A gray sky gave no clue as to the time, but Darkwind thought it was not long after dawn. He had spent a restless night, haunted by the exhausted faces of the k’Sheyna mages. He had not been expecting anyone so early and the first words out of Darkwind’s mouth when Elspeth appeared at his ekele were, “We cannot do it here.”
He had been thinking hard about what they were to do; all during his meal, the long soak before bed (in the midst of which he had fallen asleep until a hertasi woke him), and into the night before sleep took him. And he had decided on certain provisions as he dressed. What they were to do was no problem; thanks to Elspeth and Treyvan he was accustomed now to improvising on existing spells. This would be a variation on the seeking-spell. But where - that was different. It could not be done within the confines of the Vale, even outside the shielded Practice ground. He knew that with deep certainty that had only hardened during sleep. Every instinct revolted when he even considered the idea.
Something was happening to the Heartstone, or possibly within it. He had no notion of what was going on, but now he did not want to do anything that affected it while within its reach. It was not just that the Stone had drained k’Sheyna mages, it was the way it had happened. It had waited, or seemed to, until they were certain of success and off their guard.
Perhaps that had been accident, but what it it was not. He did not know. It didn’t seem likely, but less likely things had been happening with dismaying regularity. These’were strange times indeed.
He realized as soon as he said the words that Elspeth would have no idea what had been going through his mind since the meeting. He felt like a fool as soon as he closed his mouth.
She’s going to think I’ve gone crazy, that I’m babbling.
But instead of confusion, Elspeth met the statement with a nod of understanding. “Absolutely,” she replied, as if she had been talking to him about the problems all along. “Too much interference from shields and set-spells, plus the Heartstone’s proximity itself. I’ve been thinking about that since last night. That Heartstone of yours is acting altogether too clever for my comfort. I don’t want to do something it might not like when I’m anywhere around it. It might decide that since I’m an Outlander, it’ll do more than just drain me.”
“It is not a thinking being,” he protested, but without conviction.
“Maybe not, but it acts like it is.” She glanced back over her shoulder, in the direction of the Stone. “Maybe it’s all coincidence, or maybe it’s something that Falconsbane set up a long time ago. But when it acts like it can think, I’m I going to assume that it is thinking and act accordingly.” She grinned crookedly. “As my Shin’a’in-trained teacher would say, ‘Just because you feel certain an enemy is lurking behind every bush, it doesn’t follow that you are wrong.’”
Shin‘a‘in proverbs from an Outlander. God help me. But he couldn’t help but smile ruefully in reply. “The trouble with proverbs is that they’re truisms,” he agreed. “You make me think that you are reading my thoughts, though.”
It was a half-serious accusation, although he made it with a smile. It was no secret that these Heralds had mind-magic - but did they use it without warning?
She laughed. “Not a chance. I don’t eavesdrop, I promise. No Herald would. It was just a case of parallel worries. So, where are we going to go to work?”
No Herald would. Perhaps the Companion might. . . but I suspect she knows that. He wasn’t worried about her Companion reading his thoughts. It was not likely that there was anything he would think that a Guardian Spirit had not seen before.
“Have you eaten yet?” he asked instead. When she shook her head, he went back into his ekele and rummaged about in his belongings and what the hertasi had left him. He brought out two coats draped over his arm, and fruit and bread, handing her a share of the food. She took it with a nod of thanks. “I thought,” he said after she had settled beside him on the steps, “that we might work from the ruins.”
“The gryphon’s lair?” She tipped her head to one side. “There is a node underneath it. And we’re likely to need one. But what about - well - attracting things when we do the magic?”
“We won’t have the shields of the Vale, and that’s a problem,” he admitted, biting into a ripepomera. “I don’t know how to get around that.”
She considered that for a moment, then shrugged. “We’ll deal with it, I suppose,” she replied. “Gwena can’t think of any way around it either, but she’s in agreement with both of us on not working near the Heartstone.” She finished the last of her bread and stood up, dusting her hands off. “So, what, exactly, are we doing?”
He licked juice from his fingers and followed her example, handed her a coat, then led the way down the stairs to the path below. “Well, we can’t do a wide open Mindcall,” he began.
“Obviously,” she said dryly. “Since we don’t want every nasty thing in the area to know that k’Sheyna is in trouble. I wouldn’t imagine we’d want to do a focused Mindcall either; something still might pick it up, even though we meant it only for Tayledras. There might even be something watching for a Mindcall like that, for all we know.”
