“May the Blessed Trine curse that woman with children.” What does Kerowyn want now? At least last time she sent a letter ahead, even if it left out more than it told. He had decided to meet the Shin’a’in when an apprentice knocked.
“Yes?”
“Sir, a strange child on a white horse says he’s here to see you. One of the gate guards is downstairs with him.”
“I know. I’ll go down and meet him, Cuthbert.” For some reason, using the apprentice’s name seemed to make him more nervous.
The voice that spoke in his head was unexpected, but didn’t scare him.
:That would be because he doesn’t know how much you notice the students. Look, you’ve got a delicate situation here; it’s going to take tact and all of your experience dealing with youngsters. This boy’s considered an adult by his people, if just barely. He’s got a powerful gift that needs to be trained and his people have traditionally shunned magic in general and have little experience with mind-magic. I need your help to convince him to go up to Valdemar. He still thinks that I’m his horse:
Surely being able to talk to him in his mind would have told him otherwise? Quentin replied in shock at holding a conversation this way. He could see why Kerowyn had complained about the Companions’ high-handed attitudes in Valdemar.
:One of his gifts is animal mind-speech; he’s used to hearing animals talk in his head. He’s young enough that he hasn’t learned that not everyone does. I’ve just got a larger vocabulary.:
Quenten moved down the stairs with an undertone of caution. He wasn’t young anymore, even though being a mage preserved a person. Cuthbert had taken them five at a time with the boundless energy of youth.
He emerged into twilight supplemented by the flickers of watch fires, and saw the boy leaning against the Guardian Spirit. Companions, they’re called Companions, he reminded himself.
“Greetings to you, and to your Companion. I am Master Quenten, the head of the mage school here.”
“Greetings to you,” the boy replied, his Rethwellan rather accented. “I am Keth’re’son shena Tale’sedrin and this is Yssanda.”
“I bid you come up. Cuthbert, please bring us dinner and ale after you see to Lady Yssanda. Our guest stables should be adequate to your needs Lady, and I will have a gate to the gardens left open for you. If you will follow me?”
Cuthbert stood waiting respectfully near Yssanda. Before she turned to go, she wickered gently and nudged him towards Quentin.
:Go on, I’ll be with you.: Cuthbert led her away towards the stables. Obviously setting his chin, Keth’ turned to follow Master Quenten.
The meal was dispatched with the economy of the young and perpetually hungry. While the boy ate sliced meat and cheese quickly but neatly with a belt knife, Quenten mused on what the Companion Yssanda had told him about the situation. It wasn’t enough to make a decision, and with a skill he had developed as head of a mage school he extracted more of the tale from the young man.
It was the tradition of his clan to prove they were ready for adulthood by choosing and training a horse out of the Clan’s herds. Keth’re’son had done well, especially for his age, and his pride in his skill was present in his voice. Then when he was on his trial journey the unexpected had happened: his horse had talked back to him. His horse had the nerve to tell him that he had been chosen and not the other way around. Quenten could hear the bafflement and confusion creep in past the confidence. Then the horse had the nerve to say that he had mind-magic and real magic. He was no shaman. He didn’t want to be a Hawkbrother, and he didn’t want to leave the plains. What would a Shin’a’in do with magic anyway? He was going to train horses and trade them like his father and mother. It wasn’t his fault that his mother’s mother’s mother had been Kethryveris shena Tal’sedrin.
The chance to tell his story paled before the attraction of more food and Keth’ dug into the lentils. They were firm and tasty and there was rabbit as well, with some savory spices. It warmed him and renewed him. As he paused, Quenten put forth his proposal.
“I have need of your services. There is an advanced mage student wishing to study other schools. Far Valdemar has many in one town. The student is young and unfamiliar with wilderness. You, however, are an experienced traveler, and have your Companion. You’ll be heading that way already, so I would ask that you act as escort.”
