The other would be King's Own. Not a bad arrangement, since they aren't at all alike. Wouldn't be the first time that sibs were Monarch and Monarch's Own.
Her fate was something else entirely—though what, she hadn't the faintest notion. Even though her conscience bothered her now that she was so far away from home, she'd been doing some useful work, assigned to Kerowyn and the Skybolts. And, though she would never have believed it when she left Haven, she was homesick.
She kept telling herself that there wasn't much she had been doing that couldn't be done by Talia and Daren... and that though she wasn't a ForeSeer, she'd never been wrong when she got really strong feelings about something. There was something she had to do, and it was tied up with learning magic.
She'd said as much to Gwena, who'd agreed with her. "Even though you aren't following the course we'd planned for you," she'd added.
Too bad. So I'm a stubborn bitch. I do things my way, or not at all, and if Mother, Gwena, and Rolan don't like it, I'm not at all sorry. So there. Nyah, nyah. She grinned to herself at her own childish thought. Really, it was a very good thing that the messages were going through Rolan to Talia and only then to Selenay. Rolan had more of a sense of humor than Gwena—and a little more tolerance. And Talia knew her former charge very well indeed. Further, Talia had told Elspeth privately that she thought the Queen was reacting like most mothers to the evidences of her daughter growing up and developing a mind of her own.
Badly.
Oh, not as badly as she could have, but all things considered, it was much better for Elspeth to be off beyond Mama's reach for a while. By the time she returned, it might be possible for Queen Selenay to admit that her daughter wasn't a foolish, headstrong, stupid child anymore.
I've managed to acquire a little sense, anyway....
:Gather yourself, my dear,: Gwena Mindspoke, interrupting her thoughts. :They're coming for you. Finally.:
Elspeth glanced out of the corner of her eye at Skif and Tre'valen. Skif looked as if he were concentrating on every word that the Hawkbrother called Iceshadow spoke. Actually, he probably was; his command of the Tayledras tongue wasn't anywhere near as good as hers. Odd; she'd slipped right into the language as if she had known it most of her life.
Oh, that's probably because it's like Shin'a'in, and Kero taught me some of that.
Tre'valen wore that inscrutable face that Kero always put on when she was determined not to let anyone know what I she was thinking. "Gambling-face," she called it.
The more she thought about it, the better she liked the idea of approaching Tre'valen later to see if they could do anything for each other. She felt a lot more comfortable around him—around any of the Shin'a'in, really—than she did around the Tayledras. That was probably because she could read him, a little. He and Kethra reminded her of Kero; well, that shouldn't surprise her. Kero had trained her, and Kero had, in turn, been trained by a Shin'a'in Swordsworn, so there was a lot of Shin'a'in attitude and thinking patterns in the way Kero looked at things. A good bit of that had rubbed off on her pupil, without a doubt. The Tayledras, however, were very exotic, and Darkwind had been so hard to read that Elspeth had given up even trying.
I wonder if they seem that way to Tre'valen?
They hadn't had much of a chance to see the Vale; as Gwena had predicted, it was sunset when the Hawkbrothers came for them, and most of the Vale was shrouded in shadows as they passed through it. Elspeth had gotten some impressions that had taken her breath away, however—of luxuriant growth that made any forest she'd ever seen look sparse by comparison, and trees so enormous her mind refused to accept their size. The Companions had trailed along behind as they followed a well-worn path past curtaining vines covered with cascading flowers the size of her hand, and bushes with leaves bigger than a saddle. Elspeth couldn't wait to see the place in the daytime.
Darkwind himself had come to fetch them, as their sponsor into the Clan; Kethra was Tre'valen's. With him had come at least a dozen more Tayledras—and Elspeth had done her best not to stare, but it had been very difficult. She had thought that Darkwind was a typical Hawkbrother, and she had been just a little disappointed, given the hints in the Chronicles of how strange the Hawkbrothers were, at his shoulder-length, mottled-brown hair and his drab clothing. The Chronicles had talked about Moondance and Starwind being as "brightly plumaged as firebirds" and she'd cherished images of brilliant colors and weird clothing, maybe things that didn't look like clothing at all.
