The Vildecaz Talents: The complete set of Vildecaz Stories including Nimuar's Loss, The Deceptive Oracle and Agnith's Promise
Authors: Chelsea Quinn Yarbro
Nimuar's Loss
Book One of The Vildecaz Talents
Stirring high fantasy adventure as two sisters must find their power in accepting their journey.
Ninianee and Erianthee, the daughters of Duez Nimuar of Vildecaz, have unusual magical talents: Ninianee has a close relationship with animals, Erianthee can summon up the Spirits of the Air to take on human form and act out legends and myths.
When Erianthee is summoned to the Imperial Court, Ninianee remains behind at Vildecaz, not only to administer the Duzky, but to begin a search for Duez Nimuar who has disappeared.
The Deceptive Oracle
Book Two of The Vildecaz Talents
Duez Nimuar is missing and his two talented daughters are determined to find him, Erianthee through her magical Puppet Shows. Ninianee through her close knowledge of animals.
Both sisters are accompanied by their declared suitors. Kloveon with Erinathee and Doms Guyon with Ninianee; what each discovers in her own way makes it clear that there is more to their father's disappearance than anyone expected.
Agnith's Promise
Book Three of the Vildecaz Talents
While at the Imperial Court, Erianthee witnesses an enormous Conjure Storm that turns half of the palace complex to rubble.
Afraid of what could come next, she heads for Vildecaz and home with Kloveon escorting her.
Meanwhile, in her searches for possible clues to Duz Nimuar's location and condition, Ninianee has come upon something that sends her and her partner, Doms Guyon, back toward Vildecaz,
But both sisters find their travels marked by hindrances and unexpected difficulties.
When they finally arrive, they discover that malefic forces have been at work here, too, and they have little choice but to take them on, or lose their Duzky, their father, and their talents completely.
Copyright © 2007 Chelsea Quinn Yarbro
Published by Avalerion Books, Inc.
Nimuar's Loss Copyright © 2007 Chelsea Quinn Yarbro
Nimuar's Loss Cover design by James Abel
Nimuar's Loss Stock photography by Jessica Truscott http://faestock.deviantart.com/
Nimuar's Loss Additional artwork by Irinama - http://irinama.deviantart.com/
Deceptive Oracle
Copyright © 2007 Chelsea Quinn Yarbro
Deceptive Oracle
Cover design by James Abel
Deceptive Oracle
Stock photography by Jessica Truscott - http://faestock.deviantart.com/
Deceptive Oracle
Additional photography by János Zoltán Kis
Agnith's Promise
Copyright © 2007 Chelsea Quinn Yarbro
Agnith's Promise
Cover design by James Abel
Agnith's Promise
Stock photography by Jessica Truscott - http://faestock.deviantart.com/
Agnith's Promise
Additional artwork by Latyrx - http://latyrx.deviantart.com/
All Rights Reserved
First e-book edition December 2013
This ebook is for your personal device only. No part may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping, or by any information storage or retrieval system, without written permission from the author.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincident
For
Tanith Lee
on one hand
and
Marvin Kaye
on the other
Vildecaz Castle
“The west wall near the kitchen-garden needs repairing,” Nimuar, Duz of Vildecaz announced as he sat down to the mid-day meal with his two daughters. “I’ve put a fixing spell on it, but it won’t last more than a week. The men will have to get mortar and bricks out there soon.” They were in the family dining room in the main part of Vildecaz Castle, and while smaller than the Great Hall by half, it was still intended for many more occupants than these three. He was in his scholar’s long, deep-blue doga over his tan hupslan, both of which showed the wear of long use, more due to his absent-mindedness than any lack of funds or poor manners. His appearance was a bit untidy, his silvery hair not quite combed, his short beard a little scruffy, his light-brown eyes slightly distracted, yet his manner toward his daughters was sincerely affectionate.
