The physical wounds had mended, but the emotional and mental injuries were still with k'Sheyna, and they were not healing well.
But then, those that could have taken care of such deep-seated problems had all perished themselves.
There was no one skilled enough, for instance, to enter Silence's mind and Heal her—
Heal Silence? There's no one even skilled enough to Heal me....
There should have been help coming from other Clans—
There can only be only one reason why there isn't, he thought, and not for the first time. The Elders' pride. They will not admit that we failed so badly, or that we need help at all.
Fools. Fools and blind.
In the first few weeks after the disaster, there had been messengers from other Clans. That much he knew for a fact; the rest was a guess, for he had been delirious from brain-fever and the pain of his burns. He had been in no position to make any pleas, but the visitors did not stay long, in any case. He had no doubt that they had been rebuffed. Now no visitors—or offers of help—came at all.
Darkwind reached the edge of the Vale, where the shield met the outside world. The boundary line was quite clear; within the Vale grew a riot of flowers and plants with enormous, tropical leaves, all of it surrounding individual trees that reached higher than the cliffs beside them, trees with trunks as large as houses. Flowers bloomed and plants flourished no matter the season. Outside the Vale—one scant finger-length from the shield-it was pine forest, with the usual sparse undergrowth. And if Darkwind looked closely enough, he could see a kind of shimmer where the one ended and the other began.
Of course, if he cared to use Mage-Sight on that barrier—which he did not—that shimmer was a curtain of pure energy, tuned only to allow wildlife, the Hawkbrothers, their allies, and select individuals across.
He paused before crossing that invisible border, and looked reluctantly at a stand of enormous bandar-plants. Behind those plants lay a hot spring, one of many that supplied the heat and moisture the plants required... and provided places of refreshment as well.
Gods above, I could use a soak... it's been a long day, and there is still more ahead of me.
Well, perhaps a short pause would not hurt anything.
He slipped between two of the plants and shed his clothing quickly, leaving it in a pile on the smooth stones bordering the spring.
This was not one of the larger springs, nor one of the more popular. It was too close to the edge of the Vale and the shield, and the reminder of the Real World outside their little sheltered Vale made many of the remaining mages too uneasy to use it.
While the scouts, who were more than a little uneasy within the heart of the Vale, in close proximity to the shattered, but still empowered and dangerous Heartstone, did not much care to use the larger, carefully sculptured springs there, with their pools for washing as well as pools for soaking away aches—or disporting.
Hertasi did their best to keep all the little pockets of hot, bubbling water free of fallen leaves and other debris, but they had too many other duties to attend to. This particular spring had not been attended to in some time and ran sluggishly, the surface covered with fallen vegetation. Darkwind tossed a half dozen huge leaves out to the side, and scooped out quite a bit of debris at the bottom before the spring bubbled up freely again.
Then he relaxed back into the smooth stone of the seats built into the sides, created by magically sculpting the rock before the water had been called here.
As the warm water soaked away his aches and bruises and relaxed too-taut muscles, he closed his eyes and, for once, tried to remember back to those dark and chaotic days immediately following the catastrophe.
Did we know then how bad the area was outside our own borders? He didn't think so; it seemed to him that no one had paid any attention to the lands outside the purview of the Clan, and to be fair, they had their hands full with the territory they had undertaken to cleanse.
We definitely had enough to do—and whatever was out there tended to leave us alone while we were strong. There was no reason to think that it was any worse than our own lands.
It was only after they had cleaned up their own areas, and were preparing to move, that they realized that the blight they faced on their southern border was at least as pervasive as the one they had just dealt with. And was, perhaps, more dangerous than the area to the west that they had chosen as the new Vale-site.
Why hadn't they seen the blight? Well, it might have been because there had been a clear zone between the two, a zone that disguised the true nature of what lay beyond. It was only after the disaster, when creatures from across that clear zone swarmed over the wreckage of the Vale, that anyone realized just how tainted that area was.
Now, of course, they could not deal with it, could not clean it out, and could not eliminate it.
There's at least one Adept in there, Darkwind thought, clenching his jaw involuntarily. It was his constant "attentions" after the accident that forced us to pull back our borders in the first place.
And now that there were no more offers of help from the other Clans, they could not ask for one of the others to lend aid. They could not even push the unseen enemies back, not without help.
I'd try to contact the other Clans myself, but I would have to do so by magic means. I don't know where the other territories are, and Father isn't about to give me a map.
And using magic would only have attracted more unwelcome attentions. He had seen all too often how blatant use of magics brought a wave of attackers from the Outside. The one mage who had been willing to work with the scouts had fallen victim, he suspected, to just that.
He was certainly overwhelmed before we could reach him. And I know there were not that many Misborn there before.
He suspected that the Adept watched for magic-use, and turned his creatures loose when he saw it. So long as k'Sheyna confined themselves and their magic to their Vale, he seemed content to pursue his own plans, only pressing them occasionally, rather than sending an army against them.
There may be more than one Adept out there, but somehow I don't think so. Dark Adepts don't share power willingly.
So far, they had been able to beat all attempts to penetrate the new boundaries. So far, they had not lost more than a handful of scouts, and a mage or two.
