Valdemar Books

by Lackey, Mercedes

  "Oh, that therrre ssseems no rrreassson for the Change-child to haave sssaved the dyheli." Hydona's eyes still held a spark of mirth as Treyvan flattened his crest as closely to his skull as he could. "Unlessss she trrruly meant to be altrrruissstic. And I sssuppose you could not judge how powerrrful a mage sssshee iss?"

  He shook his head. "Not on the basis of a single spell. If I were an Adept trying to worm my way into a Clan, I'd probably try and make myself look as harmless as possible, actually."

  "Shhheee isss Otherrr," Treyvan said, unexpectedly. Both Darkwind and his mate looked at him in surprise. "It iss the clawsss. Thossse cannot be changed from human bassse, only brrred in. Which meansss that she isss Otherrr, for the clawsss come frrrom the unhuman, and only the Othersss brrreed with them. Ssso ssshe is Otherrr, at least in parrt."

  Hydona nodded, slowly. "That iss trrue. I had forrgotten that."

  Darkwind bit back a curse. That would make her even harder to slip past his father if he had to. A Changechild he might accept, with difficulty—but one who was even in part of the Others, the blood-path mages of the Out-lands? Not a chance.

  "But if she's Other, what was she doing, that close to k'Sheyna?" he asked.

  Treyvan ruffled his feathers in the gryphon equivalent of a shrug. "It ssseemsss obviousss that sshe could haave many motivessss."

  True. Darkwind could think of several. She could be a spy; she could still have been trying to escape a cruel master. She could even be an Adept herself, and have inflicted all those hurts on herself with the intent of lulling their suspicions.

  "We could," Hydona offered unexpectedly, "quesstion her for you. We arrre asss effective asss the vrondi at sssensssing falsssehood. It isss insstinct."

  They are? That was news to him—though welcome news. Somehow the gryphons kept pulling these little surprises out of nowhere, keeping him in a perpetual state of astonishment.

  "That would be—damned useful," he replied honestly. "The Truth-Spell is still a spell, and I don't want to use it. Not this close to the border. I can't chance attracting things to the hertasi settlement, or to k'Sheyna, either."

  "It isss insstinct with usss," Treyvan repeated, to reassure him. "Not a ssspell. Perhapsss, though, you ought to be therrre alsso. Ssshe will probably be verrry afrraid of usss."

  He smiled. "Considering that you're large enough to really bite her head off if you wanted to, you're probably right," he said. "And that might not be a bad thing, either. If we keep her frightened, we have a better chance of catching her in a lie, don't we?"

  "Yessss," Treyvan agreed. "It doesss not affect the trrruth asss we sssensse it, fearr."

  "Good; I'll be with you, so that she doesn't try to run, but you two loom a little bit. Be the big, bad monsters, and I'll be her protector." But another thought occurred to him, then. He'd been planning on what to do to find out more about her; he still had no idea what to do with her.

  "What do I do with her if she seems all right?" he asked. "I can't possibly take her into the Vale."

  "Worrry about that when—and if—the time comesss," Treyvan said quietly. "It isss eassy to make a decission about a frrriend. I would worrrry more about how to dissspossse of herrr. If ssshe issss falssse, leave herrr to usss. If you like. We can dissspatch her."

  "No," he said, quickly. "No, that's my job." It made him sick to think of killing in cold blood, but it was his job, and he would not put the burden on someone else. Not them, especially. There's such an—innocence—about them. I won't see it stained with a cold-blooded murder, no matter how casually they think of doing it. It would matter to me, even if it doesn't seem to matter to them.

  Treyvan shrugged. "Very well, then," he said. "Ssshall we meet you therrre?"

  "Fine," he replied. And couldn't help but grin. "Even if it does mean another trek through the marsh. The things I do for duty!"

  Treyvan just laughed, and spread his wings. "Jussst keep that birrrd frrom my crrrest. He beginsss to look tasssty!"

  And as Darkwind turned to head back, he was mortally certain that the gryphon was thinking of all those quill-snatching attempts by Vree, and chuckling at the notion of dining on the poor gyre. The gryphons were very catholic in what they considered edible; just as Vree would happily dine on a kestrel, a fellow raptor, the gryphons would probably be just as willing to make a morsel of Vree.

