Once, when he laughed out loud at Yssanda’s comment, he heard an exasperated sigh.
Blushing, he turned to look at his previously 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.
“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 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 and rich, 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 toward 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.
:I will teach you more of mind magic as we near, so you are better prepared.:
:I can accept that. I’ll be sorry to turn you over to the queen’s stables. You’re . . . a friend.:
:We don’t have to part ways.:
:Yes, we do,: he said firmly. It would be more than a year by the time he returned home, most of it traveling, much of it with this mage girl. He went on.
:If it were possible, I’d stay with you and let you teach me.:
:If it were possible, that would still not be possible. I asked for special dispensation to teach you this much. It is only to famili
arize you. It could, in fact, make things worse. Normally, only Herald Trainees receive this kind of training.:
:How? And why did you, then?:
:Think of a wild youth. Unschooled, untrained, eager. Imagine that mischief, unintentional, with the force of magic. As to how, if you stay they’ll teach you.:
:You hoped I’d learn to like it and change my mind.:
:Not quite. However, without familiarity, that would be impossible.:
Three months ago, Keth’ would have been furious. Now he was just bothered. He had a choice to make, and everyone was presuming to push him in the same direction. That made him stubborn, but, did they all know something he didn’t? Wasn’t he the best judge of himself?
Something else nudged at him and he put it aside. The training took years. It would divert his life. At the same time, there was a vibrancy to this place. It bespoke adventure and restlessness, which he shouldn’t let sway him, except ...
The nudge came again, firmer.
He quivered and said, “I think there are others nearby.”
Lihn asked, “Possibly a patrol? Travelers?”
“A patrol maybe. They don’t feel like travelers.”
“Did you feel the previous travelers?”
He twitched at that. “Yes, actually I did, now that I think about it. Sort of a background distance noise like a camp. Something I was aware of but . . . this isn’t that.”
Not far ahead, a voice roared something almost intelligible, and both sides of the road erupted in men, dressed in threadbare uniform parts and twigs and leaves. In the Plains he’d have seen that deception. These plants, though, he was still learning.
There were a dozen or so, and all he had was a large knife, which he drew, and urged Yssanda forward in front of Lihn, though what good it would do with them all around he did not know.
The air shook as Lihn shouted something, and the air burst in a soft thunderclap. One man went down, and two others stopped charging to tumble sideways.
But those two were up again. Lihn couldn’t fight. Yssanda had hooves. He had a knife. Here at the end of their journey, a dozen brigands were going to end it, and likely their lives.
Rage welled up, and Keth’ shouted “No!” from deep inside.
He woke with someone slapping his cheek. “Son? Are you there? Son?”
He shook his head and garbled out, “I’m all right” in Shin’a’in, then Valdemaran when the man looked at him strangely.
He peered around to see the band of robbers in shackles, being herded by three men on horses. Another man dressed all in white was on a Companion and clearly talking to Yssanda.
“What happened?” he asked.
Lihn appeared above him.
“You did it,” she said, looking down with a smirking grin.
“Did what?”
“You used the mind magic you disdain so much. I knocked down three with my Storm Blast spell, and that’s all I had, my power for a day or more. You shouted and they all collapsed, clutching their heads. Then you fainted. It’s been half the morning.”
“I did it?”
:You did.:
“Lots of power, no control,” she said. “That’s why you need training.”
It was hard to argue.
Two weeks later, they were near Haven. The roads carried more people than Keth’ had ever seen, with wagons, carriages, horses, donkeys, packs, trucks, and carts. The roads had been graveled and marked but now they were paved in some strange material.
“That’s the signpost we were told to seek,” he said. Near it was a small group of people. They were set back from the road and observing the busy traffic, while being out of its way.
“Yes,” Lihn said. “And that must be Master Arak. It is.”
Another old man in a robe, only this one had aged with power in his physique, under the lines.
Next to him Keth’ saw a woman that could only be Herald Captain Kerowyn. With her was one dressed completely in white and another that looked to be of the Plains, complete to the fringed leathers that he hadn’t seen in months.
The journey was over. At least, this part of it was.
:Have you decided what you are going to do?:
:I’m going to use my Shin’a’in craft and guile,.: he replied with a grin.
Keth’re’son shena Tale’sedrin squared his chin and swallowed a brief spurt of homesickness. No matter what happened, it would be many months or years before he saw his Clan, his family, his plains or Nerea again. Then he smiled. He was ready to do battle—and it would go his way, because these outlanders were no match.
