Under the Vale and Other Tales of Valdemar

by Mercedes Lackey

  “I don’t know. Maybe because she can’t kill Lord Teren?” Lena shrugged. “It’s too bad her religion isn’t one of the ones that teaches forgiveness of one’s enemies.”

  Samira looked at her oddly. “It does teach that.”

  “Are you sure? She certainly isn’t acting like it, and she scolded me for worshiping Thenoth. And her own son seems to believe she’ll kill the dogs; he was out in the kennels crying over them this morning.”

  “The dogs are still in the kennels?” Samira raised her eyebrows. “Knowing you, I’m surprised there’s a dog on the estate she can still find.”

  “Minda just had puppies; they can’t be moved. The rest aren’t there. The Kennelmaster doesn’t want to follow Shantell’s orders, and if he can’t find the dogs, he can’t kill them.”

  “I’m sure he appreciates your help,” Samira said dryly.

  “He seems to, actually. I also pointed out that there may be legal questions—the dogs may belong to Jasper instead of Shantell, and her husband may have named someone else as Jasper’s guardian.”

  “That’s a good argument,” Samira admitted. “How likely is it?”

  “Lord Teren said that Lord Kristion had named him.”

  Samira groaned. “I can tell that this is going to be complicated.” She and Clyton started forward at a walk that Lena could easily keep pace with. “Let’s go face the noise.”

  :Stay in the woods,: Lena told the dogs as she accompanied Samira and Clyton toward the main entrance to the estate.

  “Have they set a time for the funeral yet?” Samira asked.

  “This afternoon.”

  “It is afternoon,” Samira pointed out. “When this afternoon?”

  Lena cast an anxious look at the angle of the sun. “The ninth hour,” she said in a small voice.

  “Less than an hour from now. I need to wash and change into a clean uniform, and you look as though you dressed in the dark and then spent the day in the kennels and the woods.”

  “I did.”

  Samira’s eyes closed briefly and then opened again. Apparently she had been Mindspeaking to Clyton, because he stopped long enough for Samira to reach down, grasp forearms with Lena, and swing her onto Clyton’s back. “What’s the fastest way to reach the stables without Lady Shantell seeing us?”

  They left Clyton being rubbed down by the Stablemas-ter, and Lena turned Samira over to the housekeeper to be shown to a guest room. Then she ran for her room, washed in the now-cold water that someone had left out for her that morning, and pulled on a dress that was suitable for the funeral. She slipped quietly into the chapel, aided by the fact that most of the household was gathered there. Samira, resplendent in the dressy version of her Whites, was seated in the front next to Shantell and Jasper. Lord Teren was in the back of the chapel, trying to be invisible. Either he succeeded or Shantell didn’t deign to notice him, and the funeral service and the burial that followed it went as well as could be expected.

  After the funeral, it was customary to read the will. They gathered in the library: the priest, who had charge of the document; Lady Shantell; Jasper, who despite his young age was now Lord Jasper; Samira; Lena, partly because Jasper wanted her there and partly because Samira had requested her as a neutral high-born witness; and Lord Teren. Shantell protested his inclusion, but the priest told her it was needful, and her piety—at least for the moment—overcame her wrath.

  The moment ended abruptly when she discovered that her husband had named Lord Teren to be Jasper’s guardian. “Should my son be forced to face his father’s murderer?” she demanded indignantly.

  The priest said something about forgiveness; Lena couldn’t make out the exact words, because Samira’s voice overrode his.

  “Normally we could ask the local Magistrate to hear this case,” she started, but Shantell interrupted her.

  “He’s the Magistrate!” she exclaimed passionately. “Do you think he’ll rule justly on his own actions?”

  “That’s why Valdemar has Heralds,” Samira reminded everyone. “I ride this Circuit so that I can hear cases where normal practice cannot be used, and I believe that this one qualifies. Does anyone disagree?”

  Shantell fell silent.

  Lord Teren spoke sadly. “I yield this case to your judgment, Herald Samira. I agree that I am not the person to rule on it, being involved myself.”

