It’s a good thing that Tayledras live in trees, Darian thought, as he juggled a hot filled pastry from hand to hand until it cooled. Otherwise we’d all be as fat as geese ready for market!
Starfall did not look as if he had ever lived on anything more substantial than air, but Darian knew that beneath his fancifully embroidered and cut robes, that body wasn’t thin - it was lean, lean and hard, and superbly conditioned. It took great physical conditioning to handle node-magic; a mage that was flabby in body was likely to be flabby of mind as well. Starfall’s silver hair wasn’t the result of age, it was the result of handling and using node-magic, and the slightly tamer magic of Tayledras Heartstones, all of his life. Starfall would find it no great task to run up the stairs to the highest ekele in the Vale, and run back down again within moments.
“We’ll have a feast, of course,” Ayshen stated, shoving aside recipe books and menus. “You can’t have a celebration without a feast. But should we have high tables and all that? I’m not certain there’s anywhere central that we could set up that many tables.”
“Have the usual sort of Tayledras feast, with food set out all over the Vale, Ayshen,” Darian recommended soothingly. “One thing, though; have a set of our clothing done up in white - Herald’s Whites for inside the Vale. Leave them out in the guest lodge for him.”
“Good notion,” Starfall seconded, nodding, with the customary soft clattering of his hair beads. “Welcoming ceremony first, then we take him to the lodge to get settled. He won’t feel as out of place if he has time to change into clothing of our style.”
“He’ll like our sort of feast, I think; he’ll expect something different, and I think he’d be disappointed if he didn’t get it,” Darian told the hertasi. “Besides, I’m sure Breon will have his own welcoming feast after ours, and he’ll get all the etiquette and high tables he wants there.”
Ayshen’s body language showed relief in the relaxation of his tail and stubby-taloned fingers. “So be it, then. If different is what he’s expecting, we can supply that. What do you say to setting up a particular place just for this Herald fellow - a short platform with food-tables nearby, of course - and move entertainment in and out. We could put him in the Council House, for instance. We’ll have the new roof trim done by then, and it is a good central location.”
“That would be a good idea,” Darian replied, as Starfall nodded. “I remember how easily I got lost the first time I was in k’Vala. When he gets tired, the guest lodge is right on the same path, within shouting distance. Is the deck on the guest lodge finished yet?”
“It will be by the time the Herald arrives; they’re putting the finishing touches on it now,” Ayshen replied without even consulting his schedules. “This afternoon they’re sanding the hand-rails and setting the steps. Tonight the greenery will be placed.”
“We’re the hosts; it would be courteous if we all came to him, rather than trotting him about from entertainment to entertainment,” Starfall agreed. “We can arrange things so that the people he will need to know spend a good portion of time with him in the beginning, then anyone who is curious can come to meet him. Will that make preparations easier for you, Ayshen?”
“Oh, yes, and after I’ve had a look at him, I can decide which hertasi to assign to him.” The hertasi sighed. “Only one fancy, decorated serving table to set up. The rest of you never notice my artistic efforts anyway.”
“We do,” Starfall insisted. “You just overwhelm our ability to praise with a superfluity of talent!”
Ayshen simply gave the Mage a withering look by way of reply. “So - how does this strike you - we have the actual welcoming ceremony at the entrance of the Vale. Everyone will fit there easily enough since the weeds were cleared out last season. Then, we take the Heralds and our other guests to the Council House and feed them. We let them talk for a while, and when it sounds as if the talk is running out, I run in some entertainment. Then a little more food - and so on, until he gives up for the night. We can pick foods that will make him drowsy quickly, which reduces the amount of entertainment needed on such short notice. He’ll leave to doze after just a few hours.”
“Which will be long before any Tayledras would give up,” Darian laughed. “That sounds perfect, Ayshen.” He grinned wickedly. “Then, the next day, when he’s been properly softened up for us, we give him to Tyrsell and have him stuffed with our language, Ghost Cat’s, and Kaled’a’in, all at once.”
