Valdemar 09 - [Mage Winds 01] - Winds of Fate Page 5

  I suppose it might look that way to strangers....

  The scouts all dressed so identically in the field that they might well have been wearing uniforms; close-fitting tunic and trews of a supple weave and of a mottled, layer-dyed green, gray, and brown. There were individual differences in the patterns, as distinct as individual fingerprints to the knowledgeable, but to an Outlander the outfits probably looked identical. And their hair was identical, except for length. Hair color among the Hawkbrothers was a uniform white; living in the Vales, surrounded by magic, hair bleached to white and eyes to silver-blue by the time a Tayledras was in his early twenties-sooner, if he was a mage. The scouts dyed their hair a mottled brown to match their surroundings—the rest of the Clan left theirs white.

  I suppose Outlanders have reason to think us identical.

  Firestorm’s bondbird was nowhere in sight, but as the younger scout came into the clearing, Kreel dove down out of the treetops to land on Firestorm’s casually outstretched arm. Kreel was a different breed from Vree; smaller, and with the broad wings of a hawk, rather than the rakish, pointed wings of the falcon. Neither bird had bleached out yet; since Darkwind no longer used his magic powers, and Firestorm never had been a mage, it would be years before either bird became a ti‘aeva’leshy‘a, a “forest spirit,” one of the snow-white “ghost birds,” with markings in faint blue-gray.

  Too bad, in a way. The white ones frighten the life out of Outlanders who see them. We could use that edge, Vree and I. If this lot had seen him first, they might not have chanced taking me on.

  Vree’s natural coloration was partially white already. His white breast sported brown barring; the same pattern as the underside of his wings. His back and the upper face of his wings were still brown, with a faint black barring. Kreel was half Vree’s size, with a solid blue-gray back and a reddish-brown, barred breast. Kreel’s red eyes had begun to fade to pink; Vree’s eyes had already faded to light gray from his adolescent color of ice-blue.

  “I got one of the bastards, Skydance got one, and Skydance’s Raan got the third,” Firestorm said, ruffling the breast-feathers of his cooperihawk. He shook his head in admiration at the gyre on Darkwind’s wrist, as Vree fastidiously preened the blood from his breast-feathers. “Makes me wish I’d bonded to a gyre, sometimes. This little one is faster than anyone would believe, but she can’t take down a man. ”

  “A bird doesn’t have to be able to take a man down to take one out,” Darkwind reminded him. “Kreel does all right. You’re too damned bloodthirsty.”

  Firestorm just chuckled, reached into his game-pouch, and fed Kreel a tidbit. Vree clucked and shifted his weight from one foot to the other, in an anxious reminder that he was owed a reward as well.

  Darkwind scratched the top of Vree’s head, then reached into his own game-pouch for a rabbit quarter. Vree tore into the offering happily. “Funny, isn’t it,” Firestorm observed, “We can shape them all we like, make them as intelligent as we can and still have flight-worthy birds, but we can’t change their essential nature. They’re still predators to the core. Who were those fools?”

  “I don’t know.” Darkwind frowned. “I listened to them for a while, but I didn’t learn anything. I think there were two mages and the rest were fighters to guard them, but that’s only a guess. I don’t know what they wanted, other than the usual.” Flies were beginning to gather around the fallen bodies, and he moved out of the way a little. “Dive in, steal the treasures of the mysterious Hawkbrothers, and try to get out intact. Greedy bastards.”

  “They never learn, do they?” Firestorm grimaced.

  “No,” Darkwind agreed soberly. “They never do.” Something about the tone of his voice made Firestorm look at him sharply. “Are you all right?” he said. “If you got hurt but you’re trying to go all noble on me, forget it. If you’re not in shape for it, we can take over your share for the rest of the day, or I can send back for some help.”

