Winds of Fury Read online

  Nets were being strung for vines to creep through until they could support themselves and provide more privacy in strategic places. Poles were planted by the hertasi, for the greenery to grow against. Dust kicked up by the work filtered through the sunlight as dancing motes of light. Nothing would be quite the same when they were done.

  They were scrubbing the stones of the edge, and sifting debris out of the sand at the bottom. Already the water ran clearer. She left the area of the spring much impressed.

  The little that Elspeth knew of the Shin’a’in she had learned from Kethra, but it seemed to her that these people were very different from both the Shin’a’in and the Tayledras. They were less solitary than the Tayledras, though more so than the Shin’a’in. They were certainly noisier than the Tayledras. Every job was accompanied by the murmur of human voices blended with hertasi hisses, tervardi trills, kyree growls, dyheli chuckles, and the bass rumblings of gryphons. The Vale as populated by the k’Sheyna had seemed deserted; the Vale as populated by k’Leshya was as full of activity as the Palace/Collegium complex.

  Not all of k’Leshya would live inside the Vale. Some would take over the lair begun by Treyvan and Hydona in the ruins overlooking the Dhorisha Plains. They had brought the books that Darkwind had helped build shelves for so long ago.

  Others would take the ekeles that had been made by the k’Sheyna scouts, surrounding the Vale. Most of the artisans and craftspeople, scholars, and those families with young children would live in the Vale itself—those who were most vulnerable, and most in need of protection. Silverfox had told Elspeth that they hoped to begin a thriving trade with the Shin’a’in, and even with Outsiders. “We use very little magic in everyday things,” he had told her. “Mostly for self-defense. But we are fine craftsmen, and trade is how we would prefer to make our Clan prosper.”

  Even the gryphons? she had wondered. She couldn’t see how the gryphons, with those massive talons, could craft anything. Treyvan had needed Darkwind’s help just to install a simple set of shelves. But then again, perhaps there were things those talons were good for. Piercing practically anything that needed a hole in it, for one thing. . . .

  And gryphons were strong. She’d already seen a gryphon dragging a man-sized log in its beak. Treyvan and Hydona were mages; a little magic went a long way when it came to crafting things. Maybe all the gryphons were mage-craftsmen.

  Maybe I just shouldn’t worry about it. They hardly need my help or approval!

  There seemed to be less activity up near the waterfall, so that was where she went. Everywhere else she got the feeling she was in the way. Perhaps not everything in the Vale would be changed; the k’Leshya had not couched the waterfall and the pool below except to trim back some branches. It was possible to watch several groups hard at work from here without getting underfoot.

  She settled down on a sculptured stone, fascinated by the coordinated working party of two gryphons, two humans, a tervardi, and three hertasi who were opening up an ekele for use by gryphons. They were taking out partitions and creating landing platforms on the roof. The gryphons pulled massive coils of twisted cord with their beaks from the corners of the platforms. Steadying themselves with their wings, they increased the tension as a hertasi directed them. Tervardi scrambled over the construction and reported to the hertasi, and holding pins were hammered in by the humans. Elspeth had never taken much notice of construction workers around the Palace, but these workers fascinated her.

  Darkwind found her still gazing almost a candlemark later.

  He sat down beside her, shaking his head, as his forestgyre Vree winged in and took a perch in a nearby bush. “They confuse me,” he said without prompting. “I like them, indeed, but they confuse me deeply. Here—they make so much noise, and yet when we are outside the Vale even the largest gryphon makes no more sound than a leaf falling. They move like they are dancing. And their customs—”

  Again he shook his head; Elspeth took his hand and squeezed it. “It’s just because they are really like your people, but not quite identical,” she said comfortingly. “That’s all. For you, it’s kind of the way I felt when I was learning your tongue. I already knew some Shin’a’in, and it was very confusing when you said something that wasn’t quite what I knew. It was just similar enough that I felt I ought to know it, and different enough that I couldn’t understand.”

