moved his head, as if his hair was a forest in autumn with doves flying through it. And his costume was as fanciful as the rest - although a little more practical. He had eschewed trailing sleeves and hemlines for embroidery and something that stayed fairly close to his body. But he was just as eye-dazzling in his way as the others were in theirs.
He smiled shyly when he saw the surprise and approval in her expression, but said nothing, simply gesturing for her and Skif to follow him into the depths of the Vale. Kethra led Tre’valen in a similar fashion; the rest of the Tayledras came behind, with mage-lights bobbing above their heads, and the Companions bringing up the rear. Above the walls of the valley and the tops of the towering trees, the sky still glowed blue, with the west a warm gold - in the shelter of the massive branches, dense blue shadows obscured all but the trail they walked.
They had emerged in a clearing, ringed and paved with stone. In the very center of the circular area stood a cracked and half-broken stone with a brazier at its foot, all of it lit by more mage-lights. This strange monolith, she assumed, was the Heartstone - damaged, its wild energies barely restrained by multiple layers of shielding. Darkwind had warned her to keep tight personal shields about her when she was near it; she saw no reason to argue with him. Even through her protections she felt something vaguely wrong with the stone, a kind of sickness about it. It wasn’t something she could put a finger on, or point to, but the uneasy feeling was definitely there.
Iceshadow - wearing an elaborate costume that made him look as if he was half a man and half a delicate, frozen fountain - took his place before the stone. In the transparent, unwavering illumination of the mage-lights, he could have been a dream, an illusion - an ice sculpture brought to life. Then he moved, gracefully, holding up his hands - and with no more preparation than that, Elspeth found herself surrounded by a blue glow that was quite familiar.
Truth Spell? Bright Havens, did we get it from them, or did they get it from Vanyel?
The other question that occurred to her, with a touch of envy, was how Iceshadow had managed to call the spell up with no preparation and in no more than a heartbeat. It took her a good bit of time to call up a Truth Spell, and she was one of the best in her class at that particular exercise. Iceshadow hadn’t even needed to think about it, so far as she had been able to tell. He just gestured, and there it was. That was as impressive as all the lightnings and thunders she’d seen - and cast - fighting Falconsbane and his creatures. Iceshadow had not only cast the spell as easily as breathing, he had made it look effortless.
Iceshadow lowered his arms, and a white hom-tufted owl drifted down out of the trees to land on his shoulder. He watched the three of them serenely for a moment, and then folded his hands in his sleeves. “Do you bring any ill-intent into this Vale?” he asked, conversationally.
Was this the beginning of the oathtaking? It must be. She shook her head, and Skif mouthed the word “No.”
Iceshadow smiled slightly, and continued; still calm, still casual. “Is it your wish to be made a brother of this Clan?”
They both answered with nods.
Now Iceshadow sobered; the owl settled itself and turned unblinking eyes upon them, as if it, too, was weighing the truth of their intent. Elspeth was suddenly hyperaware of everything about her; the faint, cool breeze on her back, the way it stirred Iceshadow’s clothing, Skif’s hair, the fringe on Tre’valen’s sash. The way the blue light from the spell reflected in the onlookers’ eyes. The call of a bird, somewhere out in the Vale. Iceshadow took a deep breath, and spoke, in a soft voice that still carried incredible intensity. “Hear, then, the privileges of brotherhood: to come and go freely within all lands held by Tayledras k’Sheyna; to call upon your brothers in times of need; to ask of us teaching; to make your home among us. Hear also the responsibilities of brotherhood: to keep the secrets of the Clan; to neither bring nor lead strangers among us; to keep our lands and guard them as we do; to answer to our need if no other oath prevents; to teach when it is asked of you, aid when it is asked of you, give shelter and succor to your brothers of the Clan, of Tayledras, and of Shin’a’in. Can you be bound to these conditions?”
“Yes,” Elspeth breathed. It would not have been unreasonable to swear them to absolute secrecy, or to require that they pledge a formal and complicated alliance to the Clan. Skif seemed just as surprised as he answered in the affirmative.