“And what’s the point in wasting all the energy needed for a focused Mindcall to all the Clans when there may not be more than one or two Adepts that can help us?” he concluded. “No, what I’d thought that we should do is to send a specific message-spell; that is a complicated message that can be carried by a single bird.” He smiled to himself; she wouldn’t believe what kind of bird would carry the incorporeal message, but it was the most logical.
“To whom?” she asked in surprise, as Gwena joined them, following a polite ten paces behind. “I thought - ” she stopped in confusion.
“I don’t know who to send it to, but I know what,” he explained, brushing aside a branch that overhung the path. “Somewhere in the Clans is a Healing Adept of a high enough level that he either knows or can figure out what we need to do. Now I know that no one here can, so I send out a message to the nearest Clan, aimed at any Adept that’s of our ability or higher. In this case, the nearest Clan is k’Treva. And I’m pretty sure they have someone better equipped to deal with this than we are. They offered their help a while back, and Father refused it.”
“And if no one there can help us after all?” she asked, darkly.
He shrugged. “Then I ask them to pass on the word to the others. They don’t have a flawed Heartstone in their midst. They can send out to any Clan Council. To tell you the truth, our biggest problem with getting the Stone taken care of has been isolation. Solve that, and we can solve the rest.”
The Vale was unusually silent, with all the mages abed and recovering. Their steps were the only sounds besides the faint stirring of leaves in the breeze and the bird songs that always circulated through the Vale. She was quiet all the way to the entrance and the Veil that guarded it. Beyond the protections, another winter snowstorm dropped fat flakes through the bare branches of the trees.
They shared a look of resignation; wrapped themselves in their coats and crossed the invisible barrier between summer and winter. The first sound outside was of their boots splashing into the puddles of water made by snow melted from the ambient heat of the Vale’s entrance.
There was no wind, and snow buried their feet to the calf with every step they took. Flakes drifted down slowly through air that felt humid on Darkwind’s face, and not as cold as he had expected. Above the gray branches, a white sky stretched featurelessly from horizon to horizon; Darkwind got the oddest impression, as if the snowflakes were bits of the sky, chipped off and slowly falling. Beneath the branches, the gray columns of the tree trunks loomed through the curtaining snow, and more snow carpeted the forest floor and mounded in the twigs of every bush. There were no evergreens in this part of the woods, so there was nothing to break the landscape of gray and white.
Snow creaked under their feet, and the cold crept into his boots. Their feet would be half frozen by the time they reached the ruins.
Darkwind didn’t mind the lack of color. After the riot of colors and verdant greens within the Vale, the subdued grays and gray-browns were restful, refreshing. He wished, though, that he had time and the proper surroundings to enjoy them.
This is a good day for bundling up beside afire, watching the snowfall and not thinking of anything in particular.
“This is the kind of day when I used to curl up in a blanket in a window and read,” Elspeth said quietly, barely breaking the silence. “When I’d just sit, listen to the fire, watch the snow pile up on the window ledge, and think about how nice it was to be warm and inside.”
He chuckled, and she glanced at him. Gwena moved around them to walk in front, breaking the trail for them.
“I was just thinking the same thing,” he explained. “If we only had the time. I used to do much the same.”
“Ah.” She nodded. “I’d forgotten you used to live outside that glorified greenhouse. I like it, the Vale, I mean - but sometimes I miss weather when I’m in there. It’s hard to tell what time of day it is, much less what season.”
“Well, I imagine Wintermoon and Skif would be willing to trade places with us right now,” he replied thoughtfully. “This is good weather to be inside - but not for camping. Snow this damp is heavy when it collects on a tent. Oh, if you’re wondering, I sent Vree on ahead with a message about what we want to do; I expect Treyvan and Hydona will be waiting for us.”
“I was wondering.” She glanced at him again, but this time she half-smiled as she tucked her hair more securely inside the hood of her coat. “Not that I expected them to object, but it is considered good manners to let people know that you are planning on setting off fireworks from the roof of their house - and you plan to have their help in doing it.”
He laughed; this was a very pleasant change from the Elspeth of several weeks ago. Reasonable, communicative. And showing a good sense of humor. “Yes it is,” he agreed. “My message to them was that if they objected to the idea, to let me know immediately. That was when I first woke; since Vree didn’t come back, I assume they don’t mind.”
