Mercedes Lackey - Mage Winds 2 - Winds of Change

Mercedes Lackey

Mage Winds 02

Winds of Change

For long years, the rich northern kingdom of Valdemar, ruled by Queen Selenay

and her consort Daren, had been under siege by the forces of Hardorn (Arrows of the

Queen, Arrow’s Flight, Arrow’s Fall, By The Sword). Ancar, its ruthless and cunning

leader, had first tried treachery against the rival country’s court; that had been foiled

by the Heralds of Valdemar, the judges, lawgivers, and law-enforcers of their people.

He could not corrupt them, for it was not in the nature of the Heralds, Chosen for their

duties by the horselike creatures called “Companions,” to be corrupted. He then tried

direct attack - that was foiled by the forces of neighboring Rethwellan to the south,

brought by an old promise of aid, long forgotten in Valdemar. Those forces included

the mercenary company of the Skybolts, commanded by Captain Kerowyn, grand-

daughter of the mage Kethry (whose own story is related in The Oathbound and

Oathbreakers). Kerowyn brought more with her than just arms and fighters; she

brought with her an ancient and powerful enchanted weapon, the sword her

grandmother had borne; Need, who for reasons then unknown could be commanded

only by a woman. With her she brought the King of Rethwellan’s own brother, Prince

Daren, the Lord Martial of his country, also the younger brother of Selenay’s former

treacherous husband. The result was the successful defeat of Ancar’s forces - and

the Choosing of both Daren (for he was nothing like his brother) and Kerowyn by

Companions, much to the consternation of some of Selenay’s nobles.

And Daren and Selenay had loved each other at first sight.

Five years later, they had produced both progeny and an uneasy peace, although

Ancar continued to make attempts across the border, and insinuated spies inside

Valdemar. But the one thing of which all felt sure, was that they were safe from

magic.

In fact, few people in Valdemar even believed in “real” magic, although the mind-

magic of the Heralds was commonplace. An ancient barrier, attributed to the work of

the legendary Herald-Mage Vanyel, seemed to hold the working of real magic at bay

inside Valdemar’s borders, if not its effects. Further, it seemed as if there was some

prohibition about even thinking of real magic; those who discussed it, soon forgot the

discussions; those who witnessed it soon attributed their memories to dreams. Even

old chronicles that spoke of it were forgotten, and those who tried to read them found

their interest lagging and put them away without a memory of why they had sought

them out in the first place.

But one day, it became plain that this barrier was no longer as effective as

everyone believed and hoped. The Queen’s Heir, her daughter by her first marriage,

made the decision that the time had come for Valdemar to have the same manner of

magic its enemies wielded (Winds of Fate,) and perhaps new magics as well.

She fought for the right to seek out the mages of other lands herself - more

successfully, after a magically-enhanced assassin sent by Ancar nearly killed her -

and set off with the sword Need and one other Herald, Skif, to find mages for

Valdemar.

She had not gone far beyond Rethwellan when she deduced that she had not

done this alone - that the Companions had acted on her behalf, and were, in fact,

forcing her toward a goal only they knew. Angered by this, and swearing that she

would follow her own path in this venture, Elspeth turned off the road she had been

intended to take, and headed instead for Kata’shin’a’in and the nomads of the

Dhorisha Plains - who, she hoped, would lead her to the mysterious Hawkbrothers of

the Pelagirs. The last of the Herald-Mages, Herald Vanyel, had been reputedly taught

by them (Magic’s Pawn, Magic’s Promise, Magic’s Price) and she hoped that she

could find either allies or teachers there.

The Shin’a’in had their own set of plans for her, once they learned of her

destination. They intended to test her, watch her, and allow her to face some of their

enemies as she crossed their land.

Meanwhile, the sword she carried, that she had thought was “only” a magic

weapon, proved to be more than that. In her hands it awakened - and proved to be a

once-human mage of times so long past that there was no record of her previous life,

or anything Need referenced, in the Chronicles of Valdemar.

Together the Heralds, their Companions, and the newly-awakened blade crossed

the Dhorisha Plains, only to find themselves going from old dangers into new - for the

Tayledras territory they headed for, following a map that the Shin’a’in shaman

Kra’heera and Tre’valen gave to Elspeth, was as much under siege as the kingdom

of Valdemar.