She wasn't disappointed any longer. The dozen Tayledras with Darkwind had been garbed as wildly and beautifully as she could have wished. Every one of them had hair that was waist-length or longer, white as ice, and twined with feathers, crystals, bells, slender chains, or strands of silk matching their—costumes. That was the only word she could arrive at. "Clothing" certainly wasn't adequate—not for robes with layered sleeves that trailed on the ground, hugged the arm like silken skin, were scalloped, bejeweled, embroidered, and tapestried. "Garb" didn't describe tunics and gowns that mimicked feathers, leaves, flower petals, frozen waterfalls. Every one of the dozen was unique; every one was incredible and complex. And yet, the costumes weren't any less functional than, say, Valdemaran Court gear; although she wouldn't have known how to move in those outfits without tripping over something.
She felt for the first time as if she had truly left the world she knew and had stepped into the pages of a tale.
Even Darkwind—drab, disappointing Darkwind—had been transformed. Although his hair was still shoulder-length, he had somehow managed to get patterns dyed into it. She assumed it was dye; it might not have been. How would she know? It might have been magic. Birds flickered whitely against a dark gold background every time he moved his head, as if his hair was a forest in autumn with doves flying through it. And his costume was as fanciful as the rest—although a little more practical. He had eschewed trailing sleeves and hemlines for embroidery and something that stayed fairly close to his body. But he was just as eye-dazzling in his way as the others were in theirs.
He smiled shyly when he saw the surprise and approval in her expression, but said nothing, simply gesturing for her and Skif to follow him into the depths of the Vale. Kethra led Tre'valen in a similar fashion; the rest of the Tayledras came behind, with mage-lights bobbing above their heads, and the Companions bringing up the rear. Above the walls of the valley and the tops of the towering trees, the sky still glowed blue, with the west a warm gold—in the shelter of the massive branches, dense blue shadows obscured all but the trail they walked.
They had emerged in a clearing, ringed and paved with stone. In the very center of the circular area stood a cracked and half-broken stone with a brazier at its foot, all of it lit by more mage-lights. This strange monolith, she assumed, was the Heartstone—damaged, its wild energies barely restrained by multiple layers of shielding. Darkwind had warned her to keep tight personal shields about her when she was near it; she saw no reason to argue with him. Even through her protections she felt something vaguely wrong with the stone, a kind of sickness about it. It wasn't something she could put a finger on, or point to, but the uneasy feeling was definitely there.
Iceshadow—wearing an elaborate costume that made him look as if he was half a man and half a delicate, frozen fountain—took his place before the stone. In the transparent, unwavering illumination of the mage-lights, he could have been a dream, an illusion—an ice sculpture brought to life. Then he moved, gracefully, holding up his hands—and with no more preparation than that, Elspeth found herself surrounded by a blue glow that was quite familiar.
Truth Spell? Bright Havens, did we get it from them, or did they get it from Vanyel?
The other question that occurred to her, with a touch of envy, was how Iceshadow had managed to call the spell up with no preparation and in no more than a heartbeat. It took her a good bit of time to call up a Truth Spell, and she was one of the best in her class at that particular exercise. Iceshadow hadn't even needed to think abou
t it, so far as she had been able to tell. He just gestured, and there it was. That was as impressive as all the lightnings and thunders she'd seen—and cast—fighting Falconsbane and his creatures. Iceshadow had not only cast the spell as easily as breathing, he had made it look effortless.
Iceshadow lowered his arms, and a white horn-tufted owl drifted down out of the trees to land on his shoulder. He watched the three of them serenely for a moment, and then folded his hands in his sleeves. "Do you bring any ill-intent into this Vale?" he asked, conversationally.
Was this the beginning of the oathtaking? It must be. She shook her head, and Skif mouthed the word "No."
Iceshadow smiled slightly, and continued; still calm, still casual. "Is it your wish to be made a brother of this Clan?"
They both answered with nods.