  Except that Vree was Darkwind's. That alone was saving him from becoming Treyvan's lunch—in reality, if not in thought.

  :Featherhead,: he Mindspoke up to the dot in the blue, :You have no notion how close to the cliff you've been flying.:

  :Cliff?: responded Vree, puzzled. :What cliff? Where cliff?:

  I can't tell if he's playing coy, or he really doesn't understand me.

  Darkwind sighed, and waded into the murky water. :Never mind. Just stop teasing the gryphons. Leave Treyvan's feathers alone, you hear me?:

  :Yes,: said Vree slyly. "Yes," that he'd heard Darkwind, not that he'd obey.

  Darkwind groaned. No wonder Father doesn't listen to me. I can't even get respect from a bird.

  Nera met him at the edge of the swamp, popping up out of nowhere right into his path and scaring a year out of him. He yelped, one foot slipped off the path and into who-knew-how-deep, smelly water, and he teetered precariously for a moment before regaining his balance.

  He glared at the hertasi, snarling silently. Nera blithely ignored the glare. :The winged ones are here,: he Mindspoke. :The creature you brought is also awake.:

  And with that, he vanished again, melting back into the reeds.

  Darkwind closed his eyes for a moment and tried to think charitable thoughts. He let me leave the girl here, and he's worried because of her, the threat she represents. He was startled to see the gryphons. He's preoccupied with other things. He forgets that I'm a lot clumsier in the swamp than he is.

  He grimaced. Sure he does. And I'm the Shin'a'in Goddess.

  Not that it mattered; nothing was going to change Nera; the hertasi was far too fond of playing his little games of "eccentric old creature," and insisting that if Darkwind really tried, he could move as well as the hertasi could in the swamp. He enjoyed watching Darkwind come out of the reeds covered in muck.

  Vree, Nera, Dawnfire, the gryphons.... With friends like these, why do I need to look on the border for trouble? All I need to do is sit and wait. They’ll bring trouble to me.

  But he did hurry his steps a little, as much as he dared without losing his footing. Nera would not have come looking for him if the hertasi weren't at least a little worried—truly worried—about the Changechild. And rightly; it was possible the girl was an Adept; she seemed a little young for the rank, but Darkwind had just attained Adept-class when the Heartstone fractured, and he had been younger.

  And it didn't follow that she was as youthful as she looked. One of the commonest changes for a blood-path Adept to make in himself was to remove years. Most of them kept their bodies looking as if they were in their mid-twenties, but some even chose to look like children.

  Those were the really nasty ones for Tayledras to cope with; given the Hawkbrothers' strong reaction to children, it was easy to play on their emotions until the enemy Adept had them in exactly the position he wanted them. K'Vala had been decimated by an Adept using that ploy several hundred years ago, back when their territory was on the eastern shore of the Great Crater Sea, the one the Outlanders called "Lake Evendim" now. Their lesson was one no Tayledras could afford to ignore.

  He found himself thinking of his options if she was an Adept, and how he might be able to trick her into revealing her abilities.

  She'll have to pull power from the nearest node just to Heal herself, he thought, as he felt his way along the submerged path. Treyvan should be able to sense that if she does; from what he told me, he's tied his magic into that node. If she's a Master, she'll draw from the ley-lines. That's going to be subtler, and harder to catch. Hmm. If he had someone "trap" the lines, so that any interference would be noted,
she might note it as well. What he needed was a Sensitive, someone who was so attuned to the local energy-flows that he would notice any deviation from the norm.

  Wait a moment; didn't Treyvan tell me that the gryphlets are Sensitive to the power-flows in their birth area? That might work—assuming he can convince them to keep their minds on it.

  He tried to think of something that would have convinced him to keep a constant watch for something when he was that young, and failed to come up with anything. Children were children, and generally as featherheaded as Vree.

  Well, I'll mention it to the adults, and see what they say.

  He emerged from the reeds to the walkways rimming the rice paddies and stopped long enough to dry his feet and put his boots back on. A quick look around showed him nothing amiss, which meant there had been no real need to hurry, only Nera's impatience.