  His puzzled look cleared. “Exactly. That is what I could not put into words. It is very strange to find those who are not human as full Clan members, for instance. I think it a good idea, but I find it strange. They are planning even their homes with that in mind, for instance— rebuilding the stairs to suit not only human feet but kyree, and reinforcing the floors and adding landing porches for gryphons. The lower floors even have ramps for dyheli. All their thoughts run like that. We built to accommodate our bondbirds, but not to suit anything else other than humans. They consider first how any decision will affect all the beings of the Clan.”

  Elspeth nodded, understanding now what he meant. As considerate as k’Sheyna had been, they would never have considered modifying their homes to suit other creatures. And they would never have taken the needs of the nonhumans into consideration when making any kind of major decision.

  Not only the needs, but the abilities—she thought, watching two of the gryphons hovering, holding a thin beam aloft so that it could be set into place and pegged there. Darkwind had seen that they had strengths the humans did not—and his former lover Dawnfire had used those often-discounted abilities of the nonhumans. But k’Leshya counted on them; the nonhumans were integral to any plan.

  The unfamiliar as an ally.

  Darkwind watched the construction work for a moment, and nodded with admiration, his pale blue eyes candid and open. “It is amazing,” he said at last. “In a few weeks’ time, I shall not know this place.” He brushed a strand of silver hair out of his eyes. “In a few years, it will look like nothing that Tayledras built.”

  “Do you ever want to come back here?” Elspeth asked hesitantly. “I know Firesong is talking about doing so.”

  But Darkwind shook his head. “I do not think so. I think that no matter what the next few moons bring us, we will be too busy to even consider such a thing. Firesong has good reason to come here, for he is a Healing Adept and k’Leshya has many new magics he wishes to learn. But I am not even well-practiced in our own magics.”

  “You aren’t exactly inept, lover,” she smiled.

  “Heh. Thank you, bright feather. I would prefer to wait on the learning of new magics until I am more comfortable with the known.”

  She laughed a little ruefully at that. Ovei the past several weeks she had found it much easier to admit her own shortcomings since Darkwind had become so open about his. And her shortcomings were many—not the least of which was that she had come so late into her mage-training. She still felt like a stone skipping across ice when she thought about magery in general. “That sounds like something I would say! I had no idea there was so much to learn—nothing I ever read in any of the histories said anything about needing lesser mages to take care of the things unbalanced by Adept spells. The histories just said that a great mage did—thus—and said nothing about what went on behind the spell-casting.”

  Darkwind leaned back against the sun-warmed rock. “Not all Adept spells require such a thing,” he corrected.

  “Only those which cannot be performed from within proper shielding—or which are not performed from within proper shielding. And then, only those which manipulate great amounts of energy. There are different ways of accomplishing the same result.”

  She saw the differences, and nodded. “And anything that changes the force-lines, or creates nodes, or whatever, right? Darkwind, just what is the difference between a node and a Heartstone?”

  He blinked at her, as if he wasn’t certain he had heard her correctly, then instead of answering, asked her a question. “Where does the energy go when it flows into a node?”

 
She was used to that now; if she didn’t know the answer, he asked her a question that would make her see the answer for herself, rather than simply telling her. It had been infuriating, at first, but she had to admit that the answers stuck with her much better when she had to deduce them for herself. “It flows right back out on another—oh! Now why didn’t I see that before?” She shook her head, annoyed. “How could I be so stupid? The difference between a node and a Heartstone is that the energy doesn’t flow out of a Heartstone. It all stays there. I can’t imagine why I didn’t see that; it’s like a lot of rivers flowing into a sea, and who ever heard of a river flowing out of a sea?”

  “Well, at least it does not flow out on another ley-line,” Darkwind amended. “Power is taken from a Heartstone, of course, or it would build up past the point where it could be contained. It is used to provide the power for all the things in the Vale that require such power. But that is our great secret, the construction of such a thing. Even had Falconsbane succeeded in stealing the proto-Heartstone, I do not think he could have turned it into a real one. He would have to have given it an outflowing ley-line, however small, and all he would have had would have been, in the end, no more than an exceptionally strong node. Not that such a node would not have granted him great power! But it would not have been the power of a Heartstone, which has no known equal to my people. It is the fact that a Heartstone has no such way to relieve the pressure of the contained power that makes a Heartstone so very powerful.”