Now Iceshadow sobered; the owl settled itself and turned unblinking eyes upon them, as if it, too, was weighing the truth of their intent. Elspeth was suddenly hyperaware of everything about her; the faint, cool breeze on her back, the way it stirred Iceshadow's clothing, Skif's hair, the fringe on Tre'valen's sash. The way the blue light from the spell reflected in the onlookers' eyes. The call of a bird, somewhere out in the Vale. Iceshadow took a deep breath, and spoke, in a soft voice that still carried incredible intensity. "Hear, then, the privileges of brotherhood: to come and go freely within all lands held by Tayledras k'Sheyna; to call upon your brothers in times of need; to ask of us teaching; to make your home among us. Hear also the responsibilities of brotherhood: to keep the secrets of the Clan; to neither bring nor lead strangers among us; to keep our lands and guard them as we do; to answer to our need if no other oath prevents; to teach when it is asked of you, aid when it is asked of you, give shelter and succor to your brothers of the Clan, of Tayledras, and of Shin'a'in. Can you be bound to these conditions?"
"Yes," Elspeth breathed. It would not have been unreasonable to swear them to absolute secrecy, or to require that they pledge a formal and complicated alliance to the Clan. Skif seemed just as surprised as he answered in the affirmative.
The breeze gusted past again, and the owl roused its feathers, shaking himself vigorously before settling down to resume his stare at them. Iceshadow watched them as unblinkingly as his owl. "Then there is another vow you must make," Iceshadow continued. "But it is one that you must not make in ignorance. So listen—watch—and heed—"
He gestured again, and as Elspeth caught her breath in startlement, a globe of glowing white mist rose up from the pavement between them, obscuring everything on the other side of the circle. As Elspeth turned her attention from the Hawkbrother to the globe of starlight, she saw that there was a picture forming in it.
She bit her lip when the picture cleared, this time with a feeling of incredulity and horror; she had seen her own land ravaged by warfare, but this was beyond anything she had ever dreamed in her worst nightmares. Encased in the glowing globe was the image of a devastated land; the viewpoint was from the edge of a blasted crater so wide she literally could not see the other side. She blinked and swallowed, finding it hard to comprehend destruction on so vast a scale, and nauseated by the very idea that such a thing could have happened. To see a place that must once have been green, been full of people, animals, trees and plants—to see it not only ravaged, but utterly annihilated—the shock of it drove any real thoughts from her head for a moment. Beside her, Tre'valen started in surprise, as if this was something he knew about but had not expected to see here.
"This was the homeland, long and long ago." Iceshadow's voice drifted across the silence, a voice filled with such sadness and loss that it seemed as if what Elspeth saw might have happened a day ago, rather than centuries ago. "This was the homeplace of the people called Kaled'a'in. This was all that remained, at the end of the First and Last conflict, the Mage Wars."
The scene shifted, to a group of armed, subdued people, all with the long black hair and golden skin of the Shin'a'in, gathered on the edge of the crater. There was some confusion as they and their animals—horses, huge dogs, hunting cats, and birds of prey—milled about, and then it was apparent that about half of them were packing up and moving off, away from the crater, while the rest stayed.
"We fled from the destruction, and returned when we could. This was what we found, and there was mourning and confusion. Then came anger, at what had happened, at what had caused it. There was dissent over what the people should do. Some wished to renounce all magic; some, to make further use of magic to keep the Clans alive in this new and alien world. There was no compromise possible between those positions—dissent became argument, and argument became hate. That was when, rather than turn dissent to feud, the two sides agreed to divide, and with this decision came the Sundering of the Clans. Those who renounced magic became the Shin'a'in, while those who sought magery removed themselves from the rest, calling themselves Tayledras, after the birds that they had helped to bring into being. These, our Fathers and Mothers, went north."
Again the scene shifted, to something that had probably been a forest.
Once.
