Magic's Price (11 page)

:Amazing,:
Kilchas said at last.
:Why has no one ever spoken of this before?:

:This must be what King Valdemar first saw when he created
the Web.: Savil's mind-voice was subdued.

:Except that things were a lot less complicated in his day,:
Vanyel said
dryly. :Let's get to this before we lose the meld.:

:Or we get bored with your chatter and find something more interesting,:
Yfandes Mindspoke him alone.

:One more comment like that, and I'll replace you with one of the
Tayledras
birds,:
Vanyel retorted. Before ‘Fandes had a chance to respond, Savil had begun invoking the Web, and Van's attention was fully take up with the task at hand.

As each Guardian responded, his or her focus-stone came alive with power. When Lissandra completed her response, the four stones were glowing softly, as brightly as the lamp flame above them, and the quartz crystal that topped them was refracting their light in little spots of rainbow all over the room.

Now Vanyel closed his eyes and Saw the Web overlaying the network lacing the entire Kingdom. There were secondary lines of power wisping out from the Web, as if the spell-structure was trying to make full contact with the entire body of Heralds, and yet lacked the power and direction to do so.

That was exactly what Moondance had surmised; the spell-structure was capable of linking all Heralds, but was incomplete and underpowered.

There was no way of knowing if King Valdemar had intended that, or not. Somehow the idea of legendary Valdemar being incapable of completing such a spell did not make Vanyel feel any easier.

If
he
couldn‘t, how in Havens can we?

Never mind; he was already committed, and it was too late to back out now. He Reached for the assemblage of focus-stones in the center of the table; Felt a sudden flare of heat/light/pressure as he melded with all five of them, then stabbed his power deep into the earth below Haven, to the ancient node there, a node he and Savil had reawakened. It was very deep, and hard to sense, but now that it was active it was one of the most powerful he'd ever used.

Finding it was like plunging into the heart of the sun; too overwhelming to be painful—it was beyond pain—and it threatened to burn him away from himself. It was easy to be lost in a node, and that was why the Companions were in this meld—after the first breathless, mind-numbing contact he Felt them anchoring him, reminding him of where and what he was.

It took him a moment to lean on their strength and steady himself, to catch his breath. Then he took hold of the heart of the node, braced himself, and Pulled—

This was something no one outside of the
Tayledras
clans had ever attempted. Vanyel was going to create a heart-stone. A small one, but nevertheless, a true heart-stone.

He was fire, he was riven earth, he was molten rock. He
was raging
water and lightning. He was ancient and newborn. He was, with no memory, and no anchor. No identity. Then something prodded him. A name. Yfandes.
He ...
remembered....

The Web flared; from the heart of it, he Saw and Felt the power surging through it, opening up new connections, casting new lines, until the Web was no longer distinguishable from the fainter, but more extensive network he'd seen before.

He cast himself free from the new heart-stone, and sent delicate tendrils of thought along the new force-lines of the Web. And wanted to shout with joy at what he found, for the spell had taken full effect.

From this moment on, all Heralds were now one with Valdemar, and all were bound into the Web in whatever way their Gifts could best serve. When danger threatened, the FarSeers would know “where,” the ForeSeers would know “when,” and every Herald needed to handle the danger would find himself aware of the peril and its location.

At that moment, Vanyel Felt the Companions withdraw themselves from the meld.

For a moment, he panicked—until he Saw that the new Web was still in place, still intact.

Damn. I'd hoped
—
but they're still laws unto themselves,
he thought ruefully.
They were apart from the Web before
—
and it looks like they've decided it's going to stay that way. Too bad; we could have used them to make up for Heralds with weak Gifts. And since every human magic I've seen has always left them unaffected, I was hoping they might have conferred that immunity on us. Companions have never done more than aid their Chosen, but it would have been nice if this time had been an exception.

At least his original intentions were holding; the new Web was powered by the magic of the node, and only augmented by the Heralds instead of depending entirely on them. When the call came, those without more pressing emergencies would leave everything to meet greater threats to Valdemar.

Now for the addition to the Web protections....

He dropped out of the meld, for this was something he had to handle alone. He stilled himself, isolated himself from every outside sensation, then brought Savil in closer. Together, they reached out to the
vrondi
and Called—

One came immediately; then a dozen, then a hundred. And still they Called, until the air elementals pressed around them on all sides, thousands of the creatures—

It was a good thing they didn't really exist on the same plane of reality where his body slumped in the Work Room, or he and everyone in it would have been smothered.

He Reached again, much more carefully this time, and created a new line to the Web and the power it fed upon. And showed it to the assembled
vrondi,
as Savil told them wordlessly that this power would be theirs for the taking—

—they surged forward, hungrily—

:—
if
,: said Savil, holding the line a bit out of their reach.

:If?:
The word echoed from
vrondi
to
vrondi,
ripples of hunger/doubt/hunger.
:If? If?:

They withdrew a little, and contemplated both of them. Finally they responded.