“Either that, or he forgot his promise and made a snatch at a crestfeather again,” she said with mock solemnity. “In that case, you’ll have to find yourself another bondbird.”
Elspeth enjoyed the walk, for with Gwena breaking the trail for them, the trip to the lair was something like a pleasant morning’s hike. They had to keep a watch for unexpected trouble, of course, but nothing more threatening appeared than a crow scolding them for being in his part of the forest.
This is the most relaxed I’ve been since I got here, she thought. Perhaps it was because the waiting was finally over. She’d had the feeling all along that the mages of k’Sheyna would never be able to solve the problem by themselves. Darkwind felt the same, she knew, but he never discussed it. He was relieved, too - but too conscientious to feel pleased with the failure of his Clan’s mages, even though it proved that he was right. He wasn’t a shallow man.
The ruins were cloaked in snow, which gave some portions an air of utter desolation, and others an uncanny resemblance to complete buildings. Passage of the gryphons in and around their territory kept the pathways they used relatively free of snow. It was easier to move here, but with the last of the trees out of sight, the place felt like a desert.
Vree was on his best behavior, it seemed, for when they approached the gryphons’ lair, they found him up on the “rafters” of the nest, pulling bits from a fresh-killed quail with great gusto.
He didn’t have time to do more than call a greeting to Darkwind, though. The gryphlets tumbled out of the nest and overran all three of them, knocking Darkwind off his feet and rolling him in the snow, wrestling with him as if they were kittens and he was a kind of superior cat-toy.
Elspeth laughed until her sides hurt; every time he started to get up, one of the youngsters knocked him over again. He was matted with snow; he looked like an animated snowman, and was laughing so hard she wondered how he caught his breath.
Gwena watched the melee wistfully, obviously wishing she could join in.
Elspeth decided that Darkwind could use a rescue. She waded in and started pulling tails, which turned the gryph-lets on her. Within a heartbeat, she found herself going ramp-over-tail into a snowdrift, with a squealing Jerven on top of her, flailing with his short, stubby wings and kicking up clouds of the soft snow in all directions.
That was when Gwena joined the fun; making short charges and shouldering the youngsters aside so that she tumbled them into the snow the way they had knocked Darkwind and Elspeth over. The gryphlets loved that; Gwena was big enough to hold her own with them, and provided they kept their foreclaws fisted, they didn’t have to hold back with her in a rough-and-tumble.
In a few moments, their parents appeared, and rather than calling a halt to the game, they joined it. Now the odds were clearly against the gryphlets, and first Darkwind, then Elspeth switched sides, coming to the youngsters’ defense while Gwena sided with the parents. In moments, snow flew everywhere. It looked like a blizzard from the ground up.
The best strategy seemed to be seizing the tail of an adult, hampering movement, while the young one batted away at the front end with blows of their wings and with their claws held tightly into a fist to avoid injury.
That wouldn’t work for long, however.
Just as Elspeth was getting winded, Hydona turned the tables on them. The gryphon whirled, dragging Elspeth along with her and bringing her into the range of the huge wings. Suddenly she went tumbling, buffeted into another snowbank by a carefully controlled sweep of a wing; landing right beside Jerven who had gotten the same treatment. Before either of them could scramble to their feet, Hydona was upon them, pinning each of them down with a foreclaw.
“Trrruce?” the gryphon asked, her head cocked to one side, her beak slightly open as she panted. Steam rose in puffs from her half-open beak. Elspeth sensed the controlled power in the claw pinning her carefully into the drift, and marveled at it, even as she signaled her defeat laughingly. Hydona let both of them up, extending the claw again to help Elspeth to her feet.
“Thanks,” she said, looking for Gwena, and finding that Darkwind and Lytha had taken Gwena hostage, holding her against Treyvan’s continued good behavior. The Companion’s blue eyes sparkled like sapphires, and her ears were up and tail flagged -
In short, they only thought they had her.
Elspeth kept her mouth shut, waiting for Gwena to make her move.
Treyvan feinted, and Darkwind turned just a little too far to block him. For one moment, he took his eyes off the Companion.
That was when Gwena grabbed his collar in her teeth, and, whipping her head around on her long, graceful neck, jerked him off his feet and flung him sideways into Lytha.
