Firestorm raised an eloquent eyebrow. "You don't believe him?"
"I don't know what to believe." Darkwind stared off into the distance, over Firestorm's shoulder, into the shadows beneath the trees. "I probably shouldn't be telling you this, even. That kind of information is only supposed to be discussed by the Council or among mages. There's another thing; Father was acting oddly even before the disaster—he hasn't been quite himself since he was caught in that forest fire. Or that's the way it seems to me, but nobody else seems to have noticed anything wrong."
"Well, I haven't, at least not any more than with the rest of the Council." Firestorm laughed, sarcastically. "Old men, too damned proud to ask for help from outside, and too feeble to fix things themselves. Which is probably why I'm not on the Council; I've said that in public a few too many times."
The scout tossed his hawk up into the air and turned to go. Kreel darted up into the trees ahead, and all the birds went silent as he took to the air. Everything that flew knew the shape of a cooperihawk; nothing on wings was safe from a hungry one. And no bird would ever take a chance on a cooperi being sated. "If you're all right to finish, I'll get back to my section. Do we bother to clean up, or leave it for the scavengers?"
"Leave it," Darkwind told him. "Maybe a few bones lying around will discourage others."
"Maybe." The younger man laughed. "Or maybe we should start leaving heads on stakes at the borders."
With that macabre suggestion, the scout followed his bird into the forest, moving in silence, blending into the foliage within moments. Vree had finished his rabbit, dropping the polished bones, and Darkwind launched him into the air as well, so that they could resume their interrupted patrol.
He'd meant what he told Firestorm, every bitter word of it. I hardly know Father anymore. He used to be creative, flexible; he used to have no trouble admitting when he was wrong. Now he's the worst of the lot. Every time another Clan sends someone to see if we need help, he sends them away. How can we not need help? We've got an unstable Heartstone, we don't have enough scouts to patrol a border that we had to pull back in the first place. Our children are gone and we can't get them back—and we don't dare leave. And he's pretending we can handle it.
That was part of the reason he spent so little time in the Vale anymore; the place was too silent, too empty. Tayledras children were seldom as noisy as Outlander children, but they made their presence—and their absence—felt.
The once-lively Vale seemed dead without them.
And another part of the reason he avoided the Vale was his father. The fewer opportunities there were for confrontations with the old man, the better Darkwind liked it.
He would have to go in at the end of his patrol, though, and he wrinkled his nose in distaste at what he would have to endure. This invasion would have to be reported. And as always, the Council would want to know why he hadn't handled things differently, why he hadn't blasted the intruders or shot them all when he first saw them. And because he was an Elder, the questions would be more pointed.
I didn't kill them because they could have been perfectly innocent, dammit!
And Starblade would want to know why he hadn't used magic.
And as always, Darkwind would be unable to give him an answer that would satisfy him.
"Because I don't want to" isn't good enough. He wants to know why I don't want to.
Darkwind pulled his climbing-staff out of the sheath, and hooked a limb, hauling himself up into the tree and trying not to wince as he discovered new bruises.
He wants to know why. He says. But he won't accept my reasons because Adept Starblade couldn't possibly have a son who gave up magic for the life of a Scout.
Even when the magic killed his mother in front of his eyes. Even when the magic ruined his life. Even when he's seen, over and over, that magic isn't an answer, it's a tool, and any tool can be done without.
He looked out over the forest floor and briefly touched Vree's mind. All was quiet. Even the birds, frightened into silence by the noise of the fight and the appearance of the cooperihawk, were singing again.
Well, he'd better start learning to change again, Darkwind decided, because I've had enough. I'm taking this incident to the Council as usual, but this time I'm going to make an issue of it. And I don't care if he doesn't like what he's going to hear; we can't keep on like this indefinitely.
And if he wants a fight, he's going to get one.
Chapter Three
ELSPETH
Elspeth bit her lip until it bled to keep herself from losing her temper. Queen Selenay, normally serene in the face of any crisis, had reacted to the attack on her eldest child with atypical hysteria.