Starfall gave him a look of mock-horror. “I thought you liked Heralds!”
“I do - that’s why I suggested the languages come in all at once. It won’t take Tyrsell that much longer to give them all to him, and the headache won’t be that much worse, after. Better to get it over with, I say.” Darian mimicked Starfall’s look of horror. “Well? Wouldn’t you rather have it all at once than strung out over several days? I should think that after the first experience, the subsequent dread would make the next sessions worse.”
Starfall nodded, then turned to face the hertasi upon hearing a low hiss.
“We were discussing the celebration,” Ayshen reminded them pointedly, baring his teeth for emphasis. “Now just how, precisely, would you suggest we greet him?”
“Just that,” Darian replied. “Greet him as our guest. Our welcome guest, our equal, who will be joining the leaders already here in their efforts to foster harmony among otherwise different peoples. He’ll already be on best behavior to impress when he rides up, so having a good turn out but little ceremony would make him feel appreciative that he must not endure trial after trial. Getting his disposition in our favor right away would be valuable.”
“And you thought you didn’t have the talent to become a leader!” Starfall exclaimed. “Listen to you!”
“I’m just quoting what my excellent teachers would say in the same circumstances,” Darian retorted. “Weren’t you just agreeing with Lord Breon that we’re to make certain Herald Anda understands he is one among equals here?”
“Huh. The boy finally pays attention,” Ayshen muttered, but when Darian turned to fix him with a sharp glance, he looked as innocent as could be.
“On the whole,” Ayshen continued blandly, “I am relieved. This is going to be much easier to plan and execute than a wedding, for instance. Should I pull some of the ekele-building crew to go to work on the Herald’s permanent quarters, do you think?”
Starfall exchanged a glance with Darian, who shook his head slightly. “Not yet,” Starfall told him. “Although Breon said he’s expecting to stay here - I presume as a kind of envoy - he may decide that he prefers to lodge in the village, in more familiar surroundings. For all we know, he may decide to establish himself outside all of our enclaves. I can let him know at some point that we have the hands, and the rest will contribute materials, when he wants to have a permanent residence built, and that he can have it constructed where he pleases.”
Darian nodded. “Instead, I suggest you pull a couple of builder crews off to add proper accommodations for the Companion; they’ll want to be close to each other, and this will show that we understand that the Companion is as important as the Herald, and that they work together. It certainly wouldn’t hurt to have Companion quarters attached to the guest lodge for future visiting Heralds.”
Ayshen nodded his blunt snout decisively. “Right, then. Won’t be difficult; knock a two-level door into one of the end rooms, add the stabling, bring water in for a fountain - I can have that finished in a few days.” He scratched his nose. “Sawdust floor, I think. Maybe some mats. Outside door with a rope latch, so the Companion can let himself in and out.”
“That sounds perfect to me,” Darian replied, very much impressed with Ayshen’s forethought.
“So . . . just the welcome to plan for now, and the extra building.” Ayshen wrote out a note in silverstick, folded it into a pyramid, and stuck it on the model of the guest lodge as a reminder. “That’s manageable. Well, are you two going to sit there all day, eating everything in the kitch
en? Shoo! I have work to do!”
Laughing, Darian and Starfall left the hertasi to his own devices, as he began rummaging about for more paper, muttering about menus.
Keisha stood at the open door of Darian’s vine-covered house, hefting first one wicker pannier basket, then the other, to judge roughly which was heavier. Above her head, the trees met to form a ceiling over the house and path; songbirds and colorful messenger-birds chattered and sang, and hummingbirds chased each other around the branches. She had not gone to the meeting; as the chief Healer to both Vale and village, she spent roughly equal time in each - and that left her feeling a bit odd about representing either. Instead, Nightwind served as the mouthpiece for the Healers unless there was some pressing reason for Keisha herself to be there.
