He moved back, then, giving her access to the men if she so chose that direction.
She looked at Kade, this boy who was ten years old but who seemed so wise, and she sensed that he was pleading with her now. Hoping, suggesting, but not forcing. He was a healer—she knew that even if he didn’t know it yet himself. And she was, apparently, a Mage even if she didn’t fully believe it yet. They were going to be quite a pair. Not a pair like her and Rayn. Nothing could be like her and Rayn ever again. But they would be a team.
Yes.
They would be quite a team.
Nwah rose up then, and took a breath of nighttime air thick with clover and peat.
:All right,: she said. :We’ll do it your way.:
And they turned together, Kade walking as silently as she did, waiting for her as she limped along, slipping together into the forest, fading deeper and deeper into the night.
And as they slipped through the woods together, Nwah thought about what a remarkable night it was to be alive.
Spun Magic
Kristin Schwengel
A cacophony of birdcalls emptied the ekeles as the whole of k’Veyas crowded toward the northern entrance to the Vale. Stardance’s own ekele was close by, so she was near the front of the throng, pushed forward next to the Clan Elders.
“Who would be crazy enough to venture out into this?” Dayspring’s muttered question, asked of no one in particular, echoed her thoughts. Several of the other Elders nodded agreement as he spoke. The icy rain inside the Vale was unpleasant enough, but it was better than the late-season blizzard raging beyond. Six years after the last of the Mage Storms, the k’Veyas Heartstone hadn’t quite gained enough power to keep the weather fully tempered.
Before anyone else could speak, a snow-covered k’Veyas scout crossed the Veil into the clearing, followed by three exhausted dyheli bearing three equally spent riders. Hertasi immediately swarmed around, helping the riders dismount and wrapping them with warm blankets. A k’Veyas dyheli led the staggering mounts away to join the rest of the herd, which had taken refuge from the storm inside the Vale.
“Miel found their birds. They’d missed the markers in the drifts and were far off the forest paths.” The scout shook melting snow from his head and shoulders, and Stardance blinked. He’d been so covered with white, she hadn’t even recognized Nightblade’s narrow features and black hair. “They’re from k’Lissa.” His glance flickered over to Stardance as though he had known where she stood, and she caught a glimpse of something she couldn’t name in his dark eyes. Worry, or perhaps anxiety, tinged with something she didn’t recognize.
The aging Winternight, the most senior k’Veyas Elder, stepped forward, the rest of the white-haired Elders behind him. “Welcome, friends. Whatever brought you to us through this blizzard can surely wait while you restore yourselves. When you are ready, let the hertasi know, and they will gather the Council.” The hertasi took over, guiding the visitors to the nearest of the guest-ekeles.
Stardance slipped away to her own ekele, her thoughts racing. She could only guess that their coming had something to do with her, since her father had been from k’Lissa. From Nightblade’s odd expression, she assumed he thought the same, even if the strangers hadn’t mentioned her. Her thoughts drifted to the bedraggled visitors, trying to remember their features. One was nearly her own age, but had one of the older two shared her unusual gray-green eyes? It was years since she had last seen her father, shortly after her mother’s passing, when she had already begun living among the hertasi with Triska, her adoptive mother. It had been so long that now she couldn’t even guess if he was one of the three who had come to k’Veyas.
* * *
It was only a few candlemarks later that one of the hertasi tapped gently at the entrance to her ekele. This was one of Triska’s adult children, who had assigned herself to care for Stardance after the young girl’s adoptive hertasi mother had died in the Mage Storms.
“The Council is gathering with the visitors, and Winternight has asked for you to join them,” Kikara said, then vanished back into the undergrowth.
Stardance pulled out her rain cloak once more and hurried to the Council chambers. The summons didn’t surprise her, even though she was not part of the Council. The visitors must have asked for her. They were from k’Lissa, and had traveled for days through this unseasonable weather. She could think of few reasons to do so that didn’t somehow involve her.
