The Vildecaz Talents: The complete set of Vildecaz Stories including Nimuar's Loss, The Deceptive Oracle and Agnith's Promise (26 page)

“Why should he not?” Doms asked.

“Last year, her escort was changed half-way.”

“That was last year,” said Doms. “A dual escort could be arranged. Given she is a Duzeon, she could insist.”

Ninianee found herself biting back arguments. This was not the time or the place for them to be arguing. She tapped the table in front of her, noticing a small crumb of pillow-bread, then watched the platform as Erianthee stepped out from her couch behind the screen.

“Tonight, as part of this Shadowshow, I am going to do the story of how Lorjoran the Provider, came to confront the children of Lost Times,” she said. “And how Samthee united the people of Theninzalk after Lorjoran’s visitation.” She respected the audience, then went behind the screen.

In a short while, filmy figures began to materialize on the platform, the first being a group of children of the Lost Times. They were wretched figures, in rough, tattered cloth, living in stone huts, the only kinds of buildings that had survived The Cataclysm. In this village, as in all villages, the strong took from the weak, violence ruled their conduct, and they teetered on the edge of starvation for most of the year. The lives of these unfortunates were unpleasant at best, horrific at worst. The place was called Nizalk in legend, the first village of Theninzalk. Everyone watching gave these Shadows their full attention.

Rai Pareo leaned forward, intrigued by what he saw. Doms made a mental note of the new-comer’s interest.

The Shadow-village burned and the people were without shelter. Some of the villagers fled into the forests and were attacked by beasts, some ran to the rivers and were drowned in floods. A few tried to restore the village, and it was to these few that the god Lorjoran appeared at the end of the year as the constellation of the Bridge dominated the night sky. He entered the village on foot, carrying the satchel that was his symbol, and summoned the people out to him. They came hesitantly, afraid that they would be made to suffer more.

“I am Lorjoran, the Provider,” said the god, “You have nothing to fear from me.”

The people of Nizalk approached him reluctantly, making many respects as they did.

Just as Lorjoran’s Shadow was about to speak, the Shadowshow was interrupted by the wailing howl of Senkei, the Vildecaz Castle spell-hound echoed through the Great Hall, and a moment later, a filmy spectre of Nimuar appeared next to Erianthee’s Shadows. Shocked whispers filled the room as Senkei continued his ululation.

“Bontaj,” Ninianee swore softly, transfixed by the image of her missing father.

“He’s trying to speak,” said Doms, concentrating on the image’s face. “His mouth is moving.”

“What should I do?” Ninianee asked Doms. “Should I try to speak to him? Should I approach him and try to listen?”

At the end of the table, Heijot Merinex had risen and was beginning to chant a spell to compel the figure to reveal who it was and why it had come. The room grew silent as the castle’s magician strove to engage the spectre.

“You don’t think this is because he’s dead, do you?” Ninianee murmured to Doms in order not to interrupt Merinex.

“No,” Doms answered softly. “If he were dead, you would know it. The Omen-falcons would come.”

“Yes,” she agreed, “they would.”

The figure of Nimuar, Duz of Vildecaz grew brighter and more real in appearance. Suddenly his voice rang out, “Agnith’s Treasure. Agnith’s Treasure.” Then he faded, vanishing more quickly than smoke, and the platform was empty, not even Shadows remaining.

The End

Book Two Deceptive Oracle
 

For

JOY

and

CHERYL

“I don’t want to Change,” Ninianee said aloud, voicing her thoughts as she stood at the window in her private apartments on the third floor of Vildecaz Castle, watching the sun dropping lower over the majestic cliffs of the Valdishan Escarpment and making the River Dej far below shine as if filled with molten silver. Tonight would be the first night of the full moon, and she would shortly have to be outside the Castle walls, or risk a discovery that was too disastrous to contemplate. She knew she had to go, but she was reluctant, afraid that she might be watched. It was such a risky business, eluding the staff and guests now that she was the sole Duzeon in the whole Duzky of Vildecaz, and the object of attention and concern.

If only her younger sister, Erianthee, had not left for the capital of the Porzalk Empire to perform her Shadowshows for the Court! It had been necessary, and the two of them had accepted it, but still – Ninianee paced her chamber restlessly, trying to decide what would be the best way to leave the Castle. Erianthee had always helped Ninianee at the full moon, and it would be four months – four full moons – until Erianthee returned. In the past, when Erianthee had been away, Nimuar, their father, had, in his own way, shielded her from the kind of scrutiny she wished most to avoid. Ninianee tugged at one of the tight russet curls that framed her vixen’s face, and sighed. It was bad enough to have Erianthee gone, but to have their father missing made Ninianee feel much more exposed. His spectral manifestation during Erianthee’s last Shadowshow had served only to increase her distress. He had left no magical spoor to follow, and the Castle Magician, Heijot Merinex, was beginning to say that the manifestation had been a ruse to flummox anyone attempting to search for Duz Nimuar.

“I’ve got to leave.” Ninianee said it aloud for added impetus. Impulsively she opened her closet and pulled out her oldest, most worn dolaj, and a pair of threadbare brikes and tossed them in a large, leather hunting-satchel. She chose an old pair of boots and threw them in as well. Feeling marginally better prepared, she sat down on the corner of her bed and calculated how much longer it would be until sunset, as she had been doing for the last half hour. “There’s no point in wasting more time,” she declared to encourage herself to act. Rising, she picked up the satchel and headed toward the door, hoping against hope that she could elude Doms Guyon, her self-declared protector and suitor. The last thing she wanted now was for him to see her preparing to slip out of the Castle – he undoubtedly would try to follow her, and tonight that would never do.