And right now, we seem to be operating under an uneasy truce, as if he had decided we were too weak to threaten him, but too strong to be worth moving against. At least nothing major has come out of there for about a year. And there haven't been any attacks from Outlanders that I can prove originated from there.
Nothing had made any attempt at the creatures k'Sheyna protected, either. So far the hertasi enclaves remained untouched, the dyheli herds had not been preyed upon. The firebirds had fled the area though—and that bothered him.
And there were no human villages within k'Sheyna territory anymore. Crops had failed, wells dried up, traders ceased to come; only a handful of hunters and a religious hermit or two stayed behind.
No overt attacks for a year. But who knows what that means, he thought pessimistically. We have a weak and unstable Clan facing a nebulous enemy, and our options grow fewer with every passing day.
Starblade's answer to their troubles was simple: more magic. More mages. Everyone who had a spark of Mage-Gift should train it, and use it in their defense, while the handful of real mages worked to find an answer to their unstable Heartstone. Magic was the answer to every problem.
But how many times have I seen that using magic attracts problems? Hundreds. And what happens when we attract something we can't handle?
No, more magic was not the answer. Not to Darkwind's way of thinking.
What we should do is appeal for help to one of the other Clans; we need Adepts who can drain the old Heartstone or stabilize it and take over this Vale for us. Then we can build a Gate and rejoin the rest. So what if they can't Gate in to us? That doesn't matter; and while we wait for the Heartstone to be m
ade safe, we can defend ourselves with stealth, with cleverness.
He had to force his shoulder muscles to relax again, and sank a little deeper into the hot water. In fact, that's what we should be doing about this Adept. We should find some way of luring him out into the open, maybe by "playing dead." Then we should neutralize him—but the one thing he wouldn't be expecting is a physical assault.
He nodded to himself, the pieces finally falling together for him. That Adept wants something—the power in the Heartstone, probably. He has to be watching constantly for magic power in use, and sending things against us only when he sees it. He really hasn't made an all-out assault against us because he's clever. He knows it would cost him less to take us by attrition than by full force.
And right now, he's hoping to lull us into forgetting that he's out there.
He tightened his jaw, thinking about how Starblade kept dismissing the importance of the scouts, and the threats on the borders. Right. He just might, too.
That brought up another thought. I wonder if he sent those intruders to test us? It could be. And not using magic told him—what?
That we don't have mages to spare, probably. He should have a pretty good idea of how weak we really are at this point.
But what if I can use that against him? What if I can lure him out into the open, and find out who and what he is?
What if I could destroy him—or at least convince him that we're too strong, still, to be worth the trial?
He shook his head at his own ambitions. Certainly. And what if I could grow wings and fly out of here for help? The one is as likely as the other.
Best to stick to what he knew he could accomplish.
He looked up through the leafy canopy above him; not long until sunset, and that meant he had better get back to his own ekele. The day-scouts would be waiting to report, the night-scouts to be briefed. And Vree would be waiting for his dinner, for that bit of rabbit earlier was hardly enough to satisfy him.
Reluctantly, he pulled himself out of the spring, dried himself with his shirt, and pulled on the rest of his clothing.
If I can see what needs taking care of, then it's my job to take care of it. My duties won't wait—whether or not Father approves.
Chapter Five
ELSPETH
Elspeth stood on guard, trembling with exhaustion, with the last of the dulled practice swords in her hands. The Captain went off-guard and nodded. "Right," Kerowyn said, just a hint of satisfaction in her voice. "Let's go through it again."
Did I hear satisfaction? Approval? Gods, maybe all the bruises are worth it after all.
Elspeth shook sweat out of her eyes, picked up the scattered practice blades with hands that still tingled from Kero's disarms, and distributed them randomly around the perimeter of the circle. It was kind of funny, really. This was the one and only time she had ever been ordered to just drop weapons carelessly, leaving them exactly where they fell.
This had been another one of Kero's little exercises in "attitude." Today had been entirely defensive; she had not been permitted to strike a single blow.
And she'd had one of the most strenuous workouts she'd ever had in her life.
The exercise was simple; Kero disarmed her, and she would try to get to another weapon—by whatever means possible—before Kero could corner her. Hence the rough circle of weaponry scattered around the salle.
Her setup—such as it was—completed, she stood in the middle of the circle, sword in hand, and waited for Kero to disarm her.
Kero went into "ready" stance, and Elspeth matched her.
Here it comes—Her heart beat a little faster, and her mouth dried. No matter that it was "just" a practice. With Kerowyn or Alberich, nothing was ever "just" a practice. When they delivered killing blows, they left bruises, as a reminder of what could have happened.
The Captain came in slowly this time; Kero feinted and fenced with her for a few moments, forcing her to move away from her original position. Then, when Elspeth was not expecting it, the Captain bound her blade and sent it flying out of her hand.
She didn't waste a moment; the instant she lost the blade, she dove to one side, rolled, and came up with another in her hand; a shortsword, this time. Without thinking, she shifted her grip until the balance was right.