  Darkwind shook his head, and tossed his hair out of his eyes. “I’m all right; I’m just tired of the whole situation we’re in. We shouldn’t be out here alone; we should be patrolling in threes, at least, on every section. K‘Sheyna is in trouble, and anyone with any sense knows it. Most of our mages won’t leave the Vale, and the best of our fighters are out of reach. I don’t know why the Council won’t ask the other Clans for help, or even the Shin’a‘in-”

  Firestorm shrugged indifferently. “We haven’t had anything hit the border that we couldn’t handle, even shorthanded,” he replied. “After all, we had cleaned this area out, that’s why the children and minor mages and half the fighters were gone when—”

  He broke off, flushing. “I’m sorry—I forgot you were there when—”

  “When the Heartstone fractured,” Darkwind finished for him, his voice flat and utterly without expression. I’m not surprised he doesn’t remember. Darkwind had been “Songwind” then, a proud young mage with snow-white hair and a peacock wardrobe—

  Not Darkwind, who refused to use any magic but shielding, who never wore anything but scout gear and wouldn’t use the formidable powers of magic he still could control—if he chose—not even to save himself.

  He was—had been—Adept-rank, in fact—and strong enough at nineteen to be one of the Heartstone anchors....

  Not that it mattered. He watched Vree tear off strips of rabbit and gulp them down, fur and all. “I don’t know if you ever knew this,” he said conversationally, not wanting Firestorm to think he was upset about the reminder of his past. “I watched the building of the Gate to send them all off.”

  Firestorm tilted his head to one side. “Why did they send everyone off? I wasn’t paying any attention—it was my first Vale-move.”

  “We always do that,” Darkwind said, as Vree got down to the bones and began cleaning every scrap of flesh from them he could find. “It’s part of the safety measures, sending those not directly involved in moving the power or guarding those who are to the new Vale-site, where they’d be safe in case something happened.”

  “Which it did.” Firestorm sighed. “I guess it’s a good thing. The gods only know where they are now. Somewhere west.”

  Somewhere west. Too far to travel, when over half of them were children.

  “And not an Adept able to build a Gate back to us in the lot of them.” Darkwind scowled. “Now that was a mistake. And it was bad tactics. Half of the Adepts should have been with them, and I don’t know why the Council ordered them all to stay until the Heartstone was drained and the power moved. ”

  Firestorm relaxed marginally, and scratched Kreel with his free hand. “Nobody ever tells us about these things. Darkwind, why haven’t we built a new Gate and brought them back?”

  A damned good question. Darkwind’s lips compressed. “Father says that what’s left of the Heartstone is too unstable to leave, too dangerous to build a Gate near, and much too dangerous to have children exposed to.”

  Firestorm raised an eloquent eyebrow. “You don’t believe him?”

  “I don’t know what to believe.” Darkwind stared off into the distance, over Firestorm’s shoulder, into the shadows beneath the trees. “I probably shouldn’t be telling you this, even. That kind of information is only supposed to be discussed by the Council or among mages. There’s another thing; Father was acting oddly even before the disaster—he hasn’t been quite himself since he was caught in that forest fire. Or that’s the way it seems to me, but nobody else seems to have noticed anything wrong.”

  “Well, I haven‘t, at least not any more than with the rest of the Council.” Firestorm laughed, sarcastically. “Old men, too damned proud to ask for help from outside, and too feeble to fix things themselves. Which is probably why I’m not on the Council; I’ve said that in public a few too many times.”

  The scout tossed his hawk up into the air and turned to go. Kreel darted up into the trees ahead, and all the birds went silent as he took to the air. Everything that flew knew the shape of a cooperihawk; nothing o
n wings was safe from a hungry one. And no bird would ever take a chance on a cooperi being sated. “If you’re all right to finish, I’ll get back to my section. Do we bother to clean up, or leave it for the scavengers?”

  “Leave it,” Darkwind told him. “Maybe a few bones lying around will discourage others.”

  “Maybe.” The younger man laughed. “Or maybe we should start leaving heads on stakes at the borders.”

  With that macabre suggestion, the scout followed his bird into the forest, moving in silence, blending into the foliage within moments. Vree had finished his rabbit, dropping the polished bones, and Darkwind launched him into the air as well, so that they could resume their interrupted patrol.