Well, I'd call it hysteria, anyway.
Elspeth had barely gotten clean and changed when the summons arrived from her mother—accompanied by a bodyguard of two. As a harbinger of what was to come, that bodyguard put Elspeth's hackles up immediately. The sight of Selenay, standing beside the old wooden desk in her private apartments, white to the lips and with jaws and hands clenched, did nothing to make her daughter feel any better.
And so far, Selenay's impassioned tirade had not reassured her Heir either. It seemed that the Queen's answer to the problem was to restrict Elspeth's movements to the Palace complex, and to assign her a day-and-night guard of not less than two at all times.
And that, as far as Elspeth was concerned, was totally unacceptable.
But she couldn't get a word in until her mother stopped pacing up and down the breadth of her private office and finally calmed down enough to sit and listen instead of talking. It helped that Talia, though she was privy to this not-quite-argument Elspeth was having with Selenay, was staying discreetly in the background, and so far hadn't said a word, one way or the other.
I think if she sided with Mother, I'd have hysterics.
"I can't believe you're taking this so—so—casually!" Selenay finally concluded tightly, her hands shaking visibly even though she held them clenched together on the desktop, white as a marble carving.
"I'm not taking it 'casually,' Mother," Elspeth replied, hoping the anger she thought she had under control did not show. "I'm certainly not regarding this incident as some kind of a bad joke. But I am not going to let fear rule my life." She paused for a moment, waiting for another tirade to begin. When Selenay didn't say anything, she continued, trying to sound as firm and adult as possible. "No bodyguards, Mother. No one following me everywhere. And I am not going to live behind the Palace walls like some kind of cloistered novitiate."
"You're almost killed, and you say that? I—"
"Mother," Elspeth interrupted. "Every other ruler lives with that same threat constantly. We've been spoiled in Valdemar—mages have never been able to get past our borders, and the Heraldic Gifts—especially the Queen's Own's Gifts—have always made sure that we knew who the assassins were before they had a chance to strike. So—now that isn't necessarily true anymore. I am not going to restrict my movements with a night-and-day guard just because of a single incident. And, frankly, I'm not going to lose any sleep over it."
Selenay paled and seemed at a loss for words.
"That doesn't mean I'm going to be careless," she added, "I'm going to take every precaution Kerowyn advises. I'm not foolhardy or stupid—but I am not going to live in fear, either."
Finally Talia spoke up. "There really isn't that much more danger than there always was," she said mildly. "We've just been a lot more careless than the monarchs were in—say—Vanyel's day. We have been spoiled; we thought we were immune to danger, that magic had somehow gone away. The fact is, we didn't learn from the last two wars. We have to do more—much more—than we have in finding ways to counter this threat. Or should I say, in rediscovering them—"
Now that's odd. No one seems to have any trouble discussing magic when it's in the past—the stories of Vanyel's time, for instance. It's only when we're talking about it happening now—and here, inside Valdemar—that the restriction seem
s to hold.
But before she pursued that train of thought, she had to come up with some convincing arguments first. "Mother, I'm a Herald first, and your Heir second. The fact is, I can't do my job with somebody hovering over me all the time." When Selenay looked blank, Elspeth sighed. "I'm still on duty to the city courts, remember? And on detached duty with Kerowyn. What if she wants me to go work with the Skybolts for a while? What would your allies say if I went over there with a set of bodyguards at my back? They'd say you don't even trust your own people, that's what."
Not to mention what a pair of hulking brutes at my back is going to do to my love-life, she thought unhappily. There wasn't a lot there to begin with, but I can't even imagine trying to have a romantic encounter with half the Guard breathing down my neck.
:You could always try confining your pursuits to your bodyguards,: Gwena suggested teasingly.
:Oh, thanks. That's a wonderful idea. I'll take it under advisement,: she replied, trying to keep her level of sarcasm down to something acceptable.