Among the Hawkbrothers, a former mage, Darkwind k’Sheyna, had been fighting

his own battle against enemies within and without. Without, were the forces led by

the evil Adept and Changemaster, Mornelithe Falconsbane - not the least of which

was his half-human daughter, the Change-child Nyara. Within, the Clan was split -

physically, for more than half their number, including all of the children and lesser

mages, were stranded in the intended site of a new Vale when their Heartstone

cracked. And split in leadership, for Darkwind was the leader of a faction that wanted

to bring in help from outside to heal their Heartstone and bring back the rest of the

Clan - while his father, who led the mages, swore this could not be done.

But Darkwind’s father had been subverted by Falconsbane, and even in the heart

of the Vale was still under his control. It was Darkwind’s father, the Adept Starblade

k’Sheyna, who had actually caused the fracturing of the stone.

Darkwind was aided by a pair of gryphons and their young, who had served as

surrogate parents to him when his own mother died and his father turned strange and

alien. Treyvan and Hydona did their best to support him, but despite being powerful

mages in their own right, there were few in the Vale who would listen to their advice.

Falconsbane elected to close his hand tighter around k’Sheyna Vale, and sent his

daughter - under the ruse that she was escaping his power - to seduce young

Darkwind. Nyara herself, sick of her father’s mistreatment, was not aware of

Falconsbane’s larger plan. Loyalty to his lover Dawnfire kept Darkwind from

succumbing to his attraction to Nyara, but by Falconsbane’s reckoning, it was only a

matter of time before he had both father and son in his grasp.

Elspeth, bearing an enormously valuable artifact, and a powerful, if untrained

mage herself, aroused Falconsbane’s avarice as soon as she came within his

reckoning. He turned some of his creatures that had been searching the Plain for the

artifacts guarded by the Shin’a’in to pursue Elspeth. And meanwhile, in pursuit

himself of an old hatred for gryphons, he launched an attack on Treyvan and Hydona

and their young. And in the wake of the attack, he managed to trap Dawnfire’s spirit

in the body of her bondbird, and slay her human body along with the spirit of the bird.

On discovering that the young gryphlets had been contaminated by Falconsbane’s

power, Nyara confessed her hand in the matter, and was confined in a corner of the

gryphon’s lair.

Elspeth, Skif, and the rest arrived at the borders of the k’Sheyna territory, pursued

by Falconsbane’s creatures. Darkwind and the gryphons came to their rescue, and

recognized both the sword and the Companions for what they were. Unsure of what

to do with them, Darkwind led them back to the lair. There, Skif met Nyara and fell in

love with her - and the fascination was mutual.

Things that Nyara knew and confessed proved to Darkwind that his father was in

thrall to the evil Adept. He succeeded in breaking Falconsbane’s hold on his father

and in destroying the creature through which the control had come, but that alerted

Falconsbane to the fact that they now knew who and what he was and, presumably,

what he had planned. He permitted Dawnfire to overhear that he was planning to

meet with Ancar of Hardorn to discuss an alliance - then allowed her “accidental”

escape.

The name meant nothing to Dawnfire, but a great deal to the Heralds. This was

their worst fear realized; that Ancar should unite with a truly powerful Adept -

But Need, who had centuries of experience recognizing trickery, pointed out that

Dawnfire’s “escape” was a little too easy - and that they would be leaving both the

gryphlets and possibly even herself unguarded to disrupt a spurious “meeting.”

So the allies planned a reverse ambush; lying in wait for Falconsbane when he

came to take the young ones.

Falconsbane was cannier than they thought; he detected the ambush at the last

moment, and mounted an effective counterattack. He attempted to take control of the

gryphlets, but Need deflected the magic, and turned it against him, using it to purge

the unsuspecting young ones of his taint. He attacked Skif, but before he could kill

the Herald, he was attacked by his daughter Nyara, in the first open act of defiance in

her life. Nevertheless, Falconsbane’s powerful magics and allies succeeded in taking

down both Companions and trapping Hydona.

