The Vildecaz Talents: The complete set of Vildecaz Stories including Nimuar's Loss, The Deceptive Oracle and Agnith's Promise (12 page)

“Zaythomaj!” exclaimed the first, having to hold his sidling horse as it, too, responded to Ninianee’s call.

“The Retributionist will not aid you,” said Ninianee firmly, and watched the other two horses fret, the blood-bay the third man was riding going so far as to begin to back into the lake.

“Cease your spells!” shouted the man on the backing horse.

“It will go hard for you if you don’t,” said the man from Court, his intention blatant.

The second man yelled as his horse broke away from him, snapping his rein, and bolting into the trees; the backing horse almost reached the edge of the lake – another step would put him into water, along with his rider, who was energetically kicking the blood-bay to get him moving forward.

“Stop it!” the man from the Court ordered, drawing his sword as his horse reared.

A flurry of branches at the edge of the trees announced the arrival of a small flock of curl-horned goats; they stepped into the sunlight, a total of nine, the adults as large as yearling cattle, the two big males lowering their heads so that the points of their corkscrew horns were aimed directly at the three men, their slitted eyes showing no trace of fear; their snorts were clearly meant as challenges. At the same time, two amber-furred wildcats appeared behind Ninianee, one of them hissing. In the trees, squirrels and treemonks chattered.

Swearing by Hardach and the Armies of Tsmai, the second man drew a long hunting knife and moved purposefully toward Ninianee, who had picked up a fist-sized stone and was preparing to throw it; there was a greater commotion of movement, accompanied by shouting back in the woods. In an instant another band of hunters on frantic mounts blundered out of the trees, Maeshar struggling to keep the lead of the group of six.

Ninianee thought she had never been so glad to see him. While she silently released all the animals from her summons, she looked at Maeshar as he took in the situation that greeted him. “Maeshar of Otsinmohr,” she called to him.

“Duzna Nininaee!” he exclaimed as he dismounted, holding his reins just under his mare’s chin, worried about another incident of restlessness. “How . . . that is . . . you are . . . “

”In a barlo-cloak,” she finished for him. “That I am. I ruined my clothing searching for a run-away colt.”

The second man shook his head as if to deny what Maeshar revealed. “She claims she lost her shoes in a bog.”

“Ganarch Bog, no doubt,” said Maeshar with a decisive nod. “Many another have done so.” He was well-dressed, but, as always, he gave the appearance of being rumpled; his embroidered elk-leather pelgar had a few loose threads, his long brikes were smirched, and his hat was askew. He respected Ninianee and said, “How unfortunate that you should have had such a misfortune here.”

“In the Vildecaz game preserve – why should I expect any mishap to occur on my family’s lands.” She intended this to be a barb, but saw no response from him.

“You should be glad my guests and I are here,” said Maeshar with a meaningful look. “Otherwise you would have more than three leagues to walk still, and nothing more than a barlo-cloak to clothe you.” He glanced over his shoulder at the group of men. “Those goats and cats wouldn’t protect you all the way to your gates, would they?”

Stung, she snapped back, “Others would take their place.”

“But you would be worn to the bone, wouldn’t you? And at a time you must extend courtesy to your guests.” Maeshar smiled with his lips but not his eyes. “Your talent has its limitations. A pity you couldn’t summon your colt home with your magical skills.”

“Yes,” she agreed brusquely. “But young animals are often unruly.” She moved passed the three men who had been pursuing her.

“If you think you can ride safely, you will spare your feet more cuts,” Maeshar persisted smoothly. “My mare can carry both of us quite easily.” He had brought the mare to a stand-still, and now bent over, his hands laced together and held even with his knee.

“No games, Maeshar,” Ninianee said brusquely; her skin felt prickly.

“Not a one,” he promised in a voice that declared the opposite.

Ninianee bit back the rejoinder she was tempted to give. “Thank you. I will accept your leg up – there should be no problem.”

“Not for me, most assuredly,” he said, relishing the possibilities.