Vanyel showed them, as Savil held the line. To earn the power, all they need do, would be to watch for mages. Always watch for mages. And let them know they were being watched.

They swirled about him, about Savil, thousands of blue eyes in little mist-clouds.
:All?:
they asked, in a chorus of mind-voices.

:That's
all,:
he replied, feeling the strength of his own power starting to fade.
:Watch. Let them know you watch.:

The
vrondi
swirled around him, thinking it over. Then, just when he was beginning to worry—

:YES!:
they cried, and seized on the line of power—and vanished.

And he let go of Savil, of the meld, and let himself fall.

 

“Gods,” Kilchas moaned.

Vanyel raised his head from the table, where he'd slumped forward. “My sentiments exactly.” Kilchas was half-lying on the table with his hands over his head, fingers tangled in his gray mane.

“I think,” Lissandra said, pronouncing the words with care, “That I am going to sleep for a week. Did your thing with the
vrondi
work?”

“They took it,” Vanyel replied, staring at the single globe of iridescent crystal in the center of the table where the grouping of five stones had been. “Every mage inside the borders of Valdemar is going to know he's being watched. That's going to make him uncomfortable if he doesn't belong here, or he's up to no good. The deeper inside Valdemar, the more
vrondi
he'll attract, and the worse he'll feel.”

“And he'll have to shield pretty heavily to avoid detection,” Savil added, leaning into the back of her chair and letting it support all her weight. “The
vrondi
are quite sensitive to mage-energy. And they're curious as all hell; I suspect wild ones will start joining our bound ones in watching out for mages just for the amusement factor.”

“That's good—as far as it goes.” Lissandra reached out and touched the globe in the center with an expression of bemusement. “But it doesn't let us know we have mages working on our territory, not unless you can get the
vrondi
to tell us.”

“I do have some other plans,” Vanyel admitted. “I'd like to get the
vrondi
to react to strange mages with alarm—and since they're now bound into the Web, that in itself would feed back to the Heralds. But I haven't got that part worked out yet. I don't want them to react that way to Herald-Mages, for one thing, and for another, I'm not sure the
vrondi
are capable of telling mages apart.”

“Neither am I,” Savil said dubiously. “Seems to me it's enough to let mages know they're being watched. If you're guilty, that alone is enough to make you jumpy.”

Kilchas had managed to stand up while they were talking; he reached for the globe and tried to pick it up. His expression of surprise when he couldn't made Vanyel chuckle weakly.

“That's a heart-stone now,” he said apologetically. “It's fused to the table, and the table is fused to the stone of the Palace and the bedrock beneath it.”

“Oh,” Kilchas replied, sitting down with a
thump.
Vanyel banished the shields, then turned to the only person in the room who hadn't yet spoken a single word.

Van leaned against the back of his chair, and faced Tantras. “Well?” he asked.

Tran nodded. “It's there, all right. There's something there that wasn't a part of of me before—”

“What about the trouble-spots?” Vanyel asked.

The other Herald closed his eyes, and frowned with concentration. “I'm trying to think of a map,” he said, finally. “I'm working my way around the Border. It's like Reading an object; I get a kind of sick feeling when I come up on some place where there're problems. I'll bet it would be even more accurate if I had a real map.”

Vanyel sighed, and slumped his shoulders, allowing his exhaustion to catch up with him. “Then we did it.”

“I never doubted it,” Savil retorted.

:Nor
I,:
said the familiar voice in his head.

“Then it's time for me to go fall on my nose; I think I've earned it.” Vanyel got to his feet, feeling every joint ache. “I think all of us have earned it.”

“Aye to that.” Lissandra copied him; Kilchas levered himself up with the aid of the table, and Savil needed Tantras' help to get her onto her feet. Vanyel headed for the door and pulled it open, leaving the others to take care of themselves. Right now all he could think about was his bed—and how badly he needed it.

He walked wearily down the corridor leading out of the Old Palace and toward his quarters, doing his best not to stagger. He was so tired that it would probably look as if he was drunk, and that wouldn't do the Heraldic reputation any good....

:Oh, I don't know,:
Yfandes chuckled.
:You might get
more invitations to
pasties that way.:

:Probably not,:
she acknowledged.

It didn't occur to him until he was most of the way to the Herald's Wing that his bed might not be unoccupied....

But it was; he pulled his door open to find his room empty, the bed made, and no sign of his visitor anywhere. Evidently the servants had already cleaned and tidied his quarters; there was nothing out of the ordinary about the room.

He clung to the doorframe, surprised by his own disappointment that the young Bard hadn't at least stayed long enough to make some arrangements to get together again.

That disappointment made no sense; he'd only met the boy last night. And he couldn't
afford
close friends; he'd told himself that over and over.

But his bed, when he threw himself into it, seemed very cold, and very empty.

A
door closed, somewhere nearby. Stefen stretched, only half-awake, and when his right hand
didn't
hit the wall, he woke up entirely with a start of surprise. He found himself staring at a portion of wood paneling, rather than plaster-covered stone. It was an entirely unfamiliar wall.