Winds of Change (57 page)

“Look, Nyara - ” he said haltingly, wishing he could say half of what he wanted to. “I - I love you; I guess you’ve figured that out, but I thought I’d better say it. There. Nothing’s going to change that. I’m not the picture of virtue - or innocence - I’ve seen more than you might think. I’ve spent time on Ancar’s Border. I’ve seen girls - women - who’ve had pretty bad things happen to them. Who’ve been - I don’t know. I guess you could say they’ve been betrayed by the parents who should have protected them. I know what you mean. You and I can’t do anything about us until we get
him
out of our lives.”

:A little confused, boy, but I think she got the gist of it. I’ll have a little talk with her and lay things out for her later.:
Again, that gravelly chuckle. :
I
’
II
let her know you weren’t just making pretty talk; you’ve seen things as rough as she’s lived through. Who ever would have figured me for playing matchmaker. And at my age!:

Nyara only stared at him in dumb surprise, clutching the sword to her chest beneath her cloak of fur. But then one hand crept off the scabbard and moved down; searched for his and found it.

She gave him the ghost of a smile then. “Either you are lying, which Need says not - you are a saint, which she also says not - or you are as great a fool as I.” She shook her head, but her eyes never left his.

“Well, then - let’s be fools together,” he whispered, staring down into her bottomless eyes. “I’m willing to work at it if you are.”

Commotion at the entrance end of the Vale caught Darkwind’s attention and broke into his brooding. Darkness had fallen some time ago, but he had not bothered to call any lights. Part of him still wanted to be angry with Firesong - angry at
someone
- but the rest of him knew that the Adept was punishing himself already. Anything he said or did would be superfluous, and likely cause much harm.

The disturbance was enough to let him know that a larger party than usual had crossed the Veil, and since the second shift of scouts had already gone out, this was not something expected. Something unexpected today could only mean trouble.

He sent a tentative inquiry to Vree, and the answer he received sent him shooting down the stairs of his
ekele
like a slung stone.

He met the tiny parade just past the first hot pool, and when he saw who had met Wintermoon’s little troupe, as well as who was riding with it, he thought that he was dreaming.

The Outlander Skif rode his white Companion. Beside him to his right was Wintermoon on one of the two
dyheli
stags that had gone out with them. But on the left hand of the Herald was the second stag, who also bore a rider, and that was what caused him to stare and question his sanity. Nyara sat astride the
dyheli,
as if she had always known how to ride. She was clad in a rough bearskin cloak, carrying the blade she had taken across her lap.

Walking
beside
her, holding a mage-light to show the way and engaged in easy conversation with her, was Firesong.

Wintermoon held up his hand, and they stopped long enough to dismount. The
dyheli
walked off, into the side of the Vale, where the Clan kept grazing and water for their kind. Firesong stepped back to allow Skif to aid Nyara from her mount, but then he fell in beside them, still deeply in conversation with both of them. Still more than a little stunned, Darkwind took his place beside his brother. Wintermoon thanked his mount and sent the stag on his way with a pat on the withers. Cymry walked ahead, but Darkwind had no doubt that she was following every word of Firesong’s conversation.

“Who in the name of all gods is that?” Wintermoon asked, after hearty greetings between the two brothers.

“Firesong k’Treva. Healing Adept. The Council let us send for help,” Darkwind replied. “He’s - ”

“Impressed by himself,” Wintermoon completed. “But I’d guess that he must be something very special.” He shook his head. “Brother, so much has happened to us since dawn this morning that I do not know where to begin.”

“Then let me,” Darkwind suggested. “After the last time you came in, Elspeth and I were permitted to call for aid. Firesong is what we received. He was more than we expected. And yes - he is of such power and ability that this arrogance of his is little more than pardonable pride, and almost a game to him.”

Wintermoon only snorted. “Perhaps. I would like to see him in a situation where his pretty face means nothing, and he only frightens with his power. Take away the things he was born with, and I will be prepared to admire his accomplishments. But then, I am a crude man. Magic has never much impressed me.”