Darkwind whuffed with surprise; Lytha squealed. They both went down in a tangle of legs and wings.
Elspeth giggled uncontrollably, then took a huge double handful of snow, packed it tight, and lobbed it at Gwena. It impacted against Gwena’s rump, and she whirled to glare at her Chosen indignantly. Darkwind howled with laughter, and the gryphlets joined in.
“I was afraid you were going to break the game up,” Elspeth told the female gryphon, as Darkwind and his partner surrendered to her mate.
Hydona shook her head to rid it of snow. “No,” she replied. “The little onesss werrre resstlessss. Now they will sssettle, and let usss worrk in peace.”
Elspeth stretched and began beating the snow out of her cloak, feeling vertebrae pop as her muscles loosened. “I feel like I’ve worked off a bit of nerves, too,” she began, when another creature popped its head out of the gryphon’s lair, ears pricked forward and eyes wide with interest.
:Is the battle over?: the kyree asked. :Or is this a temporary truce?:
“I think we’ve been defeated too soundly to make another attempt,” Darkwind said cheerfully. “Despite Gwena’s indignation. Am I right, my shieldbrother?” he asked, turning to Lytha.
The gryphlet nodded vigorously, and sneezed a clump of melting snow from her cere and crown. “Wet,” she complained. “Got sssnow in my featherssss.”
“If you fight in sssnow, you mussst expect sssome in your feathersss,” Hydona told her, with a twinkle.
:My famous cousin Warrl used to say, “You cannot have a battle without getting your fur in a mess.”: The kyree scratched meditatively at one ear. :He used to say, “You know how fierce the fighting was by how long after it takes to clean up. “ If you two want to come inside, I can start a mage-fire for you to lie beside, and tell you a story.: The kyree’s head vanished into the lair again. Jerven beat Lytha inside by less than half a length. “I take it that was Rris?” Elspeth said, trying not to laugh.
“Yesss,” sighed Hydona. She looked at Treyvan, and the two of them said, in chorus, “That wasss Rrisss Let-me-tell-you-of-my-famousss-cousssin-Warrl of Hyrrrull Pack.”
“The childrrren love him,” Treyvan added. “I think I can bear with hisss famousss cousssin sstorriess sssince he doesss not repeat them.”
“Only the proverbsss and advice.” Hydona shrugged. “It isss no worssse than living with a Ssshin’a’in.”
“Surely, but what could be?” Darkwind agreed, and squinted at the sky. “We have all of the afternoon and some of the morning left. Do you want to start now?”
“I thought it might be wisssse,” Treyvan replied. “The lair isss not dirrrectly above the node. When I found the place that wasss, I built it into a ssshelter asss well. Would you follow?”
Darkwind waved him ahead; he and Hydona took up the lead, with the two humans following, Gwena between them. Elspeth laid a hand on her shoulder.
:Did you enjoy yourself?: she asked. :You looked like you were having a wonderful time.:
:Very much,: Gwena replied, her breath steaming from her nostrils, her eyes still bright and merry. :That was fun! I’d nearly forgotten how much fun it is to be a child. Or to be with a child. No matter how serious things are, they can always play.:
:A good thing, too,: Elspeth chuckled, patting her on the neck. :They can remind us grownups that there’s a time to forget how serious things are. I miss the twins.:
:So do I: Gwena sighed gustily. :I miss a lot of things.:
Elspeth realized Gwena must feel rather alone. She at least had other humans around, however alien they were.
With Skif out on the hunt for Nyara, Gwena didn’t even have Cyrnry to talk to.
Gwena must have guessed the direction her thoughts were taking. :Oh, don’t feel too sorry for me,: she said, poking Elspeth in the shoulder with her nose. :I can do that well enough on my own!:
Elspeth made a face at her, relieved. :I’m sure you can,: she teased. :And I wouldn‘t even have to encourage you.:
:Too true.: Gwena’s ears pricked forward and she brought her head up. :I do believe we have arrived.:
Before them loomed another rough building-shape, much like the lair, but cruder. Where the lair was clearly a dwelling, this was no more than a simple shelter; the most basic of walls and a roof. But it was fully large enough for the gryphons and their guests, with room to spare.