Pulling the door open carefully, she muttered a spell to keep people from noticing her. No one was in the corridor. Whispering thanks to Ondirpikeon, the Cyclical, she took a deep breath and made for the side-stairs that led down to the stable-yard. As she hurried down the winding stairway, she wished – as she had done for the last nine years – that she would know before she Changed on the first night what creature she would be for this full moon. Last month she had been a Challim-doe, but that meant nothing: over the years she had been predator and prey, often unusually large or unusually small. Tonight she might be a gigantic mouse or a very small Aon-bear, or any other fur-bearing creature of the Great World, so long as she was the same weight and density that she was in her natural, human form. The possibilities were too daunting to consider with the Change so near.

Reaching the bottom step, she tugged the door open and went out into the yard. Nine horses were still out in their paddocks, and for an instant she considered taking one in order to get a good distance beyond the walls. But that could be dangerous, since she might Change into a predator who would hurt the horse. She passed along the narrow walkway between the paddocks and made for a postern gate in the inner wall. More than seeing, she could feel the approach of sunset, and that hurried her along toward the second wall.

“Duzeon Ninianee,” said a voice from the shadows of the second wall.

Ninianee halted. “Who’s there?”

“Maj Dalmai,” the voice answered; a heavy-shouldered man of about thirty stepped into the fading sunlight.

“You’re one of the masons, aren’t you?” said Ninianee.

“I am.”

“You’re working on the repair of the outer wall,” she said, thinking of the on-going project that was supposed to be completed in another few days.

“We are. I was just cleaning up. I’m about to go into the Guard House.” He seemed a bit puzzled. “Are you safe out here on your own? Shall I send for – “

“Oh, yes; I’m fine,” she said brightly, wanting to get away from him. “I need to attend to a few minor chores in the outer pasture. The animals are still my responsibility. My talent, remember.” Everyone in Vildecaz knew she had the ability to communicate with animals, which was regarded as a most useful endowment – her second, Changing talent would be seen far less favorably if it were ever known.

“You’re going to see what the goats have to say,” Maj said shrewdly.

“The sheep, pigs, and cattle are all in for the night. The goats need to be safe.” She motioned toward the part of the long plateau where the large, fenced pastures stood. “I’d best be about my work. It’s later in the day than I thought.”

He respected her. “Duzeon.”

“Don’t linger on my account.” She did her best not to rush away as soon as Maj Dalmai retreated into the shadows. As she hastened along the brick-paved walkway, she resisted the urge to use a spell to determine if he was still watching her. She had no wish to give him an excuse to follow her or report her presence to Hoftstan Ruch, the seneschal and pursuivant of Vildecaz Castle. Much as Ninianee liked and trusted Hoftstan, she knew he would send Guards to find her if he learned she was absent from the keep.

Four long-haired Parigoch-goats stood along the fence, watching Ninianee with curiosity, their cork-screw horns making their heads appear much longer than they were. Two flakes of hay augmented the grazing possibilities of the pasture, which had largely been eaten down to the ground. Ninianee made a mental note to herself to have the goats moved into the fallow field next to their pasture, where they could devour the weeds and brambles that had sprung up during the spring and summer. She began to run toward the stand of trees at the edge of the fields, feeling the first of her Change upon her. Putting on a burst of speed, she tugged off her gaunel, hoping to save the garment from ruin. As she reached the trees, she threw her satchel into a small hunting blind she kept there, and flung her gaunel after it. Her guin was torn as her paws struggled to take hold on the fabric, and she pulled it apart as best she could with her heavily clawed feet. She looked down at her belly and saw the distinctive black-and-white ticking of the Salah-badger, and she saw the flick of the short, silvery tail. Although these creatures were large, she was almost twice the size of most of them, and she tottered on limbs hardly able to bear the weight of her body. Moving very carefully, she waddled off toward a drift of fallen leaves, prepared to dig for grubs and worms – she could tell the badger looked forward to these victuals although she found them unappetizing – and to avoid the notice of hunters or spells in the cover of the trees until dawn. If Bandikrion the Destinizer was with her, the night would be an uneventful one, and she would return to the Castle without her absence being noted.

* * *

When they stopped for the night, Kloveon of Fauthsku, Erianthee’s escort as far as Udugan Province, insisted on raising the most luxurious of the three tents they carried in the provisions wagon, a three-chamber pavilion of dark-red Fahnine silk shot with gold thread, edged in magical sigils and with heavy carpets for flooring. Erianthee had said it was a waste of time, out here in the middle of nowhere, but Kloveon had remained adamant.

“We are almost to Udugan, and we may be observed, either by men or by magic. This is a show of dignity, setting up this pavilion, and one that you should have.” His concern clouded his handsome features. His sugar-brown eyes lost their glint and became hard to read. “You are a Duzeon, not a Duzna, now, and you should have full distinction for that.”

“You just want to raise the silken tent,” said Erianthee nonchalantly, to cover her increasing attraction to him. She was glad to end their travel, for her interest in Kloveon was growing as intense as his for her; she was more pleased that they had found a meadow with a stream for their night’s rest, but she said nothing of this to him.

“It is better than the canvas one – warmer, more gracious, and appropriate. It is more worthy of you, the guest of the Emperor; Riast would look upon your canvas tent as a slight – he’s touchy about form, you know.” He twitched a stray tendril of her honey-blonde hair back into place. “In two days, I will have to give you up, and to Hajmindor Elet, of all people.”