Tempest

by Mercedes Lackey

  Raves for the Previous Valdemar Anthologies:

  “Fans of Lackey’s epic Valdemar series will devour this superb anthology. Of the thirteen stories included, there is no weak link—an attribute exceedingly rare in collections of this sort. Highly recommended.”

  —The Barnes and Noble Review

  “This high-quality anthology mixes pieces by experienced authors and enthusiastic fans of editor Lackey’s Valdemar. Valdemar fandom, especially, will revel in this sterling example of what such a mixture of fans’ and pros’ work can be. Engrossing even for newcomers to Valdemar.”

  —Booklist

  “Josepha Sherman, Tanya Huff, Mickey Zucker Reichert, and Michelle West have quite good stories, and there’s another by Lackey herself. Familiarity with the series helps but is not a prerequisite to enjoying this book.”

  —Science Fiction Chronicle

  “Each tale adheres to the Lackey laws of the realm yet provides each author’s personal stamp on the story. Well written and fun, Valdemarites will especially appreciate the magic of this book.”

  —The Midwest Book Review

  “The sixth collection set in Lackey’s world of Valdemar presents stories of Heralds and their telepathic horselike Companions and of Bards and Healers, and provides glimpses of the many other aspects of a setting that has a large and avid readership. The fifteen original tales in this volume will appeal to series fans.”

  —Library Journal

  Tempest

  DAW TITLES BY MERCEDES LACKEY:

  THE NOVELS OF VALDEMAR:

  THE HERALDS OF VALDEMAR

  ARROWS OF THE QUEEN

  ARROW’S FLIGHT

  ARROW’S FALL

  THE LAST HERALD-MAGE

  MAGIC’S PAWN

  MAGIC’S PROMISE

  MAGIC’S PRICE

  THE MAGE WINDS

  WINDS OF FATE

  WINDS OF CHANGE

  WINDS OF FURY

  THE MAGE STORMS

  STORM WARNING

  STORM RISING

  STORM BREAKING

  VOWS AND HONOR

  THE OATHBOUND

  OATHBREAKERS

  OATHBLOOD

  THE COLLEGIUM CHRONICLES

  FOUNDATION

  INTRIGUES

  CHANGES

  REDOUBT

  BASTION

  THE HERALD SPY

  CLOSER TO HOME

  CLOSER TO THE HEART

  CLOSER TO THE CHEST

  BY THE SWORD

  BRIGHTLY BURNING

  TAKE A THIEF

  EXILE’S HONOR

  EXILE’S VALOR

  VALDEMAR ANTHOLOGIES:

  SWORD OF ICE

  SUN IN GLORY

  CROSSROADS

  MOVING TARGETS

  CHANGING THE WORLD

  FINDING THE WAY

  UNDER THE VALE

  NO TRUE WAY

  CRUCIBLE

  TEMPEST

  Written with LARRY DIXON:

  THE MAGE WARS

  THE BLACK GRYPHON

  THE WHITE GRYPHON

  THE SILVER GRYPHON

  DARIAN’S TALE

  OWLFLIGHT

  OWLSIGHT

  OWLKNIGHT

  OTHER NOVELS:

  GWENHWYFAR

  THE BLACK SWAN

  THE DRAGON JOUSTERS

  JOUST

  ALTA

  SANCTUARY

  AERIE

  THE ELEMENTAL MASTERS

  THE SERPENT’S SHADOW

  THE GATES OF SLEEP

  PHOENIX AND ASHES

  THE WIZARD OF LONDON

  RESERVED FOR THE CAT

  UNNATURAL ISSUE

  HOME FROM THE SEA

  STEADFAST

  BLOOD RED

  FROM A HIGH TOWER

  A STUDY IN SABLE

  Anthologies:

  ELEMENTAL MAGIC

  ELEMENTARY

  And don’t miss THE VALDEMAR COMPANION

  edited by John Helfers and Denise Little

  Copyright © 2016 by Mercedes Lackey and Stonehenge Art & Word.

