Winds Of Fate v(mw-1 Read online

  She took a deep breath. "I'm next in line for the throne. Not that I particularly want it," she added, and there was a kind of chagrined surprise in her voice, "Which is odd, because when I was little, I thought that being made Heir was the highest possible pinnacle of success. But there it is; now I have it, and I rather wish I didn't. Skif has always been a kind of big brother to me, and there were always rumors about the two of us."

  "But were they true?" he persisted. He shifted a little; not because he was uncomfortable outside, but because he was acutely uncomfortable inside. jealousy again, and this time for no damned reason!

  It must be overflow from Nyara, he decided. Gods of my fathers; this is embarrassing... have I no self-control?

  "No," she said calmly, relieving his jealousy by her answer. "No, he always thought of me as a little sister. Until we went out on this trip together. then he suddenly decided that he was in love with me." She sounded annoyed, to his great satisfaction. "I cannot for the life of me imagine why, but that's what he decided, and I've been trying to discourage him. Maybe once I would have been happy for that, but-it's not possible, Darkwind. I have duties as the Heir, if I ever get back in one piece. If I were to make any kind of alliance, I have to consider my duties first. And anything permanent would be weighed against them.

  Love-even if genuine-could only be secondary. Mother married for what she thought was love the first time, and it was a total disaster. Skif is so blinded by his own feelings that he won't even consider anything else."

  "Ah," he replied, "I take it that you are far from convinced that what your friend feels is love." She snorted. "Infatuation, more like it. I've been trying to emulate my teacher- Kerowyn-since we left Valdemar, and he worships her.

  That may have been the problem." So she feels no tie beyond friendship for this Skif, he thought, with a feeling of satisfaction. Well, if she is going to learn magic, that's just as well. She'll have a great deal to learn, coming to it this late, and she'll have no time for anything but study. "That may have been the situation," he responded, sensing she was waiting for some kind of a reply. "But-you sounded very annoyed just now with him. May I ask why? If there is friction other than what you have told me, I need to know."

  "Nothing other than that once he became infatuated, he wanted to wrap me in silk and stick me in a jewel box," she replied, the annoyance back in her voice. "I think I have him cured of that, but in case I haven't, the problem may come up again." He nodded, forgetting that it was dark enough that she wouldn't see the nod, then coughed politely. "Thank you, Elspeth. That could cause some problems. I hope I have not caused you distress by asking you these questions."

  "No, not at all," she replied, surprise in her voice. "You are a very easy person to confide in, Darkwind. Thank you for giving me the chance to unburden myself. My Companion thinks Skif is perfect for me, and Need thinks he's an utter loss, so any time I say anything to either of them, all I get is lectures." Companion? Oh, that must be the spirit-mare. But she said it as if it were a name..."Companion?" he asked, as the first breath of the evening wind flowed through the stones and breathed the hair away from his face.

  "My not-horse," she replied, and there was a smile there that he felt across the darkness between them. "The one you have very graciously been treating not like a horse. We call them"Companions'; every Herald in Valdemar has one-they Choose us to be Heralds."

  "They-" he hesitated in confusion. "Could you please explain?"

  "Certainly, if you don't mind my coming closer," she replied. He peered through the darkness at her to see if she was being flirtatious-but she appeared to be swatting at her legs. "There seem to be some kind of nocturnal insects on this rock, and they like the taste of Herald.

  "By all means, come sit beside me," he replied, grateful to the night-ants." There are no night-ant nests here." She rose, brushing off her legs, as he moved over on his rock to give her room.

  "Now," he continued, "About these"Companions' of yours-"

  "Shouldn't we be discussing how to get Dawnfire free?" she replied as she seated herself, her tone one of concern. "It's easy to get distracted."

  "We are discussing Dawnfire," he told her, a little grimly. "You and this"Companion' of yours may be better suited to the task than I. I need to know as much as possible about you."

  "But Skif-"

  "Won't be back for some time," he assured her. "And I have but two concerns regarding him. The first-that her father not attempt to contact or call her while he is with her."

  "And the second?" she asked.

  He sighed, and leaned back on his hands. "That she leave enough left of him to be useful." She chuckled, and he felt the corners of his mouth turning up in a Smile. "Now," he continued. "About this'companion... Nyara could have shouted her joy aloud, as Darkwind gave them tacit permission to go off alone. Skif could have been ugly, foul-breathed, pot-bellied, bow-legged, bald and obnoxious, and she would not at this moment have cared. He was safe, that was what mattered. Mornelithe had not ordered her to seduce him; did not even know that he existed, so far as she knew. She could ease the urges that had been driving her to distraction since her body began to heal, and do so without the guilt of knowing she would be corrupting him-do so only to pleasure herself and him, and not with any other motive of any sort.

  That he was cleanly handsome, well-spoken, well-mannered-that turned the expedition from a simple need to a real desire.