  “Please,” Jasper added. “Everyone’s so angry, and they keep yelling.”

  The priest nodded agreement. “Obviously this was not the situation Lord Kristion envisioned when I drew up his will.”

  “Very well,” Samira said. “Lord Teren, are you willing to answer the accusation of murder under Truth Spell?”

  “Absolutely.” Lord Teren looked grim but not at all afraid.

  Samira cast the Truth Spell, and Lena watched with fascination as a blue glow appeared over Lord Teren’s head.

  “Who went hunting with you and Lord Kristion?”

  “In addition to the two of us, there were three servants and seven hunting dogs.”

  “Was it your arrow that shot him?”

  “Yes.” His voice held anguish, but the blue glow remained steady.

  “Did you intend to shoot him?”

  “No. Never. We became separated in the woods, and I had no idea that he had circled around so that he was opposite me. The servants were with me, so they didn’t know either.”

  “What was he wearing?”

  Teren looked blank. “I don’t remember.”

  Lena must have made some sound, for Samira looked at her. “Do you know what he was wearing, Lena?”

  “Yes.” And it was one of the most stupid things anyone could wear to go hunting. “Brown boots, brown pants, and a deerskin jacket.”

  Samira looked at her incredulously. “Deerskin? Are you positive of that?”

  I certainly can’t blame her for not believing me.

  “That’s correct,” the priest said. “I saw his body when it was brought home, and that’s what he was wearing.”

  Samira managed to refrain from comment on Lord Kristion’s clothing choices. “Lord Teren, do you swear that your shooting of Lord Kristion was accidental and that you had no reason or desire to kill him?”

  “I do so swear.”

  Despite the steady glow of the Truth Spell, Shantell cried out “That’s not true! He wanted the dogs! He said so, this morning in the chapel!”

  “That’s not what I said!” Lord Teren protested.

  “Was anyone else in the chapel with you?” Samira asked.

  Teren pointed at Lena. “She was.”

  I think he forgot my name again.

  “Lena?” Samira asked. “What did they say?”

  As Lena opened her mouth to answer, Samira held up a hand. “Wait. I’m going to put a Truth Spell on you before you answer.”

  Lena nodded her consent and sat quietly until Samira gestured her to continue. “Lady Shantell came in at dawn, near the end of my vigil. Lord Teren had come in earlier and was sitting near the back of the chapel. When she saw him, she called him a murderer. He said it was an accident, and she said that he enjoyed killing—he and the dogs. What he said then was that if having the dogs here was distressing to her, he could remove them to his estate so that she wouldn’t have to see them. Then she said that she’d have every single one of them killed before she’d let him profit—and then she went to the Kennelmaster and ordered the dogs killed.”

  “Did you hear her give that order?”

  “No, but when I went to the kennels as soon as I got out of the chapel, Jasper was there with the Kennelmaster, and they both said that she had ordered the dogs killed.”

  “She did,” Jasper said positively. “I heard her. And I don’t want the dogs killed. And the priest said that the dogs are mine now.”

  Samira held up a hand again. “We’ll get back to that in a minute, Lord Jasper. Lord Teren, did you or do you have any plans to profit from the dogs?”

  Lord Teren sho
ok his head wearily. “No. I will never hunt again. My only thought was to give the dogs a home where they would not trouble Lady Shantell.”

  The blue glow of the Truth Spell remained steady. Samira took a deep breath and said, “On the charge of murder, I find Lord Teren innocent. Lord Kristion’s death was accidental.”

  “He still killed my husband!”

  “True, but he did not murder him. There is a difference.”

  “My husband is dead, my son is an orphan, and the man who killed his father is to be his guardian?” Shantell protested.

  “That issue is still to be resolved,” Samira said.

  “I would be willing to cede the guardianship to Lady Shantell,” Lord Teren said.

  “No!” Jasper protested. “She’ll kill the dogs!”

  “Jasper!” Shantell’s voice was somewhere between hurt and fury. “Would you favor your father’s killer over your own mother?”