Keth’ didn’t regard himself as an experienced traveler. This was his second journey on his own and he’d gone astray on his first one due to the Companion. The second comment brought him to a halt, spoon almost to his mouth.
“How did you know I would be going to Valdemar?” he asked.
He knew how, though, even as Quenten spoke.
“Keth’re’son, you must develop your mind-magic and your bond with your Companion. That can only be done at the Collegium in Valdemar. I thought you would know of this.” The mage frowned, suddenly looking older as he did.
Keth’ scowled and put down the spoon.
“It’s been suggested. It’s not something I’m interested in, or able to do. I have plans for my life that do not include going to a strange land to be schooled as if I were still a child.” He was betrothed to Nerea. His family had horses . . .
The mage looked gently at him. “Keth’re’son, not everything in life is as we plan or wish, and sometimes events change our route.”
You lied to me. If thoughts could burn with accusation his would be acid now.
:I did not. I said Quenten would have better information. It must be your choice. While you are still young, by your own people you are considered an adult. Would you leave a child to wander the plains with a lit torch? That’s the potential hazard you present to your people.
Keth’ sighed and said, “Who is this student?” He was not conceding the point. He needed more information, though.
Quenten nodded slightly and flicked a bell with his index finger. The tone seemed to penetrate the very walls. A moment later, the student was ushered in. She was elaborately and impractically dressed. The sheen of the fine woven fabric moved like water. It was completely unsuitable for rough travel. The dangling sleeves and the ornately upswept hair did nothing to hide the penetrating glance she gave the young Shin’a’in. With a dismissive shrug she bowed briefly to Master Quenten.
Keth’re’son looked at the girl and felt unnerved. She was pretty, yes, but it was her gaze; far more mature than it should be. She stared back, disinterested except in his potential as a guide, and clearly not impressed by what she saw. He blushed.
Still, there was good pay involved, and he was going to Valdemar, at least to deliver the Companion.
Only to deliver the Companion.
Quenten said, “This is Armaeolihn and this is Keth’re’son shena Tale’sedrin.” His pronunciation was quite good. Keth’ was impressed.
The girl bowed slightly but politely, and he raised the age he guessed her, from her figure. He returned the bow. He thought he should say something, but he wasn’t sure what, so he turned to Quenten.
Quenten said, “You will travel together for safety. Keth’re’son is bonded to a Companion. Armaeolihn, you have your pass, and I shall write one for Keth’re’son. I will also give Keth’re’son a letter to take to Herald Captain Kerowyn, his cousin. She’ll see that he gets paid. If you choose to stay, she will ensure your learning and settle you.”
“How much pay?” he asked. He understood this to be an escort duty, and Shin’a’in were well-sought for that.
Quenten named a sum, and Keth’ opened his mouth to haggle, then kept it open in surprise. That was a goodly sum.
“Then I accept,” he said, before realizing he should have asked for more anyway. Not that he needed to, but still, one should never take the first offer.
“Good. Rest well, and we’ll prepare her horse and a pack beast. You can leave in the morning.” And be out of my hair, was unspoken, but Keth’re’son heard the undertone. This mind magic was problematic. He heard whispers of things that wer
en’t spoken, and of course, no one knew how to teach him to control it . . . except in Valdemar.
Another student mage appeared and led him to a comfortable room, with a pitcher of cold, clear water, another of hot, and wine and fruit. Over his protests, his traveling clothes were whisked away, washed and the minor tears of constant travel mended, then returned. At first he was uncomfortable. It felt like an attempt to place a debt on him. Then he concluded it was just service provided to a professional.
Alone, Keth’ spoke to Yssanda. Should I do this?
:Now you want advice. Am I suddenly of worth?:
You always have been, he protested. You also know these people better than I.
:The journey fits my plans. You must understand that affects my advice. However, it pays you well, it gives you experience and travel, and it gets you where you must go regardless of your choice.:
That’s fair, he thought. Very fair. Yssanda hadn’t actually offered advice, though, only facts.