It was clear that Treyvan and his mate had constructed this place before the first snow fell. Elspeth wondered why they had built it. Had they always intended to work magic here in their ruins? Or had they some other purpose in mind?
They entered, to find that Treyvan had already started a mage-fire inside; the glowing ball gave them both heat and light. The interior of the crude building was appreciably warmer than the outside, although an occasional draft whipped by at ankle height. Elspeth decided to leave her coat on; it wasn’t that warm inside.
“What, exactly, arrre we doing?” Treyvan asked, settling down on his haunches. “I know of one kind of messssage-ssspell, but I do not know that it isss like the one you ussse.”
“Ours requires.a carrier,” Darkwind explained carefully. He looked around and found a block of stone to sit on. “We generally use a bird of some kind. There are a lot of advantages to that. The spell itself weighs nothing, and it can’t be detected unless a mage is quite close to the bird. The bird doesn’t need to remember anything, so it doesn’t have to be a bondbird. The spell is in two parts; one is the message, and the other will identify the target. That part will tell the bird when it has found either the specific person that the message is for, or in our case, the kind of person the spell is for.”
“Interesssting.” Hydona nodded. “Better than oursss; lesss inclined to be detected. What bird arrre you usssing?”
“This one.” He pointed to the hood of his coat; a tiny head peeked out from beneath his hair. Very tiny; mostly bright black eyes, and a long, sharp beak. Elspeth blinked, and looked again.
“A hummingbird?” she said incredulously. “Where did that come from?”
“The Vale,” Darkwind grinned. “He was in my cloak hood until just before the children ran at us. He went up to shelter with Vree while we played; Vree knows better than to molest a hummingbird, since we use them for message-spells all the time. He ducked back inside my hood when I told him it was safe, and that was how I brought him here.”
“But a hummingbird?” She frowned; it was not the choice she would have made. The tiny birds were pretty enough, and certainly they did very well in the artificial world of the Vale, but it seemed to be a poor choice for carrying a message for what might well be hundreds of leagues. “Isn’t he going to freeze to death in this weather? What’s he going to eat? And how is he going to defend himself?”
Darkwind held his hand up to his hood; the bird flew out and hovered for a moment before settling on his finger. It was no larger than the first joint of his thumb. “As long as he keeps moving, he’ll be fine; he won’t have any trouble with the cold. He won’t have to stop to eat, because I will have given him a tiny store of mage-energy that will carry him as far as k’Treva. And look at him.”
Elspeth kept her reservations to herself and took the time to examine the tiny bird closely. It was not one of the little flying jewels she was used to seeing; the bird was black, with only a hint of dull purple at his throat.
“This little fellow doesn’t need to defend himself because very few creatures or birds will be able to see him,” Dark-wind continued. “The fact that you didn’t see him fly out of my hood or back in is proof of that. His speed is his defense; that and his size. He’s so small that even if something sees him, it isn’t likely to catch him. And if something is foolish enough to try to catch him, it is going to discover that it’s nearly impossible to try and catch a hummingbird in full flight.”
“Hmm.” Treyvan bent his head to examine the bird at short range. It looked right back at him, completely without fear, despite the fact that the gryphon could have inhaled the tiny creature and never noticed he had done so. “Ssso you will create a pocket of mage-enerrgy to feed the birrd? That ssshould make no morrre ssstirr than the ssspell it-ssself.”
“Exactly.” Darkwind looked very pleased. “These little fellows move so quickly that even if someone detected a spell, by the time they got to the place where they’d first detected it, the bird would be a hundred furlongs gone.”
“From the maps I’ve seen, it’s an awful long way to k’Treva,” Elspeth said doubtfully.
“Wild hummingbirds migrate so far to the south in the winter that we don’t even know where they go,” Darkwind replied.
:He’s right,: Gwena put in. :One of Kero’s men, the black fellow - I listened to him tell stories once to some of the trainees. He said that hummingbirds spent the winter in his land. And we have no notion of how far north he came.:
Well, if hummingbirds really traveled that far -
“He can do it, don’t worry,” Darkwind replied firmly. “These little ones have carried messages like this one before, even in winter. And once he gets to k’Treva and finds our Adept, someone will see to it that he gets the best honey-nectar and will find a territory for him in their Vale.”
Once again she was struck by the care the Tayledras had for the creatures that they shared their lives with - even a tiny hummingbird that was in no way the kind of partner that their bondbirds were.
