Valdemar Books

by Lackey, Mercedes

  It was just that at the moment, it was harder than ever for her to be around them. Two of her brothers were trying to court the same girl, which led to a great deal of masculine head-butting, snorting, and prancing around the dinner table. The youngest two were in the stage of adolescent revolt, which meant a great deal of conflict with her father. Her Mum was worried because they’d gotten only two letters from Shandi, and both were very brief. Keisha wasn’t at all surprised, considering the daily round of chores and classes Shandi described! Shandi wasn’t spoiled, but she’d never had to work this hard in her life! There seemed to be a great deal of book-learning, too, which was not Shandi’s strongest suit.

  Be fair, Keisha. She’s not a dunce either. She would just rather do handiwork than bookwork.

  At least they’d done the wisest thing at that Collegium, so far as Shandi’s chore-assignments went, and put her to work on sewing and mending for her share of the daily work. By now they had probably discovered that with Shandi’s nimble fingers on the job, they didn’t need to assign anyone else the sewing tasks!

  Mum worried, though, and that made Keisha’s stomach ache, which made it impossible for her to eat, which made Mum worry more, and - well, Keisha began to look for reasons to be away from the dinner table.

  It certainly is convenient how many little accidents occur around dinnertime.

  In fact, it was getting so she could find those little accidents before anyone came to fetch her - granted, though, she was looking for them. But when it came to baby’s colic or mother’s burned hand, brother’s tumble from a tree, father’s work-related blisters or sister’s bad sunburn, Keisha had never been so attentive to the needs of the village. Small wonder she was getting little gifts left on the doorstep.

  In the afterglow of mingled pleasure and exhaustion that followed the Faire, the only topics of discussion among the villagers were Val’s betrothed, the pledging of two of the village couples, and the resounding success of trading. For the moment, they had forgotten to fret about Darian and the Hawkbrothers, the weather, the harvest, or the level of the river. All of these were safe enough topics not to cause argument, and laden with contentment rather than worry; Keisha woke on the third morning after Midsummer, looking forward to a few more days without headaches.

  She was out in her garden when the unusual sound of hoofbeats on the path behind her made her look up - to find herself staring up at a strange, deerlike animal with long, curved horns and a Hawkbrother on its back. She gaped at him stupidly, her mind gone blank.

  “Heyla!” the rider said, cheerfully, in very good Valdemaran. “I am looking for someone of authority in Errold’s Grove to deliver a message to. Some children sent me here.”

  That, at least, brought her out of her daze. She stood up, wiping her hands on her garden-smock. “The Mayor is probably checking the irrigation mill,” she said, thinking out loud. “I know the priest is visiting a sick farmer. Will I do? I’m sort of the Healer.”

  “Assuredly,” the Hawkbrother replied. “It’s simple enough. We of k’Valdemar Vale are finally settled in, and I was told to say that the Elders of the Vale and Mage Darian will come tomorrow to present themselves as new neighbors to you. They told me to tell you that there is no need to make a great event of this, or special preparations. We waited until after the Faire so as not to disrupt your celebration.”

  She stared at him for a moment, before stammering a reply. “Ah - that will be fine, wonderful!” she managed.

  “I’ll go find the Mayor and let him know right now! Who shall I say gave the message?”

  The rider had already given some subtle signal to his mount; it was ten paces back up the path before she got out the last word of her reply. The rider called back over his shoulder.

  “I am Wintersky k’Vala - and thank you for taking the message for me!” His beast leaped into a gallop, and he vanished into the forest.

  She didn’t wait any longer herself; the Mayor needed to hear this right away. She tore off her smock and left it in the middle of the garden, pelting down the path toward the river as fast as her feet could carry her.

  She intercepted the Mayor and the blacksmith on the path leading to the river. They were their way back from their weekly inspection of the mill that kept the vegetable fields nearest the village irrigated - the ones on the other side of the river, being at a lower level, could be watered naturally. She waved her arm wildly at him as soon as she saw him and increased her speed; he stopped immediately, a look of worry jumping into his eyes.