All would have been lost but for the tenacity of Darkwind and the gryphons - and

the intervention of the Shin’a’in Swordsworn, the black-clad servants of the Shin’a’in

and Tayledras Goddess, who had been secret players in events all along. They

surrounded the combatants and forced Falconsbane to a stalemate.

Snarling in rage, the Adept escaped - barely - leaving behind a trail of blood and

the survivors’ hope that a Shin’a’in arrow had been fatal.

But the intervention of the Shin’a’in was not complete. The Swordsworn and the

two shaman took up Dawnfire - who, trapped in a bird’s body, was fated to fade and

“die,” leaving nothing of her human self behind. Before the eyes of the Heralds and

the rest, the Goddess herself intervened on Dawnfire’s behalf, transforming her into a

shining Avatar in the shape of a vorcel hawk, the symbol of the shamans’ clan,

Tale’sedrin.

And in the awed confusion afterward, Nyara vanished, taking Need with her - at

the blade’s parting insistence that Nyara required her more than Elspeth did.

But the Clan was united once more, and Darkwind agreed to take up his long-

denied powers again, to teach Elspeth the ways of magic, that she might return home

an Adept.

So dawns the new day. . . .

Elspeth & Gwena

Elspeth rubbed her feather-adorned temples, hoping that her fears and tensions

would mercifully go, and leave her mind in peace for just once today.

This isn’t what I expected. I wish this were over.

Herald Elspeth, Heir to the Crown of Valdemar, survivor of a thousand and one

ceremonies in her twenty-six years, brushed nervously at a nonexistent spot on her

tunic and wished she were anywhere but here. “Here” was the southern edge of the

lands held by the Tayledras, whom Valdemarans spoke of as the fabled

Hawkbrothers. “Here” was a rough-walled cave, presumably hewn by magic, just

outside the entrance to k’Sheyna Vale. “Here” was where Elspeth the Heir was

stewing in her own juices from anxiety.

Elspeth was still getting used to these people and their magic. As far as she could

tell the cave hadn’t been there before yesterday.

Then again - the walls didn’t have that raw, new look of freshly cut stone, and the

sandy, uneven floor seemed ordinary. Even the entrance, a jagged break in the

hillside, appeared to be perfectly natural, and healthy plants lined the edges.

Greenery grew anywhere roots could find a pocket of soil to hold onto. And the smell

was as damp and musty as any cave she’d ever seen during her Herald’s training.

Maybe she was wrong. The cave might always have been there, but its entrance

may just have been well-hidden.

Now that she thought about it, that would be a lot more like the style of the only

Hawkbrother she knew, Darkwind k’Sheyna. He wasn’t inclined to waste time or

energy on anything - much less waste magical power. He took a dim view of

profligate use of magery, something he’d made very clear to Elspeth in the first days

of their acquaintance. If something could be done without using magic, that was the

way he’d do it - hoarding his powers and doling them out in miserly driblets.

That was something she didn’t understand at all. When you had magic, shouldn’t

you use it?

Darkwind didn’t seem to think so.

Neither did the Chronicles she had read, of Herald-Mage Vanyel’s time and

before. Incredible things were possible to an Adept - and that, of course, was why

she was here. If she’d dared, she’d have used her powers now, to shape a more

comfortable seat than the rock she perched on, just inside the cave’s entrance.

That at least would have given her something to do, instead of working herself up

into a fine froth of nerves over the coming ceremony.

She glanced resentfully at Skif; he looked perfectly calm, if preoccupied. His dark

eyes were focused somewhere inward, and if he was at all nervous, none of it

showed on his square-jawed face. In fact, the only sign that he wasn’t a statue was

that he would run a hand through his curly brown hair once in a while.

Elspeth sighed. It figured. He was probably so busy thinking about Nyara that

none of this mattered to him. The only thing that being made a Tayledras

Wingbrother meant to him was that he’d be able to stay in Hawkbrother territory for

as long as it took to find her.

Assuming the sword Need let him find Nyara. The blade not only used magic well,

it - she - was a person, a woman who’d long ago traded her aging fleshly body for the

steel form of an ensorceled sword. It wasn’t a trade Elspeth would have made. Need

could only hear, see, and feel through the senses of her bearer - and in times when

her bearer wasn’t particularly MindGifted or when she had no bearer at all, she had

drifted off into “sleep.”