Fortunately, she was not the last to arrive at the Council. A few minutes later, two others pushed aside the inner draperies at the chamber entrance. Silverheart, the Healing Adept and Stardance’s tutor, entered and sat on one side of her. The Mage Windwhisperer sat on her other side, placing his hand on her shoulder with an encouraging squeeze. She gave him a grateful glance. Since the Mage Storms and Triska’s death, Windwhisperer had seen to it that she had remained a part of the Clan rather than retreating in grief. His quiet support had often guided her, and his son, Nightblade, had occasionally taken on the role of an elder brother or guardian of a sort.
Winternight stepped forward, his pale features catching the light so that he seemed to glow against the darker wall behind him, commanding the attention of all without a single syllable. “So,” he began, “the Council is assembled. Guests from k’Lissa, you may begin.”
The oldest of the three stood and looked around the assembled k’Veyas, his eyes lingering on Stardance. Although all three had been garbed in practical travel gear, he now wore the much more flamboyant robes of a Mage, a dark red embroidered with golden flames that seemed to flicker with his movement.
“I am Firewind k’Lissa,” he said, and gestured to the two scouts. “These are Sunsong and Icewing.” He paused, his pale green eyes once again shifting over to Stardance, who struggled to maintain her neutral expression. This was her father, although she would not have recognized him. She had been barely six summers old when she had last seen him, and then only briefly before he returned to k’Lissa and his duties there. She didn’t remember much of his visit, only that she had not wanted to leave Triska and that the k’Veyas Council had supported her.
“We have come with a plea for aid from Deermoon, our Healer-Mage, who is known to Silverheart.” Silverheart gave a brief nod, concern edging her soft features as the assembled k’Veyas turned to look at her.
“He is ill, with a strange sort of fatiguing illness. It has not responded to the Healers’ efforts, although they do not think it is fatal. But he is too weak to do the work of the Tayledras, and none of his apprentices are yet strong enough or sufficiently trained to do so. Our other Mages do what they can, but it goes very slowly. It is our hope that one among your Healing-Mages would be able to return with us to assist Deermoon.” He sat, glancing again at Stardance as he did.
Winternight was the first to speak. “Is Deermoon expected to recover from this ailment? Will the k’Veyas visitor need to become a part of k’Lissa if he does not?”
“That would be the choice of the one who comes,” Firewind replied, choosing his words carefully. “We would, of course, welcome a new member of the Clan, but we would be happy to have a visitor either until Deermoon recovers or until his apprentices are ready to take on the work. He has continued to teach, but he has not the strength of focus to both train his students and rebuild the network of magic. As for his recovery,” Firewind gave a tiny shrug, “the Healers are vague. They cannot find or name the source of his weakness, and so they have no answer for it.”
Winternight nodded. “We have heard your request and will consider how and if we might be able to honor it. Until the Council has decided, take your ease and recover from your journey.”
Firewind smiled ruefully. “The weather was not nearly so foul as this when we left k’Lissa, or we would have waited. We were caught by it nearly exactly halfway between the two Vales, and too late to change direction to k’Onsoya. We decided that it was bett
er to press on and get an answer than to struggle back home with nothing.” He stood, as did the two scouts. “We will await your return summons.” The three departed the Council chamber, a hertasi ready to lead them to the nearest hot spring soaking pools.
Winternight turned to Silverheart. “It should be obvious why k’Lissa came to us instead of k’Onsoya, whose Vale is a little closer to theirs. Stardance’s father must be wanting her to return with them.”
Silverheart, in turn, looked at Stardance, whose outward calm concealed a writhing mass of uncertainty. She gave her student an encouraging smile. “Deermoon and I studied together with a k’Treva Healer-Mage before we achieved Mastery. He is familiar with my style, which blended well with his, and would expect that any of my students would be equally compatible. Firewind would hope for one particular student.”
“Stardance is by far the oldest and most advanced among your apprentices, and you have said she is nearly ready for her Mastery Trial,” Dayspring said. “Can she be spared? Should she wait until she takes the Trial? Would any of your other students be capable of assisting k’Lissa?”