Darkwind shook his head. “The little fellow is ready and eager to go. Let’s get to this, so that he doesn’t have to wait.”
Elspeth couldn’t imagine how he would know that, but she agreed. This was likely to take a fair amount of time.
“Indeed,” Hydona said, nodding. “Rrrisss cannot keep the little onesss quiet forever.”
Elspeth was very glad Gwena had come along and even happier that the Companion wasn’t as tired as she was.
The walk back to the Vale, which had been so pleasant on the way out, was a daunting prospect now.
:Neither of you are heavy,: Gwena said, as the three of them followed the gryphons out into the snow. :The Vale is not that far. I can carry both of you, or you can lean against me, if you like.:
The sun was faintly visible through the thick clouds; there was perhaps a candlemark until sunset. “What do you think?” Elspeth asked the Hawkbrother. “Walk, or ride?”
:I can get you there by sunset,: Gwena said, coaxingly.
“Ride,” Darkwind replied decisively. “If you have no objection.”
“None at all.” In fact, this might prove to be an intriguing opportunity. . . .
Darkwind was possibly the single most attractive man she had ever met, and not just because he was so exotic. And once she had figured out that he wasn’t being obtuse in his lessons just to aggravate her, she found him even more attractive.
Admittedly, most of the Tayledras were attractive, either physically, mentally, or both. But Darkwind drew her as no one else had. She wanted to know more about him - and she wanted him to know more about her. It was one thing to be attracted to some one. It was another thing entirely to act on that attraction.
Especially if it proved to be only one-sided.
Horrible thought. But possible.
And her pride would not permit her to go panting after him like a puppy. Skif’s example of slavish infatuation was enough to decide her on that. She would never put herself in the position to be humiliated the way he had been.
She mounted first; Darkwind, less experienced, used a handy chunk of fallen rock to mount up behind her.
:I promise I’ll be gentle,: Gwena teased, reminding them both of the uncomfortable jog Darkwind had taken, perched behind Elspeth over Gwena’s hipbones, as they hurried to the aid of another scout. :Nothing more than a fast, smooth walk.:
“Thank you,” Darkwind said fervently.
The gryphons had already made their weary farewells; as custodians of this node, they had used the most strength in linking into it and feeding the power to Darkwind, Gwena, and Elspeth. The hummingbird was on his way, shooting into the sky like a slung stone. There was nothing holding them here.
Snow continued to fall, but the light was fading, and the ruins had a haunted look to them that made Elspeth’s skin crawl. Gwena responded to her uneasiness by heading out by the most direct route, one that would skirt the hertasi swamp but would not go in. That was no place to be in weather like this.
“What happens to the hertasi in the winter?” she asked, suddenly. “The ones that live out in the marsh, I mean?”
“They don’t precisely hibernate, but they do not leave their caves much,” Darkwind said into her left ear, while Gwena waded through the soft snow at a fairly brisk pace. His hands felt good on her hips. “They seal themselves into their caves; sleep much, and eat little, stay close to fires. What time they spend awake, they use in making small things. Carvings, mostly. Everything they own is carved or ornamented, at least a little.”
“I gathered they had a fondness for that sort of thing,” Elspeth replied. “You know, they don’t approve of my uniforms. Too plain, I suppose.”
“Precisely.” He chuckled. “That is one reason why they enjoy working with us. They have a number of traditional designs they use, but we are quicker at creating new ones than they are. Or perhaps it is simply that we are more uninhibited. That is part of the trade they have with us; when one of them wants a new design for something, he; goes to one of us craftsmen, and we create it for him. That, and protection and shelter, and we earn their service.”
“Us craftsmen?” she said, puzzled. “I didn’t know you were a craftsman.”
“I do clothing design, or I did. I am no great artist like Ravenwing,” he replied, and she had the impression that he was a little uncomfortable, perhaps embarrassed. “Odd as it may seem, when they are at leisure, the hertasi of the Vale enjoy having elaborate clothing to wear.”
She considered teasing him and decided against it. She recalled the festival clothing that he and Starblade had worn; clothing that seemed to have been created by the same hand. Now she knew it probably had been. His hand. Had that been a kind of silent signal of reconciliation? What other signals was she missing?