  He’d meant what he told Firestorm, every bitter word of it. I hardly know Father anymore. He used to be creative, flexible; he used to have no trouble admitting when he was wrong. Now he’s the worst of the lot. Every time another Clan sends someone to see if we need help, he sends them away How can we not need help? We’ve got an unstable Heartstone, we don’t have enough scouts to patrol a border that we had to pull back in the first place. Our children are gone and we can’t get them back—and we don’t dare leave. And he’s pretending we can handle it.

  That was part of the reason he spent so little time in the Vale anymore; the place was too silent, too empty. Tayledras children were seldom as noisy as Outlander children, but they made their presence—and their absence—felt.

  The once-lively Vale seemed dead without them.

  And another part of the reason he avoided the Vale was his father. The fewer opportunities there were for confrontations with the old man, the better Darkwind liked it.

  He would have to go in at the end of his patrol, though, and he wrinkled his nose in distaste at what he would have to endure. This invasion would have to be reported. And as always, the Council would want to know why he hadn’t handled things differently, why he hadn’t blasted the intruders or shot them all when he first saw them. And because he was an Elder, the questions would be more pointed.

  I didn’t kill them because they could have been perfectly innocent, dammit!

  And Starblade would want to know why he hadn’t used magic.

  And as always, Darkwind would be unable to give him an answer that would satisfy him.

  “Because I don’t want to” isn’t good enough. He wants to know why I don’t want to.

  Darkwind pulled his climbing-staff out of the sheath, and hooked a limb, hauling himself up into the tree and trying not to wince as he discovered new bruises.

  He wants to know why. He says. But he won’t accept my reasons because Adept Starblade couldn’t possibly have a son who gave up magic for the life of a Scout.

  Even when the magic killed his mother in front of his eyes. Even when the magic ruined his life. Even when he’s seen, over and over, that magic isn’t an answer, it’s a tool, and any tool can be done without.

  He looked out over the forest floor and briefly touched Vree’s mind. All was quiet. Even the birds, frightened into silence by the noise of the fight and the appearance of the cooperihawk, were singing again.

  Well, he’d better start learning to change again, Darkwind decided, because I’ve had enough. I’m taking this incident to the Council as usual, but this time I’m going to make an issue of it. And I don’t care if he doesn’t like what he’s going to hear; we can’t keep on like this indefinitely.

  And if he wants a fight, he’s going to get one.

  Chapter Three

  ELSPETH

  Elspeth bit her lip until it bled to keep herself from losing her temper. Queen Selenay, normally serene in the face of any crisis, had reacted to the attack on her eldest child with atypical hysteria.

  Well, I’d call it hysteria, anyway.

  Elspeth had barely gotten clean and changed when the summons arrived from her mother—accompanied by a bodyguard of two. As a harbinger of what was to come, that bodyguard put Elspeth’s hackles up immediately. The sight of Selenay, standing beside the old wooden desk in her private apartments, white to the lips and with jaws and hands clenched, did nothing to make her daughter feel any better.

  And so far, Selenay’s impassioned tirade had not reassured her Heir either. It seemed that the Queen’s answer to the problem was to restrict Elspeth’s movements to the Palace complex, and to assign her a day-and-night guard of not less than two at all times.

  And that, as far as Elspeth was concerned, was totally unacceptable.

  But she couldn’t get a word in until her mother stopped pacing up and down the breadth of her private office and finally calmed down enough to sit and listen instead of talking. It helped that Talia, though she was privy to this not-quite-argument Elspeth was having with Selenay, was staying discreetly in the background, and so far hadn’t said a word, one way or the other.

  I think if she sided with Mother, I’d have hysterics.

  “I can’t believe you’re taking this so—so—casually!” Selenay finally concluded tightly, her hands shaking visibly even though she held them clenched together on the desktop, white as a marble carving.

  “I’m not taking it ‘casually,’ Mother,” Elspeth replied, hoping the anger she thought she had under control did not show. “I’m certainly not regarding this incident as some kind of a bad joke. But I am not going to let fear rule my life.” She paused for a moment, waiting for another tirade to begin. When Selenay didn’t say anything, she continued, trying to sound as firm and adult as possible. “No bodyguards, Mother. No one following me everywhere. And I am not going to live behind the Palace walls like some kind of cloistered novitiate.”