She’d been asleep for a long time before Elspeth’s teacher, Herald Captain

Kerowyn, had passed her on to her pupil. But something - very probably something

Elspeth herself had done - had finally roused her from that centuries-long sleep.

Once she was awake, Need was a hundred times more formidable than she had

been asleep.

She had quite a mind of her own, too. She had decided, once Elspeth was safely

in the hands of the Hawkbrothers and the immediate troubles were over, that the

Changechild Nyara required her far more than Elspeth did. So when Nyara chose to

vanish into the wild lands surrounding the Tayledras Vale, Need evidently persuaded

the catlike woman to take the sword with her.

That left Elspeth on her own, to follow her original plan; find a teacher for

Valdemarans with mage-talent, and get training herself. Among the few hundred-odd

things she hadn’t planned on was being made a member of a Tayledras Clan. How

did I get myself into this? she asked herself.

:Willingly and with open eyes,: her Companion Gwena replied, the sarcastic acidity

of her Mindspeech not at all diluted by the fact that it was a mere whisper. :You could

have gone looking for Kero’s great-uncle, the way you were supposed to. He’s an

Adept and a teacher. You could have followed Quenten’s very clear directions, and

he would have taken you as a pupil. If necessary, I would have made certain he took

you as a student. But no, you had to follow your own path, you - :

Elspeth considered slamming mental barriers closed against her Companion and

decided against it. If she did, Gwena would win the argument by default.

:I told you I wasn’t going to be herded to some predestined fate like a complacent

ewe,: she snapped back, just as acidly, taking Gwena entirely by surprise. The

Companion tossed her mane as her head jerked up with the force of the mental reply,

her bright blue eyes going blank with surprise.

:I also told you,: Elspeth continued with a little less force and just a touch of

satisfaction, :that I wasn’t going to play Questing Hero just to suit you and the rest of

your horsey friends. I will do my best by Valdemar, but I’m doing it my own way.

Besides, how do you know Kero’s uncle would have been the right teacher for me?

How do you know that I haven’t done something better than what you planned by

coming here and making contact with the Shin’a’in and the Hawkbrothers? Vanyel

was certainly a well-trained Adept, and the Chronicles say that the Hawkbrothers

trained him.:

Gwena snorted scornfully, and pawed the ground with a silver hoot. :I don’t know

whether you ve done better or worse,: she replied, :but you were asking how you got

yourself into this - this - brotherhood ceremony. And I told you.:

Elspeth stiffened. Gwena had been eavesdropping again. :That was a purely

rhetorical question,: she said coldly. :Meant for myself. I wasn’t broadcasting it to all

and sundry. And I’d appreciate it if you’d let me keep a few thoughts private once in a

while.:

Gwena narrowed her eyes and shook her head. :My,: was all she said in reply.

:We’re certainly touchy today, aren’t we?:

Elspeth did not dignify the comment with an answer. If anything, Gwena was twice

as touchy as she was, and both of them knew why. The only way for Elspeth - or Skif

- to be able to remain in the lands guarded by the Tayledras was to be made

Wingbrothers to the Clan of k’Sheyna. But that required swearing to certain oaths -

which none of their informants had yet divulged, saying only that they’d learn what

those pledges were when they actually stepped into the circle to make them.

Elspeth had been trained in diplomacy and statecraft from childhood, and

undisclosed oaths made her very nervous indeed. It wasn’t so bad for Skif - he wasn’t

the Heir. But for her, well, the things she pledged herself to here could have serious

consequences for Valdemar if she wasn’t very careful. She carried with her the

Crown’s authority. The fact that a forgotten oath had made a crucial difference to

Valdemar in the recent past only pointed up the necessity of being careful what she

swore to here and now.

“Nervous?” Skif asked in a low voice, startling her out of her brooding thoughts.

She grimaced. “Of course I’m nervous. How could I not be? I’m hundred of

leagues away from home, sitting in a cave with you, you thief - ”

“Former thief,” he grinned.