:Often, that is the best advice of all.
He scowled. Why was everyone assuming he would be one of these Heralds?
He awoke at graylight, and followed the smells of breakfast downstairs to a common room. He was an outsider, but treated cordially enough. As he finished, one of the omnipresent mage students led him to the stable, where Yssanda was ready, groomed, in new harness, and Armaeolihn waited in comfortable traveling clothes with her own roan gelding, and a lead to a sturdy draft pony.
“Good day,” he said, in Rethwellen.
She nodded politely enough, if a bit noncommittally. He got the feeling that she was unsure of his qualifications but glad to be finally going to Valdemar. It was going to be a long enough journey as it was, hopefully she wasn’t going to act superior the entire way. Not that it mattered with a language barrier.
:Don’t worry, for all that she’s a mage she’s also a young girl. She’ll open up a little more as we journey. Of course, that’s going to depend somewhat on you. Don’t you know how to treat a girl? Or are the Shin’a’in all unlettered barbarians?:
While her tone was teasing, that was the root of this problem. He was out of his depth.
The journey through Rethwellan passed in a series of inns, where Master Quenten’s letter secured them supplies and sleeping quarters, and then there were the times between the inns.
Keth’ was learning Valdemaran while trying to wrap his mind around the philosophy, history and ways of that strange land. The education did pass the time, especially when delivered with the biting sarcasm of the Companion.
This time, when he laughed out loud at Yssanda’s comment, he heard an exasperated sigh.
Blushing, he turned to look at his herebefore stubbornly silent traveling companion.
Noticing his glance, she scowled at him. “What are you laughing at?”
“Something that Yssanda said.” It didn’t occur to him to prevaricate.
“Yssanda? Who’s Yssanda?”
“You’ve been traveling with her.” He leaned forward and patted the Companion’s shoulder.
Yssanda turned her head and winked at Armaeolihn. The crystal blue eye glinted briefly before resuming the dark brown color that Yssanda used for discretion.
Armaeolihn was silent again. Keth’ hoped he hadn’t annoyed her. She’d been more friendly of late.
During their lunch break at the side of the road, Lihn broke her silence.
“Is Yssanda some kind of Guardian Spirit, or are you a mage?” she started off accusingly.
“I don’t know.” Keth’ scowled. “I’m supposed to have some kind of Gift—mind-magic and true-magic. But I don’t want it and don’t need it. Yssanda won’t tell me what she is—just that she’s a Companion and that they’ll tell me everything in Valdemar.”
“You don’t want magic? How can you not want magic?” Lihn sounded absolutely shocked.
“Where I come from, only shamans and Hawkbrothers have magic. Mages meddle where they’re not supposed to and are forbidden to be on the plains. At least they used to be. Things have changed since the Mage Storms.”
“So what are you doing riding a spirit horse, speaking to it using mind-magic, traveling with a mage and going to Valdemar where there are many mages?”
“That’s what I’d like to know.”
His reply silenced her again. But this time it was a puzzled silence, rather than a hostile one.
“I would ask you the same,” he said to her after they began to ride again.
“For learning.”
“I was told that. What kind of learning?”
“Ah,” she said, and shifted, with a breath. “I am a born mage, and have studied many disciplines. I can gather dispersed magic and build its power. Not like before the Mage Storms, but to a level suitable for serious study. Each style has its limits, though. There are more schools, more ways, in Valdemar. I will share what I know, in exchange they will let me study more.”
“I see,” he said. “I wish I could unlearn mine. I have no desire to improve it.”
“But you must!” she said.
“Eh. Why? I don’t use it.” He shrugged.
“You have been using it. You say you talk to animals. You talk to this Companion. That’s why you’re going for training.”
He flared up again. “Everyone assumes I’m getting trained.”
“Magic not controlled is magic that controls the mage. It’s far better that you do. Far, far better,” she said, and shuddered slightly.