She had to check her packs anyway, for she was about to make another trip back to the village to make sure anyone who needed her services was properly tended to. The baskets were laden with various medications, most of them for animals rather than humans. The villagers were uncommonly healthy this summer, with half the normal number of accidents, even among the children. Perhaps that was due to increasing prosperity; well-fed and well-rested people resisted disease and didn’t have nearly so many mishaps. Ever since the events of recent times, the Crown had sent more funding for rebuilding and renewing the area than it had ever received before in half a decade. Newer tools were invariably more reliable, safer tools out here. Even the old mill had been rebuilt into a safer operation - she had not had to deal with a single injury from it since its reopening.
She wore full Greens now, the forest-hued colors of a full Healer, with a silk scarf serving as a sash around her waist, laid over a matching one of cotton. Healers always had a use for a scarf - to sling an arm, tie off a cut artery, or dry a child’s tears. They were not official parts of Healer’s uniform, but their use was so common they might as well have been. Keisha paused, considering the Healer’s uniform she wore. It had taken her a while to get used to that - and some persuasion as well. It was finally the argument that it would be better for her patients to see her in the colors of a Healer, because they would be under less stress, that tilted the balance. She refused to don anything elaborate, though; the loose trews and long-sleeved tunic were fancy enough for everyday wear - and when she wanted something festive, she opted for something that didn’t display her status for all to see.
The good thing about being in the Vale was that she no longer had to make her own medicines unless she really felt like it; all she had to do was give the hertasi instructions, and they would see to the preparation for her, presenting her with neatly labeled pots and jars of anything she needed or wanted. A great deal of her time in the past had been spent in the actual concoction of medicine, time she now had leisure to spend in other ways.
So now I spend it riding to and from the village, instead! she thought wryly, as she made sure the two pannier baskets that her dyheli would carry were finally balanced as evenly as she could manage without actually weighing them.
She shared Darian’s quarters - and yes, his bed - when she was in the Vale, and since he had never yet accompanied her to Errold’s Grove when she went on her weekly visits, the touchy problem of whether he would share her home had never come up. Her parents, of course, had no idea that they were anything but friends, and everyone else had the sense not to betray their ongoing relationship to the village. It was true that she was old enough to do as she wished; it was also true, as Kerowyn had remarked before she left, that no child is “old enough” in her parents’ eyes. She could own an estate, command a dozen servants, and have gray hair, yet she would not be “old enough.”
She ducked back inside for a moment to make sure she hadn’t forgotten anything, then returned to wait in the sunshine for her dyheli to arrive. It’s a given. If Shandi were to come back for more than a fortnight, she’d be treated the same way - as if she was no more than fourteen, and unable to make any decisions for herself. The only reason she doesn’t get treated that way is because before Mother has a chance to get her lectures set fair in her head, Shandi’s gone again.
Besides, Keisha wasn’t entirely sure how long this particular liaison was going to last. Darian was a very handsome lad, and every village female unspoken for (and some who were) had made it very clear that they found him fascinating. There were plenty of girls who would be only too happy to find out what life was like in a Vale. What if he got tired of her?
What if I got tired of him? Well, she couldn’t see that happening, but she had a lot of responsibilities, more than she had ever had before.
And so did he.
That was part of the problem. His responsibilities kept him here, but that was not so with hers. Yes, she was - for now - the chief Healer for k’Valdemar. She was also still the Healer for Errold’s Grove, and she wouldn’t blame him if he got tired of finding her gone half the time. She couldn’t devote herself to him the way her mother had devoted herself to her family. It just wasn’t going to happen that way.
She rubbed her temple with one finger, and stifled a sigh. Sooner or later, the Vale would get a Tayledras Healer as well, and then all her energies would go to the village. She wouldn’t have a reason to stay in k’Valdemar anymore. He certainly wouldn’t move back to Errold’s Grove. Then what? She couldn’t keep going back and forth between here and the village when she didn’t need to be here. People would start to wonder why. Saying she was studying under the Tayledras Healer would hold for a while, but what then?
