Valdemar 11 - [Owl Mage 02] - Owlsight Read online

  For a very long time Darian simply couldn’t look away from the wonder, though he did not make the mistake of using his Mage-Sight again; when he finally did look away, it was with the realization that this was what his team had been trying to reproduce in a crude form in every long-term camp they’d made.

  Here was the source of the little stream they’d followed, and now it was clear that many more little streams took their water from here to run through other parts of the Vale. To his right lay a spring-fed series of cascades that in turn led into a cool, clear pond with colorful fish drifting just beneath the surface. A multitude of waterlilies and other water plants throve there, and a series of steps cut into the side showed that more than just the fish were wont to swim there.

  Next to this was an herb garden, as ordered and mathematical in its layout as the rest of the Vale was not, though there wasn’t a straight line to be seen there. It lay in the quarter of this clear area directly in front of Darian, as the pond was in the quarter to his left. He had overlooked it at first in gazing at the Heartstone directly beyond it, perhaps because it was so—ordinary. It looked exactly like every other large herb garden he’d seen over the course of their travels, in the courtyards of all of the larger temples and Healers’ enclaves. Neatly laid out in a curving maze, every herb had its own little patch, each patch’s growth trimmed off in edges as straight as a rule. Nothing grew taller than his waist; most growth lay between his ankle and knee.

  To his right was a cluster of low buildings, beautifully integrated with the landscape to the point that they even had hanging plants and flowers growing on their flat roofs. At first glance he had taken them for an unusually regular stone formation, in fact.

  “The hot spring and the main soaking and bathing pools are on the other side of the Heartstone,” Snowfire told him, “And I don’t know about you, but after today’s ride, that’s the first place I want to go.”

  The mere thought of relaxing in a hot pool made his aching limbs all declare in favor of the idea, so he just nodded and followed Snowfire and his parents around the fascinating Heartstone and past a screening of tall, jointed plants with stalks as thick as his calf and graceful leaves that formed a solid wall hiding all beyond them.

  Once past that screen, a complex of interconnected pools on multiple levels stretched out in front of them, some so small they could only hold two or three people at once, some big enough to hold the entire team, hertasi included. It looked, from the amount of steam rising from the water, that the hottest pools were on the highest level, the coolest on the bottom. It also appeared that everyone in the team had the same idea as Snowfire, for they were all up to their chins in hot water—this time actual, instead of metaphorical.

  Nightwind waved at them from a middle level, her hair piled high on her head and held there with wooden skewers, her face flushed and damp from the heat. Snowfire waved back at her and climbed the rocks to join her—but Darian had already picked out which of the pools was hottest and headed straight for it, forgetting everything but how good that water would feel.

  Of course, after being with Tayledras for four years, he shed his clothing at the edge of the pool as a matter of course and eased himself down into it, knowing that hertasi would gather up the clothing and that towels and replacements would materialize when he needed them. The water was just as hot as he’ d hoped it was; too hot to stay in for long, which was probably why he had this small pool to himself, but it was just what his aching muscles wanted.

  The polished, sculptured sides of the pool formed seats of varying heights. He shifted around until he found one that allowed him to lean back with just his head above the water and relaxed into the smooth stone, eyes closed, until even he could no longer take the heat.

  He didn’t want to leave just yet, though; there were still aches that hadn’t been soaked out. So instead of abandoning the pools altogether, he moved down to another, not so warm. In fact, in contrast to the one he’d just left, this one felt positively tepid. He remained there until it, too, felt too warm, then moved again, joining Nightwind and Snowfire and several more of the team and some strangers in a community soak.

  The others were involved in a rambling conversation that seemed to consist of trading stories of what had gone on in the Vale in the team’s absence for stories of what the team had done. Darian simply slid into an unoccupied seat and listened, adding a word or two if he was spoken to directly, but otherwise just listening.

  But finally, one of the strangers turned to him. “What think you of all this, new Wingbrother?” the young woman asked him, her eyes sparkling impishly.