"To suddenly start trailing bodyguards around isn't going to do much for my accessibility, Mother," she continued, thinking quickly. "People come to the Heir when they are afraid, for one reason or another, to come to the Monarch—and you know that's been true for hundreds of years. If there's something you want done, but don't want the open authority of the Crown behind it, you give it to me. Talia is your double in authority—she can't do that. I'm your unfettered hand, and now you want to shackle me. It just won't work, anyone could tell you that. It not only cuts down my effectiveness, it cuts down on yours."
:Good girl; that's the way to win your argument. I agree with you, by the way. Bodyguards are not a solution. Not unless those bodyguards were also Heralds, and we have no Heralds to spare.:
Elspeth felt a little more relaxed and confident with Gwena's support. :Thanks. At least I'm not just being boneheaded and stubborn about this.:
:Oh, you are being boneheaded and stubborn,: her Companion replied cheerfully. :But it's for the right reasons, and there's nothing wrong with a little stubbornness for the correct cause.:
Elspeth could hear the gentle good humor in Gwena's mind-voice and couldn't take offense, though for a moment she was sorely tempted.
Selenay did not look convinced by the argument, however.
"I can't see that it's worth the risk—" she began. Talia interrupted her.
"Elspeth's right, I'm afraid," she said, in her quiet, clear voice. "It is worth the risk. When Elspeth goes out, off the Palace grounds, you could assign her a discreet guard, but other than that I think that extra care on everyone's part will serve the same purpose. If Kero is right, simply having the guards question anyone they see who doesn't seem to be acting normally will prevent another incident like the last one."
Selenay's jaw tightened in a way Elspeth knew only too well. "You think I'm overreacting, don't you?"
Yes, Elspeth replied—mentally. And kept a very tight shield over the thought.
"No," Talia said, and smiled. "You're just acting the way any mother would. I know if it were Jemmie—let's just say I'd have him hidden away with some family—say, a retired Guardsman-turned-farmer—so far out in the country that no one could counterfeit a native and any stranger would cause a stir."
"Maybe—" Selenay's expression turned speculative, and Elspeth started to interrupt the thought she knew was going through her mother's mind.
Talia did it for her. "That won't work for Elspeth, I'm afraid. She's too old to hide that way, even if she would put up with being sent off like an exile. However—her uncle's court is very well protected..."
Not too bad an idea, Elspeth had to admit, even if it doesn't feel right.
"That's a thought," Selenay acknowledged. "I don't know; I'll have to think about it."
"So long as you aren't planning on putting me under armed guard, like the Crown Jewels," Elspeth said, in a little better humor.
"Not at the moment," her mother admitted.
"All right, then." She ran a hand over her hair and smiled a little. "I can put up with one guard in the city; we probably should have had one anyway. If I'm not safe on the Palace grounds, after Kero gives the Guards one of her famous lectures, I won't be safe anywhere. I should know, I got one myself today. Two, in fact. As soon as she figured I was all right, she gave me a point-by-point critique on my performance."
Talia chuckled, and Selenay relaxed a little. "I can just see Kero doing that, too," Talia said. "She doesn't ever let up. She's like Alberich. The more tired you are, the more she seems to push you."
"I know, believe me. Uh—on that subject, sort of—would there be any problem if I had a tray in my room?" she asked, drooping just a little—not enough to resurrect Selenay's hysteria, but enough to look convincingly tired. "I don't think I can handle Uncle's delegation right now...."
"After this afternoon, I doubt anyone would expect you to," the Queen replied, sympathetically. "I'll make your apologies, and hopefully, after this afternoon, the current batch of rumors will be put to rest for a while."
"And I'll see that someone sends a tray up," Talia offered. "With honeycakes," she added, giving Elspeth a quick wink.
Elspeth managed to keep from giving herself away, and stayed in character. "Thanks," she sighed, throwing both of them grateful looks. "If anyone wants me, I'll be in the bathing room, under hot water. And frankly, right now all you need to worry about is whether or not I drown in the bathtub. All I want is a hot bath and a book, dinner, and bed."