  She might have been running, but not long enough to be the least winded. She didn’t wait for him to ask what was wrong. “A message came from the Hawkbrothers, sir!” she called, as she came to a halt on the path in front of him. “The new ones, the ones with Darian Firkin! They’re coming here tomorrow to meet you!”

  The worry changed immediately to pleasure. “Finally!” he exclaimed. Then the worry returned. “But tomorrow? How can we make proper preparations with such short notice?”

  “The Hawkbrother - he said he was Wintersky k’Vala - said he was told to tell you that this isn’t a formal meeting, that you aren’t to make a big fuss over it - ” But she saw she might just as well have been talking to a wall and stopped trying. The Mayor was off in a tangle of plans and preparations, and probably wouldn’t believe that the Hawkbrother had said any such thing. In fact, he broke into a trot, heading straight for the village square, probably with the intention of gathering every person of importance in Errold’s Grove to see what they could put together for a “proper” greeting committee.

  The blacksmith was right behind him, too, but heading for his home. The news was about to spread through the village by the fastest means possible. He was going to tell his wife, who would promptly start the news going in all directions. Wives were better than Heralds and Companions at getting any news of any kind spread.

  Which meant that Keisha could go back to her garden with a good conscience.

  I only hope it‘ll continue to stay my garden, she reflected, worried. Darian can’t possibly want the cottage back. No, surely not. He’s living with the Hawkbrothers.

  Everyone in the village was awake before dawn. From the great oven of the village baker (who was also the miller) came the scent, not only of bread, but of roasting meat. From dozens of hearths rose equally appetizing smells. From the other huge oven at the threshing barn came the aroma of cake and pie. Errold’s Grove was going to give a feast for Darian and his Hawkbrothers whether they wanted one or not.

  As soon as the first dawn light pierced the morning sky, groups of children streamed past Keisha’s cottage, heading for the forest, their voices shrill with excitement. They came back within a candlemark, laden with boughs of greenery and bunches of long, trailing vines. Keisha followed them and joined the older children in decorating the square with the greenery, while all the tables and benches that had just been taken back into houses after the Faire were brought back out again and set up in the square itself.

  By midmorning, most of the preparations were complete; food that didn’t need to be warm had been brought to the Temple for later serving, the bowers and decorations were up, banners and flags flew from windows looking out on the square, and a small boy, giddy with pride at his important assignment, was up in the Temple tower, watching for the first sign of the Hawkbrothers.

  Keisha’s only symptom so far was a knotted stomach and a faint headache; those she could bear easily enough, so she remained with the rest of the village, waiting in the square. After two false alarms, at midmorning the shout went up from the tower.

  “They’re coming!” the boy shrilled. “Oh, there’s a lot of them! And they’re riding on deer!”

  Keisha’s stomach lurched, and she faded back into a doorway, while the Mayor gathered up his cronies and hustled them up onto a low platform left over from the Faire at the end nearest the Temple. Moments later, the visitors rode into the square.

  A spontaneous cheer burst out, making the
ir mounts start. The visitors seemed pretty startled, too, at least to Keisha’s eyes, but they kept their composure in spite of all the noise. She saw two of the ones in the lead - a thin, but good-looking young man about her own age and a dignified, craggily handsome older man with long, silver-white hair - put their heads together for a quick consultation. The young man gestured discreetly at the platform, the older man nodded, and they led the entire group toward the waiting Mayor.

  The Mayor stood nervously clasping his hands as they approached him and his group. The cheering died down when the visitors dismounted and made the last few steps afoot.

  The Mayor had probably memorized a grand speech, but his efforts were entirely set at naught, for the first words out of his mouth were “By Haven, Darian! Is that really you? You’re - bigger!”

  The younger man laughed and held out his hand, clasping the Mayor’s firmly. “Boys have a habit of growing up, Lutter,” he replied, his warm, deep voice very amused. He shook the Mayor’s hand. “What are you, Mayor now? Good for you; I’m not surprised. Congratulations!”