The breeze gusted past again, and the owl roused its feathers, shaking himself vigorously before settling down to resume his stare at them. Iceshadow watched them as un-blinkingly as his owl. “Then there is another vow you must make,” Iceshadow continued. “But it is one that you must not make in ignorance. So listen - watch - and heed - ”
He gestured again, and as Elspeth caught her breath in startlement, a globe of glowing white mist rose up from the pavement between them, obscuring everything on the other side of the circle. As Elspeth turned her attention from the Hawkbrother to the globe of starlight, she saw that there was a picture forming in it. She bit her lip when the picture cleared, this time with a feeling of incredulity and horror; she had seen her own land ravaged by warfare, but this was beyond anything she had ever dreamed in her worst nightmares. Encased in the glowing globe was the image of a devastated land; the viewpoint was from the edge of a blasted crater so wide she literally could not see the other side. She blinked and swallowed, finding it hard to comprehend destruction on so vast a scale, and nauseated by the very idea that such a thing could have happened. To see a place that must once have been green, been full of people, animals, trees and plants - to see it not only ravaged, but utterly annihilated - the shock of it drove any real thoughts from her head for a moment. Beside her, Tre’valen started in surprise, as if this was something he knew about but had not expected to see here.
“This was the homeland, long and long ago.” Iceshadow’s voice drifted across the silence, a voice filled with such sadness and loss that it seemed as if what Elspeth saw might have happened a day ago, rather than centuries ago. “This was the homeplace of the people called Kaled’a’in. This was all that remained, at the end of the First and Last conflict, the Mage Wars.”
The scene shifted, to a group of armed, subdued people, all with the long black hair and golden skin of the Shin’a’in, gathered on the edge of the crater. There was some confusion as they and their animals - horses, huge dogs, hunting cats, and birds of prey - milled about, and then it was apparent that about half of them were packing up and moving off, away from the crater, while the rest stayed.
“We fled from the destruction, and returned when we could. This was what we found, and there was mourning and confusion. Then came anger, at what had happened, at what had caused it. There was dissent over what the people should do. Some wished to renounce all magic; some, to make further use of magic to keep the Clans alive in this new and alien world. There was no compromise possible between those positions - dissent became argument, and argument became hate. That was when, rather than turn dissent to feud, the two sides agreed to divide, and with this decision came the Sundering of the Clans. Those who renounced magic became the Shin’a’in, while those who sought magery removed themselves from the rest, calling themselves Tayledras, after the birds that they had helped to bring into being. These, our Fathers and Mothers, went north.”
Again the scene shifted, to something that had probably been a forest.
Once.
Now it was another kind of nightmare; instead of lifelessness, twisted and contorted wildlife ran riot. The vegetation grew so thick it formed a solid green wall on either side of the road, except that it was hard to tell some of the flora from some of the fauna. There were plants that groped after the passing Clansfolk, and animals that were rooted to the spot like plants, some watching them with indifferent eyes, others that screamed unendingly. There were creatures she half-glimpsed through the veils of vines hanging from every branch that made Elspeth shudder. As she tried to make sense of confusion of color and motion, the group shown was attacked by things that were horribly worse than the creatures Falconsbane had sent against them - things that seemed to be nothing but teeth and claws, with armored plates covering everything but their joints.
Iceshadow’s voice made her jump. “The five Clans that were now Tayledras found that the lands beyond the homeland were ravaged by the forces of twisted and tainted magic. No human or bird could survive there for long. Either they must starve, for they could not spare a moment from defense to grow or hunt their food, or they must give up defense and perish at the hands of the monsters that inhabited these lands. They despaired, for there was nowhere else for them to go.”
The scene fogged for a moment, and re-formed. The band of Tayledras had made a camp on the top of a hill, the earth scorched bare by fire, with a temporary palisade of thorny branches about the camp - but it was obvious it could not last for long against any kind of attack.
“They knew they could go no farther,” Iceshadow concluded. “So, as their kindred that would become the Shin’a’in would do, they prayed to their Goddess. And She answered. Here is her answer to their plea.”
Nothing Elspeth had watched prepared her for what happened as the mist clouded again.
Suddenly there was no ball of glowing mist with pictures in it before her; suddenly there was no clearing, no Hawkbrothers, no Skif -
- no light, no sound, no world.
Only herself, a sky full of stars stretching in every direction -
- including down -
And out of this starry nothingness arose a white-hot flame that was somehow also a woman. Too bright to see clearly, She changed from moment to moment, and the raw Power emanating from Her made Elspeth tremble. She’d have fallen to her knees - if she could have figured out how to do so in the midst of all this starry space.
I have heard your prayers, She said, in a voice that filled Elspeth’s mind, leaving no room for anything, not even fear. There is a price to be paid for what you ask, and that price is in your lives, and your freedom.
She gestured, and in the palm of Her hand was cupped the weirdly twisted landscape of the forest the Clansfolk had entered. Terrible magics have warped this land, and only magic can heal it again. Therefore I offer this, that you have asked of me. I shall grant you safety here, long enough to establish each of you a Clan holding. I shall teach you the means of creating a place in the midst of the holding wherein you shall dwell in protection. I shall grant you the knowledge of Adepts, to use and concentrate the magic - and a knowledge even Adepts have not - to create a center of such power that the greatest of the mages who caused these changes would look upon you with envy.