  Old coot. Just likes to see me lose my balance. And he's not happy unless he's the one in charge of everything.

  He knew Nera was watching him, and he deliberately took his time.

  On the hill above Nera's tunnel, two pairs of huge, waving wings told him that Treyvan and Hydona were waiting, too, but with more patience than the little hertasi.

  He picked his way across the paddies, taking time to be courteous to the farmers who bent so earnestly over their plants. One of them even stopped him to ask a few questions about one of his kin who lived in the Vale—and he could sense Nera's impatient glare even from the distant tunnel mouth.

  He looked up, and sure enough, there was a shadow, just within the round entrance to the tunnel. He smiled sweetly at it and bent to answer the hertasi's questions, in detail and with extreme politeness. After all, he was the only Tayledras any of them saw regularly, and he did make a point to keep track of those Vale hertasi with relatives out here. They were so shy that they seldom asked him about their Vale kin, and it was only fair to give them a full answer when they did inquire.

  And if Nera says anything, that's exactly what I'll tell him.

  When he reached the hill and set foot on the carefully graveled trail leading up the side, he debated on going first to Nera's tunnel, but Treyvan's Mindspoken hail decided him in favor of the gryphons instead. It seemed that his charge was not only awake, but moving.

  :Featherless son, your prize waits up here. She can walk, slowly, and there is more room for us up here. She did not ask what we were and does not seem particularly frightened.:

  Well, that was a little disappointing. :She must have known about you—or else she's seen gryphons before. So much for you playing monster. I'm on my way up.:

  When he reached the top of the sun-gilded bluff, he found his charge reclining on another of the stuffed grass mats, neatly bracketed between the two gryphons. They were also reclining in the cool, short grass, wings half-open to catch the breeze coming over the top of the hill.

  His eyes went back to the Changechild as if pulled there. She seemed even more attractive awake, with sense in those slit-pupiled eyes and life in the supple muscles. He was only too aware of how fascinating she was; her very differences from humankind were somehow more alluring than if she'd been wholly human.

  She nodded a greeting to him, then shifted her position a little, so that she could watch him and the gryphons at the same time. He noticed that she moved stiffly, as if more than her muscles were hurt.

  "Sssso, your charrge iss awake," Treyvan said genially. "We have been having interessssting conversssation. Nyarrra, thisss iss Darrkwind."

  She fixed him with an odd, unblinking gaze. "I remember you. You saved me," she said, finally, in a low, husky voice that had many of the qualities of a purr. "From the mist. You helped me get out when I fell."

  "After you saved the dyheli herd," he pointed out. "It seemed appropriate—though I could not imagine why you aided them." He lifted an eyebrow. "I assume you had a reason."

  "I was fleeing my own troubles when I saw them." She shrugged, gracefully. "I am what I am," she replied. "A Changechild, and not welcome among the Birdkin. When I saw the dyheli trapped, it came to me that it would be good to free them, and also that your folk value them. If I freed them, perhaps the door might be open for one such as I. And also," she added, looking thoughtful, "I have no love for he who trapped them."

  "And who might that be?" Darkwind asked, without inflection. He could see what Treyvan had set up, even without a Mindspoken prompting; since the girl was not afraid of the gryphons, their planned positions would be reversed. They would be friendly, and he would be menacing.

  A little harder to pull off, with her lounging on the ground like an adolescent male dream come to languid life, but certainly a good plan. It seemed that she was perfectly willing to believe that he would be hostile to her, even with her sexual allure turned up to full force.

  "My master," she said, pouting a little at his coldness. "Mornelithe Falconsbane."

  "Not a frrrriendly name," Hydona said, with a little growl.

  "Not a friendly man," replied Nyara, with a toss of her head and a wince. "Not a man at all, anymore, for all that he is male—or at least, very little human. He has worked more changes upon his own flesh than he has upon mine."

  "An Adept, then," Treyvan said with cheerful interest. "And one you did not carrre for, I take it? From yourrr hurtss, I would sssay he wasss even lesss kind than he wasss frriendly."

  Nyara nodded, her supple lips tightened into a bitter line. "Oh, yes. I was the creature upon which he attempted his changes, and if they proved to his liking, he used them also. And he made his mistakes upon me, and often did not bother to correct them. Other things he did, too—beatings, and—"

  Her eyes filled with tears and she averted her head. "I—he hurt me, once too often. That is all I would say."