  All Rights Reserved.

  Cover art by Jody Lee.

  Cover design by G-Force Design.

  DAW Book Collectors No. 1740.

  Published by DAW Books, Inc.

  375 Hudson Street, New York, NY 10014.

  All characters and events in this book are fictitious.

  All resemblance to persons living or dead is coincidental.

  If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book may be stolen property and reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher. In such case neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”

  The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal, and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  Ebook ISBN: 9780698188464

  DAW TRADEMARK REGISTERED

  U.S. PAT. AND TM. OFF. AND FOREIGN COUNTRIES

  —MARCA REGISTRADA

  HECHO EN U.S.A.

  Version_1

  Contents

  A Small Quarrel

  Stephanie D. Shaver

  Girl Without the Gifts

  Janny Wurts

  Unimagined Consequences

  Elizabeth A. Vaughan

  Feathers in Flight

  Jennifer Brozek

  Blind Leaps

  Ron Collins

  Haver Hearthstone

  Fiona Patton

  Unraveling the Truth

  Dayle A. Dermatis

  Sparrow’s Gift

  Michele Lang

  Harmless as Serpents

  Rosemary Edghill & Rebecca Fox

  The Apprentice and the Stable Master

  Brenda Cooper

  Unexpected Meeting

  Nancy Asire

  A Trip of Goats

  Elisabeth Waters

  The Ones She Couldn’t Save

  Louisa Swann

  One Last Night Manning the Home Station

  Brigid Collins

  Only Family Matters

  D. Shull

  Medley

  Jessica Schlenker & Michael Z. Williamson

  A Tangle of Truths

  Angela Penrose

  The Unwanted Gift

  Anthea Sharp

  Dawn of a New Age

  Dylan Birtolo

  BloodLines

  Phaedra Weldon

  In Name Only

  Kristin Schwengel

  Ripples and Cracks

  Larry Dixon and Mercedes Lackey

  A Small Quarrel

  Stephanie Shaver

  The rain had finally let up in western Valdemar.

  Highjorune should have been leagues behind Herald Wil, and his prisoner—the traitorous Bard Ferrin—safely delivered to the Heralds and Master Bard (still) waiting at Forst Reach.

  Instead, he sipped shamile tea by a dying fire in the Crown of Lineas Inn while flipping through the worn pages of a book with names like Taylore, Emile, Carris, and Fent in it. Master Bards, all suspected of the same treason Ferrin had committed: conspiracy against the throne.
Malfeasant use of their Gifts.

  Not in that list: “Madra,” the name Ferrin had given for the agent of “Lord Dark,” a mysterious figure who had encouraged his efforts to start an insurrection in Highjorune. Wil had no idea who either one was, though he highly doubted Lord Dark had been born with that name.

  Wil hauled himself out of the comfiest chair in the Crown. Ystell, the new owner, wanted to rename it something more patriotic and less nostalgic. The Queen’s Crown or the Hanged Bard, though the latter seemed a bit too grim for Wil.

  He pulled on his boots to traverse the muddy grounds to the privy. Bard Amelie, who had assisted in the arrest of Ferrin, had left that morning as soon as the rain stopped, even though some roads were still impassable. She’d gladly gamble if it got her out of Highjorune. He didn’t blame her one bit. He’d have gone with her—

  But . . .

  He couldn’t, because he had someone else to consider. Someone who couldn’t be out in driving rain and flooding roads, seeing as she’d yet to turn five years old.

  Wil rode Circuit under very special circumstances: with his daughter, Ivy. The Companions had even volunteered one of their own to be her nanny.

  Being cooped up indoors for a week while they’d waited out the storms had been hardest on her. One could only spin a top or a tale so many times. The need for freedom in littles that age simply ran too deep.

  Relieved and ready for bed, Wil tromped back through the empty kitchen, leaving his boots by the door. Tomorrow. Tomorrow they could leave. But tonight they enjoyed a warm bed, and the Companions a stable.