“Excuse me. Former thief and a bloodthirsty barbarian shaman from the Dhorisha

Plains - ”

Tre’valen cleared his throat delicately. “Pardon,” he interrupted, in the Tayledras

tongue, “But while I am both shaman and bloodthirsty, I am not, I think, a barbarian.

We Shin’a’in have recorded history that predates the Mage Wars. Can you say as

much, newcomer?”

For a moment, Elspeth was afraid she had offended him, then she saw the twinkle

in his eye, and the barely perceptible quirk of one corner of his mouth. Tre’valen had

proved to have a healthy sense of humor over the past few days, as they waited out

the response of the k’Sheyna Council of Elders to their petition to remain. She had

heard him refer to himself as bloodthirsty and a barbarian more than once. In point of

fact, the shaman seemed to enjoy teasing and challenging her. . . .

“I stand rebuked, oh Elder of Elders,” she replied formally, bowing as deeply as

she could. She was rewarded with his broad grin, which grew broader as she

continued, “Of course, the fact that you don’t do anything with all that recorded

history has no bearing at all on whether or not you’re barbarians.”

“Of course not,” he replied blandly, evidently well-satisfied with her return volley.

“Dwelling overmuch upon the past is the mark of the decadent. We aren’t that,

either.”

“Point taken.” She conceded defeat, and turned back to Skif. “So I’m here in a

cave waiting for some authority to come along and demand that I swear something

unspecified, which may or may not bind me to something I’d really rather not have

anything to do with - why should I be nervous?”

Skif chuckled, and she restrained herself from snarling. “Now think a bit,” he told

her, fondly, but as if she were thirteen again. “You’ve read the Chronicles. Both

Vanyel and his aunt swore the Wingbrother Oaths. They had to, or they couldn’t have

gone in and out of the Vales the way they did. If there was nothing in the oaths to

bother them, why should you be worried?”

“Do you want that alphabetically or categorically?” She kept herself from reminding

him that she was the Heir. After all, she had tried long and hard to make him forget

that very thing. Instead she continued, “Because that was a long time ago, and a

different Clan. We don’t know if things have changed since then, or whether the

oaths differ from Clan to Clan.”

“They do not differ,” Tre’valen said serenely, “and they have not changed in all of

our recorded history. Many shaman of the Shin’a’in swear to Wingsib; and believe

me, the oaths our Goddess requires of us bind us to far more than your own oaths to

your Crown and country. And She can move her hand to chastise us at her will. I

think you need not be concerned.”

Well, that was some comfort, anyway. Elspeth had seen for herself how the

Shin’a’in Goddess - who was, so Darkwind said, also the Goddess of his people -

could and did manifest herself in very tangible fashion. And she had a sure and

certain taste of how seriously the Shin’a’in took their oaths to protect their land from

interlopers. Well, if Tre’valen knew all about the oaths and felt comfortable with them,

she probably didn’t have to worry.

Much.

This would be the first time she and Skif had been permitted inside the Vale of

k’Sheyna itself. The Hawkbrother Mage - or was it Scout? - Darkwind had dismissed

it with a shrug as “not what it once was” with no indication of what it could be like; and

Tre’valen, if he knew what the Vale was like in its prime, was not telling. Descriptions

in the Chronicles of Vanyel’s time had been sketchy, hinting at wonders without ever

revealing what the wonders were.

:Probably because they didn’t know,: Gwena said, most of the sarcasm gone from

her mind-voice. -Vanyel and Sayv - Savil had too much on their minds to give

descriptions of where they‘d been. Besides, why describe somewhere no one else

would be allowed to visit? It might tempt them to try, and that would be fatal. The

Tayledras tend to perforate first and apologize after.:

:Are you snooping in my head again?: Elspeth replied, with a bit less venom than

before.

:No, you’re echoing at me,: Gwena told her candidly. :I can’t help it if your surface

thoughts echo down our link unless you block them. And I can’t help it if you forget to

block because you‘re nervy.:

:All right, all right. I stand rebuked. I apologize.: Elspeth carefully put up her

lightest shields, and went back to her brooding.