  Lena, who was still holding the hand Jasper had slipped into hers when the reading of the will began, gave it a warning squeeze. She leaned over and murmured softly into his ear. “There’s no good reply to that question; don’t even try to answer it.”

  “I see that we had best settle the question of the dogs before the guardianship,” Samira said, shuffling priorities. “What kind of dogs are we dealing with?”

  “Greyhounds,” Lord Teren replied. “Trained hunting dogs. Not only does Jasper not want them killed, but they are also quite valuable. It would not be in his best interests to have them killed; indeed, it would be a breach of duty for a guardian to order such a thing.”

  “Well, I won’t have them here, and I won’t let you take them!” Shantell said furiously. “And I don’t want them around my child—he doesn’t need anything to tempt him to take up hunting!”

  “Lord Jasper,” Samira asked. “Would you be willing to have the dogs live someplace else, as long as they would be safe and well cared for?”

  Jasper chewed on his lower lip for a moment, and then nodded reluctantly. “I’ll miss the puppies, but it’s more important that they be safe.”

  “Is there anyone you would trust to care for them?”

  “Yes. Lena.”

  “But Lena lives in Haven,” Samira pointed out. “That’s rather far away.”

  “She lives with . . . people . . . who like animals.”

  Thank all the gods that he didn’t say “a god who likes animals.”

  “Lena?” Samira asked.

  Lena thought quickly. “Yes, I can take them.” The Temple of Thenoth will certainly grant sanctuary to animals under the threat of death. “The King is sending a carriage to take me home; it’s due in two days. We should be able to transport Minda and her puppies in it.”

  “How many dogs are we talking about here?” Samira asked.

  Lena ticked them off on her fingers. “Minda, six puppies, and the seven hunting dogs. Fourteen.”

  “You’re willing to travel all the way to Haven in a carriage with fourteen dogs?”

  Lena nodded. Samira shook her head. “Better you than me. Very well, if everyone agrees that this is what should be done with the dogs—” She looked around the room until she got agreement, however reluctant, from everyone involved.

  “Now, with regard to the guardianship: Lord Kristion named Lord Teren. Does anyone know his thinking on this?”

  The priest was the one to reply. “He felt that if he died while Lord Jasper was still a child, he would benefit by a man’s guidance.”

  “So it was not that he considered Lady Shantell incapable of managing the estate?”

  “Indeed not.” The priest was definite on that point at least. “She customarily ran the estate when he was absent at court or performing military service.”

  “That’s true,” Lord Teren corroborated. “Lady Shantell is fully capable of running the estate and raising her son. That’s why I’m willing to resign as Jasper’s guardian in her favor.” The Truth Spell showed that he believed what he said.

  Samira looked skeptically at him and even more skeptically at Lady Shantell. “At the moment, I’m not particularly impressed with the soundness of her judgment.” She looked from one to the other and then at the priest. “I therefore rule as follows: For the next half-year the two of you will be joint guardians, and any decisions that affect Jasper’s well being or the assets of the estate must be agreed upon by both of you.”

  Shantell opened her mouth to protest, and Samira glared at her. “If you are unable to work together in person, your priest may serve as a mediator.” She looked at the priest and added, “If that is acceptable to him.”

  “I will be happy to do anything in my power to help,” he replied.

  “Very well.” Samira dismissed the Truth Spells. “Those are my decisions.”

  Samira stayed at the estate for a pair of days, ostensibly using it as a base for her duties in the surrounding area. “Actually,” she told Lena, “it’s partly that I want to be sure that Lady Shantell is calming down enough to think rationally again and that Jasper is all right—but mostly I want to see you fit fourteen dogs into a coach with you and your luggage!”

  “Luggage?” Lena grinned at her. “I’m donating some of my clothing to the housekeeper for cleaning rags—it’s amazing how much of it got torn up in the woods while I was here. So I won’t have much luggage, and it can go on the roof. And I like dogs.”

  “Will you still like them when you get back to Haven?” Samira asked teasingly.