  :Ahem. I am not in a stable. I am in the stockade courtyard outside the jail, watching four Guards drink from a wineskin and offering me not so much as a mushy apple.:

  Wil chuckled as he climbed the stairs. :You’ll trade off with Aubryn in a couple of candlemarks, and then you’ll get your comfy stall. Just be glad the rain’s let up.:

  The Companion sighed.

  :I’ll bring you apples next time we meet,: Wil added.

  :My Chosen makes it all worth it.:

  :Delivering Ferrin to the Queen will make it all worth it.: Wil opened the door to the bedroom, being quiet so as not to wake Ivy.

  But.

  He paused, head cocked, listening.

  He did not see the telltale lump on the bed nor hear gentle breathing. Panic sprung up, and he flung the door wide.

  The light spilling in from the hallway revealed an empty bed. Ivy was missing.

  His first thought: She went to the privy. But she couldn’t have. He’d just been there.

  His second: She’s been abducted.

  A sweep of the room—mostly—dissuaded that notion. No signs of struggle, and no one intent on stealing someone’s child bothered to take her boots and cape along.

  Unless it was someone she trusted . . . He shook off that thought for the moment. A lantern was also missing. Far more likely that . . .

  She left on her own?

  He took the stairs two at a time, yanking his boots back on and grabbing a lantern before running out the kitchen door.

  Vehs sensed his alarm. :What’s wrong?:

  Wil sent a blur of thoughts and images as he swept the inn grounds.

  :Maybe she’s with Aubryn?: his Companion said.

  He darted into the stables, to where the second Companion in his entourage dozed in her stall. Her head lifted sleepily as he approached, but she came fully awake when he asked, “Is Ivy here?”

  :No.:

  A stream of curses began to pour out of his mouth. Aubryn emerged and stood shoulder-to-shoulder with him.

  :I’m on my way,: Vehs said.

  Wil felt the burst of a new, different unease. :No—:

  :Ferrin’s asleep, and the Guards know not to approach him without one of us present. Also, I’m halfway to the Crown already.:

  They checked alleys and yards, Aubryn scouting the road ahead. Wil looked for footprints on the muddy road, but the day’s foot traffic had obliterated any chance of a clear trail. He listened, but aside from dripping eaves and the odd barking dog, the village slept.

  Their sweep took them near the old Lineas palace. Aubryn cantered ahead into the three-walled courtyard and returned moments later with nothing.

  Wil’s hands trembled, but a calm, rational part of him kept thinking. She’d vanished, but where? Why? And how far could she have gotten?

  :Nothing on the south side of town,: Vehs said. :Where are you?:

  :The old castle,: Aubryn said.

  “Ivy!” Wil bellowed, though it seemed pointless. Like many small children, Ivy simply didn’t respond to her name most times.

  :I could try a Mindcall, but it would probably wake up anyone the least bit sensitive in town,: Aubryn said.

  :What about that song Amelie sings?: Vehs asked, appearing down the road and racing toward them.

  :Uh. What?: Wil said.

  :The one Ivy likes to finish, about Maiden’s Hope flowers. She can’t resist. “Pure white blooms—”:

  Wil gathered a deep breath and warbled:

  “Pure white blooms, perfume of hope!

  I pray that you don’t get eaten by—”

  A distant voice piped out, “The goats!”

  Wil sprinted toward it, down a small road off the Palace to an old stone building. He saw the little lantern first, then the figure beside it, crouched in the mud.

  “Ivy!” he yelled, the Companions thundering behind him. She looked up, startled, then grinned.

  “Dada!” she said, holding out a hand. “I got snails!”

  Wil stared at her, torn between furious screaming and relieved sobbing.

  Ivy kept grinning as she got to her feet, oblivious to her muddy clothes and the chaos she’d caused.

  “I got snails,” she repeated, stuffing them into a jar.

  • • •

  “Sleep in the loft?” Ivy said as they arrived back at the stable.