She bent over to tie her baskets closed, certain now that she had everything she intended to take with her. Her vision was suddenly blocked by a pair of hands in front of her eyes; she seized Darian’s wrists and spun herself around to meet his merry brown eyes and cheerful grin, reflecting dappled sunlight.
There was a crumb of pastry tangled up in a lock of his hair - and he was too fastidious to have left it there for very long. He must have just eaten minutes before. She sniffed, experimentally. “You’ve been eating garlic sausage rolls!” she accused.
“Well, you weren’t going to be here tonight, so the garlic wouldn’t matter, would it?” he retorted, and gave her a redolent kiss. “If you change your mind, there’s still time to help yourself, and we’ll both have garlic breath. Besides, you know how good garlic is for you!”
Not that she minded garlic breath, at least not when they both had it. Her main objection was that he would have been perfectly happy if everything he ate was spiced with garlic, and she didn’t like it that much. . . .
Another thing we don’t share. . . .
“Not a chance; if I don’t make my trip, the Trilvy family will probably come get me. Rana Trilvy is that close - ” she replied, holding her thumb and forefinger an infinitesimal distance apart. “And even though I’ve told her a hundred times that she’s fine, she’s still convinced that if I don’t see her every week, something is bound to go wrong and her baby will be born with nine heads. Never, ever, try to argue with a nervous mother-to-be; you haven’t the chance of a pigeon in a cattery of winning the argument.”
Something about his expression made her wary; he had that devilish look he always got when he was keeping a secret, that made his sharp features look even more fox-like. “What happened at the Council meeting?” she continued, as if she hadn’t noticed.
“Mostly the usual, but Breon had some news.” He was much too casual; something was definitely up. Whatever Lord Breon had brought in the way of news was something he knew she’d want to hear.
She decided that two could play that game of feigned indifference. “Oh? Anything important, or can it wait until I get back?” She fooled with the baskets a bit more, taking care not to look directly at him.
“You’ll probably hear it on the way back anyway, since you’re going with Barda and Harrod. We’re getting resident Heralds.” He watched her closely, and she knew from the way he was acting that although this was momentous news, it wasn’t the biggest part of his secret.
&nbs
p; “Really?” she exclaimed anyway. “Heralds? As permanent residents? More than one?”
He nodded. “Two of them; an older, experienced Herald-Mage, believe it or not, and his personally selected trainee. Or maybe I should say, protege, since she’s got her Whites, and this is taking the place of her ‘first circuit.’ “
“A Herald-Mage! That’s certainly something!” It was, too; there still weren’t that many Herald-Mages about, and to have one of them assigned permanently to Errold’s Grove said a great deal for how the status of this area had risen. “They must think we’re high on their list of priorities now!”
“But it’s not the biggest news, not for you, anyway. The other Herald is your sister Shandi.” He grinned as her jaw dropped, and she looked at him in disbelief. “No, really, it is! I suppose they figure that they might as well assign her here, since she’s likely to assign herself here, given half a chance. Even without half a chance, she’s likely to turn up anyway.”
“But - it hasn’t been much more than two years - ” She still couldn’t believe it; Shandi had said nothing of this in her letters! She’d only complained now and again of how busy she was and how much she was expected to absorb.
Is that why she hasn’t spent more than four weeks here in the last two and a half years? Because she’s been rushing - or rushed - through her studies?
“Breon said she hadn’t gotten the record for graduating quickly, but she was close. He was fairly impressed.” Darian grinned at her reaction. “Mind you, he shouldn’t have been surprised. Look at how well you’ve done, and you haven’t had a Collegium full of teachers to help you! When I first met you, you would have barely qualified as a Healer trainee, at least as far as your Gift went. Now even the Sanctuary Healers call you their equal.”
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