She made a hasty exit before she betrayed herself. After all, it was partially the truth. She really was tired; her afternoon's double-workout had seen to that even before the attack. She really did want a hot bath and a tray in her room.
But she had no intention of going to bed early. There was too much to think about.
A candlemark later, wrapped in a warm robe and nibbling on a honeycake as she gazed out into the dusk-filled gardens, she still hadn't come to any conclusions of her own.
Things just felt wrong; she was restless and unhappy, and she wasn't certain why. The restrictions Selenay had wanted to place on her movements had merely heightened those feelings, which had been there all along.
It's almost as if there was something I should be doing, she decided, as the blue dusk deepened and shrouded the paths below in shadows. As if somewhere I have the key to all this, if I can just find it.
One thing she was certain of: this would not be the last time Ancar attempted an assassination, or something of the sort. He wanted Valdemar, and he was not going to give up trying to annex it. There was no way he could expand eastward; the Aurinalean Empire was old and strong enough to flatten him if he attacked any of its kingdoms. North was Iftel—strange, isolationist Iftel—guarded by a deity. He could not move against them; not unless he wanted a smoking hole where his army had been. South was Karse, and if rumor was true, he was already making moves in that direction. But Karse had been at war with Valdemar and Rethwellan for generations, and they were quite prepared to take him on as well. Taking Valdemar would give him protection on the north, a western border he would not need to guard, and another place from which to attack Karse. Besides doubling his acquisitions.
He probably assumed that if the rightful rulers and their Heirs died, it would leave the country in a state of chaos and an easy target for takeover.
He might not be ready for another war now—but he would be, given time and the chance to rebuild his forces.
So no matter what, there's going to be another war, she thought, shoving the rest of her dinner aside, uneaten. I know it, Kero knows it, Stepfather knows it—Mother knows it, and won't admit it.
She turned away from the window and rested her back against the sill. She'd had a fair number of discussions with Kero and Prince-Consort Daren on this very subject. Her stepfather didn't treat her like a child.
Then again, her stepfather hadn't ever seen her until she was adult and in her full Whites. It was an old pr
overb that a person was always a child to his parents... but it was war she should really be worrying about, not how to make her mother realize that she was an adult and capable of living her own life. The two problems were entwined, but not related. And the personal problems could wait.
The next try Ancar makes is going to involve magic, I know it is—combative magic, war-magic, the kind they use south of Rethwellan. The kind the Skybolts are used to seeing. Kero says so, and I think she's right. She can talk about real magic, and I can... and that might be a clue to what I need to be doing right there.
For Valdemar was not ready to cope with magic, especially not within its borders. For all the efforts to prepare the populace, for all the research that was supposed to have been done in the archives, very little had actually been accomplished. Yes, the ballads of Vanyel's time and earlier had been revived, but there was very much a feeling of "but it can't happen now" in the people Elspeth had talked to. And she wasn't the only one to have come to that conclusion. Kero had said much the same thing. The Captain was worried.
Elspeth licked her bitten lip, and thought hard. Kero's told me a lot of stories she hasn't even told Mother. Some of the things the Skybolts had to deal with—and those were just minor magics.
"Most of the time the major magics don't get used," she'd said more than once. That was because the major mages tended to cancel one another out. Adept-class mages tended to be in teaching, or in some otherwise less-hazardous aspect of their profession.
Most mages, Adept-class or not, were unwilling to risk themselves in all-out mage-duels for the sake of a mere employer. Most employers were reluctant to antagonize them.
But when the ruler himself was a mage, or backed by one—a powerful mage, at that—the rules changed. Mages could be coerced, like anyone else; or blackmailed, or bribed, if the offer was high enough. There was already evidence of coercion, magical and otherwise; outright control, like the men of his armies. And where there was a power broker, there were always those who wanted power above all else and were willing to pay any price to get it.
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