“You know,” she said slowly, “Back at home there’s an entire set of codes in the flowers people wear, that they give to one another. It’s even more elaborate at Court. People have carried on entire conversations, wordlessly, with the flowers they have worn during the course of a day.”
“Really?” He seemed amused and relieved that she had turned the topic to something else. “Here there is only one meaning to a gift of a flower.”
“And what is that?” she asked.
“The same as a gift of a feather - that one wishes intimacy.” She blinked, now understanding a number of exchanges she had seen but hadn’t understood.
“If the feather is from any bird, the relationship is casual,” he continued. “If it is from one’s bondbird, however, the meaning is that it is to be one of deeper intentions.”
A sudden image flashed from memory, of the shaman Kethra, a string of feathers braided into her hair when she had never seen the Shin’a’in wear feathers before.
“Is that why Kethra - ” she exclaimed, then stopped, blushing at her own rudeness.
But Darkwind didn’t seem to think it was rude. “Yes,” he said simply. “Those were feathers from the birds he bonded to before that raven - a gray owl, and a falcon called a perlin. When our birds molt, we save the feathers. Those we do not need to use for repair when a bird breaks a feather, we keep for special purposes, and for gifts.”
“He needs another bird,” she said, thinking out loud. “You know, watching you and the others with your birds - it isn’t like a Herald with a Companion, but it’s an important relationship. He needs a bird, and I don’t think either he or Kethra realize how much, or the good it would do him to have one.”
Silence then, as Gwena continued to push her way through the snow beneath the barren, gray branches of the forest, as the light slowly leached from the sky and the shapes of trees far away lost their definition, blurring into charcoal shadows. She wondered if she had broken some unspoken taboo among the Hawkbrothers. Or if, perhaps, she had sounded arrogant, as if she thought that she knew it all.
“Odd,” he said, finally. “That is precisely what I have been thinking. Father lost his last bird to Falconsbane, and may hesitate to ask someone to help him find another. Kethra knows nothing of the bond of Tayledras and bird, how important it is to us. All of us have a bird of one sort or another, Elspeth. The mages often bond to a small owl, or to one of the corbies, but all of us have birds, and all of enhanced breeding.”
“It seems to me that the buds you have are more like - well - house-cats. They have that kind of independence of thought, but willingness to be somewhat dependent.” She shook her head, at a loss to explain what she meant. “They’re not like dogs - well, mostly they aren’t. But they sure as fire are not like the falcons and accipitors I know! The best you can get from them is tolerance, unless you can Mindspeak with animals.”
“You are very observant. That is very true. They have that capacity for real affection that most of the true raptors lack; they are social, and they are intelligent enough to work together instead of preying on one another. Because of that capacity, the bond between us is as much of friendship as dependence. The only trouble is, this is not breeding season, and all the adult birds within the Vale are already bonded.”
Perhaps the waning light had made her other senses sharper; perhaps it was just that she had become accustomed to listening for nuances in the way Darkwind spoke. “Within the Vale?” she repeated. “Are there birds of Vale lineage outside the Vale?”
“Many. All those that are not claimed by someone as an eyas are left free to follow their own will.” He was silent for a moment. “But without the bond, their wild instincts i come to the fore, and aside from size, it is difficult to tell them from their wild cousins. We could trap a passage bird, perhaps. But that would be a poor way to begin a relationship that is based in trust.”
“I see your point.” And she did. A wild-bred bird never connected the trap with the human that took him from it. In fact, a wild-bred bird often woke to his surroundings when securely mewed, and the falconer began the careful process of manning him. But a bird as intelligent as one of bondbird stock would make the immediate connection between trap and trapper. And he would not be pleased, however good their intentions. “Have you asked Vree what he thinks we should do?”
“Actually, no.” She could tell by the tone of his voice that she had surprised him, probably by saying something one of his people wouldn’t have thought of. But she was used to asking Gwena’s advice, and while she wouldn’t have considered posing a complicated question to the bondbird, this was something he could realistically handle.
The gyre dropped down ahead of them out of the trees, circled about beneath the branches, and chirped at Darkwind before regaining the height he preferred with a few strong wingbeats.