To this you shall swear, in return. You will cleanse these lands - restore them to what they were before the Wars. You shall destroy the creatures of evil intent, cherish and succor the innocent victims of this catastrophe, and find shelter for those that are merely animals, meaning neither good nor ill. You shall destroy those old weapons you may find, that they may not be misused again. You shall cleanse the land you hold - and then you shall move on, to another place, to begin again. All of your children that are Mage-Gifted shall follow this path. All who are not shall guard and aid the ones who are. You shall be the Healers and Protectors - and you shall never permit the magics you manipulate here to be used for ill, nor shall you permit strangers within your ranks, unless they be sworn to the Clans. This you must do, at whatever cost to yourselves.
Abruptly, the vision was gone. Elspeth shook her head, blinking and still trembling with reaction; more than a little disoriented. There was nothing now in die clearing but what had been there when they entered; even the glowing mist was gone.
She tried to shake off the effect of the vision - if that was what it had been. She had been there for a moment; she didn’t at all doubt that she had experienced exactly the same , thing as those long-ago Hawkbrothers had. What she I couldn’t understand was why Skif didn’t seem particularly affected, but Tre’valen looked just as dazed and bedazzled as she felt. Long ago, when she was younger, she had first heard the story of King Valdemar and the first appearance of the Companions, and had thought it a very pretty tale. Now she had the glimmering of what King Valdemar just might have experienced when his prayers were answered. It shook her to the soul. It made her understand why some people became ardent, abject devotees of deities.
Iceshadow was silent for a long moment, while she and Tre’valen gathered their scattered wits. Elspeth thought that he watched her particularly closely, although she couldn’t be sure of that. Finally, he spoke again.
“This is the last oath you must swear - that you will aid your brothers of the Clan in their duty, as your own oaths permit - and that never will you use what is taught you here for the sake of your own power, pride, and status.”
He held his hand up, to forestall their immediate answers. “I shall not ask you to swear never to use it to harm - for one day you may find yourself facing an enemy who would destroy far more than you if he is given the opportunity to do so. But you must never use your learning for selfish purposes, to increase your own importance, to make your life one of pointless leisure, to merely indulge your fancies. Can you swear to that?”
Elspeth heaved a sigh of relief; that was enough like the Oaths a Herald took before the Circle that the wording made very little difference. She gave her assent with a much lighter heart, grateful that all of the vows she’d been asked to make seemed to take into account the fact that those outside the Clan had other duties and oaths of their own that might take precedence.
Now as long as both sets of promises never come into conflict, I should be all right.
Throughout the entire oathtaking, the blue glow of the Truth Spell remained steady around all three of them. Now Iceshadow banished the spell with another gesture, just as the deepening blue of the sky above them took on the golden-red streaks of the last moments of sunset. Elspeth looked up for a moment, as some movement against the luminous blue above caught her eye, and discovered that what had attracted her attention was the steady circling of a bird over their clearing. A bird of prey, by the shape.
Nothing unusual, not here in the heart of a Tayledras Clan territory, but something about the bird made her take a second, closer look.
It was big; much bigger than she had thought, at first. In fact, it was easily the size of the largest eagle she had ever seen. But it had the distinctive tail-striping of a vorcel-hawk; that was one bird she would never again mistake for anything else.
A vorcel-hawk the size of an eagle, or larger - and unless it was a trick of the light, it was glowing.
Dawnfire? The thought was inevitable. She glanced back down at Tre’valen, only to see that he was watching the hawk as well, though no one else seemed to notice that it was there. The expression on his face was a most peculiar one; he looked both excited and obscurely disturbed, at one and the same time.
The hawk made a final circle above, then spiraled upward, to be lost in the scarlet-and-golden glory of the sunset. Tre’valen licked his lips and looked down again; reluctantly, it seemed to her. He caught her watching him before she could look away, and something in his eyes made her nod, once, slowly; admitting, without actually saying anything, that she had seen the bird as well.
His lips formed the merest ghost of a smile, and he turned his attention back toward Iceshadow.
Less time had passed than she had thought. The Tayledras Adept was only now finishing his words of acceptance, admitting them into the Clan as Wingsiblings, and welcoming them as allies and friends.
She shook her head again, feeling another shiver of disorientation. Time was doing strange things around her, today. And Skif didn’t seem to be affected by any of it. Was it because she was a mage, or was -it something else entirely?
Or was it just nerves?