This time Kero rushed her before she had a chance to settle herself, catching her off-guard while she was still finding the balance for the blade.
Crap!
She back-pedaled but not fast enough; Kero got to her and literally swatted the blade out of her hand.
She did the unexpected—as Kero had been trying to get her to do. She rushed the Captain, barehanded, shouldering past her and springing for the next sword on the floor.
This time, she didn't even get a chance to get her hands on it. Kero beat her to the spot and kicked it away before she reached it.
She dove after another, sliding belly-down across the wooden floor; she got it and started to roll over—but Kero was on top of her, and swatted that one out of her hands, too.
This one fell short, and Elspeth made a short dive and grabbed it again; her hand tingled, and she had trouble feeling her fingers, but she got it all the same, just as Kero reached her and cut down.
This time she didn't lose it. This time she managed to hold onto the hilt long enough to counter Kero's first three attempts at disarming her—even though her grip was an entirely unorthodox, two-handed one, and she never managed to return a blow.
"That's enough," Kero said, stepping back and wiping the sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand. Elspeth simply collapsed where she lay for a moment, spread-eagled on the floor. She blinked several times to clear her eyes, and rolled over onto her side. And when Kero offered her a hand to help her up, she took it without shame.
"Not bad," the Captain said, as she started to pick up the scattered swords. "Not bad at all." Elspeth cast her a startled glance. "Oh, I mean it," the Captain grinned. "You were exhausted, your hands were numb—and you still always managed to get a weapon in your hands before I could close with you. Good job, kitten."
And this is the person Alberich says is better than he is. For a moment Elspeth truly did not know what to say in reply. Finally, she managed to think of something that wouldn't get her into trouble. "Do you think I could have kept myself alive for a little while longer?" she asked.
"At least until help came—and if Gwena couldn't get to you in time to help, you'd be in deeper compost than anyone could be expected to get out of," Kero told her, as she got the remainder of the practice blades and took them over to the wall to rack them. "And that is all anyone can ask for."
Someone cleared his throat conspicuously, and Skif emerged from the shadowed entry of the door leading to the outside of the salle. "Excuse me, Captain," he said meekly, "but if you're through with Elspeth, the Circle and Council want to talk to her."
"Now?" Kero asked, her eyebrows arching.
Dear gods, now what? Elspeth wondered. Skif looked very odd, and unusually subdued.
"Well, yes, sort of," he replied, uncomfortably. "I mean, they're meeting now, with the Queen, and they really wanted to talk with her now."
"Well, they can just give her a moment to sluice herself off," Kero replied firmly. "There's no sense in making her show up looking like a shambles."
:Kitten: she Mindspoke, in private-mode, :There's a set of my Whites and a kind of wash area in my office; you’ll fit my uniform closely enough. I know from experience that it's easier facing an official situation if you feel as if you look presentable.:
:Thanks,: Elspeth replied gratefully, surprised a little at the Mindspeech. Kero seldom used it, except with Eldan and her Companion, having had to conceal the fact that she had the Gift for most of her life. She was almost as flattered by Kero's use of it with her as by the Captain's earlier compliments.
Elspeth darted into the Weaponsmaster's office before Skif had a chance to stop her; there was, indeed, a pump and a deep basin in a littl
e room in the back behind a screen, and a stack of thick towels beside it. The basin was deep enough for her to duck her head under water, and she did so. The water, fresh from the pump, was cold enough to make her yip, but it revived her considerably. She was toweling off her hair when the promised set of Whites appeared over the screen.
She scrambled into them, and discovered, as Kero had promised, they were a close fit.
I didn't think Kero had a set of Whites—I thought she'd convinced everybody she was never going to wear them. Well, there are times when she plays the uniform game with everyone else. Not often, but I've seen her do it. I suppose if she absolutely has to show up as a formal Herald, this is as good a place to keep her Whites as any.
They were a little loose across the shoulders and tight in the chest, but no one was likely to notice. And she realized, as she wound her wet hair into a knot at the back of her neck, that she did feel a little more confident.
Skif was still waiting for her when she trotted out of the office, and he didn't look too impatient. "Let's go," she said; he just nodded, and fell into step beside her. The two left the building side-by-side, setting a brisk pace toward the Palace.
She glanced at him in open inquiry, but he avoided her eyes. Dear gods. What is it I'm supposed to have done? she wondered. Is this over that argument I had with Mother about recruiting mages? She tightened her jaw stubbornly. If it is—I'm not backing down. I'm right, I know I'm right.
Why would they take her to task about that, though? What was the problem? It wasn't as if she was espousing open revolt against the Crown....
On the other hand, she'd been pressuring Selenay to allow her to do the mage-hunting. That might well be the problem. Some of the Councilors considered her to be impetuous, and sometimes hotheaded. Maybe they figure I intend to go riding out of here anyway, with or without permission.
Now that was a stupid idea, if that's what they were thinking. Not that I hadn't considered it... if I could get Gwena to go along with it.
But I didn't think about it for more than a couple of heartbeats. Really, it was a stupid idea. The only way I could get a decent mage to go along with this, would be if I had official blessing—and how would I have gotten that by running off on my own?
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