  She wanted him, in the same way she wanted Darkwind, but without the guilt. Likewise, he wanted her. She guessed, however, that he was shy, else he would have proposed dalliance when they were first alone, in the gryphons' lair. So, it would be up to her.

  She had a cat's hearing, to be able to discern a mouse squeak in the high grass a furlong away; and a cat's eyes, so that this light of a near-full moon was as useful to her as the sun at full day.

  So when he had just begun to turn to her, to tentatively reach for her hand, she already knew that they were well out of earshot, and that there was a little corner amidst the pile of rocks to their left that would suit his sense of modesty very well. No ears but those equal to hers would hear them; and no eyes but an owl's would spy them out.

  Thank the gods-not Mornelithe-that she had learned trade-tongue, and that these strangers spoke it well.

  "Nyara," Skif said shyly (oh, she had been right!), taking heart when she did not pull her hand away, "I'm sure this sounds pretty stupid, but I've never met anyone like you."

  "You have no Changechildren in your lands?" she asked, stopping, turning to his voice, and standing calculatedly near him. Near enough that her breast brushed his arm.

  He did not (oh, joy!) step away. "No," he replied, his voice rising just a little. "No Ch-Changechildren, no magic."

  "Ah," she purred. And swayed closer. "You know what my father made me for? Darkwind has told you?" A slight increase in the heat of his body told her he blushed.

  "Y-yes," he stammered.

  "Good," she replied, and fastened her mouth on his.

  He only struggled for a moment, mostly out of surprise, and the anticipation that this was part of a ruse, that she meant to escape. Since that was the last thing on her mind, she told him so, with every fiber of her body.

  He stopped struggling, believing her unspoken message. She molded herself to him, each and every separate nerve alive and athrill. Then, as he finally began responding instead of reacting, she led him back into the little alcove, step by slow, careful step.

  She was on fire with need, and so was he; she felt it, and, for the first time in her life, Felt it as well, a flood of emotion and urgency that washed over her and mingled with her own.

  That was such a surprise that she came near to forgetting her own desire. She melted in his need, pulling him down into the shadows, marveling at this precious gift from out of nowhere. To Feel his pleasure, his desire-it heightened her own beyond any past experience.

  I am an Empath? I had never dreamed-my own hatred and fear must have s
hielded me.

  But that didn't matter at the moment. All that was truly important was getting him out of his clothing. Or part of it, anyway.

  He pulled away, and she clutched him, ripping his shirt with her talons. Why was he trying to evade her? She could Feel his overwhelming need so clearly.

  "-rocks!" he gasped, as she tried to fasten her mouth on his again.

  "You'll hurt your-" She proceeded to prove to him that the setting didn't matter, and neither did the rocks. Soon they were writhing together, joined in body and mind, and she bit her hand to keep from screaming her pleasure'~, aloud. Mornelithe knew her body as no one else; he knew every way possible to elicit reactions of all sorts from her. But this was pleasure unmixed with anger, hate, self-hatred. She had never been so happy in all of her short life.

  He reached the pinnacle; she followed, and they fell together.

  They lay entwined, panting, sweat-soaked and exhausted. He stroked her hair, with a gentle hand, murmuring wonderful things that she only half heard. How amazing she was; astonishing, a dream come to life.

  These things were never to be believed if a would-be lover whispered them before the bedding-but after?

  She probed his feelings delicately, taking care with this new sense.

  And there was some truth there, a little something more than mere infatuation.

  Yes, he was infatuated, but he thought her brave for even trying to resist her father, he thought her admirable for giving them the aid that she had.

  And he thought her lovely, desirable, beyond any dream. Nor did he despise her for using her body as she had, or even (and she held her breath in wonder) for being used by her own father.

  But there was a bitterness to the joy; he imagined her to have been forced into submitting.

  He could never understand the forces that had been bred and formed in her; that her father would call, and she would come, willingly, abjectly, desiring him as fervently as she desired anyone...She resolved not to think about it. The chances were, she would never see him again after the next few days. If they freed Dawnfire, she would use the Tayledras' gratitude to enable her to put as much distance between herself and her father as her feet would permit.

  If they did not-She would not think of it. Not now. And there was a most excellent distraction near at hand.

  She reached for Skif again; he pulled her closer, pillowing her head on his shoulder, thinking she only wished comfort.

  She was going to give him such a lovely surprise...

  In speaking to Elspeth, Darkwind found himself baffled and dazzled by turns. By the time Skif and Nyara returned, disheveled and sated, smelling of sweat and sex, Darkwind had begun to realize that there was even more to this complicated princess than he had thought.

  She had her flaws, certainly. An over-hasty tongue; not in saying what she should not, but in doing so too sharply, too scathingly. A habit of speech, of speaking the truth too clearly and too often that could earn her enemies-and probably had. A hot temper, which, when kindled, was slow to cool. The tendency to hold a grudge-Hold a grudge? Dear gods, she treasures a grudge, long past when it should have been dead and buried.