  He shrugged, at a loss for words. “Amazing. Just—amazing.”

  “Well,” another girl drawled lazily, “there are things in other lands that equal or surpass a Vale, but on the whole, this is a fine place to live.”

  “So says a former dweller in White Gryphon!” laughed the first. “High praise indeed!”

  So this was another of Nightwind’s people, a Kaled’a’in! Darian wanted to ask a hundred questions, but felt too shy and tongue-tied to voice any of them. The first girl saved him from having to make any conversation.

  “If you are hungry, Dar’ian, and I think you must be, since the rest of your team ate like famished wolves when hertasi brought them food, there will be more provender over yonder, in the building nearest us.” She pointed with her chin at the group of buildings. “There always is; we often must keep irregular hours, so the hertasi keep foods out that do not readily spoil or suffer growing cold or warm.”

  “Thank you,” he said shyly, relieved that he would not have to ask what he should do about the hunger-beast awakening in his belly—but she was not quite finished.

  “You will also find sleeping places there for those who are not used to ekele or who have not built one of their own,” she continued. “Those are our guest houses. Simply look until you find one that no one has taken, and make it yours. The heritasi will bring your things there.”

  Grateful that he would not have to interrupt Snowfire and act like a very little brother indeed, he blushed, and thanked her again.

  She giggled, as did the other girl. It was the Kaled’a’in who spoke next, poking her friend with her elbow.

  “Snowfire’s messages home about the barbarians and his new Wingbrother were so fulsome and interesting that Summerdance here wanted to meet you as soon as you all returned,” said the Kaled’a’in wickedly. “So she thought she could manage to casually be your guide to the Vale!”

  That was too much for Summerdance, who whirled, seized her friend’s head in both hands, and shoved her under the water. Her friend came up spluttering, but mostly with laughter.

  Summerdance turned to Darian with a flushed face, and he thought quickly, hoping to find a way to salvage the situation. Simple gratitude and politeness seemed the most effective and direct approach.

  “That was very kind of you, to think of how a stranger might be so confused here, Summerdance,” he told her. “Especially as I am certain you have many tasks of your own to tend to, and it could be irritating to find yourself saddled with an idiot!”

  “Oh, but I already am,” Summerdance replied sweetly, staring pointedly at her friend, “And in contrast to poor, defective Nightbird here, why, even the most imbecilic stra—”

  She didn’t get to finish the statement, for Nightbird returned the favor by dunking her.

  As Summerdance came up gasping for air, the situation might have escalated, had not a silver-haired elder called out lazily, “Enough, my children. You know the rules—take your romping to the swimming pools and the waterfall. If you wish to remain here, save your revenge for later.”

  That quelled both of them for the moment, though their merry eyes boded mischief to come. Summerdance managed to conquer her blushes, and Darian politely pretended that she had never been embarrassed. “So those buildings there are for guests?” he asked. “I had the impression that Tayledras didn’t particularly encourage ‘gu
ests,’ yet you have many of those buildings.”

  “Well, we’ve kept to ourselves, but times do change, you know, and we are not going to lag behind them,” Summerdance replied as she pulled her soaked hair out of her eyes and began braiding it back, with Nightbird’s help.

  “The truth of it is that we Kaled’a’in descended on them six years ago, and they had to build us guest houses,” Nightbird added. “Since then, most of us have either made our own dwellings or moved in with congenial Tayledras, so the guest quarters are open again.” She tied the braid she was working on with a bit of cord. “There! Reasonably tidy.”

  “And the rest of the truth is that now we have no need to discourage visitors, so when there are those brave enough to dare the fearsome Hawkbrothers in their lair—” Summerdance bared her teeth in a mock-snarl and crooked both hands into claws, “—we reward them by giving them a decent bed.”

  “It’s only fair,” Nightbird finished, getting in the last word.

  Darian looked from one girl to the other and back again. “Are you sure you aren’t sisters?” he finally said. “You certainly sound like it.”