  By the time she got back to Haven, Lena’s remaining dresses were covered with dog hair, and she had a close bond with all of the dogs. She had sent the crows to warn Maia of the new arrivals so that there would be a place prepared for them in the kennels, and Maia was in the temple courtyard when the carriage arrived.

  “Is there one of your fancy names for the dogs?” Lena asked Maia as they carefully carried the puppies to the kennel, escorted by Minda and the rest of the pack.

  “Yes,” Maia replied. “You’ve brought us a leash of greyhounds.”

  Warp and Weft

  Kristin Schwengel

  No one could say for certain what had happened to Triska, but the disordered heap of robes and the unique necklace found inside the Change Circle—and the mangled remains of a rather average-sized lizard just outside that circle—spoke volumes.

  The hertasi artisan had known, had heard the warnings of the Elders, and yet she had gone outside the protective shields of the Vale. The residents of k’Veyas, warned by the Alliance Mages, had known that it was coming, this final Mage Storm, had realized that it could destroy them all if the shielding failed. Triska, of course, had known. And she had still gone out.

  “The silk waits for no one,” she had been fond of saying, usually just before leaving the Vale in foul weather to harvest cocoons. And the Change Circle where the remains had been found, the locus of mutation formed by the overlap of two rippling waves of magical energy, was not far from her favorite trees, the ones whose silkworms always produced the strongest, finest, smoothest fibers.

  When the Elders showed Stardance the broken chain and cracked amber stone retrieved from the pile, the gift she had given to the cloth artisan, she buried her grief after the first stunned moment. Fury was simpler, covering the dark, hollow loneliness that threatened. The anger warmed her, kept her from drowning in that aching emptiness, and she fed it, raging in turn at the Elders, at Triska, and at the implacable Storms themselves, then fled to the most private corner of the Vale, the secret nook she had discovered as a child running from her mother’s death. This time, there would be no Triska to find her, to take her into her care and heal her hurting, bringing her back to the life of the Vale.

  Back then, the Elders of k’Veyas had found it amusing, the human child following the hertasi, when usually the lizardfolk were the dutiful aides and helpers of the Tayledras. Since Triska did not seem bothered by Stardance’s presence, the girl had been allowed to spend most of her time in the company of the clothworker,
sometimes seeming like a daughter, sometimes an apprentice. Her father lived in his home Vale of k’Lissa, and since at the time he was unable to care for a youngster, k’Veyas agreed to keep her in their Vale. She had always been a solitary child, and with the hertasi to help her she was allowed exceptional freedom.

  Even after Stardance showed signs of her father’s Mage Gift, she still stayed with Triska. The Elders taught her, and she was an apt pupil, but she was more often to be found practicing her skills with the threads and fibers in Triska’s cliffside den than in the heavily warded practice rooms. None of the Tayledras were quite certain what a hertasi could or couldn’t do with magic, but since Triska seemed unconcerned about her adopted daughter’s magical “play” the Elders permitted Stardance to remain with her.

  After several years of this odd training, Stardance was just old enough for her Mage Gift to truly begin to develop into its full power and potential. Now, though, the Storms had come and gone, and magic was no longer the same. The Heartstones were weakened or empty, their accumulated power drained to maintain the last desperate shields over the Vales, to save the people within them. Outside, caught in a Change Circle, Triska had not been so fortunate.

  Winternight stood, and respectful silence fell. The Storms had aged him so that his usual pallor now seemed ghostlike, his energy spent and drained from him just as the once-vibrant Heartstone was now emptied of all but the faintest flickers of magic. His staff, once used to help him direct his considerable power, now served only to provide physical support, and he leaned heavily on it.

  “We do not yet know the extent of damage in our own region of the Pelagiris, much less that of the other Vales,” he said, in response to several questioners. “Only the strongest Farspeakers have been able to communicate with them. Our scouts have been taking care of Change-Beasts as they have found them, but our perimeter of safety is much closer to the Vale than ever it was.” He paused to emphasize the reality of the damage done and the isolation of their Vale, off on a western edge of the Pelagiris.