Stardance let the conversation among the Elders and the Mages carry on around her, her ears catching occasional fragments of debate over the skills of the apprentices. Her own thoughts drifted back to the stranger who was her father. What would he expect of her, if she were to go? Surely he would want her to stay in k’Lissa, among closer blood kin than she had in k’Veyas. Her mother had had no siblings, and her own parents had died of the same illness that had taken her. If Stardance recalled correctly, her father had children with a partner in k’Lissa, so she would have half-siblings. If she went, would she herself prefer to stay among them? The thought caused a knot to form in the pit of her stomach, as though her own body protested the idea. She glanced over at the statue-like form of Windwhisperer, who was listening to the other Elders, and brought her attention back to the discussion at hand.
The Council seemed to be divided, for several of the Elders resisted the idea of being without one of Silverheart’s students, even for a few moons. The arguments went back and forth with no progress being made until Windwhisperer stood.
“It is clear that, among Silverheart’s students, Stardance would be the best qualified to aid k’Lissa, even before she achieves Mastery. Perhaps we should ask what she prefers?” He sat, and the full attention of the Council focused on Stardance.
Stardance swallowed, then slowly stood, brushing her white-streaked russet hair back from her face so the Elders could read her eyes. “The longer that Deermoon is ill, the longer the magic around k’Lissa remains wild, which none of the Tayledras want. I am not . . . unwilling to assist them. If Silverheart believes me capable, and believes that k’Veyas will do well without me for a time,” she took a deep breath, quelling the knot within her, “I will go.” Nearly dizzy with anxiety, she took her seat once more.
Silverheart gave her a smile of approbation. “We will be well. Unlike Deermoon, I am at full strength, and the other apprentices are trained enough to work with me until your return.”
* * *
After the Council had informed the visitors from k’Lissa of Stardance’s decision, she kept herself apart from everyone, retreating to her ekele, or even to one of the unoccupied hertasi caves. She wanted neither a forced friendliness with Firewind nor a flurry of overwrought emotion from some of k’Veyas, as though she were leaving forever.
One of her hertasi, Triska’s daughter, Kikara, helped her keep her secret solitude, understanding her continuing struggle with the decision she had made. The peace of the caves helped her think, allowing her to consider the balance of her duties to her Clan with her duties as a Tayledras. For Stardance, the latter now outweighed the former, the command from the Star-Eyed to Heal the broken magic of the world.
As soon as the unseasonable snows ended, Firewind and the k’Lissa scouts began planning their return journey.
* * *
On the day they had chosen to depart, many of k’Veyas came to see Stardance off. Even Nightblade came up to her, giving her an awkward hug before pressing a small, cloth-wrapped object into her hands. “For your eighteenth summer,” he muttered, his voice oddly hoarse. “Open it in k’Lissa.”
She barely managed to keep from staring at him, mouth agape, as he turned and vanished down one of the paths, his dark gray goshawk soaring overhead. Staring after him, she finally shrugged, unable to find any explanation for his unusually curt manner.
Standing next to Stardance, Windwhisperer watched his son disappear, then gave her a quizzical glance before folding her into his arms for a warm farewell. “Zhai helleva, Stardance,” he whispered.
“Zhai helleva,” Stardance replied, tears springing to her eyes. It would be Windwhisperer and Silverheart that she would miss most, and she almost couldn’t bear to pull herself out of his supporting hold. A shriek from a bondbird and a call of readiness from the others drew her away, although she didn’t dare to meet Windwhisperer’s brown eyes for fear of losing her fragile control.
Tucking Nightblade’s strange gift into the pack on the back of her dyheli, Stardance mounted and joined the three k’Lissa, her father and the two scouts. Kir, her falcon bondbird, swooped down to her shoulder, and the four of them crossed the Veil, hunching against the colder air beyond the border.