  Mayor Lutter flushed, and plainly made the decision to discard his planned speech, since the atmosphere of great dignity and importance he had been trying to establish was spoiled anyway. “Good to have you here again. Now, who are these fine folks?”

  Darian introduced them, and Keisha took careful note of their names. The older man was Starfall k’Vala, an Adept, clearly one of the men in charge, and dressed in a tunic and breeches of exotic color and cut. A fellow who was dressed like the Hawkbrothers she was used to seeing was identified as Snowfire k’Vala, and a lady with night-black hair and sharp blue eyes as his mate, Nightwind k’Leshya. She was given the title of trondi’irn, whatever that was. But the next two to be introduced had every eye in the village fairly popping from its socket, Keisha’s included.

  “This is Healing Adept Firesong k’Treva, and the kestra’chern Silverfox k’Leshya,” Darian said proudly, gesturing to the pair. Silverfox would have startled almost anyone in Errold’s Grove with his appearance. His black, silver-streaked hair was so long it touched the back of his knees, and he wore it unbound, flowing as loose as a maiden’s. His elaborately brocaded, sleeveless vest of green and teal could only be silk, as were the emerald shirt with its wide sleeves, and the matching, tight-fitting breeches. Keisha yearned to examine the silk brocade more closely, and his leather knee-boots fit so smoothly they must have been tailored to his legs alone.

  But Silverfox paled in comparison with Firesong . . .

  Firesong’s silver hair was just as long as Silverfox’s, but he sported a braid on either side of his face, with strands of crystal beads, silver chains, and tiny bells braided into them. His shirt of emerald green was embroidered all over in a pattern of blue, green, and silver feathers. Its pendulous sleeves reached down to his knees, and it was held in close to his body with a silver belt in the form of two birds, whose tails flowed together at the back and whose beaks hooked together in the front. He wore loose-fitting silk breeches tucked into green boots with silver ornaments down each side. But the crowning touch, the object that set him apart from everyone else, was the mask that he wore, completely covering his face.

  It seemed to be of metal, and yet it was far too flexible to be of that substance. Patterned in glittering silver, with touches of shining emerald and sparkling sapphire, its ornamentation echoed the feather-embroidery of his tunic, giving him the look of a fantastic bird.

  It was the mask that did it, that told her that this was the Firesong, the famous Adept who trained Princess Elspeth, who helped save Valdemar in the Great War, who then helped save it again from the mage-storms. . . .

  “I am quite pleased to visit this place,” Firesong was saying, pretending to ignore the fact that he was the center of everyone’s gaze. “I understand that the wizard who helped to save your village was someone I had the honor of meeting a very long time ago. Justyn, wasn’t it?”

  Keisha wondered why that casual remark would make Mayor Lutter pale, but the man regained his composure after a moment of coughing. “Ah, yes, Wizard Justyn - he was young Dalian’s first Master - that’s his statue, there, facing the bridge, you know - seemed the most appropriate place - least we could do to honor his memory - ”

  Mayor Lutter pointed, and naturally everyone turned to look, in spite of the fact that most people here were as familiar with the statue as they were with the members of their families. Of course, from this angle, all anyone saw was the back of the statue, but at least it was evident that the statue was a pretty good one. It should be, considering it had been done by the same artist who made all the religious statues hereabouts, and not by the fellow that Mayor Lutter originally wanted to hire, a dauber who usually carved and painted inn signs. Lutter had been overruled by nearly everyone. Keisha saw Darian nod to himself, with a pleased little smile.

  Mayor Lutter still seemed shaken. “Ah - you sent word not to make any special preparations - but we couldn’t - you know - we’ve prepared a feast in your honor - ” he stammered. The women waiting near the Temple took that for an order, and started bringing out dishes. Things were a bit confused for a moment, then the Mayor’s wife Mandy took charge and got everything set to rights and organized. Tables and benches placed on the platform were quickly covered with clean white cloths, and the visitors were guided to their seats. Everyone else scrambled for seats down below, as the young women and wives appointed as servers began bringing out food.