Darkwind came so close to laughing that he choked, and gave his brother a quick embrace. “Nevertheless, he has been training me and the Outlanders.”

“He has been training you, between attempting to impress the Outlander - ”

“How am I to finish this tale?” Darkwind chided, then sobered. “Listen, there were ill things happened here, today. We were to attempt something small upon the Stone - when - ”

“When Falconsbane raised his ugly head and attempted to foul the Vale,” Wintermoon interrupted. “Do not fear to alarm me. That much we knew. Nyara felt the taint of her father, as did the Companion, and the sword knew where and that there had been a death. She said she did not think it was someone she knew. Whose death, then?”

“Tre’valen, the Shin’a’in shaman,” Darkwind said, sorrow rising in him again. Wintermoon’s eyes went wide with surprise. “He - the beast struck at our father, Wintermoon. Firesong shielded the Stone - no, do not interrupt me this time - had he not, none of us would be here to greet you. You would have returned to a smoking hole, and that I pledge you. I could do nothing, nor Elspeth; we were not quick enough.”

“But - Father obviously lives - was it Tre’valen that shielded him, then?” Wintermoon shook his head, amazed. “Surely though he is - was - a shaman, he could not have protected Father against the beast in his wrath!”

Darkwind nodded at everything his brother said, and was no little amazed at how much Wintermoon guessed correctly. “Firesong thinks that he was not alone - that it was he and - and Dawnfire together who shielded Father.” Now it was Darkwind’s turn to shake his head.
“He
does not know what happened to them, besides that Tre’valen is dead. I do not know what all this means. But there will be a little time to try to find meanings later. What is your tale?”

“Simple, compared to yours.” Wintermoon took off his coat and slung it over one shoulder. “I had struck signs of Nyara’s presence and narrowed the search. I thought that we were within a day, perhaps two, of finding her. But instead, I woke to find her seated quite calmly in the midst of our camp.”

“Oh, so?” He raised an eyebrow at that.

“The sword advised her to seek us out. Well, to seek Skif out, is closer to the truth. It was he that her eyes were upon, and it was he she wished to speak to, so I woke him. There was much sighing and exchanging of speaking looks.” Wintermoon smiled, a smile tinged with sadness. “I would be laughing if there were not so many things now that would make a laugh so greatly out ofplace. It was quite charming. A meeting out of a silly ballad, Darkwind, I could almost hear a harp a-playing. Skif would not thank me for telling you that. Well, I think I can safely say that the two are fairly smitten, absence from each other has only made the bond stronger, and that if I were a betting man, I would bet on them pairing as eagles. A true lovebond.”

Darkwind considered the two; considered what he and Elspeth had spoken of. “I would not bet against you, but there are many obstacles in their way.”
Not the least of which is her father
-
and what he will do to her if he finds her.

“They know that. Which makes it - well - a better pairing, for my thinking. They know what they face, and face it together.” Wintermoon gazed at the backs of those in front of him and smiled again. “A good thing, to see some love in the midst of so much pain. But I should continue. Once we had gotten past the sighing and the looking and into the speaking, she would, I mink, have spoken of those obstacles. But then came the attack upon the Vale.” Wintermoon rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. “We decided to return.
She
determined to go with us, saying there was much she could tell us to aid against her father. I was not certain then of the wisdom of this, for she could be a breach in our defenses.”

“Not with Need beside her,” Darkwind said firmly. “I have spoken to Elspeth of the blade. Although she is not an Adept as we know them, she is very powerful, and has knowledge we do not.”

Wintermoon nodded. “It did seem to me that Nyara was less feral and more human, but I only saw her once, and I thought I might have misremembered. Perhaps the sword is even able to change her. I knew, danger or no, that she must come here long enough to be given some kind of protection. If you have so powerful an Adept here, perhaps he can weave shieldings for her that will protect her. We cached the packs to make more speed, and returned as quickly as we could.”