  “That’s what I said,” he said. “Get up there. Take off your clothes. I’ll go fetch fresh ones.”

  Vehs had gone back to his guard duty and Aubryn to her stall. Ivy looked dubiously at the loft ladder, then scrambled up it.

  Wil leaned his forehead against a wooden post. He felt hollowed out. Parenting was hard.

  “Ivy, you can’t do what you did tonight,” he said, straightening and speaking into the darkness. “It’s dangerous.”

  She peeked over the edge of the loft’s wooden platform. “Why?”

  “Because dada’s a Herald, and there are dangerous people who want to hurt you.”

  “Why?” Her shirt sailed out of the loft. He caught it midair.

  “Because you’re my daughter.”

  “That’s dumb.”

  “I know.”

  “I’d bite them.”

  He rubbed his forehead. “I’m sure you would.”

  “Hard.” Her pants dropped from above, and he saw her peek out again and chomp at the air comically.

  “Ivy . . .” He sighed, then smiled. “Where did you put the snails?”

  She held up the jar.

  “Hand it down.”

  “Dad-d-d-a-a-a—”

  “Please.”

  She acquiesced, pouting.

  :Keep an eye on her,: he thought to Aubryn, leaving the jar on one of the stable’s tack shelves before collecting the soiled garments.

  :That’s why I’m here.:

  He dug up fresh clothes from the saddlebags, left the dirty ones by the laundress’ door, and had just arrived back at the stable when he felt Vehs’s alarm.

  :What’s wrong?:

  :I don’t know,: the Companion said. :All four of the guards are asleep, and the gaol door is open. I can’t fit in there. I’m going to find someone who can.:

  Wil cursed
and sprinted to the ladder, throwing the clothes up to his daughter. “Aubryn, watch her,” he said. “Vehs needs me.”

  Ivy leaned out. “Dada? Can I come?”

  “No.” She cringed at the severity of his tone. Feeling guilty, he climbed the ladder halfway and kissed her cheek. “Stay here. Do not leave unless Aubryn says to. Okay?”

  “Okay,” she whispered.

  Then he jumped down and ran out.

  • • •

  The narrow cell had served as a slaughter chute. One small quarrel had forever silenced Ferrin’s testimony.

  Wil stood in the entry, taking in the scene of blood and gore. He’d gotten past the point of wanting to flip the nearest table and had slipped into a quiet mix of anger and sickness.

  :This is my fault,: Vehs said.

  Wil walked back out into the courtyard without replying. The four sleeping Guards were all being roused by another, mixed expressions of confusion and shock on their faces. Wil scanned the area. Four stools for them to sit on. A few skins of the wine Vehs had observed. One sword on the flagstones. So one had drawn his weapon before—what?

  :Watch out for me,: Wil said.

  :Always.:

  Wil leaned against a wall and pressed his hands into the stones.

  As a Herald Trainee, Wil and his teachers had thought him a Foreseer; he had Visions, and a gut instinct that bordered on prescient. But a few years ago, his Gift had taken an odd turn—it started showing him the past in addition to the future. It worked with objects, places—sometimes people, too.

  Now he skimmed the surface of the courtyard’s last few candlemarks. And Saw—

  • • •

  —Vehs and the Guards, Vehs departing through the sally port, and, not long after, a knock at the gate. Two of the Guards went to answer. A brief conversation, and then they unbarred and opened the gate.

  A woman strode through, dressed in a black—no, just a very, very dark green—cloak with a deep hood. She had her hands on the arms of the Guards, who escorted her, meek as lambs. The other two stood in alarm and confusion; one began to draw his sword. She slid forward like a snake, darting between them, and her hands caressed their faces. Both Guards crumpled to the ground.

  She stood a moment, slightly bent. Wil could hear her panting slightly. Then she straightened and faced the first two, still standing obediently nearby.

  “Where are the keys?” she asked.

  One unhooked a ring of keys from his belt and handed it to her. She brushed her hands on their cheeks, and they collapsed.