  “But the one in Haven now is a Heartstone, and not a node, right?” she asked anxiously.

  He shrugged. “It appears so, yes, but I cannot be certain until I can view it myself. At the moment it is a guess, an assumption, based on some signs we can See at this great distance. If it is—well, that means that whatever force sent it there knows how to create Heartstones, or cause a waiting one to settle. And what that could portend, I do not know.”

  “I don’t either,” she replied. Although that was not strictly true, since the force that had sent the proto-Heartstone to Haven instead of the new k’Sheyna Vale had come from the North of Valdemar, and in the North of Valdemar was the Forest of Sorrows. . . .

  “Well, Firesong has cloistered himself away for a day and a night, to rebuild his own energy levels, so we cannot ask him,” Darkwind said with a hint of unease in his blue eyes. “I suspect he would only shrug and look mysterious, though.”

  “Probably,” Elspeth chuckled, trying to remove the unease. “You know what a showman he is, he can’t even drink a cup of chava without making a production out of it. At any rate, in two days we’ll have some of our answers, when we get to k’Treva, and we can consult the mages there. The rest can wait until we reach Valdemar. Certainly whatever is under Haven can wait until then.”

  They had all decided that the first step on their journey would be to return to k’Treva with Firesong. Elspeth had hoped that this would make the change from Darkwind’s home in the Vale to Valdemar less of a shock. Only Firesong could create the Gate for this journey, but the Gate would not have to be held open for so great a span of time, so only one Adept would be needed. And while the creation of a Gate was no small task, it was one that Firesong had undertaken so many times that with due preparation, he would emerge into his home Vale in fairly good shape, not as drained and exhausted as Darkwind. Besides, once there, he would have his own Heartstone, keyed to the mages of k’Treva, to draw upon to replenish his resources.

  Darkwind remained silent after that last comment, and Elspeth wondered now if she should have left all mention of Valdemar out of the conversation. She had been very reluctant to discuss anything past their departure from k’Treva, and she had sensed a corresponding reluctance in Darkwind. He was going with her; that much was absolutely certain. But she would no longer be simply Elspeth k’Sheyna k’Valdemar at that point; she would be a princess, the Heir, and on her home ground, with responsibilities to Valdemar that went far beyond personal feelings. For that matter, she hadn’t thought much about those responsibilities of late.

  I should. I need to weigh them all out, and decide what is important and what isn’t. And what I am actually able to do. And, a little reluctantly, she decided one other thing. I need to talk to Gwena. If there’s anyone that can discuss where my responsibilities end and stupid customs begin, it’s her. She nibbled her lip uneasily. Gwena had been very agreeable lately; maybe too much so. On the other hand, the Companion had sworn she was not going to attempt to manipulate her Chosen any more.

  But did she say she would do so any less? Hmm. . . . On the other hand, she admitted she had no real control over her Chosen. And Gwena’s disposition lately had been as cheerful as this sunny day. Whether it would continue to be so, if Elspeth did something totally against her Companion’s advice, was a good question.

  Well, there was no point in getting worked up over something that was days, weeks, perhaps months away. But it might be a good idea to drag Gwena off for a long heart-to-heart talk now.

  She squeezed Darkwind’s hand again, and he smiled at her. “I’m going to make a round of the Vale to make sure I haven’t forgotten anything we might need,” she told him, as an excuse to get Gwena alone for that long talk. “It won’t take more than a candlemark or two. Where shall I meet you?”

  “Right here?” he offered. His expression lightened considerably, and his eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled. “It’s about the least-busy place in the Vale at the moment; I was half afraid to go to our ekele lest I be thrown out by a work crew!”