  Both girls dissolved in laughter, which spread to the half of the occupants of the pool who’d chanced to overhear the remark.

  “So we have been telling them since Nightbird arrived, youngling,” the elder said, still chuckling. “I’d be wary of them if I were you. Where these two tread, trouble follows.”

  “Us?” Nightbird cried indignantly.

  “Never,” Summerdance declared. “We’re harmless.”

  “Innocent.”

  “Absolutely.”

  The elder rolled his eyes, but said only, in the driest voice imaginable, “Indeed.”

  Summerdance looked stricken. “But, Father—!”

  “Save it for one who did not see you born, when you came into the world with mischief grasped in both hands,” the elder interrupted, closing his eyes and leaning back into the embrace of the hot water. “Now let a poor old man soak his bones in peace.”

  Nightbird snatched at a towel, and stood up. “Come on, friends, no one appreciates us here. Let’s just get dressed and show Dar’ian around a little!”

  Summerdance was not at all reluctant, so Darian found himself shortly clothed in the loose-fitting, cool garments that the Hawkbrothers favored for lounging, with each arm being held by an extremely attractive young lady as he was steered toward the guest houses.

  “Have you actually got weather in the Vale?” he asked curiously, seeing that the strangely built houses had proper roofs under all their foliage.

  “Controlled weather,” Summerdance said proudly. “Though before we had enough power back to put the Veil back up, we had regular weather in here for a while. All we really do is keep things warm; if it rains out there, it rains in here—if it snows out there, it rains in here.”

  “Why keep rain out?” Nightbird continued from the other side. “The plants still need it, and besides, most of us like rain, as long as it’s warm.”

  “And in the summer, we never let it get too warm in here,” Summerdance added. “No droughts either. Though we try not to let any droughts happen outside—with trees the size of the ones in the Pelagiris, an uncontrolled forest fire would not bear thinking about. We arrange for controlled fires of course, to keep the forest healthy, but the forest has to be well-watered before we dare do that. That’s why, when we were doing without, we gave up the Veil so that we could keep doing weather-magic.”

  Darian nodded, with a shiver. He and the team had helped to fight a forest fire, the first he’d ever seen, and Summerdance was right. A forest fire loose among the great trees of the Pelagiris would be nothing short of a holocaust.

  There were no doors on these buildings, only a living screen of leafy vine, which Summerdance parted so they could all walk inside the first building of the group. The walls were half-structure, half artwork; windows of colored glass gave way to carved panels of wood which in turn gave place to living walls of braided tree trunks and vines, all of it lit by lanterns rather than mage-lights. There, as promised, was a table spread with simple foodstuffs : breads, fruit, cheeses. They all helped themselves, and poured drinks from covered pitchers of cool juices, then took their loot to a grouping of several fat cushions on the floor. There were proper chairs and tables, more groupings of cushions, and even a couch or two, but the girls clearly preferred to sprawl on cushions.

  In between mouthfuls they told him about the Vale, saving him from having to make any conversation at all. He made interested sounds from time to time, but otherwise kept his mouth full and closed. He heard more than he could store away in his memory about the Vale itself, who was partnering with whom, who was quarreling with whom, who had designs on whom, what projects were going, stalled, stupid, or planned—in short, it sounded exactly like a village, with all the village gossip. Only with much better scenery and clothing!

  Even the strangest people have familiar habits, he thought wryly, and let them chatter on until he was comfortably full.

  Then he sat up a little straighter and began to insert some questions of his own.

  “Where did the dyheli go?” he asked first, for he hadn’t seen a single one since they’d all disappeared with the massed herds. “The all vanished together when we got here.”

  “They have their own big meadow at the far end of the Vale, farthest from the entrance,” Summerdance told him. “I’ve got my ekele in a tree on the edge of the meadow.”

  “And Kelvren? Where’s he?”

  “With the rest of the gryphons, in the cliffs above the Vale; that’s where I live.” That was Nightbird, of course—and suddenly something clicked in Darian’s mind.