:And I will help you.:
About the Authors
Nancy Asire is the author of four novels: Twilight’s Kingdoms, Tears of Time, To Fall Like Stars, and Wizard Spawn. Wizard Spawn was edited by C.J. Cherryh and became part of the Sword of Knowledge series. She also has written short stories for the series anthologies Heroes in Hell and Merovingen Nights; a short story for Mercedes Lackey’s Flights of Fantasy; as well as tales for the Valdemar anthologies Sun in Glory and Crossroads. She has lived in Africa and traveled the world, but now resides in Missouri with her cats and two vintage Corvairs.
Brenda Cooper has published over thirty short stories in various magazines and anthologies. Her books include The Silver Ship and the Sea and Reading the Wind. She is a technology professional, a futurist, and a writer living in the Pacific Northwest with three dogs and two other humans. She blogs and tweets and all that stuff—stop by www.brenda-cooper.com and visit.
Larry Dixon is the husband of Mercedes Lackey, and a successful artist as well as science fiction writer. He and Mercedes live in Oklahoma.
In addition to her work with Mercedes Lackey, Rosemary Edghill has collaborated with authors such as the late Marion Zimmer Bradley and the late Grand Master Andre Norton, and worked as an SF editor for a major New York publisher, as a freelance book designer, and as a professional book reviewer. Her hobbies include sleep, research for forthcoming projects, and her Cavalier King Charles spaniels. Her website can be found at http://www.sff.net/people/eluki.
Sarah A. Hoyt was born in Portugal, a mishap she hastened to correct as soon as she came of age. She lives in Colorado with her husband, her two sons, and a varying horde of cats. She has published a Shakespearean fantasy trilogy, Three Musketeers mystery novels, as well as any number of short stories in magazines ranging from Isaac Asimov’s Science Fiction Magazine to Dreams of Decadence.
Tanya Huff lives and writes in rural Ontario with her partner Fiona Patton and nine cats—one more and they qualify as crazy cat ladies. In June of 2010, DAW released her 25th book The Enchantment Emporium in paperback and in September followed it with the fifth Torin Kerr space Marine book, The Truth of Valor, in hardcover.
Denise McCune has been writing since she was eleven—which was (coincidentally?) right around the time she fell in love with Valdemar. She has worked in the social networking industry for nearly a decade, and not having enough to do writing novels and short stories (her first short story sale was to Jim Baen’s Universe), decided to launch Dreamwidth, an open source social networking, content management, and personal publishing platform. Denise lives in Baltimore, Maryland, where her hobbies include knitting, writing, and staying up too late writing code.
Fiona Patton was born in Calgary, Alberta, Canada, and grew up in the United States. In 1975 she returned to Canada and now lives in rural Ontario. Her beloved Chihuahua crossed the Rainbow Bridge in July 2009 and in March 2009 two lovely part Shelties came to live with her, her partner Tanya Huff, and way too many cats. She has seven books out from DAW, and is currently working on the third and final book in the Warriors of Estavia series. She has sold more than thirty short stories with Tekno Books and DAW. “A Bard by Any Other Name” is the third Valdemar story featuring Haven’s Dann family.
Kate Paulk pretends to be a mild-mannered software quality analyst by day; she allows her true evil author nature through for the short time between finishing with
the day job and falling over. She lives in semi-rural Pennsylvania with her husband, two bossy cats, and her imagination. The latter is the hardest to live with.
Mickey Zucker Reichert is a pediatrician, parent to multitudes (at least it seems like that many), bird wrangler, goat roper, dog trainer, cat herder, horse rider, and fish feeder who has learned (the hard way) not to let macaws remove contact lenses. Also she is the author of twenty-two novels (including the Renshai, Nightfall, Barakhai, and Bifrost series), one illustrated novella, and fifty plus short stories. Mickey’s age is a mathematically guarded secret: the square root of 8649 minus the hypotenuse of an isosceles right triangle with a side length of 33.941126.
Stephanie Shaver works in the online gaming industry, where she has donned the hat of writer, game designer, programmer, level designer, and webmaster at various points in her career. Like most people who work by day and write by whenever, her free time is notoriously elusive. She can be found online at sdshaver.com and other virtual hives of scum and villainy. Offline, she is either hiking with the smirking entity she calls “The Guy,” or on the couch with cats and a laptop stacked atop her, recovering from aforementioned hiking trail.
Kristin Schwengel’s work has appeared in three of the previous Valdemar short story anthologies, among others. The story of Shia and Teo begins with “Waking the Baby.” She and her husband live near Milwaukee, Wisconsin, with a gray-and-black tabby kitten named (what else?) Gandalf. Kristin divides her time between an administrative job, a growing career as a massage therapist, and writing and other pastimes.
Judith Tarr has written many novels and several Friends of Valdemar stories under her own name. As Caitlin Brennan she writes novels about horses—especially the Lipizzan horses she breeds and trains on her farm in Arizona.
Finding the Way and Other Tales of Valdemar Page 30