  Keisha would have taken this opportunity to slip away, but Mandy Lutter wasn’t having any of that.

  “There you are!” said the reedy voice as Keisha tried to ease her way out of the crowd. Mandy’s thin, hard hand seized her arm, and the Mayor’s wife pulled Keisha up toward the platform. Keisha wanted to jerk her arm free and run off, but that would have been unbearably rude, so she allowed Mandy to hustle her up onto the platform and into a seat.

  “This’s Keisha Alder, our Healer,” Mandy proclaimed. “I’m afraid she’s a bit shy.” Keisha moved to protest, but was stilled by Mandy’s sharp glance.

  Keisha looked cautiously about, and discovered she’d been seated between two of the visitors; Darian was on her right, and the lady with the black hair was on her left. And curiously, as she got control over her own nerves, she realized that the nausea and headache she’d been suffering from ever since she woke up were - gone!

  “ - Kel will be arriving a little later,” the woman was saying to the Mayor. “He wanted to run his morning patrol before coming here, and that seemed like a wise course to us.”

  Keisha wondered who “Kel” was, but she didn’t get a chance to speculate, for Darian addressed her just as the woman went on to talk about the bondbirds.

  “I’ve been told that you have the old cottage that I used to share with Justyn,” the young man said, with a friendly enough smile. But immediately Keisha worried. Did he want it back?

  “ Ye-es,” she replied carefully. “No one was using it - you don’t mind, I hope?”

  He chuckled, and his eyes crinkled at the corners. “Why should I mind? It’s nice to know it isn’t sitting empty, or worse, fallen into a ruin. I just hope you’ve managed to make more of it than we did.”

  “People fixed it up for me. They fixed the walls, the roof, everything,” she told him, and hesitated a moment. “I don’t suppose you’d want to see it, would you?”

  His face lit up with his smile. “Actually, yes I would, quite a bit. I was trying to think of a way to ask you if I could.”

  “I will - if you’ll let me see the gryphon up close!” she said, suddenly thinking of a way to achieve her own wish.

  Now Darian laughed. “Let? Havens, when he comes in from patrol, you’ll have a hard time keeping him away! If there’s one thing that Kel loves, it’s an audience.”

  That led her to questions about gryphons in general and Kel - or “Kelvren” as his name really was - in particular. Darian was perfectly willing to answer them, and while he was talki
ng, she didn’t have to.

  Darian was a vast improvement over her brothers, both in manners and appearance. He never interrupted, passed platters without being asked, offered food to her before taking some himself, and never heaped his plate with the best cuts. He used knife and fork properly, didn’t wipe his mouth on his cuff, and didn’t make sarcastic or cutting remarks, even when Mayor Lutter was holding forth with great pomposity on things he obviously knew nothing about. When that happened, he just exchanged looks with others of his party, and hid his smile by turning his head.

  As for appearance - well, Keisha didn’t blame the rest of the girls for competing to serve him, nor did she blame them for their posing, their flirtatious glances, their outright adoration in some cases. He was really one of the best-looking young men she’d ever seen, and the leather Hawkbrother clothing with its fringes, beadwork, and tooling only gave him an exotic touch that was very attractive.

  He seemed completely oblivious to their attempts to catch his eye, though. Mature and self-possessed, he managed to pay attention to Keisha’s questions and to the discussions that the Hawkbrother Elders and the village officials were having at the same time. She was used to having to listen to more than one conversation at the same time, since she often had two or more people babbling at her about an illness or injury, but she’d never known anyone else to have that gift.

  Well, maybe he’s too busy with that to pay any attention to the girls. Or maybe he’s used to admiration. At least he doesn’t seem vain about it, if he is.

  “The bondbirds are mostly in the trees around the edge of the village right now,” he said, in answer to her last question. “No reason to call them in, and too many strangers make some of them nervous. Firesong is enough strangeness for all of you to handle, I think!”