“When you arrived, was Firesong still at the entrance to the Vale?” Darkwind could not resist asking.

“That he was; quiet as an ice-statue, though he came to life quickly enough when he saw us.” Wintermoon raised his eyebrows. “And that bird of his. It lit our way in. Is he always such a showman?”

Darkwind shrugged. “I cannot see how he could be anything less. I think it is part of his nature. But tell me, what did he make of the Changechild? I have heard that k’Treva is less forgiving of such creatures than we.”

“If that is a trait of his Clan, he does not share it,” Wintermoon said, a hint of speculation in his voice. “He did not even seem particularly startled, although if he viewed us from afar with the eyes of his bondbird, he would have known what she was long before we rode through the Veil.”

“And now he speaks with her.” Darkwind ran a hand through his hair. “It is not what I would have expected of him.”

:Well, he’s reserving judgment, boy,:
said a harsh mind-voice.
:He isn‘t terribly happy about having Falconsbane’s daughter in his lap, but he thinks that he has some foolproof ways of telling if she’s an enemy plant.:
A snort of laughter.
:As if I would leave any of the bastard’s hooks in her!:

Darkwind belatedly recognized the voice of the sword.
:I think you fully capable, warlady,:
he said carefully.
:Let me ask you this; is she ready to face her father?:

:Alone? Hellfires, no. Not in a century. There’s only so much I can do with the raw material. Only so much I can do. I’m no great Adept, just a mage-smith:
The sword sounded surprisingly - humble? Darkwind found the changes in Need as interesting as the changes in Nyara.
:I’II promise you this, though; give that girl proper backing, and she‘II
defy
her father. Though she hasn’t quite figured it out yet, she’s not his frightened slave anymore.:

That was good news; the first of the day.

“Unless you have something planned - ” Wintermoon began. Firesong stopped, turned, and interrupted him.

“I think,” the young Adept said, pitching his voice so that they all heard him clearly, “it is time to call a Council.”

It was a strange conference, held in a clearing below Firesong’s borrowed
ekele.
Firesong’s
hertasi
scrambled to bring food and drink for the participants, some of whom, like Firesong himself, Darkwind, and Elspeth, had not eaten for some time. Food had not seemed particularly important to Darkwind, but of course to the
hertasi,
it was a source of much disapproval that they had neglected themselves. The lizards hovered all over them, but paid particular attention to Firesong. There were, predictably, twice as many
hertasi
attending him as anyone else.

The conference was also a small one; Iceshadow, representing the Elders and mages, Darkwind, Firesong, Wintermoon for the scouts, Nyara, the blade Need. Kethra sent her regrets that she could not attend; she would not leave Starblade’s bed. Elspeth had been reluctant to join in it, but at Firesong’s urging, she too took her place in the circle. Skif presented himself at Nyara’s side and would not be moved, and Darkwind urged the Companions to take places beside their Heralds as well.

The conference was interrupted immediately by yet another visitor, reminding them all that there was more at stake than just the Vale.

The
kyree
bounded into the group and planted himself right next to Nyara without even asking for permission. Darkwind recognized Rris immediately, by the jaunty tilt of his head and his alert eyes and ears. Firesong was somewhat taken aback by the
kyree’s
brashness, and Darkwind was so amused to see his reaction that he insisted that Rris be allowed to speak.

:
I
am sent from Treyvan and Hydona,:
the
kyree
said, holding his head up and refusing to be intimidated by Firesong’s measuring glances.
:Those are the gryphons, young cub,:
he said then, with a kindly, patronizing tone to his mind-voice, turning to give Firesong a measuring glance of his own.
:They are the allies of this Vale, and they wish to know what has happened. Beyond the obvious, that is
-
the action of Mornelithe Falconsbane and the death of the shaman.:

Darkwind hid his smile behind a cough. He himself had taken the time to send a message to the gryphons, but Rris had obviously been coached. And he had a shrewd idea by whom.