  She would, without doubt, pursue an enemy into his grave, then make a dancing-floor of it. Then return from time to time for a jig, just to keep the triumph alive.

  She flung herself into the midst of disagreements before she entirely understood them, basing her response on what had just happened, rather than seeing what had led to the situation. She was impatient with fools and scornful of those who were ruled by emotions rather than logic. And she took no care to hide either the scorn or the impatience; without a doubt, that had earned her enemies as well.

  But to balance all that, she was loyal, faithful, and truly cared for people; so blindingly intelligent that it amazed him, and not afraid of her intellect as so many were. She tried, to the best of her ability, to consider others as often as she considered herself Her sense of responsibility frightened him, it was so like his own. So, too, her sense of justice.

  Dawnfire had been-was, he told himself, fiercely-a paragon of simplicity compared to her. Of course, Dawnfire was ten years her junior, or thereabouts, but he wondered if Elspeth had ever been uncomplicated, even as a child.

  Probably not; not with all the considerations the child of a royal couple had to grow up with. Every friend must be weighed against what he might be wanting; every smile must be assumed to be a mask, hiding other motives. Such upbringing had made for bitter, friendless rulers in the Outlands.

  It was a very good thing that these people had their Heralds; a very good thing that the monarch was a Herald, and could know with certainty that she would always have a few trustworthy friends.

  He didn't entirely understand what the Heralds did, but he certainly understood what they were about. They embodied much the same spirit as the Kal'enedral of the Shin'a'in; like them, it appeared that they were god-chosen, for if the Companions were not the embodiment of the hand of the gods, then he would never recognize such a thing in his lifetime.

  Like them, they were guided, but subtly-for the most part, left free to exercise their free will, and only gently reminded from time to time if they were about to err. It seemed that the unsubtle attempt to steer Elspeth down a particular course was the exception, and not the rule and it appeared to him to have failed quite dismally. And as a result, Elspeth's Companion Gwena was now, grudgingly, going to admit her defeat and permit Elspeth to chart her own way from this moment on.

  The Heralds were very like the Kal'enedral in another way; for as each had his Companion, so each Kal'enedral had his leshya'e Kal'enedral, the spirit-teacher that drilled him in weaponry and guided his steps on the Star-Eyed's road.

  And the Heralds themselves were blissfully unaware of the fact.

  If they didn't know-and the Companions chose not to tell them-he was not inclined to let the secret slip. "It is not wise to dispute the decisions of the Powers," he thought, wryly quoting a Shin'a'in proverb. "They have more ways of enforcement than you have of escape." The decision to set Elspeth on a predetermined path was probably less a "decision" than a "plan." Another Shin'a'in proverb: "Plans are always subject to change." He found himself making a decision of his own; when all this was settled, he would teach her himself. He would find a teaching-Adept, perhaps in another Clan, like k'treva, and as he relearned, he would teach her. He had the feeling that she respected what he had done, and she would continue to respect him for going back to pick up where he had left off.

  Besides, as Tayledras had learned in the past, those who were in the process of learning often discovered new ways and skills, just by being unaware that it "couldn't be done." Perhaps they would discover something together.

  But that was for the future; now there was a rescue to be staged.

  "We have decided," he said, as Skif reclaimed his boulder, and Nyara seated herself near it. Not quite at his feet, but very close. Darkwind suppressed a last fading twinge of jealousy. "We think we have a plan that will work."

  "It's going to need a lot of coordination, though," Elspeth added.

  "It's going to involve more than just us. Skif, can you get Cymry listening in on this? I just called Gwena."

  "Cymry?" he responded, sounding confused. "Uh-sure-"

  "They don't need to be with us to be in on conferences," Elspeth said in an undertone to Darkwind. "The Herald-Companion link is even closer than a lifebond in many ways; no matter how weak your Gift of Mindspeech is, your Companion can always hear you, and, if you choose, listen to what you hear."

  "And right now they need very badly to be eating," he supplied.

  "Indeed, the dyheli are so, after a long, hard run".

  He felt her smile, though he could not see it. "Why don't you start, Darkwind, since this was your idea."

  "What of me?" Nyara asked in a small voice. "Should I-"

  "You are going to be inside the Vale by midmorning," Darkwind told her. "I am going to tell Iceshadow som
ething of your past, and put you in his custody, asking him to keep you always within the shields of the apprentice's working place, where my father is. If your father can break the Vale shields and the working-shields, he is merely toying with us, and anything we do is trivial against him- I am going to ask you to answer all of Iceshadow's questions about my father's captivity, no matter how painful they are to you."

  "Why?" she asked, huddling a little smaller.

  "Because you will be helping Iceshadow determine what was done to him, and so break the bonds Falconsbane placed upon him," Darkwind told her, letting the tone of his voice inform her that he would grant her no more mercy than he granted himself. "That much, at the least, you owe him." Skif made a little movement, as if he wanted to leap up and challenge Darkwind, but wisely kept himself under control.