Ninianee glowered at him. “If you want my gratitude, you will not speak to me in that way again,” she said as she put her bare foot into his cupped hands and was swung up into the saddle. Gathering up the reins, she said, “Let me ride alone, Maeshar. It will spare us both embarrassment.”

“If you insist, then I must comply,” said Maeshar, trying to make the best of the situation; he hated the sly winks his companions shared at his expense. “You may want my protection, after all.”

“Think a moment,” Ninianee implored him. “It is questionable enough to take me home in this condition. If you insist on coming with me, you will have to account for my condition, which would not redound to your credit, no matter what I said. If you want to keep questions regarding your conduct to a minimum, as would I, for your sake, you will let me borrow your mare and permit me to leave with my animals for escort.”

There was a long silence, some of the company of guests shifting uneasily in their saddles, for they knew that much of their wealth and all their prestige could be forfeit if a woman of Ninianee’s rank was compromised while in their company.

Maeshar finally looked up at her. “Take my mare and ride to your home. I and my guests will follow in an hour or so to claim her.”

“And you, of course, will permit Vildecaz to be your host tonight,” said Ninianee because tradition demanded it; she knew her father would be vexed and the household in turmoil to have so many to feed and accommodate with so little notice. “We will see you in the afternoon, I trust.” Without waiting for an answer, she tapped the mare with her heels and set the mare trotting toward the road back to Vildecaz Castle.

* * *

Arriving at the Library of Duz Kinzyrach, Erianthee ordered warder to announce her and her companion to the Provost immediately. “It is very urgent,” she said emphatically. “I realize Provost Jenmarach is a very busy man, but I must speak with him at once. It is imperative.”

The warder, who wore a badge of his office on his hupslan, respected Erianthee, then Kloveon. “If you will wait in the Visitors’ Hall? I will bring him directly.”

Erianthee could not bring herself to say any more. She went toward the Visitors’ Hall, Kloveon coming close behind her; she was close to losing her temper or weeping, and she could not tell which was uppermost within her.

“Do you think he has any information to impart to us?” Kloveon asked as he drew up a sturdy wooden chair for her.

“I’m sure he has information in plenty – I only hope some of it has to do with the location of my father; he is a very learned man, and a magician of real ability in discovering and improving knowledge. But he is no finder of persons. I must hope he will not begrudge me what he knows,” she said, doing her best to maintain her optimism, which had been fading steadily since she left Vildecaz two hours ago.

“I take your point,” said Kloveon with a faint laugh, hoping to buoy her spirits.

“I fear for him,” she admitted, and was surprised when he came and rested his hands on her shoulders.

“Your father is a capable man, no matter how much of his magic was taken from him. If he must endure hardships, he will do so.” He waited for her to look up at him. “I don’t say this lightly, Erianthee. I don’t think you’re wrong to worry, but I doubt Nimuar is as much in danger as you fear.”

She had to bite the insides of her cheeks to keep from crying. When she was sure she had regained her composure, she said, “You’re very kind, Kloveon.”

“I’m not saying this to be kind, I am telling you how it appears to me,” he responded patiently, taking her hand in a comforting manner. “My skills are not so great as yours, but I do occasionally have reliable intuitions, and mine tell me that your father is well, but that Vildecaz is in danger. It is a hazardous time for all of us, and your father is aware of the risks you all have imposed upon you, little though he may show it.”

“So he has assured us,” she said, and looked up as the inner door opened. “Provost Magsto,” she said, rising and turning toward the short, energetic man with the keen, angular face in a full gaihups with the symbols of the Library of Duz Kinzyrach embroidered upon it.