  “You’re Nightwind’s sister!” he exclaimed. “The trondi’irn apprentice—that’s why you got letters from Snowfire!”

  For some reason that revelation seemed excruciatingly funny to both girls, as they burst into laughter again. “I told you he’d figure it out all by himself!” Nightbird chortled.

  “Well, I never said I doubted you—” Summerdance retorted.

  Darian turned to her, and stared at her in thought for a moment. “You can’t be Snowfire’s sister, because he’s an only child. Are you a cousin?”

  She mimed shooting an arrow. “Dead in the black! Oh, it is so nice to know that Snowfire wasn’t exaggerating how smart you were! Not bad, not bad at deduction at all!”

  “Not that most people in the Vale aren’t related in some way or other,” Nightbird pointed out. “But they’re very near cousins; Dawnmist’s brother and Heartwood’s sister are her mother and father, so she’s what we call a double-cousin. I hope that’s not too confusing.”

  “Not at all, remember, I come from a little village, and practically everyone there is related to everyone else in some way,” Darian smiled. “I think I can keep it all straight.”

  Now it was their turn to ask about Errold’s Grove, and his tiny, prosaic little village was at least moderately interesting for them—but what they really enjoyed was hearing about Valdemar in general. Some things he had to answer truthfully with the preface of “I’ve never seen this myself, but I’ve been told that—” They seemed utterly amazed that people could live without any magic at all for hundreds of years, and were just as fascinated to hear what had taken the place of that magic.

  “I feel sorry for people who have to live without weather control,” Summerdance sighed, as he described a four-day blizzard he and the team had endured. “Even though we had it, for a while we had to save the energy for things that were really important, and it was horrible. It was worse being in the Vale without weather protection ! I don’t ever want to see snow on my ekele steps again!”

  “I know how you feel,” Nightbird agreed. “I thought I would never get warm, the whole winter.”

  “People are used to it,” he pointed out. “Not having seasons would seem strange to them. And there’s some enjoyment in it—Errold’s Grove used to have a Winter Faire with a
ll sorts of special snow and ice games and sports, and I met some people who really love the snow. They’d be horrified if they had to do without it.”

  “There’s something to be said for a good, rousing thunderstorm,” Nightbird agreed. “Especially when you’re snug inside.”

  “Maybe—” Summerdance sounded doubtful. “I still draw the line at snow, though.”

  Darian yawned, covering his mouth hastily with his hand, but Summerdance was instantly all contrition.

  “Oh, bother, here we’ve kept you up nattering at you, and you’re probably perishing to get some sleep!” she exclaimed. “Look, just what kind of quarters do you like anyway?”

  “Dark,” he said promptly. “No hammocks. I still haven’t gotten used to sleeping in anything that moves. But mostly as dark as possible; one thing I don’t suffer from is fear of being shut in.”

  Summerdance glanced at Nightbird, who nodded. “I think I know just the place,” she said, “And no one’s taken it since the Kaled’a’in hertasi all dug their own burrows. Follow me.”

  He did; she led him through the building complex—they were all linked together, apparently—to a long, lowceilinged structure made up entirely of cozy, rounded sets of rooms. There wasn’t a straight line to be seen, and as Nightbird had promised, none of them showed any signs of occupation.

  “These give most Hawkbrothers the shivers,” Nightbird told him, as Summerdance lingered just outside the complex. “Doesn’t bother me. White Gryphon is full of lairs and dens like this, and the hertasi and kyree prefer them. This place is actually dug right under the hill, so it’ll be quiet enough.”

  “It’s not what I’d choose to live in permanently, but right now ... this is perfect,” Darian told her with satisfaction. “I could sleep for a week in here.” Again, a huge yawn caught him quite off-guard. “Excuse me! And from the way I feel, I probably will sleep for a week! Do you know, they got us up and in the saddle way before dawn, and we didn’t stop even to eat. I’ve done harder riding on this trip, but nothing that was longer.”