There was a fourth party sharing the title of Wingbrother with them, but shaman

Kethra had sworn her vows a long time ago. She was considerably older than

Tre’valen, though not as old as his superior, Kra’heera, and she had been a wingsib

for at least a dozen years. She was a Healer as well as a shaman, and she was

tending to Darkwind’s father, Adept Starblade. Darkwind seemed reluctant to discuss

what Mornelithe Falconsbane had done to his father, and Elspeth wasn’t about to

press him for answers. She did want to know, however, and badly; not because of

morbid curiosity, but because one day she might need to know just how one Adept

could so completely subvert another. One of Weaponmaster Alberich’s precepts was

that ‘anyone can be broken.’” If it was possible she might find herself on the receiving

end of an attempt to break her, she’d like to know what she could expect. . . .

Elspeth had been a bit surprised that Tre’valen was staying on, though. He had

said only that his own master had asked him to remain with k’Sheyna “because it is

important.” Whatever it was, it couldn’t have anything to do with what Falconsbane

had done to the Clan - Darkwind and Kethra were tending to that.

Could it be because of what had happened to Dawnfire?

The memory was so vividly etched in her mind, she had only to think of the hawk

Dawnfire to relive what she’d seen.

The Shin‘a‘in stood in a rough circle below Dawnfire’s perch. The red-shouldered

hawk had taken a position just above the door of the gryphons’ lair, her head up and

into the wind, her wings slightly mantled. Then one of the Shin‘a‘in, a woman, put her

hand up to the hawk.

Dawnfire stared measuringly at her for a moment, then stepped down from her

perch onto the proffered wrist. The woman turned to face the rest.

Like all the other Shin‘a‘in who had come to their rescue, this one was clad entirely

in black, from her long black hair to her black armor, to her tall black boots. But there

was something wrong with her eyes. Something odd.

Elspeth had sensed a kind of contained power about her; the stirrings of a kind of

deeply-running energy she had never felt before.

The woman raised Dawnfire high above her head and held her there, a position

that should have been a torment after only a few moments, no matter how strong she

was. Tayledras hawks were the size and weight of small eagles, and Dawnfire was

by no means the smallest of the kind. But as the woman continued to hold Dawnfire

aloft, the entire group began to hum - softly at first, then as the volume increased,

and as the ruins rang with harmonics, Dawnfire started glowing.

At first Elspeth had thought it was just a trick of the setting sun, but the light about

the bird grew brighter instead of fading. Then Dawnfire spread her wings and grew

larger as well as brighter.

Before long, Elspeth couldn‘t even look at her directly; she had averted her eyes,

for the light from the hawk was bright enough to cast shadows.

Kra’heera had looked at her and said, “Dawnfire has been chosen by the Warrior.”

She hadn‘t known what that meant then. She did now.

When the light and sound had faded, and she was able to look at the bird again,

she saw that it was no longer a red-shouldered hawk. It was a vorcel-hawk, the

emblem of Kra‘heera‘s Clan, and the largest such bird she had ever seen. Although

the light had dimmed, it had not died, and there was an otherwordly look in the

hawk’s eyes that had made her start with surprise.

It was the same look as in the eyes of the female warrior who held her - their eyes

held neither whites, iris, or pupils - only a darkness, sprinkled with sparks of light that

were visible even where Elspeth stood. As if instead of eyes, they had fields of stars.

That was when she had remembered the description of the Shin’a’in Goddess -

and had realized exactly what she was looking at. Small wonder the memory was as

vivid as it was; it wasn’t every day an ordinary mortal saw a living Goddess and her

Avatar.

She eyed Tre’valen with speculation. No matter how casually the elder shaman

had treated the event afterward, she wondered if he hadn’t been just as surprised as

everyone else by the appearance of his Goddess. From what little she understood,

change came to the Plains seldom and slowly. When Kerowyn had regaled them with

tales of her Shin’a’in cousins, had she ever said anything about their Goddess

creating Avatars? Elspeth didn’t remember anything like that. ...

So maybe this was something new for them. Maybe that was why Tre’valen was

here; to watch for Dawnfire, and to try and figure out the reasons behind his

Goddess’ actions.