Darkwind laughed aloud. “You pleased him, Wingsib,” he said. “He was very flattered by being asked his opinion. And in his own very direct way, he has the perfect answer. He says that we must wait for one of the birds of the proper lineage to be injured. It is winter; first-year birds are injured all the time, trying for difficult kills. In the normal way of things, they will heal upon their own; sometimes other birds of Tayledras breeding, even their parents, will feed them while they heal. And in the way of things, if they do not heal properly and there is none to feed them, they die. But if the other birds of the Vale know we are looking for an injured bird, they will watch for one such, and we may play rescuer.”
“Giving us a grateful bird instead of an angry one.” She smiled; it was the best kind of solution. “I take it that he’s going to speak to the other birds?”
“Once again, you guess correctly.” Darkwind’s voice was as warm as the gathering night was chill. “Elspeth, if it will not offend you, I would like to say that you are a much easier person to be around now.”
She flushed. “Well . . . Darkwind, some of what you didn’t like was something I have to do when I am around my own people. They expect me to lead; they expect me to act in certain ways. That ‘attitude’ you accused me of having is a big part of that. I’m sorry it had become a habit that I wasn’t conscious of. I think some of it was associated with a kind of reflex; if the person I was with wasn’t wearing a white uniform, then I acted a certain way without even considering what I was doing.” Would he understand? Would he even try? “I am royalty, Darkwind. No matter that my land matters less to you than one of Vree’s broken feathers, I still am royal, I am expected to act in a certain way, and I can’t escape that. I’ve been bred and raised to it.”
“Ah.” She hoped that what she read into the tone of that single syllable was dawning understanding.
She sighed. “There’s something else,” she said, through painful shyness. “I’m rather the plain-plumaged bird of my family. Everyone else is so handsome it’s like - like living among Hawkbrothers. So the only reason I can think of for a young man to be attracted to me is because of my rank. And there have been those. I try to keep them at a distance.”
“I can understand that,” he said after a moment, in which the sound of Gwena’s breathing and the muffled sounds of her hooves in the snow filled the twilight forest and defined the borders of their little private universe. “But, Elspeth, those young men who were blinded by your rank were fools. Or else they failed to see the quiet beauty inside the showy. Or - ” She sensed, rather than saw, the grin behind her. “Or perhaps they were dazzled by the stark white attire.” She groaned. “Don’t tell me you’re in on the conspiracy to steal my Whites!”
“Only a little.” She waited for him to continue. “I will admit to advising Lursten on a choice of substitute wardrobe.”
She chuckled, and they passed the rest of the journey in silence, as the twilight darkened to true night and the air chilled further. Before it became too dark for him to see to fly, Vree came winging in to land on Darkwind’s wrist. He held the bird between them, keeping him warmed with the combined heat of their bodies, something no raptor of Elspeth’s acquaintance would have tolerated, much less enjoyed.
True to her promise, Gwena brought them to within sight of the Vale just as the last of the dull light of sunset faded from the western sky.
Darkwind slid from her back as soon as they passed the entrance to the Vale, Vree balancing carefully on his wrist. “I am for sleep,” he said with a smile. “Do not take this amiss, Wing-sib, but take it as a compliment, please. I have wished to offer you a feather since the days of our first acquaintance, for I find you a very attractive woman. More so when you smile, rather than frowning on me so formidably!”
She blinked at him in shock, then tentatively smiled in return.
“Thank you,” she said simply, blushing. “Ah - Darkwind, if I wasn’t so tired - oh, that sounds like such a transparent excuse but - ”
“But it is, sadly, true. Elspeth, even if you were not weary, I feel that I am like to fall asleep even as I walk to my ekele. Shall we take it as true and not an excuse?”
Something warmed deep inside her. “I think that’s reasonable.”
:And I think you should both go to bed. To sleep,: Gwena chided gently.
“All right, little mother,” Darkwind said, amused. “We shall. Tomorrow we will be dealing with all the creatures our magics attracted, at any rate. We will need a good rest.”
She couldn’t be disappointed, she thought. Not after all that. But no, that would not do. It was not enough.
She dismounted and went to him, wrapping her arms around his waist. With an inner flush, she looked up into his clear eyes.
Darkwind held Vree a little further from his body, inviting her in closer. She smiled, not knowing how well it could be seen, and felt Gwena send a quiet touch of approval.
Elspeth raised a hand to Darkwind’s face, caressed the hair at his temple. He licked his lips as Vree spread his wings, and bent his neck down just a little, enough for one loving kiss, framed by the rich light and warmth of the Vale behind them.