The days of travel through the Pelagiris developed their own peculiar rhythm: cursory meals of travel rations supplemented by bondbird kills, sleeping in two small tents when they could not find caves near the marked paths for shelter. Her father tried to engage her in conversation, but Stardance was still aloof with him. Sunsong, the blond younger scout, was the only one with whom she found herself able to talk comfortably. Something about him reminded her of Nightblade, although he was open and cheerful where Nightblade was brooding, and that unnamed familiarity made things a little easier for her. Firewind appeared concerned, green eyes watching her with an uncertainty that seemed to sit ill with him, but she remained separate. She would not force herself into the shape of whatever daughter he might want her to be.
* * *
The cold had lessened, the last of the snow melting away as the small group made their final day’s approach to k’Lissa Vale. Although she should have been made more comfortable by the improved weather, the increased birdsong, and the pale green spring growth coming up around them, Stardance felt ill at ease. She sensed there was something vaguely wrong around her. Even Kir was irritable, snapping and launching herself to the air when Stardance tried to stroke her banded breast-feathers, and the k’Veyas dyheli Stardance rode became skittish and unwilling to share Mindspeech. She would have asked to stop so she could sink her awareness deep into the earth to learn more, but her companions were moving ever faster, anxious to get back to their home.
Her father and the two scouts seemed to take no note of the strangeness she felt, nor did their bondbirds or their own dyheli seem affected. Was it only she who was bothered, and Kir and her dyheli were simply responding to her irritation?
Once their party passed through the Veil, Stardance barely managed to stifle her sigh. The pressure of wrongness greatly diminished, although she could still feel an echo of it. Whatever was happening, it was beyond the Veil, not within it, and relief flooded through her. Everyone knew about what k’Sheyna had faced before the Mage Storms, when their Heartstone had been manipulated by an Adept and had gone rogue. Even with the far more limited power that would have gathered in the k’Lissa Heartstone, Stardance knew she had neither the skill nor the strength to face such a disaster.
* * *
After a brief welcome from the Elders and Council of k’Lissa, a hertasi guided Stardance to one of the guest ekeles, where she began to unpack her gear and settle in. She would meet Deermoon and his apprentices in the morning, and she decided that then would be soon enough to explore the strange feeling in the earth. Opening one of the packs, her hand brushed the cloth-
wrapped box from Nightblade, and she paused, then pulled it out.
Her actual birth date had passed while they had been traveling, and she had been secretly glad that her father made no mention of it. It didn’t feel right to her to distinguish the day when she was away from k’Veyas, away from the friends who should have been with her. Although the Tayledras marked adulthood by one’s developing skills and responsibilities, the Clans took every possible occasion for merriment, and the eighteenth year was sometimes celebrated on its own.
Curling up on the low couch below one of the windows, Stardance untied the leather strips and loosened the cloth wrapping. The slender box was intricately carved with flowing knots and spirals entwined with leaves, and she took a moment to admire the craftsmanship before opening the lid.
Nestled in a carefully shaped pad was a delicate spindle, exactly the size she preferred to use, and she lifted it out. Only then did she see what was embedded in the weighted whorl near the top of the shaft, and tears sprang to her eyes. The last time she had seen the cracked amber disc, it had still been knotted on the leather cord that Triska had always worn. A pale and grieving Winternight had shown it to her after the last Mage Storm, the one that had caught Triska in a Change Circle and led to her death. The spindle was clearly the work of one of the hertasi artisans, so Nightblade must have asked them to incorporate the pendant. She assumed that Kikara, Triska’s eldest, would have kept it—and had been willing to part with it.
Turning the spindle in her hands, she saw that the hook at the top of the shaft linked into what looked like a jumble of loops of twisted silver. When she held it up, she saw that it was a chain with a post and loop from which the spindle could hang. Hooked in that loop, the spindle would spin freely, without a cord twisting or knotting up on itself.
No True Way: All-New Tales of Valdemar (Tales of Valdemar Series Book 8) Page 11