Well, if that was the case, he must have told the Hawkbrothers, or at least their

leaders. On the surface none of this seemed to have anything to do with her - but

Elspeth didn’t take anything for granted anymore. After all, why should the Shin’a’in

have shown up at all then? Who could have predicted she’d get involved with the

Tayledras, and wind up adding their enemies to her own rather formidable list? I

ought to ask him later if I’m right about all that. Maybe we can help each other out.

Gwena walked to the entrance of the cave and looked out - impatiently, Elspeth

thought. Her Mindspoken words to her Chosen confirmed that. :I wish I knew what it

was they were spending so much time doing in there,: she said. :They’ve certainly

been keeping us cooling our heels long enough. At this rate, that ceremony of theirs

won’t be over until dark :

Elspeth wondered why she was so impatient - the Companions weren’t the ones

being sworn in, even though they wouldn’t be permitted in the Vale until the Heralds

were. Evidently, by common consensus, the Tayledras regarded the Companions as

creatures that simply didn’t require oaths to hold them.

Hmm. That requires thought. Do they think Gwena is some kind of Avatar herself?

The idea was kind of funny. If they ever listened to her moaning and griping they’d

soon lose that particular illusion! I rather doubt Gwena’s hiding that kind of secret.

Not that she hadn’t been hiding other kinds of secrets. This “plan” for Elspeth’s

future that the Companions had been plotting, for one. And there were others. . . .

Shortly after Nyara had vanished, taking Need with her, Elspeth noticed that

Gwena was missing. Worried about her - since Gwena had been injured in the fight

with Falconsbane’s mage-beasts - she had tried to find her Companion, and when

she failed, tried to Mindtouch her. When that failed, she had been alarmed and had

gone looking for her.

Gwena had been perfectly all right - but she’d been locked in a self-induced

trance, shielded even against the prying of Elspeth’s thoughts. And when she’d come

out of it, she’d been very unhappy to find her Chosen standing there, tapping her foot

impatiently, waiting for an answer.

Under pressure from both Elspeth and Skif, she reluctantly admitted that she had

been in contact with another Companion in Valdemar all during this journey. Elspeth

had expected that Companion to be her mother’s - and had been both surprised and

relieved to find that it was actually Rolan, the Companion of the Queen’s Own Herald,

Talia.

Then she had been annoyed, though she hadn’t made much of an issue about it.

She hadn’t known that Companions could relay messages that far - and so far as she

was aware, no one knew that little fact. Was it just Gwena and Rolan, or could others

do it, too? One way or the other, it was one more thing that the Companions had

been hiding. So how much more could they do that they hadn’t revealed?

Gwena had said crossly that Elspeth should have expected that “arrangements

would be made.” And Elspeth had been forced to agree. After all, she was the Heir,

and she’d been allowed to go haring off into the unknown with only one Herald to

guard her back. For all that she’d managed to get complete agreement from the

Council and Heraldic Circle, it was still rather irresponsible. If Queen Selenay had not

had a way to get news about her errrant offspring, she’d likely have had strong

hysterics before a month was out. Especially after Elspeth departed from the agreed-

upon itinerary, and “vanished” into the Dhorisha Plains.

Still, she hadn’t much liked the idea that little reports on her progress were being

sent back home, as if she was some kind of child on her first outing without Mama.

On the other hand, Gwena had told them, when Elspeth pressed her for exactly

what she’d been telling Rolan, that the “reports” she’d been sending Rolan were

edited. “Heavily edited,” in fact, was what the Companion had said, rather glumly.

Which was just as well. If Selenay had the smallest inkling just how much danger

Elspeth and Skif had gotten themselves into -

She’d have found a way to haul me back, that’s what she ‘d have done, and

plunked me down in nice safe embroidery classes for the rest of my natural life.

How could she possibly explain to her mother that ever since she’d started on this

trip - even before she’d started - she’d had the feeling that the Crown wasn’t

something she was ever going to wear? Even if she had tried to tell her, Selenay

would have taken it the wrong way; she’d have been sure that Elspeth had some

premonition of doom, and there she’d be in embroidery class again, away from all

possibility of danger.

What an awful idea.