Now it was another kind of nightmare; instead of lifelessness, twisted and contorted wildlife ran riot. The vegetation grew so thick it formed a solid green wall on either side of the road, except that it was hard to tell some of the flora from some of the fauna. There were plants that groped after the passing Clansfolk, and animals that were rooted to the spot like plants, some watching them with indifferent eyes, others that screamed unendingly. There were creatures she half-glimpsed through the veils of vines hanging from every branch that made Elspeth shudder. As she tried to make sense of confusion of color and motion, the group shown was attacked by things that were horribly worse than the creatures Falconsbane had sent against them—things that seemed to be nothing but teeth and claws, with armored plates covering everything but their joints.
Iceshadow's voice made her jump. "The five Clans that were now Tayledras found that the lands beyond the homeland were ravaged by the forces of twisted and tainted magic. No human or bird could survive there for long. Either they must starve, for they could not spare a moment from defense to grow or hunt their food, or they must give up defense and perish at the hands of the monsters that inhabited these lands. They despaired, for there was nowhere else for them to go."
The scene fogged for a moment, and reformed. The band of Tayledras had made a camp on the top of a hill, the earth scorched bare by fire, with a temporary palisade of thorny branches about the camp—but it was obvious it could not last for long against any kind of attack.
"They knew they could go no farther," Iceshadow concluded. "So, as their kindred that would become the Shin'a'in would do, they prayed to their Goddess. And She answered. Here is her answer to their plea."
Nothing Elspeth had watched prepared her for what happened as the mist clouded again.
Suddenly there was no ball of glowing mist with pictures in it before her; suddenly there was no clearing, no Hawkbrothers, no Skif—
—no light, no sound, no world.
Only herself, a sky full of stars stretching in every direction—
—including down—
And out of this starry nothingness arose a white-hot flame that was somehow also a woman. Too bright to see clearly, She changed from moment to moment, and the raw Power emanating from Her made Elspeth tremble. She'd have fallen to her knees—if she could have figured out how to do so in the midst of all this starry space.
I have heard your prayers, She said, in a voice that filled Elspeth's mind, leaving no room for anything, not even fear. There is a price to be paid for what you ask, and that price is in your lives, and your freedom.
She gestured, and in the palm of Her hand was cupped the weirdly twisted landscape of the forest the Clansfolk had entered. Terrible magics have warped this land, and only magic can heal it again. Therefore I offer this, that you have asked of me. I shall grant you safety here, long enough to establish each of you a Clan holding. I shall teach you
the means of creating a place in the midst of the holding wherein you shall dwell in protection. I shall grant you the knowledge of Adepts, to use and concentrate the magic—and a knowledge even Adepts have not—to create a center of such power that the greatest of the mages who caused these changes would look upon you with envy.
To this you shall swear, in return. You will cleanse these lands—restore them to what they were before the Wars. You shall destroy the creatures of evil intent, cherish and succor the innocent victims of this catastrophe, and find shelter for those that are merely animals, meaning neither good nor ill. You shall destroy those old weapons you may find, that they may not be misused again. You shall cleanse the land you hold—and then you shall move on, to another place, to begin again. All of your children that are Mage-Gifted shall follow this path. All who are not shall guard and aid the ones who are. You shall be the Healers and Protectors—and you shall never permit the magics you manipulate here to be used for ill, nor shall you permit strangers within your ranks, unless they be sworn to the Clans. This you must do, at whatever cost to yourselves.
Abruptly, the vision was gone. Elspeth shook her head, blinking and still trembling with reaction; more than a little disoriented. There was nothing now in die clearing but what had been there when they entered; even the glowing mist was gone.
She tried to shake off the effect of the vision—if that was what it had been. She had been there for a moment; she didn't at all doubt that she had experienced exactly the same , thing as those long-ago Hawkbrothers had. What she I couldn't understand was why Skif didn't seem particularly affected, but Tre'valen looked just as dazed and bedazzled as she felt. Long ago, when she was younger, she had first heard the story of King Valdemar and the first appearance of the Companions, and had thought it a very pretty tale. Now she had the glimmering of what King Valdemar just might have experienced when his prayers were answered. It shook her to the soul. It made her understand why some people became ardent, abject devotees of deities.
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