“I have a life,” he said. “I am happy with it.”
Lihn said, “Magic changes things. You can feel this.”
“Shin’a’in don’t use magic.”
She said nothing.
They rode on, munching rations as they traveled, resting themselves and their horses every couple of hours. It was midafternoon before she spoke again.
“Imagine a campfire, in dry grassland,” she said.
Yssanda had said as much. He didn’t feel that was a fair comparison, but everyone else seemed to.
:You channel magic. That is what you must learn.:
I don’t have to use it and don’t want to. Even this is more than I care for.
The trip was long. The weather was fair enough, and they were sure of supplies without hunting; the letter from Master Quenten assuring them of food, water and lodging whenever they stopped. In between, Keth’ was quite comfortable on a roll under canvas. Lihn clearly wasn’t, but said nothing and put up with it, though occasionally he caught what he thought was a gesture of her hands before sleeping.
One morning after rising, he felt the ground she’d lain on. It was spongy, like moss or the ground beneath evergreens. Magic.
That is something I dislike about magic, he said. It makes people soft.
:Only as soft as they need or want. This is why control is important.:
I don’t want to argue about that.
:Neither do I, so let us work on language. Ten more words today. You have a good basic vocabulary now.:
He preferred the language lessons to lectures on mind-magic.
He understood why he had been hired, and promised pay for this. Lihn was quite smart, but not skilled in wilderness. Keth’ was the one who loaded the pack pony with dried fat and fruit for the ride through the mountains and White Foal Pass, with extra blankets of thick fleece, and waxen fire starters. It was easier than long caravans or herding, and they made good distance each day, even in the brisk chill the mountains had even in summer.
Then they were descending into glorious greenery again, until it became humid, rich and with the scent of lush life growing in between outcroppings of stone. Shortly, grassy hills stretched on before them, not his plains but refreshing after the rocky pass.
“This is the South Trade Road,” she said, showing him on the map. “We are in Valdemar. Having crossed half a continent, we have merely half a country still to travel.”
“Well, good,” he said.
:We shall stop before dinner, Yssanda said.
:There are now Waystations and Inns for us to use.:
“I believe we’re stopping soon,” he said.
“Yes,” she agreed. “I can tell when Yssanda talks to you.”
He scowled, because it felt intrusive for her to know that and he wasn’t sure how else to respond.
They soon came to a town with a guard station. Yssanda moved up to the guard and stood still. A guard came out, eyed the Companion who was no longer disguising herself, eyed Keth’, and said, “Ah, a newly chosen one are you? We’ll see you right, we will.”
Keth’ thanked him with what he hoped was a fair accent, dismounted and led Yssanda towards the corral, stable, lodge and watchers. He presented the letter for Lihn and she dismounted as well. The guard examined it and handed it back to Keth’ along with another town chit—this one said Sweetsprings—and they were waved into the inn. The staff took charge of providing them with bathing, cleaning, food and beds.
There were clearly apparent advantages to even association with a Companion. While he had been comfortable enough in the open air with the tarp overhead, he certainly appreciated the regular occurrence of sleeping pallets, hot meals and sweetened travel rations. Even the Waystations had been an improvement over sleeping on the ground. A Shin’a’in didn’t need such things of course, but they sweetened his traveling companion’s temper—such was always to be wished as he had received the sharp edge of her wit several times.
:There are Waystations from here on, so we shall have shelter each night.:
If we must, though I may sleep outside with the tarp and enjoy the breeze. He was even thinking in Valdemaran now, if haltingly. He was starting to grasp the language, though the attitudes and philosophy still escaped him.
He wondered what the cities ahead would be like. This area was more populated than his Plains, and it was a remote hinterland for Valdemar, he understood. The first time a small train of goods wagons came the other way, he’d stared. There would be more, though.
Tour of Duty: Stories and Provocation Page 21