Not that it really mattered at the moment. The ceremony wasn’t quite over yet, although the formal pledging of vows was. Darkwind had explained this afternoon as he brought them to the cave to wait, that Iceshadow wanted to talk to her, Skif, and their Companions before he unleashed the rest of the Clan on them.
“He wants to give you a clearer idea of what you’re getting involved with,” he had said; she had wondered at the time if he was joking a little or being completely serious.
But Iceshadow was, indeed, walking across the paving toward them with another strange Hawkbrother at his side, and Darkwind and the Companions following behind. The other Tayledras drifted off, seeming to melt into the luxuriant foliage.
“So, I meet the Heralds at last,” the Adept said, as he got within easy conversational distance of them. ‘ ‘The last of your kind to be within a Clan was - what?” He looked to the other Tayledras for an answer.
“Near seven hundred years ago,” the stranger supplied. Elspeth noticed, now that he was near enough for her to note details, that he was very pale, very tired-looking; there were lines of pain around his eyes and mouth. He made a little grimace. “That was k’Treva, though. They always were - hmm - unconventional.”
“I would say, innovative, Starblade,” Iceshadow chided gently. “The experience certainly did them no harm and much good, from all I have heard out of the tales.”
At his naming the stranger, Elspeth took a moment for a second, closer, but covert examination of him. So this was Darkwind’s father? They didn’t look all that much alike, but that could be illness and the differences in their hair as much as anything. Starblade was wearing a more - conservative costume than the rest of his fellows; in fact, there was something about it that seemed very similar to the one Darkwind was wearing; something that invoked birds and their wings, without actually imitating feathers. As if they had been designed by the same mind. Interesting.
“The k’Treva Tayledras that welcomed the Heralds back then - that would have been Moondance and Starwind k’Treva, wouldn’t it?” she replied, obviously startling all three of the Hawkbrothers, and earning a covert grin of approval from Tre’valen. “That was in the Chronicles of Herald Vanyel’s time; I read them, and that was why I came here, to try and find more Tayledras, if I could. The Heralds were Vanyel Ashkevron and his aunt, Savil - Vanyel was the last of the Herald-Mages. The Chronicles said that he spent quite a lot of time there, in k’Treva Vale, especially when he was young, and that Starwind taught him most of what he knew about magic.”
“That is quite true, young one,” Starblade replied, his voice warming a little with what sounded to her like approval. “Or at least, that is what our records told me. Iceshadow, my friend, would it be possible for us to move to somewhere a little less formal for the rest of this?” He gestured apologetically to her, and to Skif and Tre’valen, “I am sorry, but I fear I must beg your indulgence and find a place to sit.”
“What about the fishpond over there?” Darkwind asked, pointing with his chin somewhere behind Iceshadow’s shoulder. “It’s quiet enough, and there shouldn’t be anyone there after the sun sets.”
“Good enough,” his father replied - gratefully, Elspeth thought. “There should be room for your large friends, and seating enough for all of us.”
Iceshadow gestured to the younger Hawkbrother to lead the way; Elspeth followed him, and the rest trailed behind her. By now it was becoming quite dark, and she was grateful for the mage-lights Iceshadow and Starblade produced. She found that distances were deceptive in the Vale; the ornamental fishpond Darkwind spoke of was actually hardly more than a stone’s throw away from the Heartstone circle, and yet it might easily have been halfway across the Vale. Once they had arranged themselves around it, there was no way of telling that the Heartstone was anywhere nearby.
“Well,” Starblade said, once he had settled himself in a comfortable ‘ ‘chair” formed of the roots of a tree with moss cupped where a cushion would be. Elspeth took a second, similar seat, and found it incredibly comfortable. “Iceshadow has asked me to explain to you just what sort of a - ah - situation you have unwittingly involved yourselves in. And since I am the partial cause of that situation, I think it only fair that I make the attempt.”
Elspeth met his eyes and recognized what she saw there. Pain, mental and physical. This conversation was going to cost him something - but she had seen some of that same pain in Darkwind’s eyes whenever he had spoken of his father, and she knew that Starblade had put that pain there. The man was right. It was only fair.
She settled herself and nodded to him, decisively. “Go ahead,” she said. “I don’t think anything you say is going to make us change our minds, but I was trained as a tactician; I like to know what I can expect.” She smiled, slightly. “Good or bad.”
Starblade nodded gravely, and leaned forward. He cradled his right hand around his bandaged left hand - surely there must be a story behind that as well. This was either going to be very short, or very long. Whichever it was, it was going to be interesting.
She had told the truth about not changing her mind; she only hoped what she learned wasn’t going to make her regret her own decisions. It was a little too late for regret now.
It was not, however, too early for strategy. It was never too early, or too late, for that.