And it wasn’t a premonition of “doom,” or anything like one. It was just the feeling

that she was never going to rule. That one of the twins was going to have the throne,

and the other -

The other would be King’s Own. Not a bad arrangement, since they aren‘t at all

alike. Wouldn‘t be the first time that sibs were Monarch and Monarch’s Own.

Her fate was something else entirely - though what, she hadn’t the faintest notion.

Even though her conscience bothered her now that she was so far away from home,

she’d been doing some useful work, assigned to Kerowyn and the Skybolts. And,

though she would never have believed it when she left Haven, she was homesick.

She kept telling herself that there wasn’t much she had been doing that couldn’t be

done by Talia and Daren . . . and that though she wasn’t a ForeSeer, she’d never

been wrong when she got really strong feelings about something. There was

something she had to do, and it was tied up with learning magic.

She’d said as much to Gwena, who’d agreed with her. “Even though you aren’t

following the course we’d planned for you,” she’d added.

Too bad. So I’m a stubborn bitch. I do things my way, or not at all, and if Mother,

Gwena, and Rolan don’t like it, I’m not at all sorry. So there. Nyah, nyah. She grinned

to herself at her own childish thought. Really, it was a very good thing that the

messages were going through Rolan to Talia and only then to Selenay. Rolan had

more of a sense of humor than Gwena - and a little more tolerance. And Talia knew

her former charge very well indeed. Further, Talia had told Elspeth privately that she

thought the Queen was reacting like most mothers to the evidences of her daughter

growing up and developing a mind of her own.

Badly.

Oh, not as badly as she could have, but all things considered, it was much better

for Elspeth to be off beyond Mama’s reach for a while. By the time she returned, it

might be possible for Queen Selenay to admit that her daughter wasn’t a foolish,

headstrong, stupid child anymore.

I’ve managed to acquire a little sense, anyway. . . .

:Gather yourself, my dear,: Gwena Mindspoke, interrupting her thoughts. :They’re

coming for you. Finally.:

Elspeth glanced out of the corner of her eye at Skif and Tre’valen. Skif looked as if

he were concentrating on every word that the Hawkbrother called Iceshadow spoke.

Actually, he probably was; his command of the Tayledras tongue wasn’t anywhere

near as good as hers. Odd; she’d slipped right into the language as if she had known

it most of her life.

Oh, that’s probably because it’s like Shin‘a‘in, and Kera taught me some of that.

Tre’valen wore that inscrutable face that Kero always put on when she was

determined not to let anyone know what I she was thinking. “Gambling-face,” she

called it.

The more she thought about it, the better she liked the idea of approaching

Tre’valen later to see if they could do anything for each other. She felt a lot more

comfortable around him - around any of the Shin’a’in, really - than she did around the

Tayledras. That was probably because she could read him, a little. He and Kethra

reminded her of Kero; well, that shouldn’t surprise her. Kero had trained her, and

Kero had, in turn, been trained by a Shin’a’in Swordsworn, so there was a lot of

Shin’a’in attitude and thinking patterns in the way Kero looked at things. A good bit of

that had rubbed off on her pupil, without a doubt. The Tayledras, however, were very

exotic, and Darkwind had been so hard to read that Elspeth had given up even trying.

I wonder if they seem that way to Tre’valen?

They hadn’t had much of a chance to see the Vale; as Gwena had predicted, it

was sunset when the Hawkbrothers came for them, and most of the Vale was

shrouded in shadows as they passed through it. Elspeth had gotten some

impressions that had taken her breath away, however - of luxuriant growth that made

any forest she’d ever seen look sparse by comparison, and trees so enormous her

mind refused to accept their size. The Companions had trailed along behind as they

followed a well-worn path past curtaining vines covered with cascading flowers the

size of her hand, and bushes with leaves bigger than a saddle. Elspeth couldn’t wait

to see the place in the daytime.

Darkwind himself had come to fetch them, as their sponsor into the Clan; Kethra

was Tre’valen’s. With him had come at least a dozen more Tayledras - and Elspeth

had done her best not to stare, but it had been very difficult. She had thought that

Darkwind was a typical Hawkbrother, and she had been just a little disappointed,

Mercedes Lackey - Mage Winds 2 - Winds of Change

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