  She laughed, and tossed her hair over her shoulder—now it was long enough to toss, for the first time in years. “I think they’ll be polite enough to wait until we’re gone, but you ought to take Vree outside the Vale for a hunt. Maybe you and I have been working our tails off, but I think he’s been bored.”

  Nearly invisible in the bush, Vree made a chortling sound. :Good Elspeth,: he Mindspoke—more in images than in words. : Keep this mate, Darkwind. Elspeth bright/ clever/wise.:

  Darkwind flushed, but Elspeth only chuckled and made a mock bow to the forestgyre in the branches. “Thank you, Vree, for your unvarnished and candid opinion.”

  Darkwind rose and offered her his hand to help her up. “I expect I’d better, before he offers any more unvarnished opinions. A good chase followed by a full crop should keep him quiet—so he doesn’t lecture me as often as Gwena lectures you!”

  Nyara separated her hair with clawed fingertips and began braiding it as she watched Skif from a corner of their shared ekele. She had considerably less to pack than anyone else, other than, perhaps, the gryphons. Just herself, two changes of clothing, a set of armor made by the hertasi, and a very large and vocal sword. . . . :I’ll thank you not to think of me as baggage, young lady,: Need said dryly, but softened it with a chuckle. :Baggage can only hinder, after all.:

  :Oh, you can hinder, too, my teacher—when you choose to,: Nyara replied saucily, as she bound off the little braid she wore at the side of her head with a thin strip of twine.

  “Is Need putting her point in again?” Skif asked, looking up from his own packing. Nyara watched him with a great deal of admiration; she could not for a moment imagine how he was getting so many things into those small packs.

  “Why, yes!” she said in surprise. “How can you tell?”

  He chuckled and put one gentle finger right between her eyebrows. “Because you get a little crease here when you Mindspeak with her, and you only get it then.” He raised a bushy eyebrow at the sword, and addressed Need directly. “Well, dear lady, do you think you are prepared for Valdemar?”

  :Is Valdemar prepared for me, might be the real question, insolent brat,: Need countered. :I’m not at all certain that anyone there is.:

  “Well, I’m entirely certain that they’re not,” Skif replied, with a laugh. He ran one hand through his curly dark hair and waggled his eyebrows at both the sword and her bearer. “You’re not the same sword that left. I think Kero is going to be quite happy to
have you at someone else’s side, all things considered. I don’t even want to contemplate the clash of personalities that would ensue if you went back to her.” :I’d win,: Need stated arrogantly.

  But Skif shook his head. “With all due respect, my lady, I know you both and I think it would be a draw,” Skif told her. “Kero is just as stubborn as you are. What’s more, that would just be if the confrontation was one-onone. With Sayvil on her side, you wouldn’t stand a chance.”

  :Hmm.: The sword thought that over for a moment, then turned to a more impartial judge, one who was cropping grass beneath the ekele Skif and Nyara shared. : Cymry? What do you think?:

  Skif’s Companion shook her head noisily, and glanced up at the open windows of the ekele. Skif had yet to figure out how the sword could talk to both Cymry and Gwena, when Companions were only supposed to be able to Mindspeak their own Heralds.

  But then, Need was a law unto herself. How else to characterize a kind of ghost bespelled into a magical blade, an artifact of such age that the places she had known as a woman didn’t even exist on maps anymore?

  :I think even you would be no match for Kero and Sayvil together,: Cymry said decisively. :And your magic would give you no edge—pun intended—if Sayvil were to bend her will against yours.:

  If a sword could be said to sigh, Need did so. :No respect,: she complained. :Now silly white horses are punning at me. Ah, well. At least my bearer appreciates me, even if she does think of me as baggage.:

  Nyara giggled, and Skif smiled at her. The sound that she made rather surprised her; she had not done much laughing in her short lifetime, and it seemed as if all of it had been occurring in the last year.

  Since Skif. The conclusion was as inescapable as her feelings for him. And his feelings for her. When the plans for their departure from the Vale had been discussed, Nyara had entertained no doubts; she would go with Skif, even into a place that had never seen anything like her kind before, and endure whatever came.