  "So, you ran away from him, is that it?" Darkwind interrupted the attempt to play for sympathy rudely. "How did you get away from someone as powerful as that? I don't imagine he let you simply walk away. And when you saw the dyheli, then what did you do?"

  She blinked away the tears, and rubbed her cheeks with the back of her hand, without raising her head. "I have stolen little bits of magic-learning from time to time. I have a small power, you see. When Mornelithe was careless, I watched, I learned. I learned enough to bend the spells of lock and ward and slip free of his hold. Then I went north, where I have heard from Mornelithe's servants that there were Birdkin, that he hated." She watched him out of the corner of her eyes. "Do you think less of me, that I thought to use you? You are many, I am one. You have been the cause of some of my hurts, when he was angered with you and could not reach you. I thought—with Birdkin between me and him, he would ignore my flight and harry the Birdkin. He might even think I was with the Birdkin, and turn his anger on them. Then I saw the horned ones, and felt his magic upon them, and thought to buy myself sanctuary, or at least safe passage, with their freedom." Her head came up, and she looked defiantly into his eyes. "You owe me safe passage, at least, Birdkin. Even though I thought to trick Mornelithe and set him on you. You have defeated him many times. I am but a small thing, and could not even defy him, and escaped him only with guile."

  He looked sideways at Treyvan, who nodded ever so slightly. Everything she'd said was the truth, then. It was probably safe enough to give her what she asked for.

  "We do owe you that and a place to rest until you can journey again," he admitted, softening his icy expression a little. He caught the glint of scales out of the corner of his eye, and Mindspoke Nera, watching her closely to see if she detected the thoughts. :Nera, this Change-child seems friendly, and she's going to need your help; shelter for a week or two at least, maybe more. Have you got any tunnels no one is using?:

  The hertasi forgot whatever it was that had brought him, now that Darkwind had invoked his authority again. :Hmm. Yes. The old one at the waterline that belonged to Kellan and Lorn, that flooded this spring. Again. They finally listened to me and moved out. Unless we have three or four weeks of rain, it should stay d
ry.:

  And it was right on the edge of the bluff, with the swamp on one side, a hillside too steep for someone in her condition to climb above, and all the hertasi between herself and freedom. That should do.

  :Perfect,: he said.

  And Nyara showed no signs of having heard the conversation.

  :We will make it ready,: Nera told him, full of self-importance, and content now that he was a major part of whatever was going on. :The creature can walk, but slowly—my Healer says that there are half-healed bones and torn muscles. Send her in a few moments and there will be a bed and food waiting.:

  "We can give you a place to stay for as long as you need it," he told her. "And I will see about getting you safe passage, once you're fit to journey again. I—don't think you can hope for sanctuary. The Elders of this Clan hate Changechildren too much."

  "But you do not," she replied, her voice a caress.

  "I—don't hate anyone," he said, flushing, and averting his eyes, much to Treyvan's open amusement. "But I don't determine what the Elders will say or do. At any rate, Nera and the others are moving some basic things in now, and as soon as you are ready, one of them will come show you where it is."

  "I am grateful, Darkwind," she said, bowing her head a little and looking up at him from under long, thick lashes. "I am very grateful."

  He felt his blood heating from that half-veiled glance, and wondered if she knew what she was promising him with it. Then he decided that she must know; sex was as much a part of her weaponry as her claws.

  "Don't worry about being grateful," he said gruffly, while Treyvan hid his amusement. "Just get yourself healed up, so we can get you out of this Mornelithe's reach. The sooner you're gone, the safer we'll all be."

  They removed themselves to a place farther along the bluff, well out of earshot of the hertasi village, before any of them said anything.

  It was a golden afternoon, near enough to nightfall for things to have cooled down, sunlight as thick and sweet as honey pouring over the gold-dusted grass of the bluff, with just enough breeze to keep it from being too warm. The gryphons fanned their wings out to either side of themselves, basking, their eyes half-lidded, and beaks parted slightly. Treyvan's crest was raised as high as it could go, and his chest feathers were puffed out.