“I’ll have Hoftstan Ruch get a crew to work on it this afternoon,” said Ninianee, the older of the two. She had been out for most of the morning, supervising the fall pruning of the espaliered fruit trees all along the south and west walls of the castle, and was about to go to work on the standing orchard beyond the eastern wall. “Just as soon as the trees are all done. The magic should hold long enough for that.” She had not had time to change out of her leather brikes and drugh-ox wool smock; her profusion of russet ringlets were haphazardly confined by a thin, golden double-coronet and a Mozh-cloth scarf that was nearly a match for her clear, light-green eyes. With a glance at her sister – a year younger than she – Ninianee said, “You and Ver Mindicaz must have had a busy morning, what with the shipment of spices from Fah, the last of the harvest coming into the castle, and the new cheeses to store as well; knowing Ver, you’re made lists of every peppercorn and dried plum; she won’t have relied on a magical tally.”
At the mention of the major-cook, Erianthee nodded her lovely head, as graceful as a deer and as beguiling as a fey-sprite. Unlike her sister, she was properly dressed for dining in a gaunel of amber-colored tassel-cloth over a guin of fine Fahnine cotton; she might have entertained aunts, uncles, and cousins – if there were any willing to visit – in such clothing and bring no slight upon her father or their guests. Everything about her was charming, from the shape of her eyes to the turn of her ankles. “Yes. I think we have all the provisions for preserving fruits and stocking the ice-house arranged so they’ll only need a little magic in the summer to keep them going until next year’s harvest. We should have all our plans for the winter finished tomorrow.”
By the standards of the Porzalk Empire, Erianthee was the prettier of the two, beautifully curved where Ninianee was lean, elegant where Ninianee was energetic, captivating where Ninianee was bewitching, having classic loveliness – softly waving honey-colored hair and dark-brown eyes in a pert, gorgeous face that lacked the suggestion of tempestuousness that turned Ninianee’s reserve to something more compelling than what some thought was shyness.
“Now then,” said their father as if he had been interrupted. He reached for a small saucer and put a pinch of salt in it and then added a few drops of wine from his goblet, then held it up on a tripod of the thumb and two fingers of his right hand. “May Agnith, The Preternatural, goddess of all things magical, of continents and seas, of ideas and talents, protect us and keep all our spells true.” He stood, the saucer still balanced on his three fingers.
Ninianee did the same as Nimuar had done, rising and going about the ritual with the precision of habit. “May Hyneimoj, The Ineffable, goddess of mammals, hunting, games of chance, storms, and going to war, keep us from harm.”
Erianthee had her salt-and-wine ready. “May Analahor, The Inspirational goddess of mortality, rebirth, agriculture, arts visible and invisible, intuition, and victory, uphold Vildecaz.” She, too, rose, holding her saucer on her thumb and two fingers as her father and sister were doing.
The three little saucers were raised and set down on a single red-painted board hanging from the elaborate oil-lamp above the table, from which a forearm-long tubular bell depended; Nimuar struck this with his knife and its pure tone sounded, lingering on the air, pleasant and persistent as the promising aroma of their food, its footling tone making the whole occasion more amiable.
“A good omen,” Nimuar announced, for once delighted at this formality; the omens were often much harder to interpret.
Their Meal Rite complete, the three sat down once more and reached for the covered platter and raised the lid; a wonderful odor of apricots, sweet onions, and chicken filled the room.
Nimuar beamed, letting out a long, satisfied, “Aaaaah,” before reaching for a serving spoon as he pulled the platter toward him. “Ver knows what I like, harvest or no harvest.”
“There’s four-colored rice, too,” said Erianthee, opening the covered dish nearest her. “With new butter.”
“The last ship from the Zjin-Fah brought the rice, didn’t it?” asked Nimuar, whose memory was not what it used to be, and hadn’t been for nearly two decades, when he had lost his magical battle with Yulko Bihn, and with it, the knowledge of Agnith’s Treasure and all it had bestowed upon him.
“Yes, Papa,” said Ninianee, reminding him gently, “We bought five sacks of it, and Ver stored them in the grain-closet in the pantry. There are another five on order for the spring.”
“Oh, yes,” said Nimuar a bit vaguely. “Five sacks should last through fall and winter. Possibly until the next sacks come.” Before either of his daughters could speak, he added, “I like real food so much better than magical food, don’t you?”
“I certainly do,” said Erianthee, entering into this frequent topic of conversation as if it were new and exciting. “Magical food is so tiring to create and its nourishment hardly lasts half a day.”