  “You’re almost killed, and you say that? I—”

  “Mother,” Elspeth interrupted. “Every other ruler lives with that same threat constantly. We’ve been spoiled in Valdemar—mages have never been able to get past our borders, and the Heraldic Gifts—especially the Queen’s Own’s Gifts—have always made sure that we knew who the assassins were before they had a chance to strike. So—now that isn’t necessarily true anymore. I am not going to restrict my movements with a night-and-day guard just because of a single incident. And, frankly, I’m not going to lose any sleep over it.”

  Selenay paled and seemed at a loss for words.

  “That doesn’t mean I’m going to be careless,” she added, “I’m going to take every precaution Kerowyn advises. I’m not foolhardy or stupid-but I am not going to live in fear, either.”

  Finally Talia spoke up. “There really isn’t that much more danger than there always was,” she said mildly. “We’ve just been a lot more careless than the monarchs were in—say—VanyeI’s day. We have been spoiled; we thought we were immune to danger, that magic had somehow gone away. The fact is, we didn’t learn from the last two wars. We have to do more—much more— than we have in finding ways to counter this threat. Or should I say, in rediscovering them—”

  Now that’s odd. No one seems to have any trouble discussing magic when it’s in the past—the stories of Vanyel’s time, for instance. It’s only when we’re talking about it happening now—and here, inside Valdemar—that the restriction seems to hold.

  But before she pursued that train of thought, she had to come up with some convincing arguments first. “Mother, I’m a Herald first, and your Heir second. The fact is, I can’t do my job with somebody hovering over me all the time.” When Selenay looked blank, Elspeth sighed. “I’m still on duty to the city courts, remember? And on detached duty with Kerowyn. What if she wants me to go work with the Skybolts for a while? What would your allies say if I went over there with a set of bodyguards at my back? They’d say you don’t even trust your own people, that’s what.”

  Not to mention what a pair of hulking brutes at my back is going to do to my love-life, she thought unhappily. There wasn’t a lot there to begin with, but I can’t even imagine trying to have a romantic encounter with half the Guard breathing down my neck.

  :You could always try confining your pursuits to
your bodyguards,: Gwena suggested teasingly.

  :Oh, thanks. That’s a wonderful idea. I’ll take it under advisement,: she replied, trying to keep her level of sarcasm down to something acceptable.

  “To suddenly start trailing bodyguards around isn’t going to do much for my accessibility, Mother,” she continued, thinking quickly. “People come to the Heir when they are afraid, for one reason or another, to come to the Monarch—and you know that’s been true for hundreds of years. If there’s something you want done, but don’t want the open authority of the Crown behind it, you give it to me. Talia is your double in authority—she can’t do that. I’m your unfettered hand, and now you want to shackle me. It just won’t work, anyone could tell you that. It not only cuts down my effectiveness, it cuts down on yours.”

  :Good girl; that’s the way to win your argument. I agree with you, by the way. Bodyguards are not a solution. Not unless those bodyguards were also Heralds, and we have no Heralds to spare.:

  Elspeth felt a little more relaxed and confident with Gwena’s support. :Thanks. At least I’m not just being boneheaded and stubborn about this.:

  :Oh, you are being boneheaded and stubborn,: her Companion replied cheerfully. :But it’s for the right reasons, and there’s nothing wrong with a little stubbornness for the correct cause.:

  Elspeth could hear the gentle good humor in Gwena’s mind-voice and couldn’t take offense, though for a moment she was sorely tempted.

  Selenay did not look convinced by the argument, however.

  “I can’t see that it’s worth the risk—” she began. Talia interrupted her.

  “Elspeth’s right, I’m afraid,” she said, in her quiet, clear voice. “It is worth the risk. When Elspeth goes out, off the Palace grounds, you could assign her a discreet guard, but other than that I think that extra care on everyone’s part will serve the same purpose. If Kero is right, simply having the guards question anyone they see who doesn’t seem to be acting normally will prevent another incident like the last one.”