“Duzna Erianthee. It is an honor to have you visit this Library, established by your August Ancestor. Be welcome and protected here.” This was as much of good form as he was willing to offer. “Your father – who, let me assure you, is currently in this place – said you or your sister might be along today, and that I should provide you his excuses for his absence, and to assure you he is not gone forever. There is information he seeks, and it is his belief that he will find it here,” said Jenmarach, respecting Erianthee and then Kloveon as he spoke. “I fear I cannot devote much time to your visit, so let me tell you now that your father arrived last evening, accompanied by a single forester; he studied through the night, only retiring after dawn. He is presently asleep in one of our Scholar’s Suites, with orders left not to disturb him.” His smile was not very encouraging, but his demeanor was affable. “So you can understand why I would prefer not to wake him.”

“I do understand,” said Erianthee, although she did not. “But, as you may know, we have guests at the Castle, men of good name and high rank, and we would very much want him to return to show them their due as his guests. It is awkward to do for the guests as they deserve with the Duz absent.”

“I grasp the problem, and so does your father, no doubt,” said Jenmarach. “I will inform him when he wakes that his presence is required as soon as he is able to reach his Castle.”

“If there is any delay to his coming, please send a messenger to the Castle so my sister and I may make arrangements to deal with his being gone, and in a manner that will show no slight to the company. We will keep our entertainments of good quality, and do so without raising more questions about the Duz,” Erianthee said firmly, imagining the spite of Yulko Bihn. “We have visitors who are apt to assume many desperate things if Duz Nimuar remains missing another night.”

“If there is a delay required, I will send word to inform you, as you request,” said Jenmarach.

Kloveon held up his hand. “And could you arrange for an escort for him? It would not be completely safe for him to travel alone.”

“So I gather,” said Jenmarach. “I will gladly dispatch four of our messengers to escort him home as soon as he has wakened and dined, or send one to tell you when he might be expected if he will not be with you at sunset today.” He made a fussy gesture. “But I fear I must now excuse myself. I am in the midst of a procedure that demands almost constant attention. To you and your escort – “

”Mirkal Kloveon of Fauthsku,” he supplied, offering a proper respect to Provost Jenmarach.

“Ah. Mirkal,” said Jenmarach. “You do this library honor.” With that, he turned and left Erianthee and Kloveon alone in the Visitors’ Hall.

“Zlatz,” said Erianthee when she was certain she wouldn’t be overhead.

“That’s the least of it,” Kloveon said. “He was in a rush, wasn’t he?”

“Yes, and it may be because of the procedure, as he said,” she remarked, doubt in her fine brown eyes.

“But you doubt it,” said Kloveon.

“Let us say that I don’t believe it was the whole reason,” said Erianthee, doing her best to hide her growing dismay. Without being aware she was doing it, she leaned on his arm.

“Do you fear your father is in some danger?” asked Kloveon.

“Don’t you?” Erianthee countered. “I wish he had told me what it is he fears.”

“He may intend to protect you,” said Kloveon, holding her near to him to comfort her.

“Ignorance is poor protection,” Erianthee snapped, and then pulled away from him. “I didn’t mean anything against you.”

“I didn’t suppose you did,” said Kloveon with a sudden rush of warmth that took them both by surprise. He coughed experimentally, and went on, “Sadly, what talents I have do not extend themselves to sorting out truths from half-truths, or from well-meaning politeness.”

“If I thought remaining here would do us some good, I would recommend that we send a messenger back to Vildecaz Castle, but I doubt that would convince Papa to return to deal with his guests one instant sooner than he wishes to return, so it is incumbent upon me to return promptly.”

“Do you wish to depart?” Kloveon asked.

“I don’t wish to – no. But I believe it would be best. And better sooner than later.” She clapped her hands, and when a page answered her summons, she said, “Bring me a candle so I may leave a voiture here in my absence.”

The page paled, but respected her. “As you wish, Duzna,” he declared, and went off to procure a magic candle.

“The Provost Magsto will not be much pleased to find you have left a voiture,” said Kloveon, but with such a smile that Erianthee felt her bones tingle, and for a little while it was all she could do to keep from rushing into his arms.

Imposing restraint on herself at last, she said, “It may not please him, but I would be remiss if I did not make the effort to ensure my father’s protection for his stay here and his return.” She folded her arms to reinforce her intention to keep away from Kloveon.